#I couldn't sleep without getting this done and posted

[takoseimegumi]

I don't usually reblog posts like this or add comments to posts I reblog, but I wanted to share my experiences. Just to show all the ways something like this can affect people. Content warnings for anxiety, suicide, abuse and sexual harassment.

This came at the absolute worst time in my life. Things were starting to look up for me. I'm autistic and have had trouble functioning in society, but I had hope things were getting better. I got a bank account, a long-term online friend had confessed his love to me leaving me no longer single, I was starting to go out on my own after years of needing someone else to come with me... things were really hopeful.

Then the lockdowns started. I wasn't able to go out. I couldn't use the money I now had access to. I wasn't able to arrange even one irl meeting with my boyfriend (we live in different countries). And when I tried to go to the store I was heavily restricted in what I could do. There were spaced-out lines, you had to follow a route inside the store, some wouldn't accept me without a mask, one yelled at me for being slightly out of line... I had no choice but to become a shut-in.

It got to the point when just seeing mentions of what was going on gave me extreme anxiety. And that was completely unavoidable. I was living in a constant state of that.

At one point I got a message from my boyfriend where he explained he got the virus. I had to spend a couple of weeks living in complete instinctual fear for him. I couldn't sleep. I tried to distract myself but I couldn't stop crying. I wanted to be there for him but I couldn't. It turned out fine in the end, but to this day remembering those two weeks makes me tear up.

Think that's bad enough? It gets worse.

Shortly before the pandemic started, my mum started dating someone. I was happy for her at first. Things seemed to be looking up for her as well. But then... strange things started to happen.

My mum's sanity took a nosedive after this whole thing started. She was like full-on tinfoil hat conspiracy theorist. It was jarring seeing her like this. And unfortunately, her mental health deteriorating wouldn't just affect her.

Her boyfriend turned out to be an emotionally abusive bastard towards not only her, but me and my brother. My brother ended up leaving after mum's boyfriend and me had a fight (that was the last straw for him). And he was basically taking advantage of my mum's shattered sanity to keep her with him.

The emotional abuse wasn't even the worst part. This is where it gets really ugly. Over the years even as lockdown was settling down, the damage to my development was already done (to this day I still haven't recovered) and I was still a complete shut-in. My mum's boyfriend would start making inappropriate comments towards me, and whenever I would complain, he would guilt-trip me into taking it back. Talking to mum did not help. He'd successfully brainwashed her. She refuses to believe he could do wrong even to this day.

And over the years, the comments got worse. He would divulge his fetishes, try to invade on my hobbies, invalidate my asexuality and past sexual trauma (just because I separate fiction from reality), and even send me sexually explicit gifts like laced panties and a vibrator.

I was waking up in anxiety attacks. I felt trapped. It got so bad I tried to kill myself in the bathtub just so I could escape.

At that point, the pandemic was officially over. But I was so mentally broken by everything that had gone on that I couldn't leave.

That is, until my boyfriend told me to text my brother about it. He got me out of there. I've been living with him and my grandma for a little over a year now.

This wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for the pandemic. My mum would be the person she used to be. She would have left that bastard the moment I spoke up about him.

And I would still be cheerful and optimistic like I was before. But I can't be. And I don't have hope I ever will be.

The only thing that keeps me going is my boyfriend, my online friends and my interests.

So no, I don't think we should romanticise quarantine.

"remember quarantine when everyone was baking bread and dancing--" no, but I remember quarantine when a bunch of people were borderline suicidal. and I remember quarantine when people got screamed at for not wearing a mask outside. and I remember quarantine when businesses were forced to close and people lost their jobs. and I remember quarantine when there were government tip lines to report family dinners. and I remember quarantine when no one was allowed to go to church.

and I remember how it's a really good thing that my grandma wanted to be cremated, since that meant we could delay her funeral. because if we had to have it soon after she died (from cancer, not covid), three of her kids wouldn't have been allowed to be there. they wouldn't have had the chance to say goodbye.

so no, I don't remember any kind of human flourishing as a result of quarantine. and you're right that people should stop romanticizing it.

That's the quarantine I remember.

And I'm not going to forget it, either.

It's crazy how they are already trying to gaslight people into thinking we were all just living our best lives.

[bewitched-hours]

Forsaken | Mafioso & (His)Child!Reader (Part 2)

See part 1 here @lopfuuinhareanon @albinoxp Hope you enjoy o(≧▽≦)o

Reader gets She/Her again~

"And you're sure?" Chance asked you with a perplexed look.

"I saw them! They hesitated!" You protested, struggling against the gambler's grip with tears running over your cheeks.

Nothing you remembered in your past could've prepared you for watching your father actually kill someone. You knew he did it without question, you knew he'd sometimes come home with blood on him and need a bath before you could shower him in affection and stories from what you did with whichever goon stayed behind to watch you.

But you've never seen him actively kill someone...

And when you were the one he got, it felt even worse... Like you've done something to deserve this.

But sometimes... Even he seemed to hesitate when you pleaded with him, telling him you still believed in him even as he killed you.

Somehow... You knew he could hear you... Or at least your fear...

You figured if you just refused to give up, he would remember and win over the Spectre's hold...

"I saw dad too! He had that look again!" You tried to stomp your feet in the air until Chance hid in a building and let you down finally.

You knew he meant well, seeing as you were a bit slower with your shorter legs. Even your bunny speed can't get you so far...

You looked out carefully, watching the goons scramble to find you with an odd look to them... Like they felt guilty...

It honestly broke your heart. Even though they've killed you several times, you still saw them as family and knew you'd forgive them in a heartbeat. It wasn't their fault the Spectre made them turn against you...

You couldn't help but let out soft squeaks. Nothing like the ones you'd show when you let any of the survivors pet you but more with a sad undertone to it. Chance could only pray to his lady luck that the goons wouldn't hear it as you watched them split to look for the gambler and you.

"Kid, I know you can't control your squeaks but is there a way to muffle them at least?" He whispered nervously, trying not to sound upset.

He knew you just wanted your life back. Everyone did.

But they to focus on the present, as did you.

"Sorry..." You muttered, your squeaks quieting down until they were barely heard. You knew Chance felt bad about it though as he proceeded to lead you to a generator and help you with the puzzle so the generator would be done quicker.

By the time you've finished the round and won with Chance as the last two standing, you felt homesick again.

This time though, the survivors tried to trust you a bit more and went to make the table, simply handing you paper and crayons again so you went off to draw like usual until dinner was ready.

You learned the routine by now. Each 'day' has about 6 to 7 rounds before you were all allowed a longer break to have dinner and sleep.

You would get 10 hours to sleep and clean before it all repeated... It exhausted you mentally- wait...

There was a sudden song outside... A whistling you recognized anyday.

You looked to the other survivors and made sure they were distracted with dinner while you quietly snuck out.

"Sorry..." You whispered whilst slipping through the door to find the source of the whistling. A pit practically formed in your stomach and tears prodded through your eyelids as a lump formed in your throat.

It couldn't be a coincidence... It had to be them...

It was the exact melody they would whistle to help you sleep after a nightmare...

Hmm, should the child join the killers, I wonder~?

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!

[rexhya]

note — i accidentally posted the hcs before i was done! >~<, more anul content :>

✦ ✦

yandere!prince who drives himself mad over every interaction you have with another male, it's an unspoken rule that no one is allowed to look you in the eyes because the clingy bastard has a careful and constant eye watching over you

anul hardly ever lets you out of his sight, he goes, you go, you go, he goes. it's law.

so on the rare cases where he does have to leave your side, safe to say he's more than just a little grumpy. ( he slit the throat of his personal advisor because he was talking to loud )

your just doing you job, the job you were meant to do, cleaning and preparing for a party held for nobles in his upcoming inauguration. anul is obviously dreading this party, his father is being picky about evey little thing and said he'd banish you if he tries to bring you along. (he doesn't actually care he just is waiting patiently for the day he becomes king and his fathers word will mean nothing)

whats worse is theres this insect on his arm, buzzing nosily to him about nothing, the only good thing that actually came from it's mouth was when she asked about you.

"Oh you mean [Name], she's perfect isn't she?" He doesn't wait for a response, Anetha is dying listening to him go on and on and on about you, and she hardly gets it anyway! Your a maid, born from slum and you're hardly that pretty anyway, what did the Prince of Salttion see in you.

She makes a horrible mistake and tries to find out herself.

"Hello m'lady how may I he—" you don't get to finish your sentence before Anethea's gaurds are stomping you into the ground. It's not like you havent been in a situation like this before, but it's the fear of not knowing if you'd be able to escape let alone survive that makes you sob tears into your blood.

You're shoved into a closet before your found, Anul had tore every room apart looking for you ( literally, the door came flying off it's hinges as you fell to the ground unconscious. ) and sees pure, blood raging red when he cradleds your head in his lap. not even his father tries to reprimand him for his attentiveness to you, who ever had done this would pay in blood.

He can't control his breathing as they cart you away, he's right there with you of course, Anetha watching pleasantly, he catches the look and saves it for later.

When you finally wake up you feel sore, definitely brtter then when you were bloody and hurting in the dank closet but sore nonetheless. Anul is right besides you, his long violet hair wafting on your bed, his face planted into the cushions of the mattress breathing softly. How long had you been out? How long had the prince been here? He certainly didn't look like himself, hair messy, clothes rumpled.

You hesitated for a moment, reaching out to stroke his soft wavy hair, then without warning his jumped up and statched at your wrist. His eyes were bloodshot, (had he been crying, did something else happen while you were out?) and the hold on your wrist was only getting tighter.

"A-Anul, you're hurting me." he lets go in an instant and immediately sits up to hold you in his arms.

"Oh god, I thought you—" he choked and let go to place a kiss on your lips. they were chapped, but warm.

you only blinked, he didn't care that you hadn't kissed him back. "I am going to gut that pig alive you hear me?" he said squeezing your cheeks.

"I am going to peel her insides till they look like confetti alright?" he said desperately, "I failed to protect you, and look what happened. Oh my baby, my poor baby." he cried, kissing your cheeks lettinf his tears fall freely on his face.

"And you [Name], are to never leave my side again, I've already made arrangements for you to sleep with me so it won't be a problem." you flinched at the finality in his words but Anul couldn't tell.

All he could see waa the bruising of your face and a lot of bodies he'd have to dispose of, because he wasn't just going after that noble who'd set you up.

For generations he declared then and there anyone involved (directly or indirectly) in the attempted murder of his wife, would die a shameful and slow death.

[nightingale-prompts]

Nightwing gets a sidekick introducing: "Batboy"

Continuation of this post: "Danny has Bat wings"

|Next|

Dick tries to tell himself that he's better then Bruce. He's not going around taking young orphaned boys with unique abilities willy-nilly. No, he very careful. Besides this is first- well second sidekick.

He's doing a public service anyways. You can't have a kid with giant bat wings just falling from buildings. If Nightwing hadn't stepped in to stop those goons trying to catch the kid and sell him then who knows what would have happened. What if they tried to cut off his wings and turn the boy into a bloody trophy for the Bats?

There are many villains in Bludhaven who'd take the boy out or take him in. Dick already had a sinking feeling that Heartless would try his hand at killing the kid after all he targets the weak and helpless like a coward.

It was easy enough to convince the boy to be his friend. Dick did have natural charm and charisma after all. All it took was a meal from batburger and a fruit cup to get the kid to open up.

Danny (apparently his family gave him a normal name) didn't live with his family anymore due to ideological differences. That difference was that they thought he shouldn't exist anymore and wanted to turn him into an experiment. Poor kid didn't even get to finish his freshman year of school before he had to leave. He was a small town vigilante for a few months before the incident.

Dick saw an opportunity but was subtle about it. He invited the kid to live with him until he got his education. Its also totally ethical because the kid was a vigilante already.

Everything kind of went by quickly. Dick had done everything possible to hide Danny until he could come up with a plan of how to tell everyone.

True Dick didn't "need" a sidekick but come on, look at him! He's a boy with bat wings! Dick could put a little cowl on him and dress him up like Batman. I mean he's not a dog but it would be funny. The irony there, the bird-themed hero now had a bat-themed sidekick. That is the universe's way of sending a message.

After training Danny Dick learned that the kid had an endless supply of energy and ADHD that rivaled his own at that age. The kid also couldn't fly, it was actually closer to gliding which was still useful but he kind of looked like a flying squirrel when he jumped off ledges.

The term issue with taking Danny in was that Dick was still a Wayne and while he could hide the kid while he was swinging through Bludhaven, Dick Grayson could not.

Danny could hide his wings like they weren't even there whenever he wanted to look human. Which was a start, next he needed a new identity. One that wouldn't tip anyone off.

Dick needed to pull some strings without alerting Barbara or Tim. A new name was forged: "Daniel Nightingale" (Dick patted himself on the back for that one).

With that Dick was ready to let Danny out in the field. For the most part, Danny was as reliable as any Robin if not a bit crazy. Danny was way too charming for his own good but also completely feral. The public adored the domino-masked kid in his green and black costume. Danny didn't wear a cape because of his wings so he used them as a cloak.

When citizens saw them in public they'd offer the kid fruit cups and candies just to get close enough to see his wings. The people of Bludhaven were also excited to have their own version of Robin since Gotham had so many. Also, the kid was so marketable. Look at the way his wings flapped when he was excited.

Danny's or more specifically "Batboy's" presence would not go unnoticed.

Well, this can't end well.

Welp. Dick should have expected this. He couldn't even be upset. He doesn't regret anything that he's done.

Danny was still in bed, actually it was a hammock which was more comfortable for a bat. Dick wondered if he could sleep upside down. The kid was comfortable here and probably better off here than in Gotham. Once the adoption goes public however things will get complicated. Danny may end up Bludhaven's sweetheart or outcast. He'll probably end up fine...probably.

[foxtrology]

sweet sweet baby (since you've been gone)

harry castillo x reader

series

warnings: no y/n, 28 year age gap, female reader.

The last time he had gone up to a woman was at a wedding reception and it ended terribly for him.

Lucy was her name.

He had thought she was the one. All the time they had spent together, all the nights he held her, it was all for nothing. In the end he was the one left behind while she and that broke fucking waiter—oh how much he hated that broke waiter with a fucking passion—ran off into the sunset all happily.

John.

John was his name. Living in a rundown studio apartment with a struggling college student as a roommate. Yeah, what a fucking life she decided to choose.

He still follows her on Instagram.

An Instagram she begged for him to have. He valued his privacy. Being a successful CEO had its perks but it also had his downsides. Privacy was a major downside. He's lucky if a week has gone by without The New York Times calling his office.

Something he should've done a long time ago was delete Instagram and move on from Lucy, but of course he loves to make things more difficult for himself.

19lucy89 has posted a photo!

He should've at least turn off the notifications notifying him of her posting but he couldn't do it. He still wasn't over her. Scrolling on the social media app had him scoffing.

She had posted a photo of her and that broke waiter kissing.

"Whiskey neat."

Harry slips his phone back into his pocket, thanking the bartender. Sliding off the barstool, he glances at all the couples around him. He rolls his eyes.

Since when is everyone fucking dating? Everywhere he goes it's always a couple canoodling. It pisses him off.

Getting back to his table, Danny slaps Harry on his back as he sits down. He cringes as the hand hits his back. He's always had back problems but never acknowledged them.

Not until Lucy. She made him start seeing a chiropractor.

But since she's out of his life, he has been ignoring his pains and ignoring his chiropractor’s calls. She didn't care anymore so why should he.

"Dude Vanessa and everybody are going to an afterparty—"

"Is this not an afterparty?" Harry furrows his brows, interrupting his partygoer friend.

Danny shakes his head playfully, scoffing. "Any excuse to continue drinking, am I right?"

He really didn't want to spend another hour at a party. He's 54 for god's sake, he done.

He's old. He's an old man.

He gets cranky if he doesn't go to sleep at a certain time, he gets aggravated when he pushes paperwork aside leaving it to the last minute, he hated pleasing his friends who have been trying to get him out more ever since the whole Lucy thing happened.

He's leaving, he wants to go home.

"I think I'll be heading—" Then his phone vibrating in his coat pocket stops him.

Maybe Lucy texted him?

Fuck he's so delusional.

"Actually I'm gonna head out. I have a lot of paperwork." Harry stands up, pulling out his phone.

Danny furrows his brows at his friend.

"But you didn't even touch your drink?"

Harry tells him he has liquor at his place, he can finish his drink at home, not here. He doesn't bother to say any goodbyes to any of his friends. They won't remember it anyways.

He hurriedly swipes open his phone as the cold air hits his face.

19lucy89 has added onto their stories!

Clicking onto her profile made him sick.

He should have deleted Instagram.

He should have blocked her.

But he wasn't strong enough.

She posted a video.

Though it wasn't just any other video. The video showed John on his left knee holding up a ring.

He was fucking proposing.

It was like his whole world came tumbling down.

He had never felt this sick in his life.

Harry used to hate the way rich people would talk about money. They used to say money isn't everything, how it doesn't solve anything and it isn't happiness.

He begged to differ.

He didn't grow up with much. His mother struggled especially.

She was sick and wasn't financially stable for treatment so she died.

He used to think that if they had money she would still be here.

He never told anyone about it. Never spoke about the situation, he always tried to ignore it. Until Lucy came around.

She was the only person he confided in. He cried in her arms.

He didn't understand how she could just leave so easily. He remembers the night she told him, they were in the kitchen when she spoke the truth about how she was still in love with John.

She had said that he was the one that got away and that they needed each other.

She packed up her clothes and left his penthouse.

And that was it.

And now he’s standing outside The Met at 54 years old, pathetically hung up on a woman who left him for some broke waiter in a studio apartment that probably has one fucking bathroom.

A couple bumping into him made him come back to earth. He mutters an apology for blocking the entrance.

Another fucking couple.

He shoves his phone into his pocket with too much force, rolling his shoulders as he takes the steps two at a time, the cold air biting against his skin.

Only Vanessa Garnier would throw a goddamn dinner party at The Met.

He needs to go home.

Needs to drink.

Needs to pretend he didn’t just witness the woman he once loved agreeing to marry a broke fucking waiter.

Harry is already pissed off as he stomps down the Met steps. He’s just trying to leave this godforsaken party, get home, and drown himself in whiskey while pretending he doesn’t care about Lucy’s engagement.

Then—he sees her.

She’s sitting on the steps wrapped up in her own world, scrolling her phone.

She’s alone. Not giggling into her phone like the socialites inside, not throwing herself at men with trust funds bigger than their personalities.

Just…sitting.

And for some reason, it annoys him.

"You’re in my spot."

It wasn't his spot but he was annoyed.

Maybe he was annoyed of seeing people who aren't miserable like him.

She barely looks up.

Just a quick flick of her eyes from her phone to the man standing in front of her, assessing him in a single glance before exhaling softly through her nose—unimpressed and unbothered.

That should have been the end of it.

But it wasn’t.

Since he was already irritated, already on edge, already a step away from either throwing his phone into the street or smashing it against the nearest wall—he stood there, waiting for a reaction that didn’t come.

Nothing.

No wide eyes.

No forced politeness.

No recognition.

Just a woman sitting on the steps of The Met, bathed in the soft glow of the city lights, scrolling through her phone like he wasn’t even there.

His jaw ticked.

"Did you hear me?"

She sighed—actually sighed—as if he was the one disturbing her.

Well he kind of was.

Finally, she lifted her head, phone still in her hand, her gaze settling on him with all the enthusiasm of someone being asked to do a survey on the street.

"Yeah. I heard you."

His brow furrowed. He waited.

She didn’t move.

Didn’t shift.

Didn’t apologize.

Didn’t give him an inch of what he was used to—deference, nervous laughter, people scrambling to please him just because of who he was.

Instead, she blinked once slow and deliberate before tilting her head slightly to the side.

"Pretty sure the city owns these steps."

Harry clenched his teeth.

Of course.

Of course, he’d have to deal with this tonight.

This was not his night.

This was not his fucking night.

He didn’t even know why he was still standing there, why he hadn’t just turned and left. He should be in his car by now, should be halfway home with a drink already in his hand.

But for some reason he wasn’t.

For some reason he sat down instead.

A slow, deliberate movement. A shift of his coat as he lowered himself onto the step beside her, his knee brushing against the fabric of her own red coat as he exhaled sharply.

Her brow lifted slightly, her grip on her phone tightening for a moment as if she was considering whether to acknowledge his presence or simply ignore him altogether.

She settled on the latter.

Good.

Fine.

He didn’t want to talk anyway.

Harry leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, staring out at the street with the same burning resentment that had been sitting in his chest since he walked out of that party.

Another fucking couple passed by.

Laughing. Whispering. Holding hands like they were the only two people in the world.

His grip tightened around his knee. His mouth pressed into a firm thin line.

He should be at home.

He should be anywhere but here.

Instead, he was sitting on the cold steps of The Met beside a stranger who didn’t care that he was Harry fucking Castillo.

He scoffed.

The sound must have been louder than he intended, because this time—she looked at him.

Actually looked at him.

Not just a glance. Not just a flicker of vague recognition before returning to her phone.

No—she studied him, just for a second.

And then…the corner of her mouth twitched.

Not a smile. Not exactly. But close enough.

Close enough for something inside of him to tighten, for his stomach to knot in that irritating way he didn’t like.

She turned back to her phone.

"Rough night?"

He huffed out a sharp breath, shaking his head adjusting his tie even though it wasn’t loose.

"Something like that."

She hummed. Hummed. Like she wasn’t even surprised.

Like she already knew that about him.

Like she had already figured him out.

His teeth clenched.

She didn’t know him.

She didn’t know anything about him.

"What?" His voice was sharper than intended.

She barely reacted. Just tapped her thumb against her screen, scrolling absentmindedly before murmuring

"Nothing."

But it wasn’t nothing.

It was something.

It was definitely fucking something.

Harry exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of his exhaustion settle deeper into his bones.

This night was never going to end, was it?

For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.

The sounds of the city hummed around them. Car horns. Distant conversations. The occasional roar of an engine as someone sped down Fifth Avenue.

And then—

"You gonna sit here all night?"

Harry turned his head slightly, catching the amused glint in her eyes as she finally looked at him again.

"Depends," he muttered. "You gonna move?"

She smirked. "Nope."

He exhaled.

Rolled his shoulders.

Ignored the way something unsettled was shifting in his chest.

"Guess I’m staying, then."

And for the first time in a long time—he didn’t mind.

That realization alone should have pissed him off. Should have made him get up, adjust his coat, and leave like he had originally planned.

But he stayed.

The cold air pressed against his skin, sneaking beneath his collar, curling around his fingers where they rested against his knee. The whiskey from earlier still burned slightly in the back of his throat, though it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough, to settle the restless storm churning inside his chest.

The silence stretched.

Not an uncomfortable one, surprisingly. But an unfamiliar one.

People didn’t let silence sit with him. They filled it, rushed to fix it, scrambled to find something clever or charming or useful to say because people who sat next to him were always trying to get something from him.

The woman sitting next to him, scrolling through her phone like he wasn’t even there. Like he was just another insignificant part of the city.

That part should have pissed him off.

But it didn’t.

It intrigued him.

He tilted his head slightly, just enough to catch the faint reflection of her screen. Not because he cared what she was looking at—he didn’t—but because he needed a distraction. Any distraction.

A taxi app.

She was waiting for a ride.

She was leaving.

Good.

Great.

That meant he wouldn’t have to sit here much longer, wouldn’t have to keep pretending like this wasn’t some strange, unexplainable moment in his otherwise predictable night.

He could go home, pour himself a drink, scroll through Lucy’s Instagram like a fucking idiot, and pretend he wasn’t still furious.

But—

He didn’t want her to leave.

Not yet.

Not before he figured out why the hell he was still sitting here.

Not before he figured out why she wasn’t miserable like him.

His gaze flicked to her hands, the way she tapped at her screen absentmindedly like she wasn’t in a hurry, wasn’t anxious about the time, wasn’t dreading the ride home.

He wanted to ask where she was going.

He didn’t.

Instead, he spoke before he thought.

"Where do you live?"

She didn’t react at first.

Just kept scrolling.

Then without looking up.

"That’s a weird thing to ask a stranger."

Harry exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly.

"You’re waiting for a cab."

Finally, she turned to him, brow raised. "And?"

He rolled his shoulders, voice even. "I’ll take you home."

A beat of silence.

Then—

She laughed.

Not a giggle. Not a polite chuckle. A real, unfiltered laugh.

Like he’d just told the funniest joke in the world.

Harry’s expression did not change.

"I wasn’t joking."

That just made her laugh harder.

She shook her head, lips twitching as she locked her phone and slid it into her pocket, finally—finally—giving him her full attention.

"You, a man who I met ten minutes ago, are offering to take me home."

Harry blinked, unfazed.

"Yes."

"In your car?"

"Yes."

She exhaled, shaking her head again.

"This is the part where I ask if you're a serial killer."

He smirked, dry and humorless. "Would a serial killer offer?"

"Maybe a dumb one."

He scoffed. "Do I look dumb to you?"

She considered him for a moment. Then—

"A little bit."

Harry almost smiled.

Almost.

Instead, he sighed adjusting the sleeve of his coat as he stared out at the street again.

"Look, I don’t care where you live. I don’t care what you do. And I don’t care if you take the cab or not. But it’s late and I have a driver waiting." He paused. "Take the ride. Or don’t."

She studied him for a moment.

Not like the people at the party, not like the women who assessed him as a prize, a trophy, a walking investment.

No, she was studying him like she was still trying to figure out if he was serious.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why offer?"

Harry clenched his jaw.

Good question.

Why had he?

Because he was restless.

Because he didn’t want to be alone.

Because he wasn’t ready for the night to end.

But he didn’t say any of that.

Instead he said, "Because I can."

She hummed at that, something unreadable passing over her face.

Then to his absolute fucking surprise

She stood.

Pulled her coat tighter around herself.

Looked down at him with a grin.

"Lead the way, then."

The Maybach was parked at the curb, sleek and expensive and definitely out of place for a random stranger sitting on museum steps.

His driver, James barely batted an eye when Harry pulled open the door and gestured for her to get in first.

She hesitated.

Just for a moment.

And then—

She slid into the seat like she did this every day.

Harry followed, closing the door behind them.

James glanced at him through the rearview mirror, silent, waiting.

Harry exhaled, glancing at her.

"Where to?"

She gave him a look.

"Aren't you supposed to be a gentleman and ask for my name first?"

He huffed. "You never asked for mine."

"Because I don’t care."

His lips twitched. "Then why get in the car?"

She leaned back against the leather seat, legs crossed, gaze flicking out the window.

"Because I wanted to see if you'd actually do it."

Harry shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he gave James the silent cue to start driving.

This was insane.

He should have just gone home.

Should have just let her take the damn cab.

But now—he was in a car with a woman who didn’t care who he was, nor his money, didn’t even seem remotely fazed by the fact that she was sitting in a million dollar car with a man who could buy out half the city.

And for the first time all night...

Lucy’s engagement didn’t feel like the worst thing that had happened to him.

The car pulled away from the curb, merging smoothly into the flow of late night Manhattan traffic. The soft hum of the engine filled the space between them, a quiet luxury that most people would have fawned over.

But not her.

She wasn’t running her fingers over the leather seats, wasn’t sneaking glances at him, wasn’t pretending to be indifferent while stealing curious looks.

She just stared out the window, completely at ease.

Harry tilted his head slightly, studying her side profile.

"You still haven’t told me where you live."

She blinked, turning back to him, almost as if she’d forgotten he was even there.

"Oh. Right." She exhaled, stretching her arms slightly before dropping them into her lap. "I’ll just have your driver drop me off at the corner of—"

"Not James." His voice was firm, sharp in a way he didn’t expect.

She raised a brow.

"What?"

"Tell me."

A slow smirk curled at her lips, amusement flickering in her gaze.

"Are you always this controlling?"

"Are you always this difficult?"

Her smirk widened slightly, but she didn’t answer. Instead, she turned to the front of the car.

"Excuse me, take me to—"

"Don’t talk to my driver."

She whipped her head back to him, eyes narrowing. "Excuse me?"

"He’s not your driver."

She let out a small, sharp laugh, shaking her head.

"You’re serious?"

"Very."

She rolled her eyes, but there was something else there, something interested.

She sighed, crossing her arms, "Fine. Since you clearly need to be the one in control, Lower East Side."

He barely nodded before shifting his gaze back toward the front.

James, wordlessly, made a turn.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Harry leaned back against his seat, stretching out his legs, exhaling slowly as the tension from earlier in the night settled into something quieter.

The city moved past them in streaks of light, taxis cutting through traffic, pedestrians still wandering the streets like the night would never end.

She stayed turned toward the window, her fingers mindlessly tapping against her knee.

The silence should have been comfortable.

But it wasn’t.

Not for him.

Because he was still thinking.

Thinking about Lucy. Thinking about how stupid he felt for still checking her Instagram. Thinking about how much he hated the feeling of losing.

But also—thinking about her.

This woman.

This stranger who got into his car without a second thought, who didn’t care about his money, who didn’t care about him.

That part was what unsettled him the most.

Because he was used to being recognized. Used to being admired, envied, feared.

But she?

She was just here.

Like he was just another man.

Like he wasn’t anything at all.

And for some reason—he wasn’t sure he hated that.

She broke the silence first. "So, what’s your deal?"

Harry exhaled, rolling his head to the side slightly.

"My deal?"

"Yeah." She waved a hand vaguely. "You seem miserable."

"You say that like it’s an observation."

"It is."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "Maybe I just don’t like parties."

"Nope."

He arched a brow.

"No?"

"Not just parties. Life."

Harry’s jaw tightened. "Bold assumption."

"Accurate assumption."

His gaze flicked toward her, sharp, assessing.

She met it without hesitation.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then she shrugged.

"Look, I don’t know what rich guy problems you have but you were sitting on those steps like someone had either ruined your life or just rejected your marriage proposal."

Harry stilled.

His fingers twitched slightly against his knee, his pulse slow, heavy.

She didn’t know how close she was.

How dangerously fucking close.

She didn’t know about Lucy. About the proposal he never got to make. About much time he spent believing he was enough only to realize that he wasn’t.

She didn’t know anything.

But she still saw right through him.

And that?

That pissed him off.

"Maybe I just wanted some fresh air." His voice was clipped, sharp.

"Sure." She smirked, looking out the window again. "And maybe I’m a billionaire, too."

Harry inhaled, slow and deep, rolling his head back against the seat, eyes flickering up toward the roof of the car.

"You’re insufferable."

"So I’ve been told."

For a moment, it was quiet again.

Then—

"Was it a girl?"

His brow furrowed.

"What?"

"The reason you were brooding." She tilted her head slightly. "Was it a girl?"

His fingers clenched.

She smirked.

"It was, wasn’t it?"

He clenched his jaw.

"Not everything is about a woman."

"I never said it was." She lifted a shoulder. "You just confirmed it, though."

Harry exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face.

This was insane.

She was insane.

Why was he even still talking to her?

Why hadn’t he just dropped her off and left?

"I don’t do small talk." His voice was firm.

"Good. Me neither."

Then—silence.

Not uncomfortable.

Not forced.

Just…there.

The car slowed as they reached her street.

She shifted slightly, sitting up, unfastening her seatbelt as James pulled over.

For a second, Harry felt something strange.

Something he didn’t want to name.

She reached for the door handle, but before she could push it open—

"Wait."

She paused.

Glanced back at him. Brows lifted, waiting.

Harry swallowed.

"Let me take you to dinner."

Silence.

Her head tilted, lips curving up at the corners. "Are you asking or telling?"

"Does it matter?"

She smirked.

"I guess not."

She pushed the door open, stepping out into the cold.

Harry watched her go, watched as she turned, hands stuffed into her pockets, eyes unreadable as she met his gaze one last time.

Then—

"If you find me again, maybe I’ll say yes."

And just like that—

She was gone.

Harry sat there for a long moment.

Watched the empty space where she had been.

Felt the quiet weight of something new settle over him.

And for the first time in years, he found himself hoping—

That he’d see her again.

And knowing, somehow—

That he would.

[agreeewrites]

working late

feat Steve Rogers x fem!reader cw: MDNI 18+, established relationship, cockwarming masterlist

You leaned against the doorway to Steve's office, where he'd been cooped up for the last four hours since his shift ended. He was pouring over a report, resting his chin on his hand while scanning the security footage on the screen on front of him.

“Are you going to say hello or just loiter in the hall?” He asked without looking away from the footage. His tone wasn't unfriendly, but not exactly welcoming either. You knew how stressed he'd been, work piling high on his mighty shoulders, and it was starting to wear on his seemingly endless patience.

“It's nearly 11,” you said. “You haven't eaten, honey.”

He sighed, scrubbing his hand over his face. “Don't have much of an appetite,” he replied. Then, sensing your frown, finally tore his eyes from the screen, beckoning you over.

You tried not to appear too eager as you bound towards him, folding yourself into his lap. He wrapped his arms around you, one of his brawny hands slipping under the hem of your sleep shirt, squeezing the softness of your haunch. “I'm sure dinner was delicious, baby. Sorry I missed it.”

“S’okay.” You nestled further into him, resting your head on his broad chest, the heavy thump thump thump of his heart soothing some of your concern. He was Captain America, he would be fine missing a meal.

But you missed him. Like, really missed him.

“It'll get better soon,” he murmured, placing a mollifying kiss to your forehead. “Maybe we’ll take a vacation.”

You huffed a laugh. “A vacation? SHIELD would fall apart without you.”

“Yeah,” he heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Sure seems that way lately.”

It was meant to be a joke, but it seemed he was more stressed than you realized. So you lapsed into silence, savoring his presence and hoping your company could offer him a bit of comfort too.

His hand continued to knead your haunch and thigh, moving absently along the curves of your body, unaware of the heat his touch, his proximity, was stirring in your belly.

You pressed your lips to his neck, trailing your fingers along his chest, feeling the muscles flex and soften with his breath. He smelled divine, masculine and clean from his post-work shower, his skin deliciously warm under your lips.

You couldn't help yourself, kissing him again and again, each press more sugared than the last, working your way up to that sensitive spot by his ear. One you knew made him melt every time.

“Baby,” he said, sensing your intention before you actually made contact. “I need to concentrate.”

“So concentrate,” you replied, laving your tongue where his pulse thrummed under his jaw.

His grip tightened on your thigh, azure eyes fluttering closed. “If I don't get this done, Fury is going to make me work a triple.”

“Better get it done then,” you hummed, nipping at his earlobe.

He chuckled, shaking his head, but didn't tell you to stop—not explicitly, at least. So you persisted, kissing downward until you reached his collarbones, nursing a mark just under his neckline. It would be healed in an hour or two, but the desired effect was all the same, if the throbbing hardness pressing against your hip was any indication.

“Y/n,” he warned, voice rough around the edges. Frustrated. “Have a little mercy.”

“M’not doing anything,” you mumbled, tracing a heart on his chest with your finger.

“Of course not,” he cooed, resting his forehead against yours, a smile lifting the corner of his mouth. “You’re a perfect angel.”

“I just think maybe you could use a break,” you said, dragging your fingertips lower to toy with the waistband of his sweats.

“That's very considerate of you, doll.” He leaned back in his seat, hips thrusting up to center you on his lap. “But I really need to get this done.”

“Are you telling me Captain America can't multitask?” You teased, sliding your hand beneath his waistband to palm his pulsing length.

A hiss broke through his teeth, head knocking back against his chair. “You’re insatiable.”

You stroked him lightly, long, languid pulls that had his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat, velveteen skin feverish to the touch.

“I've been neglecting you, haven't I?” He asked, rolling his head to look at you.

In lieu of an answer, you guided his paw from your hip to the crux of your thighs, pressing his fingers against your sodden, bare pussy.

His eyes darkened, black pupils eclipsing the cornflower blue. “What a grave oversight on my part,” he purred. In a blink, you were straddling his lap, the thick ridge of his cock pressing against your heat.

“Shit, Steve,” you gasped, clutching his shoulders, hips rocking against his on instinct.

He tightened his hold on your thighs, just enough to still you. “Ah, ah,” he clicked his tongue. “You think I'm rewarding this kind of behavior?”

Your heart skipped a beat, pussy fluttering at the dominant edge to his voice. It wasn't often Steve went full dom, but when he did…phew.

“Here's what we're going to do.” He grasped your jaw, forcing you to hold his gaze. “I'm going to finish this report, and you are going to sit on this cock until I'm done.”

“But—”

“And you will not move a goddamn muscle,” he finished.

Holy shit. You were practically a puddle in his lap, helpless under the weight of his authority. Submitting like a rabbit in the maw of a wolf. “Yes, Captain,” you breathed.

He smirked, pulling you in for a brief, but lush kiss. “Lift your hips, baby.”

You obeyed while he freed himself from his sweats. His cock was an angry pink, precum beading from the slit as it throbbed in his hand.

Slowly, you lowered yourself onto him, the fist of his cockhead feeling extra huge after a few days without it, the stretch bright and burning.

“So goddamn tight, doll. Droolin’ all over me,” he panted, gripping your hips to take some of your weight off your trembling thighs.

“Did you get an extra dose of serum? Fuck,” you whined. Felt like you could feel him in your fucking throat, so full you could choke on it.

When your weight fully settled into him, a pleased sort of rumble resounded from his chest. “Bite off a little more than you can chew?” He chuckled, massaging your clenched thighs to help you relax. “What happened to my cock-hungry girl?”

“She's full,” you moaned, already struggling to not grind your hips against him, loving the fullness, but craving the glide.

He laughed again, the movement of his chest giving you momentary relief. “She certainly is. Always take me so well, sweetheart,” he praised, guiding your head to his shoulder and placing a few tender kisses to your temple. “Now be good f’me, and I promise you'll get what you want,” he said, smoothing a hand down your spine.

You nodded, trying to take more regular breaths as you melted into his chest, walls slowly softening around his cock.

“Just like that, doll. Good girl,” he praised. You heard the file slide across his desk, his writing arm starting to move, and just like that, he was working again. Balls deep in your sopping pussy.

You felt yourself flutter around him at the thought of him turning the report in to Fury, knowing what had been happening while he completed it. His cock kicked in response to your internal movements, and you muffled a moan into his neck.

“Shh,” he soothed, free hand coming up to pet your hair.

Minutes ticked by, five, ten, twenty, your mind struggling to think of anything but Steve's length digging into your guts, the steady thump of his heart, the balmy warmth of his skin. Steve seemed entirely unaffected, despite his cock not flagging even an ounce, scribbling away on his stupid little report.

Damn serum.

Your clit was mashed against his pelvic bone, the tiniest movement from either of you would send you reeling, growing more sensitive as time ticked by.

Trying to be sneaky, you took an extra deep breath, hips moving the tiniest bit. But it felt like a bolt of lightening through your lower belly, and your stifled gasp of pleasure gave you away.

Steve jerked his hips up, hitting so deep it bordered on painful, and you yelped, thighs clenching around him. “I know. I know it's hard, baby,” he cooed, the saccharine edge of his voice bordering on mocking. “But you can take it.”

“How much longer?” you whimpered, fists curling in his shirt.

He shuffled some papers. “Five pages.”

You groaned, and he surged inside of you again.

“Can feel that, you know,” he chided. “When you speak, breathe. Every time your heart beats. Every little twitch and flutter—” His words caused your walls to clench around him, and he made a strangled grunt in his throat.

Perhaps he wasn't as unaffected as he let on.

“I knew you liked when I talked to you, but fuck—feeling just how much is driving me crazy,” he huffed. Buried his face in your shoulder to nip at your pulse. “You drive me crazy.”

“Steve, I can't—” you whimpered, shaking with the effort of keeping still.

His thighs flexed beneath you, muscles coiling tight like he was battling the same urges. “God, you sound so pretty,” he groaned, big hands gripping your ass. Report abandoned.

Just another little nudge—”Stevie, please.”

Oh, you sounded so pitiful. All broken and shrill, fucked out before he'd even started.

And he folded.

“Fuck it—I’ll skip my run in the morning.” He dragged your body forward, grinding you on his cock like a toy, and you keened, the relief exhilarating, bone-meltingly sweet. “Always get your goddamn way, huh? Spoiled brat—” He tossed you up onto the desk like you weighed nothing at all, caging you under his Herculean body as he pounded into you. “Got me wrapped around your little finger.”

“Fuck, yes, yes, yes!” You chanted, clinging to him as your orgasm hit you like a train, blasting through you without warning and sending you into orbit. Stars bursting like fireworks behind your eyes as you soared.

“That's it, sweetheart. So good f’me—feels so—fuck!” He tipped over the edge with you, pumping you so full it ached. “Satisfied now, doll?” He huffed when he came down, head dropping into the crook of your neck.

You could only hum, entirely unrepentant.

© agreeewrites 2025. do not copy, translate or claim my writing as your own.

[strawberry-bubblef]

Just found your blog after seeing the Overblot students reacting to causing serious harm to the reader/their partner and oof the angst is strong there! Excellent stuff all around and the way that several of them have symbolic injuries suited to each is fitting-

Like Vil pointed out the irony that his attack blinded them (likely disfiguring too)

Leona missing the arm that never hesitated to reach out for him.

Jamil making his S/O unable to stand without them, needing his support.

For some reason, it all reminded me of the Jekyll and Hyde musical (not at all accurate to the original work but the music is pretty good) particularly the Confrontation song, where Jekyll and Hyde have a musical number ripping into the other.

Imagine if the Overblot guys (whether merely haunted by their memories of the event or tying into your original post about permanent injuries inflicted to the person they loved most) have nightmares confronting those versions of themselves especially in regards to the harm that could have (or did) happen to their S/O. Only to get hit with “can’t you see were the same” but maybe the OB’s are mild yanderes towards the S/O or point out easier it is to keep them by his side, that he’s willing to take the risks to keep them around unlike the “good boy” persona some of them keep up.

OB students having nightmares of themselves after hurting their s/o

Part 1: Ob student unintentionally hurting their s/o

Aww! Thanks for the sweet words 🥲🫶 I'm glade you liked it !

Riddle Rosehearts

The halls of Heartslabyul are silent after curfew. Moonlight cuts silver through the tall windows, casting the checkered floor in sharp, cold contrast. It’s late, but Riddle isn’t sleeping. Not really. Not anymore.

He jolts awake again, breath shallow, red eyes wide. He stares at the ceiling, but all he sees is the moment he can never take back.

Your voice, cracking as you tried to reach him.

The way the vines coiled around you, cruel and tight,his vines.

How you cried out.

And the silence after. The absolute silence.

He’s by your side now, and you’ve forgiven him. You told him as much, your voice gentle, your hand on his. But that forgiveness tastes like ash when he remembers the look on your face back then,not fear, not anger, but disbelief. As if you couldn't quite believe he was the one hurting you.

It clings to him like a second skin.

And every night, the dream returns.

The maze is dead now. No more vibrant red blooms or the sweet scent of petals. Only twisted thorns and rotting leaves, the sky above a bruised, stormy purple. The air is heavy with guilt and magic.

In the center of it all sits his throne.

That version of him is waiting, legs crossed elegantly, sipping black tea that stains the porcelain cup like ink.

“You're late,” the Overblot says. “But I suppose shame slows the feet.”

Riddle takes a breath. “I’m not here for your games.”

“Ah, but we’ve played such lovely ones, haven’t we? Tea parties and rules and hearts cut clean in half.”

He steps closer, circling Riddle like a cat. “Do you remember how quiet they became after we were done? No more backtalk. No more chaos. They obeyed. Isn't that what you wanted?”

Riddle flinches.

The Overblot leans in, voice silken and low. “You wrapped yourself in rules because your mother left you no room to breathe. So you did the same to them because love is terrifying when it’s free, isn’t it?”

“I was wrong,” Riddle says. “That wasn’t love.”

“Then what do you call it?” the other hisses, the smile gone. “You think your bouquet of apologies rewrites what you did? You think gentle words and shared tea make up for the way they screamed?”

Riddle’s hands tremble. He can’t meet his own eyes,those cruel red eyes staring out of a mirror cracked by power and pain.

“I didn't mean to hurt them.”

“But you did.” The Overblot’s voice turns almost tender, almost sad. “And I-we will always live with that.”

Silence falls like snow.

And then: “But at least I was honest. At least I did what had to be done to keep them close. You fear they’ll leave. I made it impossible. Maybe you should be thanking me.”

Riddle recoils. “You turned them into something fragile.”

“I turned them into something ours. They stay because of you, but they flinch because of me.”

A pause.

“Can’t you see?” he whispers. “We’re the same.”

The dream ends with Riddle reaching for his collar, choking on petals that pour from his mouth,crimson, velvet, suffocating.

He wakes with a cry.

It’s still night, the room quiet. He reaches for you instinctively, but the sheets are cool, the space beside him empty. Panic strikes fast and cold.

He finds you on the balcony, bathed in moonlight. Wrapped in a soft robe, you’re gazing at the stars. Your arm is wrapped, supported. Some movements are slower now. But your eyes are bright as ever.

You turn as he approaches.

“Another nightmare?”

Riddle says nothing. He only stands behind you and hesitantly slide his hand into yours. His grip is tight,not crushing, never again but desperate in its quiet plea.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers.

“You don’t get to decide that alone,” you reply softly, placing yourhand over his. “You made a mistake. A terrible one. But you changed. You’re trying. That matters.”

“I see him every time I close my eyes,” Riddle admits. “He says we’re the same.”

You turn, gently cupping his face with the only hand that you have left. “Then prove him wrong.”

He leans into your touch like a drowning man, clinging to the only solid thing in a storm. In your eyes, there’s still pain. Still healing. But also,somehow hope.

He’s terrified he’ll always be at war with that version of himself.

But if you’re willing to walk beside him through the thorns, maybe, just maybe, there’s a path forward.

Leona Kingscholar

The desert wind howls in his ears.

Leona stands on the edge of a dry, cracked savannah where nothing grows, under a sunless sky. The ground is stained with soot and ash, grass burned to cinders. In the distance, a pride stone crumbles into dust.

And there,at the center of the destruction,is himself.

Or at least, what’s left of him.

His Overblot form sits lazily upon a throne of twisted bone and stone, smoke curling from his mane like incense from an open flame. Those glowing eyes burn, full of mirthless amusement.

“Took you long enough,” the Overblot drawls. “What, couldn’t face me sooner? Or were you too busy watching them struggle to tie their shoes with the wrong damn hand?”

Leona's jaw tightens. “Shut up.”

“Hit a nerve?” His other self stretches, claws dragging over the arms of the throne. “I’m not the one who tore it from them. You are. We are.”

“I never meant–”

“Don’t insult both of us. You knew what that spell could do. You were angry. Jealous. Tired of always coming second. So you struck. And you didn’t stop.”

Leona’s fists clench. He can still remember the heat, the way magic surged through him like wildfire, untamed and wild. The look on your face when you collapsed, your dominant arm crushed under a landslide of sand and force.

He remembers how still you were. How you didn’t reach for him. Couldn’t.

And how the silence that followed was louder than any roar.

“They can’t write like they used to,” his Overblot murmurs. “Can’t lift a box. Can’t sketch, or braid your damn hair. All the things they used to do so easily,gone. Because of you.”

“I know !” Leona snaps. “I live with it every day.”

“Do you?” The Overblot tilts his head. “Then why haven’t you left? Why not let them go and find someone better for them? Someone whole?”

Leona’s voice drops to a growl. “Because I love them.”

The other version smiles, sharp and cruel. “No. You need them. And they need you now, don’t they? You made sure of that. No one else understands them like you. No one else will want them like this.”

Leona stares, disgust tightening in his throat.

“Come on,” the Overblot purrs. “Admit it. Part of you is relieved. Because now they’ll stay.”

“No.”

“They’ll never leave you.”

“NO!”

The Overblot lunges, claws out, but Leona doesn’t move.

Because he knows the truth: this isn’t about physical pain. This is about guilt, about possession, about fear.

And about how love can rot if left to fester.

He wakes up leaning against a tree in Savanaclaw. It's still dark, the early morning stars just beginning to fade. His hands are buried in the dirt, sweat soaking the back of his shirt. His heart thunders in his chest like it’s trying to dig out.

The scent of jasmine reaches him first. Then your voice.

“Bad dream?”

Leona looks up.

You’re seated nearby, wrapped in a blanket, watching the horizon. Your sleeve is pinned up neatly, your right side turned toward him. The scarred place where your arm used to be is hidden, but he knows its shape by memory now.

He sits beside you wordlessly. You lean into him, letting his warmth chase away the morning chill.

“It’s always the same dream,” he mutters. “Me. Him. You.”

You rest your head on his shoulder. “Do you still hate yourself?”

He doesn’t answer.

His grip tightens ever so slightly. “I wish it had been me instead.”

You reach for his hand with your remaining one and lace your fingers together.

“I would’ve still stayed,” you say. “Even if it had been you who got hurt. Even if it was your arm.”

Silence stretches, heavy and honest.

Leona leans into you then, pressing his forehead to your temple.

“I’m trying,” he whispers.

“I know.”

And for once, the guilt doesn’t scream quite so loud.

Azul Ashengrotto

The sea is too still.

No current, no light,only the inky abyss stretching endlessly in every direction. Azul floats weightlessly in the dark, arms crossed over his chest, eyes closed as if sleep could shield him from what he knows is coming.

No light,only the inky abyss stretching endlessly in every direction. Azul floats weightlessly in the dark, arms crossed over his chest, eyes closed as if sleep could shield him from what he knows is coming.

And then it starts.

The water shifts.

A shadow coils in the deep like smoke in water,and from it emerges himself,not in his human form, not even in his merman body. No, it’s the Overblot: bloated and grandiose, tentacles stretching into the black like roots through rot. His grin is razor-sharp, filled with oil-slick malice.

“Still pretending to be human?” it coos. “Still clinging to the mask of the poor little businessman?”

Azul doesn’t look at it.

“Did you think success would make you good?” the Overblot hisses, gliding around him like a serpent. “That if you just worked hard enough, they’d love you? Respect you?”

Azul breathes slowly, deliberately. “Shut up.”

“Oh, touchy.” “You weren’t nearly so quiet when you were begging them not to leave you. Not when they were lying there,bleeding, gasping because you made them part of your deal.”

Azul flinches.

He sees it again: the whirlpool, the crashing debris, the spell cast in desperation and greed. The way you fell,your leg crushed under the magical pressure, twisted unnaturally before he could stop it.

Before he cared to stop it.

“You used them,” the Overblot sings. “Because deep down, you thought: if they depend on me, they won’t leave me.”

“I didn’t—”

“Yes, you did,” it snarls. “You saw them shine and you thought: I want that. You dragged them into your schemes, into your world. And now?”

A cruel smile stretches over its face.

“Now they can’t even dance.”

Azul’s fists curl.

“They limp through the halls, leaning on a cane or your arm, and every step is a reminder. And yet, they still smile at you. Still tell you it’s not your fault.”

The Overblot leans in close, eyes glowing.

“But it is.”

Azul screams,no sound leaves his throat, only bubbles but he surges forward, trying to claw at the thing wearing his face, only for it to melt away into nothing.

Leaving him alone in the silent sea.

He jolts awake in a cold sweat.

The lounge is dark, only the soft glow of enchanted lamps illuminating the drapes. Azul sits on the couch, disheveled,, breath caught halfway in his throat.

A small noise draws his attention.

You're at the window, adjusting your prosthetic leg,carefully, patiently. You don’t notice him watching, or maybe you do, and you choose not to look.

He swallows.

You always do things quietly now. No complaints. No bitter remarks. But you also don’t hum anymore when you walk. You don’t twirl in the water like you used to.

Azul lowers his eyes.

He hears the soft tap of your cane as you make your way over, the familiar pattern of your gait now etched into his memory.

You sit beside him, brushing your hand against his.

“You dreamt about it again.”

He nods, shame burning behind his eyes.

“I see him in the mirror sometimes,” he murmurs. “The one I was. I wonder if I’m still him.”

You shake your head. “He would’ve run from this. You didn’t.”

Azul hesitates before reaching for your hand. “I don’t deserve your kindness.”

“Maybe not,” you whisper, “but you’re trying. And that counts more than you think.”

He leans in slowly, resting his forehead against the side of your head. “If I could give you that leg back…”

“I wouldn’t take it.”

He stiffens, shocked.

You turn to him with quiet intensity. “Because then maybe you’d still be pretending to be someone you’re not. I don’t need perfection. I need you.”

Azul doesn’t reply,he can’t. But he holds you a little tighter, breathing in the proof that somehow, some way… you’re still here.

And maybe that's enough.

Jamil Viper

The chains rattle again.

He doesn’t know where he is,some room, always dark, always humid. The smell of sweat and ash lingers like incense from an old nightmare. Stone walls stretch in every direction, but there’s no exit. No sky. Just that mirror on the wall.

He doesn’t look at it.

Not yet.

He knows who’s waiting on the other side.

But he turns anyway.

And there he i. The Overblot version of himself smiles cruelly, slouching in that confident, arrogant way Jamil hates to admit he once wished he could embody.

“You look exhausted,” the Overblot drawls. “Not sleeping well, Jamil?”

“I’m not here to talk to you,” Jamil hisses.

“Oh, but I’m here to talk to you.” The reflection slinks closer. “How’s our darling doing, by the way? Still limping around because of you?”

Jamil’s stomach churns.

The sound of bones snapping, of the ground cracking during that awful moment,when magic surged out of control, when the pressure pinned you down, the illusion spells fraying as your foot was crushed beneath falling debris he summoned. Not even intentionally. Not really.

But he knew you were nearby.

And he still didn’t care.

He had finally taken the reins of his life and you were collateral.

“I didn’t mean-” Jamil starts, voice strained.

“You didn’t stop,” the Overblot cuts in, venomous. “You didn’t hesitate. You knew they were watching. And still you used your magic. Still you twisted their mind until they collapsed.”

Jamil’s voice is a whisper. “I didn't want to hurt them.”

“You wanted control.”

Silence.

“You wanted them to stop pitying you. To see you,not the servant, not the background character, but the powerful one. And when you had it, even just for a moment…”

The Overblot tilts his head.

“…you liked it.”

Jamil clenches his fists. “I hate you.”

“No,” it says, baring fangs. “You hate that I’m you. You hate that some part of you thought, ‘If I can just keep them dependent… they’ll never leave.’”

The words sting like poison.

“Now look at them,” the Overblot murmurs. “They used to dance barefoot on sunlit floors. Now every step is calculated. Controlled. Like you wanted everything else to be.”

Jamil shuts his eyes tight.

When he opens them again, the mirror is empty.

He’s alone again.

But the silence is louder than before.

He wakes up in a sweat.

The room is dim, lit by the flicker of a candle. The warmth of the dorm blankets does little to soothe him, especially not when he sees the empty spot in the bed beside him.

You're by the window.

Adjusting the supportive brace over your ankle,what's left of it. Your balance is careful, practiced. Your fingers are deft. Jamil sits up quietly, heart aching.

You glance over your shoulder. “Nightmare?”

He nods, slow.

You limp over to him, footsteps padded by the soft cloth of your wrap. You don’t say anything at first,you just press your forehead to his, fingers tangling with his.

“I see him,” Jamil says. “The version of me who… who didn't care. Who thought being loved wasn’t as important as being obeyed.”

You don’t flinch. You already know.

“I hate him,” he whispers.

“But he’s not you,” you murmur back.

Jamil’s eyes glint with unshed tears.

“I almost made you another chain.”

You shake your head, taking his hand and placing it against your heartbeat. “But you let go. You let me go. You helped me stand again.”

His voice is raw. “You should’ve run from me.”

“I didn’t want to,” you reply. “I wanted to walk beside you. Even if I had to relearn how.”

He exhales shakily.

And when he kisses your knuckles, it’s soft. Tentative. Like he’s still trying to prove to himself that you’re real,that this, what he has now, is real.

Even after all he’s done.

Vil Schoenheit

The mirror doesn’t lie. That’s the curse.

He can’t hide from it. Not from the face that stares back at him,twisted, blot-streaked, gleaming with hatred and pride. His Overblot self grins through cracked lipstick and bleeding glamour.

“Ah. Come to scold me again, Schoenheit?”

Vil doesn’t answer. He already knows how this goes.

Every night, it’s the same: the same confrontation, the same voice that sounds too much like his own, the same sickening echo of violet light bursting from his fingertips, burning away the world and everything he held dear.

Especially you.

“Still pretending you didn’t enjoy it?” the Overblot version sneers. “You always thought beauty was everything. Until you became the monster.”

Vil’s voice is cold. “I wanted the world to see me. Not them.”

“And now they can’t see anything at all.” A cruel chuckle. “Isn’t that poetic?”

His throat tightens.

He remembers the scent of magic in the air, the searing heat, the flash of light as your scream tore through him. The way you clutched your face, blood slipping between your fingers. The panic that followed. The silence. The way your eyes never found him again.

“I didn’t mean to hurt them.”

“But you did.” The Overblot tilts his head mockingly. “You wanted to be seen. So you made sure they never would be seen again. You took that from them. You, who worshipped beauty like a god.”

Vil’s hands tremble at his sides.

“You knew what your magic could do. You chose to use it anyway.”

“I thought I could control it.”

“You were wrong.”

Silence.

Then:

“They still call your name,” the Overblot whispers. “Even now. Still reach for you. Still smile in your direction. And doesn’t that make it worse?”

Vil turns away.

“All they know is the echo of your voice and the feel of your touch. And you cling to that, don’t you? Because if they saw you as you were... they would’ve run.”

The mirror cracks.

Not from magic but from the way Vil slams his fist into it, fury rippling through every bone.

And when he opens his eyes again, he's awake.

The bedroom is quiet, curtains drawn open just enough to let in moonlight. You’re seated on the bed, fingers moving expertly as you read a Braille book Vil had custom,made for you. Your head tilts slightly when you hear him stir.

“Another dream?” you ask gently.

Vil’s voice is hoarse. “Yes.”

You set the book down. “Was it him again?”

“…Yes.”

You pat the space beside you, and he comes willingly. Sits beside you. Lets you touch his face. You always do that now,run your fingertips along his cheekbones, brush over the curve of his lips, like you’re memorizing him all over again.

“I hate what I did to you,” he whispers. “I took the stars from your eyes.”

“And still I find light in your voice.” you say softly.

Vil swallows. “You don’t hate me?”

“I miss what I lost,” you admit. “But I don’t miss you. Because you’re still here.”

He presses your hand to his chest. “It should’ve been me.”

“No,” you whisper. “You came back to me. That’s enough.”

Sometimes, he still dreams of mirrors.

But these days, when he wakes,he’s holding your hand.

And somehow, that makes all the difference.

Idia Shroud

That’s how the nightmare always starts.

Blue flame dances along the walls, scorching consoles, melting cables, and setting off a chorus of alarms. Everything is chaos.Except for him. Except for the Overblot.

It rises from the flames like a ghost made of rage and sorrow, hair wilder, cloak billowing like smoke. It grins, bearing rows of flame-slicked teeth.

“Guess what, Idia,” it sing-songs. “You’re the villain in your own tragic visual novel. Bad End unlocked!”

Idia curls inward, arms around himself. “I didn’t want to hurt them.”

“You did more than hurt them,” it hisses. “You burned them. Because you wanted to keep them close. You wanted them safe.”

“I lost control. The magic-”

“You thought locking them in the Underworld was safer than letting them leave you. And when they reached out for you..” The Overblot snaps its fingers.

The scent of scorched flesh.

The sound of your cry.

Idia covers his ears, but it’s no use.

“You destroyed the very hands that held you. Four fingers. Gone. Just like that. Do you know how many times they tried to play your games after that? Tried to cook? Draw? Hold a pen?”

“I didn’t mean to-!”

“But you did.” The voice is ice now. “And you know what the worst part is?”

Silence.

“They still forgive you.”

Idia lifts his head slowly, shame thick in his eyes.

“They still smile when you fumble with words. Still wrap what’s left of their hand around yours. Still kiss your cheek and say it’s okay. It’s not okay.”

“I know,” he whispers. “I know it’s not.”

“Then why do you stay?”

He doesn’t answer right away.

Then-q

“…Because they asked me to. Because they didn’t want to lose me too.”

The Overblot’s grin fades.

Idia steps closer to it. For once, he doesn’t flinch.

“I am a coward. I am broken. But I’m trying. Every day. I can’t fix what I did… but I can be here now. And that’s what they asked of me.”

The flames flicker.

“You don’t deserve them,” it spits.

“I know,” Idia says. “But they still choose me. And I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of that.”

He wakes up gasping.

Your hand is in his,smaller now, missing parts of what once was, wrapped in soft bandages and healing cream. But warm. Still warm.

You stir beside him. “Another one?”

He nods.

You squeeze. “You’re still here.”

“…Yeah.”

You rest your forehead against his. “Then I’m okay.”

He doesn’t cry, but he holds your hand tighter.

And for the first time, the nightmare fades into silence.

Malleus Draconia

The castle is quiet. Too quiet.

He wanders its halls alone in the dream. The stone is grey, cracked with age. Thorny vines have grown wild over every door, every window. The sky outside is eternally twilight, like the world itself is holding its breath. Time doesn’t move here. It hasn’t for centuries.

He knows where you are.

He always knows.

Your chamber lies behind an arch of briars, untouched by rot or dust. Enchanted sleep preserved you, peaceful and unmoving, lips barely parted as if frozen mid-sigh.

He crosses the threshold slowly, reverently. His footsteps don’t echo anymore.

You lies there still.

Because of him.

“Malleus.”

The voice that greets him isn’t yours.

It’s his but deeper, weightless, echoing with ancient magic.

The Overblot.

It steps into view like a reflection peeled from his shadow. A smile too gentle to be anything but cruel.

“You saved her,” it says. “She was going to leave. Be taken away. You stopped it.”

“I imprisoned her,” Malleus whispers.

“You protected her. In eternal sleep, she couldn’t be harmed. Couldn’t abandon you. Couldn’t be taken away by time or fate or death.”

Malleus walks toward the bed. Your skin is still warm beneath the spell, magic thrumming softly with every breath. So many years have passed. More than he dares count.

“And yet she wept in her dreams,” he murmurs. “I heard it. Even through the spell.”

“Dreams are nothing,” the Overblot croons. “She’s safe. Isn’t that all you ever wanted?”

His hands tremble.

“I wanted to be with her,” Malleus says, voice breaking. “Not without her. Not like this.”

The Overblot’s smile fades. It regards him like a disappointed parent. “You are a king .You could have have eternity together.”

“No. I forced eternity upon her. I robbed her of choice… of time… of life.”

A silence falls.

Then-

“But she’s awake now.”

That voice. Yours.

He turns.

You're standing in the doorway. Older than you should be, touched by the centuries but beautiful still. Eyes full of sorrow and kindness both.

“I’m awake, Malleus.”

He stares, breathless. “This isn’t real.”

“It could be,” you say, stepping forward. “If you let go of the guilt. If you come back to me.”

“But I hurt you. I stole your future.”

“And yet I chose to wake up.”

You reach out.

He takes your hand in both of his, kneeling as if in penance.

“I will never forgive myself,” he whispers.

“Then let me forgive you instead,” you say. “You’re here now. And I waited because I believed you’d come back.”

He wakes in your arms, forehead against your shoulder, breath shaky.

You cradle his head gently, fingers weaving through his hair.

“You dreamt it again,” you murmur.

He nods, silent.

“I’m still here,” you remind him. “Still choosing you.”

And he holds you tighter, as though centuries could slip between his fingers once more.

But this time, he’ll never let go.

English is not my first language !

[socialobligation]

Hihi!! U said ud like to start doing more writings rather than smaus, so I thought I’d leave u a writing request this time! Okay so picture this, it’s post-war with bakugou x mia!reader who was presumed dead but apparently was just stranded in the middle of nowhere (this part is kind of a plothole but if u could figure out something that would be sososo amazing!!) and after like 6 months finally reunite post-war?? Ofc take ur time and stay healthy author !! Love ur work !!<3333

six months too late | k. bakugo

bakugo thought you were gone. for six months, he lived with that weight. but fate had other plans—and now, you're standing right in front of him.

bakugo had never been good at dealing with grief.

anger? sure. fear? he could mask it. pain? he lived with that shit daily. but grief? real, soul-crushing loss that settled deep in his bones and refused to leave? that was different.

and it was eating him alive.

you had been gone for six months.

the war ended, but not without casualties. the city was rebuilding, heroes stretched thin trying to repair the damage. civilians were starting to feel safe again. life was moving on.

but bakugo couldn't.

because you weren't there.

no body. no trace. no closure.

just... gone.

they'd looked for you. he'd looked for you—refused to stop even after the others tried to tell him it was no use. rescue teams had combed through the rubble, searching collapsed buildings and debris for any sign of you. but all they ever found were reminders of how brutal the battle had been.

a boot. blood on the pavement.

but never you.

bakugo had stood there, watching as they cleared the wreckage, hands clenched into fists so tight his nails left crescent moons in his palms. he didn't speak. didn't move.

he didn't cry.

because if he did—if he let that crack form even for a second—he wouldn't survive it.

he stopped saying your name after the first month.

it hurt too much.

everyone could see it. he wasn't the same.

bakugo still trained with the same intensity, still went through the motions of being a hero-in-training, but the fire was gone. his explosions felt duller. his anger, less controlled.

the dorms were quieter without you. your laugh used to echo through the hallways, bright and infectious. you'd tease him relentlessly, calling him out on his bullshit with that signature grin he pretended to hate.

now? silence.

even his friends had stopped trying to get him to talk about it. they didn't ask how he was doing anymore—probably because they knew the answer.

shitty.

he was doing shitty.

bakugo didn't sleep much anymore.

every time he closed his eyes, he saw you.

not the way he wanted to remember you—smiling, happy, calling him an idiot when he tried to act cool.

no.

he saw you in that moment.

the war. the smoke. the chaos.

"get out of here!" you'd screamed, shoving him back, your eyes wide with desperation. "go, bakugo!"

he didn't listen. he never would.

but then—the explosion.

a flash of light. a deafening roar.

and you were gone.

bakugo woke up most nights with his heart pounding, breath ragged as he reached for something—someone—who wasn't there.

his bed was cold. the dorm was quiet.

and you were still gone.

he should've been there. should've done something. should've protected you.

bakugo had played that moment over in his head a thousand times, wondering where it went wrong. how he let you slip away. how he—of all people—had failed to save the one person he couldn't live without.

six months. that's how long it had been.

life didn't wait for grief to pass. UA moved forward. class 1-a graduated and stayed on as provisional heroes to assist with the rebuilding efforts. the dorms weren't as chaotic anymore. they were quiet. colder. bakugo still trained like his life depended on it. he threw himself into work with relentless determination, trying to drown out the ache that never went away. his body was exhausted, but it was nothing compared to the emptiness that gnawed at him from the inside.

kirishima watched him with worried eyes. mina tried to get him to open up, but he brushed her off. kaminari—even kaminari—stopped cracking jokes about "grumpy bakugo" because this... this wasn't just grumpiness. this was grief. and no one knew how to fix it.

bakugo didn't say it out loud, but he had given up. he stopped checking the reports. stopped listening when the search teams gave their updates. stopped hoping. because hoping hurt too much.

it was a random afternoon when everything changed. the sun was setting, casting long shadows over the UA campus. bakugo was heading back to the dorms after another grueling training session, his body sore and his mind numb. he was used to this feeling by now—the hollow ache in his chest that never fully went away.

but then—

"bakugo." the voice was soft. almost too soft. his brain didn't register it at first. it couldn't.

"katsuki."

that voice. his heart stopped.

slowly, like he was afraid moving too fast would break the fragile illusion, he turned around. and there you were. standing a few feet away, looking tired, worn, and a little worse for wear. but alive.

alive.

bakugo didn't move. didn't breathe.

"hey," you said, voice barely above a whisper, like you weren't sure he'd even want to see you.

bakugo's knees nearly gave out.

"holy shit," he breathed, his voice cracking as his feet finally moved. he stumbled forward like a man possessed, eyes locked on you as if he was afraid you'd disappear again if he blinked.

you didn't move. didn't speak. and then—you were in his arms.

bakugo crushed you against his chest, arms wrapped around you so tightly it was like he was trying to make sure this was real—that you were real.

"you're..." his voice broke, and he buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent like it would anchor him to reality. "you're real."

"i'm real," you murmured, your voice trembling as you clung to him just as desperately. "i'm here, katsuki."

bakugo's body shook. "where the fuck were you?" his voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. "do you know how long i—"

"i know," you whispered, pulling back just enough to cup his face in your hands. "i know. i'm so sorry, katsuki."

his eyes were glassy, filled with too many emotions to name. anger. relief. pain. love.

"i thought..." his voice trailed off, and his grip on you tightened. "i thought i lost you."

"you didn't," you smiled, pressing your forehead against his. "i'm here now. i'm not going anywhere."

"swear it." his voice was barely audible, but the desperation in it was palpable.

"i swear."

bakugo's lips crashed against yours. it wasn't gentle. it was raw, desperate—a collision of lips and teeth and everything he'd been holding back for six long months. he kissed you like he was trying to make up for every second you'd been gone, like he was terrified this was still a dream. but you kissed him back just as fiercely.

and for the first time in six months, bakugo katsuki could breathe again.

you didn't talk about it right away. the first night, you stayed curled up in his bed, wrapped in his arms like he was afraid to let go. bakugo didn't sleep—just held you, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin, grounding himself in the steady rise and fall of your breathing. he didn't ask where you'd been. didn't ask how you survived. because right now? none of that mattered.

you were here. that was all that mattered.

days passed before you could bring yourself to tell him. about how the explosion had thrown you so far, so fast, that no one thought to look beyond the city. how you'd been buried under debris, barely clinging to life, until a group of villagers in a remote area found you and nursed you back to health.

how you'd spent every waking moment after that trying to get back to him.

"i tried, katsuki," you whispered, your voice barely audible as you sat on his bed, hands trembling in his. "i tried to come back."

"i know."

bakugo's thumb brushed over your knuckles, his touch gentle despite the storm in his eyes.

"i didn't mean to leave you."

"i know."

his jaw clenched, and he lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your skin. "you're not leaving again."

"i'm not."

"swear it."

"i swear."

bakugo kissed you again, slower this time, softer—like he was memorizing every inch of you all over again. and for the first time in six months, he wasn't holding onto a ghost.

you stayed by his side after that. bakugo didn't sleep alone anymore. every night, he fell asleep with his arms around you, grounding himself in the steady rhythm of your heartbeat. and every morning, when he woke up and saw you there—he let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay again.

it wasn't easy. some days were harder than others. but you were there.

and bakugo?

he wasn't letting go this time.

not now. not ever.

[harrysfolklore]

lando norris being down bad for his girlfriend: a compilation

summary: lando norris can’t help but talk about his girlfriend whenever he cans, fans make compilation videos about it

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

Lando Norris could be described as someone who's not scared of saying whatever crossed his mind.

And that's why he never, ever, missed the opportunity to talk about his girlfriend whenever he had the chance.

He mentioned her during interviews, press conferences, social media post and even fan interactions. To the point where fans started making compilation videos with all the moments he publicly obsessed over his girlfriend.

The most popular one gathered millions of views on YouTube, showing multiple occasions Lando couldn't help but be down bad for her.

The video started with a clip from Q&A with fans, someone asked him about his favorite way to relax after a race. Without missing a beat, Lando replied, "Cuddling up with my girlfriend, of course. Nothing beats that."

"You're really whipped man, It's embarrassing," Oscar, his teammate, teased beside him, making the audience laugh.

"It's not, really." Lando shrugged proudly.

The next clip was taken from McLaren's Tiktok account, their content creator tried to do the "Can you watch my ___ for a second" prank on Lando.

"Oh my girlfriend already did this prank to me," Lando said, laughing at the camera, "Baby, If you're watching this, I miss you. Your pranks are way better than McLaren's"

The video moved to show Lando during a post-qualifying interview, his suit hanging by his waist and his fireproofs showing, when asked about his strategy for the race, he cheekily replied, "Well, first I'm going to call my girlfriend for some good luck wishes. Then, I'll focus on getting to the front."

"Zak Brown should hire your girlfriend as your strategist then," the interviewer joked.

"That would be great but I don't think we would be getting any job done. You know what they say about mixing business with pleasure."

The next clip showed Lando with his friend and fellow driver Max Fewtrell, playing a trivia game about how well did they knew each other. Max had to answer what was Lando's worst habit.

"I'm going to say leaving dirty plates around the house," he said, showing his board, "You do mate, admit it."

"My girlfriend would agree on that," he admitted, "She's always complaining about it."

"I don't know how she's still living with you."

"Because she loves me, and I would die if she leaves me."

On the same note, a video of Oscar teasing Lando followed right after.

"Who's most likely to snore?" Lando read the question, and Oscar quickly put ut the cutout with Lando's face, "How are you so sure? You didn't even hesitate."

"Mate, I've heard you, plus your girlfriend literally complained about not being able to sleep properly last night because you kept snoring."

"I did keep her up last night, but it wasn't just because of the snoring," Lando said, a cheeky grin on his face.

"Put the not safe for work disclaimer at the beginning of this video please."

The next segment was from Lando's own Youtube channel, he was doing a little vlog in Miami before the race weekend.

"Hi everyone," he said, filming himself in the mirror with his camera, "Today I'm back with another LandoLog, I'm going to be filming some behind the scenes of this Miami weekend, so without further ado, let's go," he moved the camera around, focusing on his girlfriend who was putting some mascara on her eyelashes, "Here's my beautiful girl, who takes ages to get ready. Say hi baby."

"Hi everyone," his girlfriend waved, laughing, "I'm not taking ages, I'm just making sure I look good."

"You always look good for me," Lando said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before turning the camera back to himself, "See, I told you she's the best."

The next clip showed Lando and Oscar together once again, this time they were giving a tour around the McLaren hub.

"This is my driver's room," Lando said as he opened the door, "It's cleaner than Oscar's, clearly, and looks like I have a bed."

Lando moved to put together the small bed that was behind the door, "This is an upgrade from last year, we didn't have this. I'll be definitely giving it some good use, to nap or with my girlfriend."

"Can we have a video where you're not a horndog please?" Oscar said, putting his hands on his hips.

"You're the horndog, I never said what we were going to use it for, we're just going to cuddle."

The video moved to show one of Lando's post race interviews after winning the Miami GP, he had been asked ho would be the most excited person about this win besides him.

"My girlfriend, definitely. I couldn't have done it without her," Lando said, his voice filled with emotion, "She's been my biggest supporter, my inspiration, and my motivation. This win is as much hers as it is mine."

The video then cut to a scene from Lando's gaming stream with Max Verstappen. The two drivers were deep into a game of Call of Duty, their banter and laughter filling the screen. Lando was focused, his eyes glued to the monitor as he coordinated with Max.

Just then, Lando's phone buzzed on the table beside him. He glanced at the screen and his expression softened, the comment section noticing, "Hey, mate, I need to go. My girl needs me for something," he said, setting down his controller.

"Lando! Are you serious right now?" Max said, his eyes still glued to the screen.

"I am, see ya," he turned to the camera, smiling not so apologetically "Sorry, guys, duty calls. See you next time."

The last scene was a snippet from an interview, Lando had been asked what he saw in his future.

He paused, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Honestly? I see a lot of racing, hopefully some championships," he laughed, "but most importantly, I see her. I can't imagine my life without her."

The screen faded to black, showing a text that read: Get you a man who is as down for you as Lando Norris is for his girlfriend.

[thedarkestrivernymph]

Yandere! Kidnapper

warnings: captivity, forced infantilization, nonconsensual themes, physical violence, drugging, collaring, stalking, dead dove: do not eat

—becomes increasingly more unhinged, lowkey inspired by a disturbing manga I accidentally read twice, so take that as you will.., so yeah that's my last post of 2024, happy 2025 people!

©Copyright -2024- thedarkestrivernymph - All Rights Reserved

Y! Kidnapper that hunts you through the forest and tackles you to the ground after an escape attempt only to scold and berate you for every little scrape on your body, as if it wasn't his fault in the first place, as if you're just too clumsy for your own good.

Y! Kidnapper that never would do anything sexual without consent, but doesn't take no for an answer when you tell him you don't want him to bathe you—you are his, so of course he will rub you clean, even the spot between your legs.

Y! Kidnapper who tells you his entire day, everything, as if you're his lifeless oversized doll, only to pinch your nipples whenever he asks a question, daring you to answer and enjoys your torment in staying quiet and pliant for him

Y! Kidnapper who sits you down, clips even your toenails for you, kneads your sore muscles from doing nothing all day, carries you everywhere, doesn't even let your feet catch callous from walking on them, only to treat you absolutely diabolical in bed, branding each inch of skin he took such good care of either with his hand, a belt or whatever he gets his hands on..

Y! Kidnapper who's obsessed with providing warm meals for you, the highest quality ingredients are used—everything to accommodate your sensitive gut, only to drug you out of your mind and giggle while doing nothing else but cuddle you while watching TV and popping chips in his mouth, all while commenting on the script of the particular horror movie he’s watching and listing thousand of things he would've done better than the director

Y! Kidnapper who before capturing you was the weirdest fucking stalker in existence— openly groping you, offering you food with a smile (mind you he’s a complete stranger???), appearing in front of your doorstep at night to holler at you, banging his fists on your door and actively breaking in only to stare at your sleeping form while jacking off. Did I also mention he would email you like you're his secret rendezvous? Oh and he went along and introduced himself to your whole family with a fake identity over email (like—wtf is whatsapp?), hahaha..

Y! Kidnapper who wants to control every single aspect of your life—from how you pluck your brows to when you're allowed to use the restroom. Will literally stare you down with a hand on the chain connected to your collar, that he forced on you after your latest escape attempt, while you're pants are pooling at your feet and you’re trying to pee. (Why? Because the window is a few feet away..)

Y! Kidnapper from who, let's be honest here, you will only ever escape in death and that will probably be in old age, with how well he takes care of you, having baby proofed his home enough to ensure that you couldn't hurt yourself even on accident and don't even think about using a razor! he will do that for you, just sit down in the bathtub, all drugged out of your mind, dumb and drooling, losing touch with reality, while he does everything for you

—just be his passive little kitten he declawed, and that's enough for him, just dependent on him and he will paint your cage gold, even if the paint will chip away one day

[cbeargyu]

just a bet for you [2]

summary: you fall for him, deeply, blindly. you give him everything—including your first time. but when he confesses it was all part of a bet, your world collapses. months later, he realizes too late that his feelings were real. but now, you’ve moved on, and when he tries to reach you, you make it clear: he doesn’t get a second chance.

pairing: heesung x fem!reader

genre: high school au, angst, heartbreak, slow burn, betrayal, one-sided love, emotional fallout.

warnings: emotional manipulation, virginity loss, betrayal for a bet, mentions of bullying, intense emotional scenes, crying, self-worth issues, explicit heartbreak, mention of physical intimacy, slap scene, heavy angst, no happy ending.

wc: 4,3k

notes: hi!!🩷 thank you so, so much for all the love the first part of this story received, it honestly made me so happy to see the response :D! you guys make me really happy, i love you all so much. stay tuned because i’ll be posting the other two heesung stories i promised you soon <3 also, if you want to be added to the taglists for upcoming fics, feel free to fill out this form! you can specify which groups or idols you’d like to be tagged in, it would help me stay a bit more organized 🫶🏻

PART 1 HERE.

taglist: @rikiholic @jjongsies @heelovesmeknot @imzhouxinyu @firstclassjaylee @xoxobooksstuff @bbokaricentral @bonsaijoons @ily6968 @annnna1234 @lavxndxrsworld @titttuaf @ball-312 @yujinsbabyi @guppiechuu @mymentalityprince @g3n3v13v33 @pjselee @lovetia @ikeulims @skzenhalove @kukkurookkoo @leechqnsgirl @wonniejamz @lookmaxxxomg @meowmeowjang @yeahhhhsuperhumannn @hyuukas @aheewonenthusiast @lilyofthevalley6 @fabulousarepo4 @zhenyaf1z @antisocialties @deezbin @princesspeachicedtea @heeseungissm

you didn’t go to school for two weeks after it happened.

at first, you told your parents you were just tired. that maybe you were coming down with something. that your body ached. and it was true, in a way—your body did ache, but not from any illness they’d understand. the ache sat deep in your chest, in your lungs, in the pit of your stomach. it made it hard to breathe, hard to eat, hard to sleep without waking up in tears.

you cried until your throat burned. until your pillow was soaked. until your fingers curled into your sheets in the middle of the night, wishing you could claw him out of your memory. you kept replaying it over and over again—how he held you, how he kissed your forehead, how gently he moved inside you, how he fed you soup and looked at you like you were made of glass. and then how he broke you in the same room he touched you like you mattered.

you didn’t understand.

you couldn’t understand.

someone who loved with actions—who tied your shoelaces when they came undone, who waited at the gate after school, who sat in silence with you in the library just to be near you—how could that all be a lie? how could someone fake the way his thumb brushed over your hand while you solved equations, or the way he held you like the world outside your bedroom didn’t exist?

you told yourself there had to be something real in it. maybe not all of it. but something. he couldn't have done all that just for a bet… right?

but while you cried yourself sick, the others were laughing.

heesung and his friends—jay, sunghoon, the others who had always hovered around like shadows—were joking about it in the cafeteria. about how you’d fallen hard. about how easy it had been. jay even said he didn’t think you’d go through with it. sunghoon just laughed and said, “i guess love makes girls blind.”

and heesung?

he laughed too.

smirked and said, “i told you. i knew she’d give in. i know her type.”

and maybe something in him tightened when he said it. maybe something in his chest flickered, sharp and bitter. but no one noticed—not even him. because in front of his friends, his pride had to survive. so he played along. like you had meant nothing. like none of it had mattered.

and yet… when you came back, everything changed.

you walked into school two weeks later with your head held a little higher. your eyes were tired, but they didn’t tremble anymore. your uniform was the same, your hair was the same, but there was something different about the way you carried yourself. you smiled at your teacher when she welcomed you back. you answered roll call like nothing was wrong. when people whispered in the halls, you didn’t flinch.

you told everyone your parents had taken you out of town to visit your grandmother. “we didn’t plan it,” you said easily. “they just made the decision last minute. no signal where we were.”

you sat in class like normal. you took notes. you even hummed quietly during break.

and people noticed.

not in the cliché, dramatic way. not like you suddenly became the “hot girl.” it was quieter than that. it was in the way people looked twice when you walked by. the way they hesitated before talking about you. the way they no longer saw you as invisible, but as something they couldn’t quite define.

and heesung noticed too.

he saw the way your posture had changed. the way you didn’t glance around nervously anymore. the way you answered questions with confidence, how you laughed with classmates you never used to talk to. something about your presence was louder now, even if your voice wasn’t.

and for the first time since he left your house, he started remembering.

he remembered how your hands shook when you first held his. how your eyes lit up when he brought you strawberries one afternoon because you mentioned liking them in passing. how he watched you sleep once, and something inside him clenched in a way he didn’t understand back then.

he told himself it was all an act. that he was just playing the part. that every kind gesture, every glance, every soft breath against your skin was planned.

but not all of it was.

some things just... happened. some moments weren’t rehearsed. and now, watching you from across the room, something sharp curled beneath his ribs.

regret.

and that feeling only deepened when, one afternoon, you were walking past the lockers and someone called your name.

“y/n!”

you turned, blinking, and found a boy you didn’t recognize very well—jake, from class 1-b. tall, warm smile, honey-brown hair. he jogged over with a little out-of-breath laugh.

“you dropped this earlier in the hallway,” he said, holding out your pen.

you blinked at it, surprised. “oh… thank you. i didn’t even notice.”

“yeah,” he grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. “figured you’d want it back. it’s cute. the little star charm’s cool.”

you laughed, a small, real sound. “it was a gift. from myself.”

he laughed with you. “solid choice.”

he walked with you to class that day. not flirtatious. just easy. light.

and heesung saw it all from the other end of the hall—your laugh, your comfort, the way jake looked at you like you were bright and new.

and something in his stomach twisted.

for the first time, he wasn’t part of your world.

he had no place there anymore.

and maybe—just maybe—that was the part that hurt the most.

heesung didn’t notice it all at once.

at first, it was just a quiet discomfort. something small. like the subtle ache of a bruise you forgot was there until someone brushed against it. a flicker in his chest that he ignored. a hollow feeling he pushed down with laughter and noise.

he told himself he didn’t care. that he had won. that it was just a bet and he had gotten what he wanted. his friends kept saying it, too—how easy it was, how good the payoff had been, how funny it was that you actually cried.

but every time they said your name like it was a joke, something in him tensed.

still, he smiled.

still, he laughed.

because that’s what he was supposed to do.

until you came back.

you walked into school like someone who had been rebuilt. not louder, not flashier, not dressed any different—but something in you had changed. you didn’t slouch anymore. you didn’t stare at the floor when people passed. your steps were quieter, but more certain. like you didn’t need to be noticed to be seen.

and worse—you didn’t look at him.

not once.

not even when your eyes passed over his. you looked right through him. like he wasn’t there. like the boy you gave yourself to had died and become someone you didn’t recognize anymore. it was the first time he realized you could move on. that maybe he hadn’t broken you the way he thought he did.

and that’s when it started.

the ache.

every day after that, it grew heavier. he tried to ignore it—he flirted with other girls in the hallway, he laughed louder than necessary, he stayed out late. but none of it filled the space you left behind. the silence of your absence followed him everywhere, curling like smoke around his collarbones, pressing against his lungs.

and then came jake.

at first, he didn’t even know the guy’s name. just some quiet boy from a different class—friendly, golden-haired, always polite to teachers. but suddenly, he was sitting beside you during lunch. carrying your books when your arms were full. walking with you to the gate after school. he never touched you too much, never made it look like anything romantic, but it didn’t matter.

heesung saw the way you smiled around him.

not the way you used to smile at heesung—shy and tentative—but brighter. lighter. like you were no longer afraid of breaking.

and worst of all, jake did things heesung used to do.

he tucked your hair behind your ear when the wind blew too hard. he waited for you outside the library, leaning against the wall with both hands in his pockets like it was the most natural thing in the world. he passed you notes in class—not cheesy ones, but simple things like “don’t forget to eat lunch today” or “i hope your morning was kind.”

and every time heesung saw one of those moments unfold, his chest tightened.

because he remembered.

he remembered how you used to look at him like that. how you used to reach for his hand without thinking. how you once whispered “thank you for choosing me” after he kissed your forehead in your room.

he told himself it was all fake. that he had played a role, nothing more.

but some of it hadn’t been fake.

some of it had been instinct.

some of it had been real.

and now it was gone.

sometimes, at night, he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, thinking of the way your voice trembled when you said you were happy your first time had been with him. the way you clung to the blanket when he stood to leave. the way you ran after him, bare feet against the floor, tears already falling—and he didn’t turn around.

he should have turned around.

now you were healing without him.

and he… he was unraveling.

that's why he didn’t expect to see you again that day.

it was just a normal afternoon—at least, that’s what it was supposed to be. the courtyard was half-empty, students trickling out after class in lazy, aimless waves. heesung had been walking with jay and sunghoon, shoulders slouched, backpack hanging loosely from one strap, half-listening to some story jay was telling that didn’t really matter.

he wasn’t paying attention. not until he heard your laugh.

soft. low. the kind of laugh that used to only come out when you were comfortable, when you forgot to be afraid. he froze instinctively—eyes lifting before his mind could stop him.

there you were.

sitting on the edge of a planter box under the tree near the gate, legs crossed at the ankle, your head tilted as you listened to jake say something beside you. he was holding a bottle of water, a backpack slung over one shoulder. he handed it to you, and you took it with a small smile, your fingers brushing his for just a second.

heesung couldn’t hear what you were saying. but you were smiling. you looked healthy. rested. you looked like you hadn’t spent weeks crying over him in the dark. you looked like you’d finally let go of the hand that once shattered you.

and you didn’t look his way—not once.

that was the part that felt the heaviest.

“damn,” jay muttered beside him, loud enough for the others to hear. “she moves on fast.”

sunghoon snorted. “wonder if she cried in jake’s arms, too.”

they laughed. a few other boys chuckled with them. someone else said, “what was her name again? the one you took home? y/n, right?”

heesung didn’t say anything. he kept walking, but his pace slowed.

“maybe she’s just collecting boyfriends now,” jay added with a grin. “first heesung, now jake. who’s next?”

“bet jake has no idea she was begging heesung to stay, crying like a kicked puppy.” sunghoon whistled. “guess jake likes secondhand toys.”

the laughter grew louder. more shameless. more cruel.

heesung stopped walking.

he didn’t say a word. he didn’t laugh. he just stared straight ahead, jaw clenched so tight it ached. his fingers curled tighter around the strap of his backpack, knuckles white.

they were still talking about you like that. like you were nothing more than a punchline. like you hadn’t mattered. like you hadn’t loved him.

and he said nothing.

because saying something would mean stepping out of the mask he’d been wearing this whole time. it would mean breaking the image. it would mean admitting that you weren’t just another girl. that what he did wasn’t just a joke. it would mean facing everything he’d been trying to ignore since the moment he left your house and walked away from the girl who had given him everything.

he told himself it was better this way. that it was cleaner if he stayed silent.

but his silence was starting to rot him from the inside out.

you were still sitting there, unaware. jake stood up, pointing at something in his phone, and you leaned slightly to look. he held the screen closer, and your knees brushed lightly—casual, natural, the kind of touch heesung remembered vividly.

and for a second—just a second—he wished he could go back.

not to change what happened, not to undo it, but to tell you that it hadn’t all been a lie. that not everything had been a game. because when you smiled at him, something inside him had moved. and when you cried, something inside him hadbroken. he just hadn’t known what to do with that feeling. so he buried it. mocked it. pretended it never happened.

and now it was too late.

jay slapped a hand on his shoulder. “what, you mad he’s got her now?”

he didn’t respond.

just shook him off gently, like the touch annoyed him.

because yeah. maybe he was mad.

but not at you. not at jake.

he was mad at himself—for letting go of the only person who ever looked at him like he wasn’t just a name behind a pretty face. for breaking something he didn’t know how to fix. for being too much of a coward to say, “stop,” when they started laughing.

and for still staring at you like you were his, when he gave you every reason to walk away.

he laid on his back, staring at the ceiling like it had answers.

the room was quiet except for the hum of his fan and the soft ticking of the clock on his desk. it was late—past midnight, maybe closer to two—but sleep didn’t come easily anymore. not the kind that left you rested. not the kind that made mornings worth waking up for.

his body was still. but his mind wouldn’t shut up.

he hated how loud your memory was in silence.

he closed his eyes and it came rushing back. the way your fingers curled in his shirt when you kissed him the first time. how you trembled under his touch but still whispered “i want this with you.” how you winced when he entered you, how your nails dug into his back as you cried out, how you smiled, teary and flushed, afterward, whispering “i’m happy it was you.”

he hadn’t meant to remember all of it—but it wouldn’t leave him alone.

the way you used to wait by his locker just to walk home together. the way you brought him tangerines because he said he liked them once. the way you blushed whenever he tucked your hair behind your ear. how you laughed when he teased you softly. how your voice always dropped when you said his name like it meant something more.

he thought he’d buried all of that. he thought forgetting you would be easy.

but nothing about you was forgettable.

he sat up in bed, breathing heavy now, like the air around him had thickened. there was a tension in his chest—an ache that didn’t go away when he rubbed his hands over his face. it stayed there, lodged in his ribs, aching like guilt, like grief, like a question he’d never asked himself until now:

did i love her?

and the silence answered back:

yes.

yes, he did. maybe not from the start. maybe not all at once. but somewhere along the line—between the library books and your gentle voice and the way you looked at him like he was someone worth loving—he had fallen for you.

and now you were gone.

really gone.

not just physically, but emotionally. spiritually. you no longer belonged to his world. you no longer turned at the sound of his name. he could pass you in the hallway and it would be like walking past a ghost.

he hesitated, looking at his phone on the nightstand.

his heart beat faster.

his hand trembled slightly as he reached for it, thumb hovering over your contact. it was still there. he never deleted it. he never even changed your name. just y/n—plain, simple, the way you saved yourself in his phone that first night.

he stared at it for too long.

what do i say?

what could i say?

sorry? i miss you? i didn’t mean it? i was wrong?

they all felt hollow. they all felt too late. but he pressed the call button anyway, like maybe—maybe—you’d still want to hear his voice.

it rang once.

then the screen went black. call declined.

he froze.

his stomach dropped.

he tried again. and this time—

“this number is not available.”

his throat tightened. he tried to breathe through it, but his chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself.

you had blocked him.

not muted. not ignored. not paused.

blocked. completely. entirely. with finality.

and just like that, it hit him like a blow to the ribs.

she doesn’t want to hear from me. she’s done.

what did he expect?

that you’d pick up in the middle of the night, voice soft and sleepy, still waiting for him? that you’d cry again, say his name, beg for answers? that you’d run into his arms like nothing had happened?

how fucking foolish.

his fingers tightened around the phone, then let it drop beside him with a dull thud.

you weren’t waiting. you weren’t hoping. you weren’t his anymore.

you had walked away. healed. outgrown him.

and he—he had stayed the same. still pretending. still running. still hiding behind silence and laughter and people who didn’t care if he burned.

he laid back down, arm over his eyes, chest hollow.

he wouldn’t call again.

he wouldn’t message.

he wouldn't show up pretending to be brave.

not because he respected your decision—but because he was a coward.

and because facing your rejection now would destroy what little was left of him.

so he let the silence stay.

just like you had.

days had turned into weeks, though heesung wasn’t sure when the shift had occurred. time had begun to bleed together, slow and indistinct, like the blur of water slipping down a window during a storm. everything felt quieter than before, but not in the peaceful way—no, it was the kind of silence that made his skin itch, that wrapped around his lungs and refused to let go, like grief that hadn’t quite finished forming. he still walked the same halls, still sat in the same classrooms, still laughed at the same tired jokes, but the world around him felt distorted, as if nothing was quite where it used to be. and it wasn’t. not really. because you weren’t there anymore—not in the way that counted.

you didn’t look at him anymore. didn’t flinch when you passed each other. you didn’t hesitate, or soften, or seem remotely affected by the empty space he left behind. and maybe that was what finally started to eat at him—not your absence, but your indifference. it was easier when he thought you hated him. hate meant fire. hate meant he still lived somewhere inside you. but now... now you looked through him like he had become translucent, like he no longer held a single thread to your world. and god, it hurt more than he could stand.

he told himself he didn’t care. repeated it like a prayer each night when he stared at the ceiling in his dark room, one arm slung over his eyes to block out everything except his thoughts. but the truth clawed at him like something alive. he remembered everything—your hands in his, the soft pull of your smile, the way your head fit perfectly on his shoulder, how your voice cracked when you said “i’m glad it was you.” he had tried to forget, but it came back in waves, sharp and suffocating. he remembered how you kissed him like he mattered, how you trembled but still trusted him, how your eyes fluttered open afterward, full of something so painfully pure it nearly undid him.

he couldn’t forget. not anymore.

the ache that came with those memories had become unbearable—dense in his chest, heavy in his throat. and when he walked into the chemistry lab that afternoon, all he wanted was to disappear for a little while, to escape the noise of the halls and the suffocating press of guilt that followed him like a shadow. he didn’t expect to see you there.

you were standing near the lockers, facing away from him, your body half-tucked behind the tall cabinet where the beakers and tongs were kept. you moved carefully, methodically, as if each motion served a purpose. your back was straight, your hair pulled out of the way, the sleeves of your uniform rolled just slightly. you looked so calm, so self-contained. you looked nothing like the girl he remembered sobbing under a blanket while he walked away.

he froze. completely.

for a moment, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. he felt like the air had thickened, like he had walked into a memory and it had decided to come alive just to punish him. his gaze locked on you, and as if some invisible string snapped taut between you, you turned.

your eyes met.

and everything around him went still.

his heartbeat stuttered. there was a pressure behind his eyes, behind his ribs, like something raw had clawed its way out of him. and for the briefest second, he thought maybe—maybe—there was something still left. maybe you’d say something, anything.

but then you blinked, cold and calm, and turned away again without a word.

you folded your lab coat neatly, placed it on the stool beside you, and grabbed your bag. you were already halfway to the door when his body reacted before his mind could.

“wait—”

his voice cracked through the silence, rough and desperate.

you paused, fingers on the sliding door, shoulders tense.

“please. y/n… wait.”

he moved toward you, slowly, like every step cost him something. and just before you could open the door, he reached out, fingers brushing your wrist.

you flinched.

your reaction was immediate, electric—your body snapped away like he had burned you. your eyes turned to his, not wide with surprise or hurt, but narrowed with fury and something else—disgust. your voice, when it came, was sharp and low and full of ice.

“don’t touch me.”

he stepped back instinctively, guilt spreading across his face like poison. he lifted his hands slightly, palms open as if to show he meant no harm. but it didn’t matter. it was already too late.

“i just… i need to talk to you,” he said, voice softer now, almost breaking. “please. i know i don’t deserve it. but just let me—”

“you used me.” your voice cut through the room like a blade, and he fell silent instantly. “now you want me to believe you care?” you shook your head, bitter disbelief dripping from every word. “don’t insult me. save your guilt for someone who asked for it.”

he took a shallow breath, but your words didn’t stop.

“you didn’t defend me when they laughed at me.” your tone trembled now—not with weakness, but with pain long held. “you laughed with them.” you stepped forward, eyes gleaming with unshed tears. “so don’t act like you regret it now.”

his lips parted, his throat worked, but nothing came. not until you finally said the last thing he’d been terrified to hear.

“you never loved me, heesung.” your voice cracked, but you didn’t look away. “you loved the way i looked at you.”

that broke him.

he looked down, shoulders heavy, breath unsteady. he wanted to deny it, to explain, to beg—but the truth swelled inside him like a wound finally bursting.

“i did,” he said softly, eyes flicking back to you, desperate. “i did love you. i swear i didn’t know it until after, but—” he choked, biting down the panic that rose in his chest. “yes, it started as a joke. a fucking stupid bet. but it stopped being one the moment you smiled at me like i meant something. when you held my hand, when you kissed me back, when you… when we were in your room, and i held you—”

you slapped him.

hard.

his head jerked slightly to the side, the sting spreading across his cheek like fire.

you were shaking now, but your voice was steady.

“don’t you dare bring that night up.”

your eyes were red, but not from weakness. from rage. from betrayal. from the kind of heartbreak that people don’t walk away from whole.

“you planned it. all of it. you got close to me just to win. you let me fall. you let me love you knowing the whole time you were going to rip me apart. and you did.” your voice rose, thick with tears now spilling freely down your cheeks. “i hate you, heesung. i hate you. leave me alone.”

he opened his mouth, but you were already walking away, grabbing your coat and bag, shoving past him like he wasn’t even there. and this time, he didn’t follow. he didn’t try to stop you. he just stood there, one hand on his cheek, chest collapsing in on itself.

he watched you disappear through the door.

and for the first time, he didn’t just feel regret. he felt loss. real, permanent, irreparable loss.

and he knew.

you would never look at him again.

not even with hate.

because even that… required caring.

and you were done.

[fandomwritesstuff]

Welcome Home

Pairing: Robert 'Bob' Reynolds/The Void x Thunderbolts!Fem!Reader Summary: Bob had started to sleep in your room after a bad nightmare. What he wasn't aware of was that you had met the Void and continued to meet him. One night that changes... (I'm bad at summaries) Warnings: Angst... The Void (I feel like he's a warning on his own), name calling/degrading. (I think that's it, let me know if I missed any) A/N: This is the first writing I've done in a while and the first that I'm posting to this account. (please be nice). I got the idea for this after a rough day and from the song Welcome Home by HELLYEAH. Also thanks to @em1i2a3 for inspiring me to actually post and not just keep this in my docs lmao. Word Count: 3,005

It was supposed to be simply helping a friend. Bob battled with nightmares, you knew that. So when he came to you after a bad one, shirt damp with sweat and fidgeting, you welcomed him in without hesitation. You wrapped him in your arms and soothed him back to sleep. 

What should have been a peaceful night, turned into a living nightmare for yourself. As Bob's hand accidentally brushed your skin, you met him.

The all consuming.

The darkness inside.

The Void.

He was unforgiving. Ruthless in his purpose.

To hurt.

To shame.

To just watch you suffer. 

Night after night. As Bob got the rest he deserved, you became alert, on edge. 

Bob didn't know, and you felt you couldn't tell him–not without changing how things were. You didn't want to risk him pulling away from you when you just started to get closer. When he just started to open up–when the bags under his eyes had started to disappear. 

It had become your routine. Bob would knock on your door like clockwork. Then he would just follow you to your room. John had called him a puppy the one night he saw it. You told him to fuck off.

You got used to it, the other side of Bob. The side he wasn't fully in control of, nor aware. The nightmares became standard for you. It was to the point you almost welcomed the familiarity of them–waiting to see which shame would drag you down each night. 

But tonight was different. 

Instead of being welcomed into an old memory you were met with your own room. Your bed was occupied with two familiar bodies, the new routine you had come to accept.

“W-what is this?” You found yourself asking the darkness surrounding the room. 

Even if he didn't show himself, you knew he was there. The one constant in the ever changing waves of your memories. The tides of your shame.

After looking around for a while, he finally stepped into the dim moonlight of the room. Staring at the figures in the bed as you once had been.

“It's what you've come to regret the most. The night this all began.” He paused glancing at you for a brief moment. A glint of amusement in his eyes.  “I should be offended, but I think we both know it's not meeting me you regret.” 

A sick feeling spreads throughout your body. You wanted to deny it–deny him. Deny that you didn't hate these moments as much as you should. 

However, the fact would still remain. That the only regret you have from that night is when Bob awoke in the morning. 

When he smiled and asked how you slept. When you noticed the bags under his eyes were gone and the tension in his shoulders had eased. When he looked more rested than you had seen weeks.

You smiled back and lied to him. Lied to his face, saying you slept fine. Lied by the omission of the truth.

It was the only thing you regretted, knowing you would then never be able to tell him. Not without backlash. Not without risking losing him. Not without unraveling the friendship you had come to treasure more than any other. 

You turned away from the bed, opting to stare into the darkness around you instead. A part of you hoping the scene would slip away. Fade into the emptiness around you.

You knew it wouldn't, though. You knew he wouldn't be that kind. He probably didn't know how. 

“Why didn't you tell him?” He asked, quietly appearing in front of you. He studied your face, knowing his question would only frustrate you. It was his sick game after all. One that you had come to play every night. Not fully willing, but not completely unwilling either.

“You know why.” You whispered, as if afraid Bob would wake and reset the memory again. 

“Oh, but you know I like it better from your lips.” He responded, moving closer once again. “Just as I believe you like to tell me, don't you?” He reached a hand out to brush along your cheek before curling his fingers under your jaw. 

His hand was surprisingly soft. Unexpected with his rough demeanor. The coolness was expected though. It matched the coldness of these rooms, of his core.

He used his hand to force you to look at him. A way of convincing you to succumb to his will and give him what he wanted. A way of taking out all other options. A reminder of his control in this game.

“I didn't want to lose him.” You spoke, meeting his eyes. 

“Oh, but that's not all. Finish your sentence.” He toyed with you, tilting his head, he moved his hand to grip your chin and tug lightly. You stumbled closer to him. You could see the gleam of his teeth as he smirked. Feel his breath fan over your face as he patiently waited for you.

“Or-”

“Ah, ah. From the beginning.” 

“I didn't want to lose him…” You broke eye contact before feeling a light tug once more, forcing them back on the white pinpricks in front of you. “Or you.” You finished, releasing the breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

“There it is–the real shame.” While it was difficult to make out his physical features, you knew that his smirk had turned into a triumphant smile. His white teeth were always a stark contrast with the darkness that surrounded them. 

“I bring you comfort and that makes you uncomfortable. I’m the paradox that you can’t solv, the riddle you return to, in a vicious cycle. Because your weak mind can’t let go.” He dug in, dragging his free hand up your arm slowly, deliberately. Goosebumps followed in his wake as a shiver went down your spine. His hand rested on your bicep as he pulled you in closer. 

He enveloped you like a cool blanket on a warm day��comforting until you realize that it's frozen and you can't move.

“You can’t even tell if it’s Bob you like or just that he brings you closer to me.” 

“That’s not true.” Your murmured, voice small compared to his booming tone. 

“Really?” He asked with a chuckle.

“Bob’s my friend. I care about him. I like him for who he is… even the sides he can’t control.” 

“Especially that side.” The Void mocked and tears stung your eyes.

You jerked out of his grip turning to look back at the bed once more. You looked at Bob, who slept soundly. His peaceful look brought a smile to your face and you blinked away the tears. 

“What would he say,” the Void whispered behind you, “if he knew you looked forward to this?”His breath ghosted over your ear, and another shiver slid down your spine.

“I could bring him here.” He murmured into your other ear. “Make him aware.” 

“You wouldn’t.” Your voice cracked as you turned to face him. 

“Oh, wouldn’t I?” He asked with a chuckle, tilting his head. You clenched your fists at the thought.

You stayed silent, fearful of your next move. Fearful of him going through with his threat, uncertain of the emptiness of it.

“He won’t admit it aloud but he’s always been curious, you know?” The Void mused after a moment. 

“About what?” You asked, tumbling the domino that he left in front of you, unknowing what effect it would lead to. 

“Your biggest shame. He ponders it often. More than you think.” He took a step toward the bed. “What would he see if he lost control?

“I wonder what he would think if he knew he was a part of that shame now. He would probably be torn apart. Avoid you at all costs. Never understand how this has… helped you. In your sick little way.” 

“Enough.” 

“I’ve barely begun.” His words curled around you. “You think you’re close to him but you're still alone. Bob would never understand. Neither would the team. No one, but me. I’m all you have and that is just pathetic.” 

“Then what does that make you, a parasite?” You asked, glaring at him as he walked closer to Bob. 

“Careful now, remember who holds the power here.” He reminded you. A tension was growing in the air, but you were too tired to care. His games had worn on your last nerve. Leaving you to throw caution to the wind.

“No, I think you enjoy this just as much as I do. You alert Bob, you lose me. You really want to risk that? All ‘cause you’re afraid I understand you better than you want me to?” You stepped closer to him. The pinpricks of white narrowed in a glare. 

“You don’t know me.” He snarled. Despite that, you believed he was wrong. You knew his game, even when you played right into it. He thrived off misery and normally he could only torture Bob. Bob who was learning to tune him out. 

With you, he had more than just Bob to torture. A different target, to try tactics on. One who couldn't fight back as easily all the time.

“I may not know everything, but I know more than you think. If I’m so wrong then do it. Make him aware, show him my shame.” 

“Fine, but just know, you asked for this.” He told you, causing your eyes to widen as a groggy Bob appeared between the two of you. 

Your stomach dropped. Everything had backfired in seconds. 

“W-what's going on?” Bob stammered, eyes frantically looking around the room. “Y/n?” He stuttered out your name, eyes locking on yours 

“Oh no.” He moaned as he looked at the Void. “Y/n, I'm s-so sorry. I-I didn't mean t-to. I'll w-work on controlling it. It won't happen again. I'm sorry.” 

His apologies were a stab to the heart as it wasn't him who needed to say anything. He was curling in on himself, wrapping his arms around his body as if he could stop everything if he could just make himself small enough.

“It's okay, Bob.” You mumbled, slowly approaching him. You came to stand a few feet from him before the Void said anything.

“More than okay.” The Void purred, smirk returning to his face. He knew he threw you off guard and couldn't be more thrilled to see where this would lead.

“What does that mean?” Bob asked, poking his head up to look between you and the Void once again. 

“I can explain…” 

“Explain what?” His arms fell to his sides as he stood straighter. He was defensive. Confused. He took a step back from both of you.

“Bob, when you came to me the first night-”

“W-wait, you’ve– This isn’t t-the first time you’ve seen him?” He asked, pointing and motioning to the two of you.

“Nor would she like it to be the last.” The Void chuckled.

You shut your eyes, bracing yourself for his reaction. For him to lash out, yell, scream, get mad. 

But this was Bob. He wouldn’t yell, wouldn’t rage. 

He’d close down. Close off–shut everything else out.

That way no one got hurt. Everyone would be safe. 

He could deal with it alone. At least until he could talk to someone qualified if he even wanted to.

You opened your eyes and saw Bob staring at the bed. A realization came to him that this was the first night that he came to your room. His face fell, becoming unreadable.

“You regret it?” He asked softly, still not looking at you. “Letting me in that night?” His calm was somehow worse than anger. It wasn’t quiet, it was hollow. Bob looked numb. As if he had already rehearsed being the problem. Being pushed away. 

“No. If I did, I think the memory would start earlier.” You watched the confusion sweep across his face.

“Then w-what? What is it that y-you–” 

“I regret not telling you that I met him.” You motioned to the Void who had been oddly quiet. “I can’t say that I regret meeting him, though. He’s… it’s…” You trailed off, struggling to put your thoughts into words. 

“He’s what? A monster?” 

“No, he–”

“Ruins everything? Trust me, I know.” 

“No, you don’t, Bob. He’s…” You paused for a moment. Bob didn’t interrupt this time, waiting for you to finish. “He’s you. Or at least a part of you and I…”

“You what?” 

“Go on, tell him. Or should I?” The Void asked with a laugh, moving to stand closer to you. 

That was the last thing you wanted the Void telling him. It was your line to cross. 

While this wasn't how you wanted it to go, you would be damned if Bob learned of it from him. It was going to be your words–your truth. Not some potential lie told by the Void. 

Bob glanced between the two of you and you took a deep breath before speaking. 

“I love you, Bob. All parts of you.” 

“Even him?” Bob asked after a moment.

“Even me.” The Void purred, stepping in close behind you. His cold hand curling around your arm. 

The silence dropped over the room like a curtain. The scene around you shifted to just an emptiness. 

You lowered your head, unable to meet Bob’s wide, confused eyes any longer. You could feel him judging you, and while you couldn’t blame him, that didn’t make it hurt any less. 

A hand found its way to your chin, lifting it up.. Forcing you to meet Bob’s gaze once more. He had stepped closer, now but it was still just the Void holding you. 

“Of course he would find a way to ruin this.” He whispered in your ear. “Someone as broken as him, finding a way to love him, and he still hesitates. Still hides.” He taunted Bob. “Too scared to admit it even when it’s staring him right in the face.” 

You could see the internal battle in Bob’s eyes. He was inching closer to you, but every step was a question. His movements were slow, sluggish, and uncertain. As if he was on the edge of a burning building and he couldn't decide whether he should risk getting to you or just running for air.

The Void pulled your chin to look at him, but your eyes clung to Bob like a lifeline. 

“If he won’t do it, I will.” He spoke, causing you to look at him just as he crashed his mouth against yours. The kiss was harsh and rough, he used his teeth to gain access to your mouth. There was no care in it, as he just took what he wanted. And you let him.

His lips were rough and cracked. You closed your eyes and leaned into his chill, your hand coming to grip his wrist as he tightened his hold on your chin.

When he pulled away, heat filled your cheeks. You slowly opened your eyes and the Void laughed behind you. 

“Look at her,” He spoke, tilting your head to face Bob once more. “Like a stunned little doe.” 

“Let her go.” Bob’s voice cut through the darkness. Louder now, steadier.  

Suddenly, you awoke back in your bed. Bob sat at the edge, his back to you. He was hunched over, face in his hands.

“Bob?” You whispered, inching closer to him. Scared that if you moved too quickly that he would pull away like a scared cat. 

Dragging his hands down his face, he glanced over his shoulder at you before looking away once more. You kneeled behind him and slowly wrapped your arms around him. He tensed beneath you which only made you grip on to him tighter. 

“I meant what I said… in there.” You whispered. 

Bob shut his eyes tight, as if it hurt to consider believing you. He didn’t know what to believe. How could anyone love that dark side of him, the side that didn’t feel like him, the side that he couldn’t control?

It felt like a trick to him. There’s no way someone as nice and kind as you could ever love him. Love any part of him. Let alone the darkness. How could he ever believe that?

Yet part of him did. He saw that love struck look. The look you gave him after the Void kissed you. The dazed look of surprise but acceptance. He couldn’t believe that the Void would latch on to someone else like this. He constantly reminded Bob that they would end up alone, that no one would ever truly love him. Yet, he called Bob an idiot for not jumping at the chance to be with you. 

It was too much, too fast. Bob needed space, needed air. His chest felt tight. He could hear you speaking but the words weren’t registering. 

“Breathe, Bob. You need to breathe.” You spoke, rubbing his chest. 

Abruptly, Bob sucked in a gasp of air. You continued to rub soothing circles on his chest, giving him time to recover. One of his hands moved to hold your arm and he glanced back at you again. 

“I’m sorry.” He apologized. You didn’t know what for. He probably didn’t either. 

“No, I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner…” You trailed off for a moment. “That I met him. That I love you.” 

He managed a weak smile and nodded. 

“You don’t have to say it back. You can take the time you need, just promise me that you won’t shut me out.” You spoke after a moment. 

Bob’s gaze sharpened, telling you what he couldn’t say out loud as he adjusted in your arms to face you more. 

“I won’t.” He promised. 

He then wrapped his arms around you–slow, deliberate. 

“I… I don’t think I could figure this out without you.” He whispered. 

“Then we’ll figure it out,” You spoke softly. “Together.” 

You then tightened on your hold once more. Not sure you ever wanted to let go again.

[5sospenguinqueen]

Tastes Like Gin | Max Verstappen x Best Friend! Reader

Summary: Max turns 27, and his best friend surprises him with a birthday party. Unfortunately, a few shots from his fellow drivers gives Max more confidence than he expected.

Warnings: Fluff. Friends to lovers.

Requested: No. Just a birthday piece

F1 Masterlist

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redbullracing just posted

liked by schecoperez, christianhorner and others

redbullracing so many max memories 🎂 here’s to 27. happy birthday 

2,331 comments

christianhorner happy birthday, champ

f1 happy birthday, max

user not rbr only using pics of max in team gear

user waiting (not so) patiently for yn’s bday post because she posts the softest pics of max 

user i love how this post is just fans complaining about max’s car

→ user it’s ‘cause all the drivers will be waiting for yn to post 

user here’s to hoping for more wins when the autumn break is over

user have a purr-fect day 🐱

yn_ln just posted

liked by landonorris, danielricciardo and others

yn_ln happy birthday, maxie. no matter how old you get, or how many records you set, you’ll always be the goofball that peed in my paddling pool. happy 27th 🧡🦁

5,533 comments

user yn’s yearly dose of humbling

→ user she always posts the most ego destroying photos of him

→ user as a best friend should 

maxverstappen1 i was 5! and you promised you would stop bringing that up

→ yn_ln was i drunk when i made this promise?

→ maxverstappen1 yes…

→ yn_ln then you know it doesn’t count

→ maxverstappen1 for my birthday this year, i’d like a new best friend

→ yn_ln already bought your present and i can’t refund it. soz

danielricciardo why have you posted two pics of him with his tiddies out

→ yn_ln you mean you don’t like the vertiddies? i’m blessing the mv1 fan base

→ redbullracing and my timeline 

→ yn_ln see

landonorris 27 years means 27 shots

→ yn_ln only if you’re taking him home at the end of the night. he can puke in your bathtub 

→ maxverstappen1 that was one time! and tbf, i’d just won my first wdc 

→ charles_leclerc why do you keep desecrating this woman’s water features

lilymhe ew, is that a man?

→ yn_ln i’m only friends with him for his money, i swear! you’re the only one for me

→ user um, haven’t you been friends since you were kids

→ yn_ln it’s called playing the long game. i could tell he was going to be rich since he was little

→ maxverstappen1 i can’t tell if i’m insulted or complimented 

maxverstappen1 added to his story

yn_ln added to her story

landonorris added to his story

landonorris replied to maxverstappen1’s story wow. what a gorgeous date → i still think you should set us up → maxverstappen1 fuck off → landonorris with a sight like that, i thought you’d be in a better mood

maxverstappen1 replied to yn_ln’s story i can’t believe you pulled off a whole surprise party without me knowing → you’re phenomenal  → yn_ln you’re not mad at me for ruining our nice, quiet evening like you were expected  → maxverstappen1 no. i get to celebrate with all the people i love → and we still had our quiet dinner just the two of us → i can’t believe you’ve done all of this for me → yn_ln i’d do anything for you 

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Tangled in the white bedsheets, you realised you hadn’t changed out of your dress from the night before. Max’s old hoodie, a 33 above the breast, covered the top-half of your frame, providing some semblance of warmth and comfort. Head propped up on the pillows, you squinted at the bright screen in your hand. Blinking furiously, you couldn't tell if the pounding in your head was from the lack of sleep or the disbelief at what you had done. A friendship of over two decades ruined in a single night. Thumb swiping at the screen, a wave of shame washed over you as you scrolled to another post. And then another. 

Another image. Another angle. Another trending tweet. 

All of them accumulated in one place, screaming at you. For years you had buried the feelings you harboured for your best friend. Shoving them deep down below the surface, hiding them under quick-witted remarks and fleeting touches. He had never shown even an inkling that he returned the way you felt. Laughing it off when the other drivers questioned the nature of your relationship. Shoving you at Lando when he joked he’d “take you off his hands”. Asking you for fashion advice a few hours before a first date. And you had endured it all, in order to remain under the light of his platonic love. In one night, you had torn down the wall you had sloppily cemented together. 

The shrill sound of your phone pounded against your skull, piercing through the destructive thoughts. Blurry images of his face pressed against yours were replaced by a professional photo. Max’s face grinning back at you, his cheek smushed against the sliver of your face caught in the edge of the photo. Another night. Another celebration. A very different ending. 

“Why are you awake already?” You muttered to yourself, looking at the contact picture filling up your phone. You thought you’d have more time. More time to think of an excuse, to plan a lie, to pretend you knew nothing about it. 

About his face going viral, her body going viral, the pair of them connected going viral. 

“Morning, old man.” You answered, attempting a light-hearted tone. “I thought you’d still be passed out.”

“I tried,” grumbled Max. “But my phone wouldn’t stop blowing up.”

“That’s odd.”

“Uh, huh. You been on Twitter this morning?” 

Silence fell. You didn’t know how to respond to that with a clear voice. Max didn’t need you to. He could read your silence almost as well as your words. 

“Did that really happen?” 

A sting shot through your chest. Here came the let down. “Well, it can't have been a very memorable kiss if you don’t remember it happening.”

A false laugh echoed down the phone. Max’s eyebrows scrunched together and the unspoken pain. 

“I remember every second of it,” he said vehemently. “I just thought I was dreaming again.”

You didn’t hear his words. Already having prepared your next line. Say the words before he can. That’ll make them hurt less. 

“It’s okay. I know they didn’t mean anything. You were just drunk. I’m sorry it’s gone viral. I can’t imagine the kind of PR mess this will be.”

“No! No, I wasn’t. I mean, I was intoxicated, sure. But, not drunk enough to do things I didn’t mean-” 

“Max, it’s okay. I get it. Nothing will change between us because you had a few too many G&Ts. I’m happy to speak to PR with you and see how we can fix this-.”

“Will you just stop?” Max demanded, voice too loud to both your sensitive ears. He winced as you fell silent, sharp intake of breath filling his ears. “Stop trying to brush this off as nothing. Yes, Charles filled me with shots, and I was more easygoing than normal but I remember every. second. of. that. kiss. You had a cocktail umbrella tucked behind your ear, and Alexandra’s lipstick mark on your cheek. Lando had stolen your hair clip so it was down and loose, just how I like it. I was intoxicated but just enough to give me the courage I didn’t have before.”

“You tasted like gin,” was the breathless reply he got.

“What are you doing this morning?” Max asked, desperate to break the heaviness between the two of you. Desperate to hear your usual answer after a night out; ready for him to take you for a greasy breakfast to mop away the alcohol. 

He could hear your smile - picture it in his head - when you said, “Waiting for you to pick me up, of course.” 

“I’ll be there in 20.”

“Make it 30. I have terrible morning breath.”

Max’s laughter eased the tension in her body. “Maybe this time you’ll taste like mint.” 

maxverstappen1 just posted

liked by charles_leclerc, alex_albon and others

maxverstappen1 the best birthday gift this year 

6,333 comments

yn_ln i love you 🧡 i can’t wait to spend many more birthdays by your side

→ maxverstappen1 mijn hart

redbullracing finally. we’ve been waiting for this to happen since abu dhabi 2021

→ user rbr so real for that because the way he grabbed her. i fr thought he was going to kiss her there and then

→ maxverstappen1 i wanted to

landonorris but i got you personalised gaming headphones :( 

→ oscarpiastri and i got you the ultimate guide to minecraft

→ danielricciardo yes but neither of you got him laid. yn did

→ yn_ln daniel! 

→ charles_leclerc i got him drunk enough to kiss her. does that count?

→ yn_ln no! 

→ maxverstappen1 yes

→ yn_ln you guys suck

→ landonorris sounds like that was your job

→ yn_ln @/redbullracing @/mclaren @/scuderiaferarri pr training for all of them!

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Requests are open. Coming up;

Drunk and flirty Toto

K Mag Part 2 ‘cause it seems I’ve converted some of you

[bluewxrld07]

I'm The Problem (Luke Hughes)

Summary: Luke isn't the happiest camper post his shoulder surgery, and he feels at a loss at the fact he needs help doing almost everything. His best friend Y/N has been there every step of the way, but takes a step back after Luke get overstimulated

Warning(s): angst, yelling/cursing, crying, lack of self-worth

"For fucks sake."

Luke was annoyed to say the absolute least.

After getting an injury towards the end of the season, especially during playoffs, he felt like he let down the team at the one time where it counted most.

The surgery went smooth and well, it was the recovery that was taking a toll on him. He was a someone who liked the faster healing process rather than sitting on being patient. Only in certain cases that is, which this one happens to be part of.

He always looked forward to the summertime because he got to see his friends back home, stay at the lakehouse, golf and skate freely without the pressure on him.

Now he could barely do any of that without his injury causing some sort of issue. Don't even get him started on the sling. He hated that thing with a burning passion.

Y/N though, was there to help pick him back up when he needed it most.

She managed to take time off of work for a couple weeks during the week of his surgery to help him, especially since Jack was still in recovery from his own.

Luke didn't think he'd be able to get through anything without her around, she was an angel in disguise for him post surgery.

That was at first.

The more and more Luke figured out he couldn't do while in Michigan, the more frustrated and overwhelmed he began to feel. He couldn't swing a golf club, put on clothes properly, wash his hair, drive a car (or boat for that matter). It was beginning to piss him off as time went on.

Y/N would cut in to help him whenever she could see the annoyance reaching his eyes.

The time he was trying to open one of his meal prep containers, tongue sticking out as he grumbled at it not opening.

So Y/N walked over and softly grabbed it from his hands. "I got it, it's okay." she assures him with a soft smile, opening it with a pop and handing it back to him.

"Thank you pretty girl," he chuckles dryly.

Luke first started off mumbling out 'thank you's and now he barely said a thing when she'd cut in. He would either scoff or stomp away like a toddler.

Y/N understood how helpless Luke felt, as having a knee surgery a few years back that caused her to be bedridden for a month or two. it was hard to see everyone doing stuff for you around you when all you wanted to do was accomplish it on your own.

What Luke didn't know was how exhausted Y/N was. Not mentally, but physically. She was up every night the week post his surgery, making sure to switch out his ice packs, bandages, meds, you name it.

She only got a couple hours of sleep realistically each night during that time. She would never complain about it, because she wanted to make the process easy on Luke.

It was now the summertime in which meant she was done with college for the time being until fall, so she was also joining the boys at the lakehouse as per tradition. Not only to make sure Luke had the help he needed, but to also see her other favorite friends she hadn't seen in a bit as they were all traveling for work too.

It was another early morning in the Hughes lakehouse, she was just returning from her workout session and grocery shopping when she could hear the quiet commotion of some of the boys awake in the kitchen.

She smiles warmly as she sets down both arms that are full of grocery bags, nicely onto the counter. Dylan Duke, Cole and Quinn were all awake and made their ways over to the girl to help unpack everything.

"You're all awake earlier than usual." she jokes, opening a bottle of water.

"We decided to run this morning, and we were the only ones who actually got up at our alarms to go." Cole mentions, making her chuckle lightly.

"Should've came and joined my class today. Totally would've made you sweat your asses off, but totally worth how you feel afterwards." She says after she swallows a sip of her drink.

Quinn gives her a look, and points at her. "Absolutely not, I've seen how scary Hot Pilates can be." he denies as he puts groceries away.

"Oh come on it isn't that bad. You gotta try it before you hate on it!" she argues, Dylan laughing at her statement.

"We choose life sweetheart," Cole laughs. "Besides us men can't be seen dying in a class like that. Let's be real." Dylan adds. Y/N rolls her eyes playfully.

"Besides," Quinn buds in. "Luke was about to go insane if he didn't get out of this house somehow and do something more productive."

Y/N raises her brow. "He went running too?"

The boys nodded. "How'd he feel after that?" she says, going to sit at one of the barstools and crossing one leg over the other.

Quinn puts a hand over his neck and slides it across as if to signal not to ask. She purses her lips. "That bad huh?"

Dylan sighs. "He ended up stopping halfway through and walking the rest of the way because the motion kept killing his shoulder. He was red in the face by the time he got back to the house, and it wasn't just from how warm it is outside."

Y/N rubs a hand over her face. "Did he take any of his painkillers? I left them on his nightstand this morning before I left."

Dylan shrugs his shoulders. "No idea. He was too crabby to talk to, so I have no idea."

"You know I'm not deaf right?" Luke's voice booms into the kitchen, his back turned towards them all as he goes to sit on the couch.

He was dressed in a pair of athletic shorts and a plain navy blue t-shirt, his sling over his body and hair still slightly damp from his shower.

Y/N looks at the boys, trying to hide her amused smile as they are. They decide to keep putting stuff away for Y/N while she looks back at Luke who is hunched over and tense.

She hops off the chair and makes her way towards him and rounds the couch to sit next to the blond boy.

He is staring forward, knee bouncing as if he is contemplating in his head.

"How're you feeling Lu?" she asks cautiously.

Luke just grimaces. "Sore." Is all he responds with.

"Did you take some of your meds?"

"Yeah I did when I got back."

"Why didn't you take them before?"

Luke just lets out a loud huff and rolls his eyes, standing up his spot and walking into the kitchen to join the boys conversation.

Y/N frowns at his mood change, knowing no matter how frustrated he got, he never shut her down like that. Instead of bombarding him she ignores it and stands up herself.

"I'm gonna go shower, and then what is the plan today?" she asks.

Cole scratches his head. "Uhhh I think we're going to do the boat for like an hour or two, and then Jack was saying we should hit up this new juice place. He said it's similar to Jamba Juice or something, but it's like the protein juice things."

She gives a thumbs up before walking away towards Luke's room to grab a change of clothes before heading to shower.

Once she finishes and she's dressed, she heads back down the stairs to now see everyone was awake and music was softly playing in the background as they all conversed.

Jack saw her and smiled before pulling her in for a bear hug. "Goodmorning sunshine."

"More like good afternoon now sir." she chuckles, and Jack rolls his eyes as he looks down at her when they break apart. "Hey I forgot I told them I would join this morning, I like my sleep."

"Oh I know. I said you guys should've just joined my workout class this morning."

Jack snorts. "Absolutely not, I choose life my dear Y/N."

"That's what I told her!" Dylan points out, mouthful of food.

"You're a bunch of wimps." she laughs as she goes to grab the cooler off of Quinn's hands.

"Let's get this show on the road now shall we? We're wasting daylight!" she says before heading towards the sliding door.

They all began to slowly follow behind the girl, her letting them all pass to make sure the door was shut before they left. Luke was the last to leave, his face still a bit more droopy. His eyes caught hers, and she gave him a soft, warm smile. "You ready to go?" she says.

"I'm here aren't I?" he says with an annoyed tone, making her smile fall slightly but she tries to hide it and just nods.

"I brought some of your stuff just incase you start to hurt while we're out there." she says, and he just nods.

"You feeling okay Luke?" she finally asks as they walk side by side.

"Yes I'm fine, stop asking." he says in a short tone, earning a frown from Y/N.

"Watch the tone I'm only asking because I care." she shoots back, and watches his face fall slightly.

"Sorry. I'm sorry you're right. I'm just really sore today." he says with a sigh, and she nods. "That's okay. It's normal. I get it." is all she answers with a tight smile.

The rest of the way onto the boat is quiet between them both, Luke deciding to catch up to Duke and talk with him as they got onto the boat.

Jack helped grab the cooler and Y/N's wrist to help her onto the boat, the girl smiling thankfully at him as she stepped onto the wobbly platform.

She went to go sit across from Luke instead of next to him like she usually would, just to give him a bit of space as she's noticed his mood has been a bit more negative with her.

Luke doesn't say anything as he sees her sit across from him, only eyeing her as he talks to Duke who sits on one side of him. She gives him a tight-lipped smile before looking away and starts to talk with Cole and Trevor, Quinn being the designated driver for the day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Ouch Trevor! Move your fat ass over!" Y/N laughs out, pushing the boy over to his side of the booth, rolling her eyes as he playfully dramatized her actions with a fake pout.

The other boys get back with everyone's drinks, Y/N thanking Quinn as he handed her what she ordered before she takes a sip.

The group all converses amongst one another, discussing the plans for the summer and all the concerts they have all planned while sipping and munching on food and drinks.

"So Y/N you gonna have any dates while you're out here this summer?" Cole teases, earning a look from her with an amused smile.

"Yeah absolutely not. Remember how that went last summer?"

"Which one? The one that stood you up and said his fish died, or the one that ordered for you?" he jokes.

"Both actually," she chuckles while sipping on her drink.

"Yeah I remember when you texted the chat saying how the dumbass had been already sitting at a table with food ordered by the time you got there."

"Wait what? He already had it ordered?" Jack snorts.

She nods with a laugh. "Oh yeah. Basically gave me the house salad that comes with his order. So didn't even order me something for myself." she says, the guys all laughing.

Luke rolls his eyes and shakes his head as he remembers that day. She felt so annoyed and so pissed off, and she was starving after that ended.

"Never again. If I go on a date at all this summer, it's because it's with the guy I'd actually want to go on one with." she admits, making the boys all snap their heads to her.

"Wait," Trevor says, mouthful of chips. "There actually is a guy you have your eyes on??" he questions, and she nods with a raised brow.

"Who?" Duke pries, and she shrugs her shoulders while stirring her drink.

Her eyes scan the group, Jack giving her a knowing look and she just averts his gaze. "Oh come on you've gotta give us something." Cole groans, and she shakes her head.

"Nope not this year."

"Why not?"

"Because everytime I tell you guys, I feel like I jinx it because then they ghost me right after!"

"I doubt this one would." Quinn hums out, making her snap her head towards him and his shrugs.

"What? It's true!"

"Quinn knows?! Why does Quinn know?" Trevor whines.

"She didn't tell me, I just figured it out." he laughs, and she points at him with a nod.

"He's right."

"Well then now you have to tell us." Trevor begs, and she shakes her head with a laugh.

"What does Golfing look like this week?" she says to change the subject. The guys easily grab onto the bait and start discussing what they had in mind, her eyes drifting towards Luke who sat in the corner of the booth.

He was in his own world, gnawing on his straw as he tries to listen to the group converse. She can tell he is in his own mind.

She lightly nudges his leg underneath the table, causing him to snap out of his daze and look over at her. "You feeling alright?" she asks a little bit more on the quiet side, not to disturb the group of boys in front of them.

He rolls his eyes. "Y/N when are you going to stop asking me that? It's really not necessary." His gaze going back to the boys.

"You just seem off, and I want to make sure you're okay. Or that if your shoulder is bugging you-"

"I'm not a pussy I can handle the soreness and pain that comes with my injury, alright? Knock it off." he snaps quietly, his eyes burning over towards hers.

She looks at him in disbelief, stunned at the words that just came out of his mouth.

"Fuck me I guess." she mumbles back before deciding to ignore his energy, ignoring the look he throws her way after she says that, indulging in the new topic the boys were now caught into.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Once they had arrived home from the juice place, Y/N was at a breaking point.

After how Luke had treated her throughout the day, she began to realize something was seriously wrong with him. She couldn't figure out what it was.

She knew he had been frustrated about his injury in general, but she didn't know why it was getting worse whenever she came around.

The boys all went to sit down in the livingroom as the rain started to slowly come down. The soft patters being heard on the rooftop of the house.

They turned on some country music while connecting the PS5 to the giant TV screen. Y/N had gone into the kitchen to go and grab herself something to eat and something to drink, setting it onto the kitchen island as she also went and prepped Luke's meds he was supposed to take every evening like clockwork.

The glass of water fills up and she tries to hide the shaking in her hands, both from exhaustion and anxiety because of what's going on with Luke.

She shook the tension away that was forming between them, and put on a fake facade while walking over to the boys.

"You going to come and join us for a round?" Cole asks, motioning towards the video games on the screen.

She smiles and nods. "Yes I will. Just give me a few minutes."

Y/N walks towards the other big couch where Luke was sitting with Duke and Jack, softly putting her hand on his good shoulder. He whipped his head towards her before rolling his eyes.

"Hey I have your meds, and I grabbed you a water to help get them down-"

"I don't need it."

"Luke you know you're supposed to take these or you can't sleep." she pries with a frown.

He huffs and decides to ignore her, starting to talk to Duke and Jack again. The boys give her a reassuring look before looking back at Luke.

"Luke, take them. You know how you get without them. If you take them later you're going to get sick." she tries again soft but stern.

Luke still doesn't acknowledge her, so she lets out a huff.

"Luke I swear if you don't take these-"

"Oh my fucking fuck Y/N just stop! I said No!"

"Luke I know you don't want to, but your surgeon says you need-"

"I don't give a fuck! I am sick of taking those and I am sick of you breathing down my neck and forcing those down my throat. Seriously knock it the fuck off!" he snaps, making the room quiet and look at the pair.

His eyes are now staring up at hers with a sharp glare, hers frowning down at him in confusion.

"Luke what the fuck is your issue? I'm just trying to help you-"

"Well fucking stop helping! I don't need your help, or you! You're insufferable! You breathe down my neck at every single moment of every single fucking day and it's annoying. You're like a clingy girlfriend who won't hop off my dick. Seriously stop, just stop!" he yells out, and begins to stand up.

Only when he stands up, his good shoulder hits her hands that were frozen in place with the glass and pills. Before she can react, the glass and pills spill from her hands and crash onto the hardwood floor, glass shattering everywhere.

It was so silent that you could've heard a pin drop. Y/N is frozen as she looks at the mess on the ground, hands shaking as her anxiety increases, hands frozen in their spot where she was once holding things.

She could feel the tears forming, lip quivering.

"Y/N" Jack's voice perks up slowly.

"Y/N are you okay?" Jack asks slowly once again. She snaps out of her daze, and sniffles putting on a fake smile.

She nods quickly and her arms fall to their sides.

"Yeah. Yeah I'm fine, I'm good. I uh I'm just going to clean this up and head to bed." she says before walking quickly to the kitchen to grab the cleaning supplies.

Jack is the first to stand up and follow behind her to the closet.

She's letting out a few huffs and sniffles when he sees her, shakily grabbing the broom and dust pan. Jack grabs them from her hands and says her name softly to have her look up at him.

"I got it. It's okay." he says to her in an assuring tone.

She looks into his eyes for a second, Jack seeing the heartbreak hitting her eyes as tears fall freely.

"I got the mess. Okay?" he says one more time, and she wipes her eyes.

"Okay." she sighs before leaving the room quickly and rushing up the stairs.

When Jack emerges from the closet and over towards the mess on the ground, his eyes glared over at Luke who was still standing and facing where Y/N once stood.

"You're a fucking asshole, Luke." he growls out. Luke sighs and lets his head fall.

"That was a dick move. Real dick move bro, she's been there for you the most out of anybody." Duke adds in, Luke running his hands through his hair.

"Well she hasn't left me alone for one fucking minute! I was losing my mind okay? This recovery has fucking sucked." he sputter out, sitting back down and putting his face into one hand.

"Do you know how much shit she has done for you? She didn't sleep a wink when she was one jersey during your first week post surgery." Jack admits.

"What do you mean?" Luke says.

"She stayed up a majority of every night in case you woke up in pain, or in case you needed something other than your doses of your meds. She was the one who would fill the kitchen with your favorite snacks. Your favorite drinks. She was the one who has dropped everything to take you to PT and your surgical follow ups. She hasn't slept since your surgery, because she wants to make sure this recovery is as easy as it can be for you!" Jack bursts, red in the face.

Luke sighs. "Fuck." he winces.

"Dude if you weren't injured right now I'd fucking smack you silly." Quinn scoffs.

"I don't care if you're injured, I'm still debating on doing it." Jack says.

Luke felt like shit. It was all hitting him now.

The times he caught her already awake at five in the morning. The tired red eyes she would have, bags very prominent underneath. The little naps she would take on his lap during the day. Her forgetting to eat because she was so caught up on preparing his food. Missing nights out with her girlfriends to be there for his appointments and PT.

Now he knows he has fucked up in the past, but he really fucked up in this moment. He fucked up terribly.

"I'd be so surprised if you're able to fix this one. You really hurt her, Luke." Jack says, a tired tone being heard in his voice.

"I really fucking hurt her. Fuck I fucked up bad." he groans out, feeling his face get hot and eyes gloss over.

All of their ears perked up when they hear the front door shut, Jack's eyes darting back over to Luke with a scowl as his own face had a fearful look going.

Silence follows as the boys watch Jack drop the supplies in his hands and scurry towards the entryway and open the door.

The door slams shut and Jack comes stomping back.

He points at Luke. "I'm gonna beat your ass." he snaps walking over towards his brother, Cole and Trevor walking towards him and pull him back. Luke stands up.

"What? Why? What happened?"

"She's gone."

Luke's eyes widen, soon rounding the couch and running up the stairs and towards his room.

He slams the door open on turns on the light, frowning when he sees her stuff is still on her side of his bed still in the messy clean form it was in this morning.

He rushes down the stairs. "Her stuff is still here." he says.

Jack is running his hand through his hair while the other is sitting on his hip.

"You better go find her. You better fucking find her, or hope she fucking comes back in one piece. If not, it's your head that will be on a stick by morning."

Luke glares at Jack at his sudden protectiveness over Y/N. "Since when do you get so protective over her? What's your fucking deal?"

"Because that girl is one you shouldn't treat like shit or throw away! She's one that you keep around forever, Luke. That girl is so fucking in love with you and you fucking blew it!" Jack says, his voice raising with every word he says.

Luke freezes.

"Wait, what?"

Jack bites his lip. "Fuck," he hisses. "I wasn't supposed to say that."

"Since when? How long have you known this?" Luke says, his anger now rising.

"No you don't get to fucking be the one who is pissed off! You don't get to act like that!" Quinn buds in.

Luke glares at his older brother. "You knew too? Are you fucking joking? Why-"

"Alright fucking enough! This isn't what we should be fighting about, what we should be doing is figuring out how the fuck Luke is going to fix things with Y/N." Trevor bursts out, making everyone turn over to him in shock.

Trevor throws his hands up in the air. "Yeah I know. Trevor of all people saying you guys need to calm the fuck down, but seriously I'm the only one that is also willing to see that we have a bigger issue to fix right now."

"Luke you need to figure out what you're going to say and do to fix this," Trevor instructs while pointing at him. He then points at the other boys. "You guys can sort your shit out afterwards. Y/N comes first right now."

Luke huffs, knowing he really had to sort his shit out. He royally fucked up badly, and this was the girl he cared about more than anyone else who existed in his life.

Jack was right. She was a forever girl.

He just hoped that she would still be there after all of this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Y/N arrived home, it was late. WayI late.

She knew it was way late when all of the boys were sleeping, and the lights were all off inside the house. The outdoor porch light glowing a dark orange as she approached the front door.

Sniffles left her lips as she tried to stay as quiet as she could while opening the door, silently closing and locking it behind her.

The girl kicks her shoes off and lines them up at the door with all the other pairs of shoes there, setting her keys on the group key hanger before padding into the kitchen.

She turns on the dimmer lighting, hoping to not let it be too bright to wake any of the boys whom were sleeping on the main floor bedrooms.

When she opened the fridge she saw her leftovers that she was going to eat earlier that night sitting right in the smack-dab front, a note adorning the top of the lid.

Made sure nobody touched it. I hope you're home safely

-Quinn

She sighs before placing the note on the counter, opening up the container and grabbing a fork as she decides to just eat it cold to not worry about waking up anyone in the house.

Y/N brings the bowl over to one of the living room couches and eats in absolute silence, her mind running in circles as it has been all night. She thought maybe going for a drive and then stopping at the beachfront of the lake next to theirs would be a way to somewhat clear her mind a bit.

As she sat there alone with her thoughts once more, she couldn't help but break down into more tears.

Her container falls onto the coffee table as she lets the tears fall freely, putting her head into her hands as she lays herself on her side. Her chest feeling heavy as her heart breaks over again.

She couldn't believe Luke had really said those things. Really thought that about her especially.

Was she really that clingy? That much of a nuisance to Luke? Was she just causing more harm than good to him right now? Should she just leave the lakehouse in the morning was the real question.

She didn't know what to do.

Tears kept falling freely as she lay there on the couch, curled into a ball, rubbing her arms up and down.

Her eyes suddenly started to feel heavier, her sobs turning into soft hiccups, tears drying on her face that was red, splotchy and puffy. She let her eyes slowly close, her mind trying to be silenced by sleep.

Which slowly does take over.

Y/N soon is fast asleep on the couch, no blanket or pillow covering her as she was too caught up in her mind to notice.

Little did she realize that her container falling onto the table caused a loud enough noise for the oldest Hughes brother to stun awake and head out to the kitchen to see what was happening.

He squints around, then does s double take when he sees a small form curled up on the couch while little hiccups left their mouth. He walks over, his heart clenching as he sees Y/N shaking from crying so much while being fast asleep.

He grabs her bowl and puts the rest back into the fridge for her tomorrow, then walking back over to the girl and picking her up slowly to not disturb the much needed slumber she needs.

Quinn looks down at her, seeing how torn her face looked even in her sleep. If thoughts could kill in that moment, he was sure Luke would be dead in an instant.

Once he is back into his room, he quietly shuts the door and brings her over to lay in his bed. He sets her down softly and cover her up with his comforter, kissing her head softly. "I'm so sorry he did this to you." he whispers out, knowing she couldn't hear him.

He sighs before standing up and walking over to his side of the bed and getting in. Once his light is turned off he is laying on his side and keeps his distance from Y/N so she has her space, before he himself slowly falls back into a deep slumber.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Her car is here so she had to come back. There is no way she would just disappear." Luke says as he paces around. "She didn't come sleep in my room last night."

"Well I wouldn't blame her is she decided to sleep somewhere else too. I wouldn't want to be near you either after being told all of that." Duke says, earning a look from Luke. His friend put his hands up in defense.

Jack, Cole and Trevor were all out that morning picking up some of Y/N favorites in opes that they could try to make her feel a bit better, while Luke was conjuring up what he was going to do and say to Y/N to at least get on a path towards fixing things between them both.

"Where would she have gone? She hates sleeping in other beds. She says they're not as comfortable, and I'm the only one in the house that has a fan. Because she can't sleep without one." Luke bombards, biting his nails.

"Well I think after how much she cried out last night, her body will be out for quite some time with no fan or your bed needed." Quinn's voice perks up, the boys waltzing into the kitchen with a yawn.

Luke stops pacing and looks at Quinn.

"What do you mean? Where is she? Is she safe?"

Quinn shushes his brother with a look and a hand motion to shut him up.

"Yes she is fine. She's asleep in my room-"

"What the fuck-"

"No don't start that shit. She wouldn't be in there in the first place if you didn't act like a bitch and go off on her like you did last night." Quinn chirps before Luke can say another word. "So yeah she is sleeping in my room. I woke up because I heard her come home, she passed out from crying so much on the couch, so I carried her to sleep in my room. You need to get over yourself if you're going to even have a chance at fixing the mess you made." Quinn admits.

Luke knows he is right. Quinn might've been the more quiet and reserved one out of the three brothers, but when he was mad or driven about something, people listened because he wasn't bullshitting in any way.

Luke decided to keep his mouth shut and put his good hand on his hip.

"So what do I do? Where do I start?" he asks, and Quinn shuts the fridge to turn to his brother.

"You need to apologize. Really apologize, hear her out, and be fucking honest." Quinn instructs. "You want a chance at being with the one girl I know you're just as obsessed with as she is with you, then you need to lay every fucking thing out. Don't bullshit any of it, Luke." Quinn explains, letting his little brother take in his words.

"But for now, you need to let her sleep. She looked so exhausted. Let her sleep and take her time. Don't immediately jump her throat when she so much as walks out here." He finishes before disappearing from the kitchen to go outside.

Duke looks at Luke and nods. "I think he's right. He said it better than I could've."

So that's what Luke did.

He left to go golfing with the boys. He left to go out on the boat. He left to go into town for lunch. He gave her space. He didn't want to do what Quinn said would make her feel pressured. He kept his distance.

Throughout that day, he slowly started to realize just how much her presence was meant for their group. Meant for him. He never realized how important she became for him especially with all of his post surgery things. She did keep him in check for good reasons.

He was stressed out every time he forgot to take his meds. Or when he forgot to do his PT exercises. Or when he especially forgot to switch out his ice packs.

She really did make it an easier process for him. Every single thing she was doing wasn't to be a pain in his ass or cling onto him, it was to make it easier on him.

He groans at the thought, knowing he really wished he could've just shut his trap the night before, but of course his pain and soreness and helplessness made him lash out on the one person who made this whole thing so much simpler for him.

The boys all sat around the fire pit later that night, music playing softly while they all sat amongst one another and talked. The sun was nearly gone, crickets and frogs being heard around the lake as well as a few loons.

The talking simmered when the group heard the sliding door slowly opening, they all snapped their heads over to see the familiar girl's face appear.

She looked like she was fresh out of the shower, her hair damp and face free of makeup as she shut the door behind her.

She was wearing a pair of gray sweats and a UMich Hockey sweatshirt, one that looked like it might've been Luke's that she took a while ago.

Her hands were hiding in the big sleeves of the sweater as she walked down to join them, some of the boys letting frowns form on their faces as they see her face still puffy from the night before.

They all snap out of their frowns when her eyes rise up to look at them with the fakest smile Luke had ever seen on her.

"There's my favorite girl." Jack is the first to speak up warmly, wrapping her up in his arms as she went and sat down. All the other boys warmly greeted and cheered when she sat down, Y/N smiling at them as she took a deep breath.

"I made you one," Trevor says as he hands her one of his famous s'mores. She looks over at him.

"How'd you know?" she asks, and he shrugs with a wink.

"I told you, I've got that twin telepathy." Trevor jokes in a cocky tone, earning an amused look from the girl before she thanks him and blows him a kiss.

"See? Y'all see that? I got a kiss before you guys!" he sings out, making all the guys groan and swat at him as he does a funny little dance.

"I take it back." Y/N says, earning an awestruck Trevor.

"No take-backsies!" he pouts before going to sit back in his spot.

Her eyes never met Luke's, the boy silently begging for her to look at him just once. She never did.

The group all kept on their conversations, trying to distract from the obvious tension going on as they all didn't want to make Y/N anymore uncomfy than she probably felt.

Luke tried hard not to get jealous or annoyed at Jack or Trevor when they would be close to Y/N, as he knew they were only doing it to make her smile and feel better. He just couldn't help but feel that way as he wished it was him making her that way.

But he was the reason she wasn't smiling. Why her face was puffy. So he deserved that at payback. He deserved way worse to be honest.

As the night began to near its end, each boys lowly trailed their ways inside, Y/N and Luke being the last two to be sitting near the fire. Y/N wanted to enjoy the night, as bonfires were something that made her feel anchored and helped her decompress.

Luke kept his distance, only staying on the left side of her across the fire. His eyes hadn't really left her figure the entire night.

At that moment he decided he couldn't wait any longer. The suspense was killing him slowly. So he cleared his throat, watching as she didn't move a muscle.

"Um," he squeaks out. "You-you can take my bed tonight. If you want. I-I know you usually can't sleep without a fan, a-and that you prefer my bed because it helps elevate your back." he stutters out quietly.

Y/N keeps her gaze on the fire, and just nods. Luke feels his chest tighten.

He clears his throat once again.

"I-I um," he starts once more. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry-"

Y/N stands up before he can finish, soon walking away from the fire.

He watches her walk away in silence, watching as she disappears back inside the house. Luke lets out a shaky sigh, before standing up himself and using the pot of water next to the pit to put out the fire before soon making his way back up to the house himself.

When he reaches his room, he prays that she took his offer, the boy wanting to use the excuse of grabbing pajamas in case she was in there.

His bed was empty.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day came by quicker than expected, and Luke was feeling at a loss.

Y/N had been ignoring him all day.

He had gotten up before the sun, went and picked up her favorite flowers, coffee and protein iced tea she loves, as well as her favorite bagel spot. He had even drove across town to get her the coffee grounds from a cafe that donates used coffee grounds to use for gardening, as he knows she loves using them when she does her planting at the lakehouse for Ellen and herself.

When she had come down that morning to get herself some breakfast, her face had contorted into all kinds of reactions.

Shock, awe, happiness, confusion, sadness and then nothing. It turned into nothing when she saw Luke creep in and giving her a look of hope.

She didn't acknowledge him once, but he knew he had gotten to her as she did indulge in the breakfast, coffee and iced tea he got her.

That was when Luke knew he had a chance to get her back.

Until the rest of the day had gone on.

She so much as did not look his way, acknowledge anything that had to do with him. She acted as if he didn't exist. Luke didn't know what to do. He couldn't talk to her as she wouldn't even try and be near him.

She either stuck to Jack or Cole's side for the day.

The evening was far from over too, and Luke was just ready to go to bed in that moment.

Especially now.

They were currently out at one of the dive bar clubs in the area, the music was loud and the place was packed.

Which also meant that Y/N was drunker than a sailor on a pirate ship.

She had been dancing and singing loudly to any and all of the songs, having any of the boys come dance with her as time went on. Luke stayed in his spot at the bar by Quinn, who looked very amused by her actions as she was spun around by Trevor.

"Have you gotten to talk to her yet?" Quinn says over the loud music.

Luke shook his head with a pout. "She's acting as if I don't exist."

Quinn uses his lips. "Do you blame her? You broke her heart. Especially after you said you'd never do that."

Luke huffs. "Yeah I know."

"Keep trying. That's all I'll say. You still have a shot. I know deep down she wants you to keep fighting."

"I'm trying. But she makes it so hard."

"She's worth it though?" Quinn trails off, and Luke thinks for a second. He then nods.

"Yeah. Yeah she is."

Trevor then runs up to them, drunkenly stumbling around as he reaches them. "Y/N disappeared outside. I think she's throwing up. I would go get her, but I'm not too far behind her." he says before disappearing back into the crowd.

Luke looks over at Quinn before he makes his way outside, eyes scanning for the familiar figure and spots her over at the corner by the bushes and hunched over.

He scurries over to her, using his good arm to caress her back as she throws up. He then takes her hair as best as he can with the one hand, and holds it back.

When she finishes dry heaving she turns and does a double take when she sees it's Luke.

She stumbles a little as she tries to push him away. "No, I don't want you." she slurs, dry heaving once more.

"Y/N stop focus on getting this out of your system right now. Quinn is coming with water." he says, and she shakes her head trying to get away from his grasp.

She forget that he still has a hold on her hair, and he gently pulls on it to keep her in her place. "You can hate me the most tomorrow, but I'm not letting you pass out after dry heaving for ten minutes. So it's me or the concrete."

"I choose the concrete."

"Y/N"

She drunkenly giggles at her comment, only to be stopped as she starts throwing up again. Luke keeps her hair back, his eyes looking back to see Quinn coming up with the bottled water.

He hands it to his younger brother. "I'm going to grab the boys and the car. I'll be back." he says before jogging back inside.

Once Y/N finishes her second round, she tries to stand straight but wobbles in the process. Luke is quick to catch her, only almost failing as his sling holds his bad arm back from fully being able to stabilize her.

He makes a dumb decision, but in that moment he was more focused on her.

He takes off his sling and lets it fall to the ground, Y/N watching the action and pout when she sees his sling fall to the ground. She points at it. "Your sling. You shouldn't be taking that off." she slurs out with a hiccup.

He shakes his head. "Not my concern right now, I'm more focused on keeping you upright. I don't need you passing out on me again." he tries to lighten the mood, only getting a scowl from her.

"Okay tough crowd." he mumbles, looking behind them to see any sign of Quinn.

"I'm serious-" she hiccups "put it back on. You can't have that off." she hiccups again as she bends down to try and get it.

"Y/N dammit leave it. I'll deal with my dumb decisions tomorrow."

"Like you other decision you made two days ago?"

His heart sinks at her words, seeing her eyes become big as she looks up at him. "Y/N look," he starts. "I'd love to have this conversation, and tell you how much I regret saying those things to you, but I want you sober for that. I'm not going to take advantage when you are probably seeing two of me."

"Hey! How'd you know that? Do you have my vision or something?" she whines, and he rolls his eyes trying to not laugh at her.

Before he knows it, Quinn is pulling around the corner to meet them. Luke brings her up to his car when he parks it, Quinn rushing up to grab her and he frowns at Luke as he looks down at his empty shoulder.

"Dude what are you doing? Put that back on!"

"I will, chill alright? I was more focused on trying to make sure she didn't fall face first onto the pavement." he says as he goes to grab the sling and carefully put it back on, trying to ignore the burning pain going up and down his collarbone.

It was a quiet ride home, as most of the drunk ones were already sleeping, the others just tired from the day they've had.

Once they were pulled into the driveway, Quinn hops out and goes to grab Y/N while Jack and Cole who are both not super drunk but are definitely past being buzzed, grab Trevor.

"Put her in my bed. I'm sleeping on the couch." Luke says to Quinn when they get inside. Instead of arguing, he nods and brings her up the stairs.

Luke follows behind, needing to go and grab some pajamas and his painkillers for the night. Once Quinn has set her in bed, Luke goes to turn on the fan for her watching as she snuggles closer into his sheets.

"She loves you still, you know." Quinn says softly, making Luke turn towards his eldest brother.

Luke gives him a pursed smile and nods, getting the same action back from Quinn before he leaves.

The blond boy slowly, and painfully, changes into a pair of sweats before going over to his bed to grab his pillow only to freeze when he sees Y/N's eyes looking up at him.

"You okay?" he asks.

"You hate when I ask you that, so don't ask me that." she snaps, her words still slurring.

He nods slowly. "I deserve that."

"You deserve a lot worse."

"Yes I do."

She stares at him, her eyes squinting at him as she watches him slowly try to take off his sling for bed. She doesn't miss the way his face winces at the pain he is definitely feeling after what he did.

"Where are you going?" she asks as she watches him head for his door. He points at it. "Downstairs. I'm going to go and sleep downstairs. Give you your space."

"Stay." she says, making him frown.

"Please." she slurs out softly, watching him fight with his mind. She watches as he slowly walks back over and cautiously gets into his side of the bed just incase she changes her mind.

"Just keep your distance." she says quickly and he nods.

"I know."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning Luke was hurting like a bitch.

He tried his best to not wince and hiss when he woke up, not wanting to awaken the girl next to him.

When he finally got out of bed and down he stairs, he saw Quinn and Jack both in the kitchen talking. Jack was sitting on one of the barstools while Quinn was putting together breakfast.

They both looked over when they heard him coming in, seeing him hold his sling out signaling he needed help putting it on.

"That was a dumb move you made." Quinn says, and Luke rolls his eyes.

"Yeah well I was more concerned for her than I was about my arm. I'll live." he shoots back, thanking Jack as he finishes adjusting it for Luke.

"What happened?" Jack asks.

"Y/N was at her throwing up point where she can't end to pass out from dry heaving too much," Luke says before pouring himself a cup of coffee. "So I took my sling off and kept her upright instead of letting her faceplate straight into the concrete."

Jack hums. "You're a dumbass," he starts. Luke chuckles dryly as he goes to sit down next to Jack. "But proud of you." he says before taking a bite of his waffles and standing up, patting the boy on his back.

"I'm off. I'm meeting Sammy for a farmer's market run this morning. So I'll be back around one." he says, putting his place in the sink and then heading towards the front door.

Quinn nods. "I'll be leaving shortly too. Trev and Cole are still sleeping. I think Duker and I are gonna go take up some ice time for a bit." he says, and Luke nods.

Y/N soon comes strolling in, still in her dress from the night before and her hair in a bun as she is squinting her eyes.

She goes to grab a cup of coffee, Quinn handing her a plate of food as she stand over by him at the island. "How you feeling champ?" he giggles, and she huffs.

"Not great. But not dying. I more so just have a headache right now. I think I got most of it out of my system last night." she explains with a dry laugh, taking a sip of her coffee.

Quinn laughs, before finishing up his breakfast. He goes over and kisses her head. "Don't kill him today, yeah?" is all he says, making her give him a look before he disappears.

Y/N just stands there, tracing the ring around her cup with her finger as they sat in silence.

Luke was the first to speak.

"There's um," he clears his throat. "There's some liquid IV in the cabinet. It's the berry one." he says, pointing to the cupboard.

She stands there quietly, taking a sip of her coffee and nodding.

Luke sighs. "Can I say more? Or are you going to leave before I can finish?" he asks genuinely.

"I'm debating." she answers back, not meeting his eyes as he keeps his own her figure.

"Well I'l just talk, and if you've had enough then you can walk away. Yeah?"

She says nothing, which then has him proceed.

"I fucked up," he sighs. "I really fucked up. I know that. I honestly wouldn't blame you if you never wanted to talk to me again."

"Again. Debating."

"And that's okay," he says, not wanting to say how much it would hurt him if she chose that. "I really should not make any excuses for what I said. I've just been in so much pain, and at such a breaking point with all of this. I took it out on you when I should not be doing that."

She takes a sip of her coffee, soon taking a bit of her food. He takes that as a sign that she isn't ready to leave just yet.

"I didn't realize how much you were doing until you weren't there. You know what I also realized?"

For the first time, she looks at him.

"I realized all you were trying to do was make this whole healing process easier on me. Not pester me. Or overwhelm me. Or annoy me. It was simply to make sure I was on the right path towards a faster paced healing process to get back on my feet."

"That's all I was trying to do, and have been trying to do Luke. Because I know how you get. You proved my point when you blew up at me like that." she answers in a monotoned voice. Luke nods.

"I know that now. And I'm so grateful for that and for you. Especially after having that realization," he says. "I hated hearing how you haven't slept, and how you have put me first. If anything don't do that again. For my sake. As much as I love you for that, I need you do make sure Y/N is healthy first."

Y/N ears perk up, and she looks at him with a frown. "What did you just say?" she says softly.

Luke furrows his brows. "I need you to put yourself first. Your health."

"You said you love me."

Luke's eyes widen, and his heart freezes. He did not even realize he let that come out.

He clears his throat and he feels his ears heat up, seeing her face change slightly. "I um," he squeaks. "Yeah. Yeah I do love you. I think I always have, but after realizing all of this I think it made me realize I loved you more." he admits, his voice shaky as he looks at her.

"Luke."

"I'm serious, Y/N." he says. "I know you hate love bombing, but honestly that slipped out. And I am just going to own it because it's nothing but the damn truth."

Y/N just stands there in disbelief. Luke continues. "I want you to know that I truly and deeply am sorry for saying all of those things. You're not clingy. You're not annoying or a burden or any sort of negative impact on my life." he says, slowly getting closer to her. "If anything I do need you. And I want you as mine and mine only. I don't want any of those stupid guys from last summer to be the type of dates you have this year. I want us to figure our shit out, and I want to give you the proper dates you deserve."

Y/N looks up at Luke. "You've got a lot of making up to do, Hughes. A lot."

Luke takes a deep breath. "I know. I know I do."

"You broke my heart."

"I know."

"You called me things."

"I did, and I'm sorry for that."

"Yet I love you too."

His eyes could've popped out of his head. "W-What?" he cracks out, and she give him a small smile.

Before he knew what was happening, she flicks his forehead hard and then smacks his cheek. "Ouch, hey!" he says in awe, and she points at him.

"You deserve that," she says. "But I got those out of the way so I could finish with this."

She lightly grabs his jaw and places a chaste kiss on his lips. He groans when she pulls away far too short for his liking.

"No. No more. Because you have a lot of shit to fix first."

"Roger that."

"I love you."

"I love you too, and I will spend the rest of my life proving it."

[rexhya]

What if the prince found out we were terminally ill and coughing blood and wasn’t suspected to live more then 6 months?

yandere!prince who doesn't initially notice the changes to your body. even he who watched you like a hawk couldn't detect the subtle differences from when he'd first seen your light sickness to when it was too late.

The trouble started up about a month ago, you'd contracted a cold from one of the other maids, that was nothing special. In fact, your other symptoms went away not long after but the hacking stayed persistent. You gone to see a general medic but he'd simply said it was a bad cough.

How wrong it was of you to trust him. "Are you still alright?" Anul asked, the two of you were in his room, his head resting on your lap as you ran cards through his hair.

"Yes I'm okay." Anul frowned, and flipped his body upwards so now he was facing you.

"You look pale, I should take you to Rosenwar. Rosenwar was the royal families personal doctor, she'd been serving the Royal Family for years, you had no place being tended to by someone of such importance.

"No, no that's quite alright, I've just been having allergies from the seasons changing that's all. There's no need for a doctor I'm quite alright." you patted Anul's hands as they cradled your face delicately. For a few moments he said nothing, simply stroking your cheek with his thumbs, his expression unreadable.

"Okay." he said, and his lips pressed to yours softly, it was the most innocent kiss you'd received from him in all the time you'd spent.

If only he knew it would be the last, he would have held It longer.

His coronation was only 3 weeks from now, days had passed without since that day in his bedroom and he was ready to be done with all the ceremonial and technical transfers from prince to king that kept him away from you.

Around 2pm in the afternoon, the hazy summer light falling into his bedroom, Anul found you on his bed, your back was turned and you were breathing so softly he almost didn't look at you, as to not wake you up.

But your sleeping face was never one he could resist. His heart fell into abysmal. Velvet red blood pooled at your mouth, it's why your breathing was so soft you were unconscious. He's frantic and scared at Rosenward examines you with her team of nurses, he's halfway into a heart attack when the doctor tells him you're most likely going to wake up today if not tomorrow.

He stays with you the entire time, abusing his power to keep the nurses on round the clock care for you, though your vitals never change and your heart never stops.

When you do finally open your eyes, Anul wants to scream at Rosenward, that wasn't today or tomorrow, it took a week for your body to recover from whatever horrible disease had gotten to it.

You look thin, Anul tries not to cry. "Sweetheart?" he asks tentatively, like speaking would somehow send you back into a week long coma only this time you'd never return.

"Water." you croak and the man brings you a glass within seconds.

Soon enough your body is examined, you contracted a rare disease from that maid, (one he's kept in mind to already kill). Mortuupulmonis only affected 1% of his kingdomes population, and worst of all, it had no cure.

He's wasted about two weeks of his coronation preparation time when he finds this out. The doctor estimated about a 6 months before he ran out of time. The coronation is post poned until then (his father is livid as usual) but Anul doesn't care not even in the slightest bit.

You get worse and worse everyday as Anul pours millions and millions of coin into finding a cure for you, he even goes international to make a statement and hopefully received something, anything but with not luck. He feels hopeless by month 3, your body is piratically crumbling at the seams and all he could do was watch. By month four he's broke, there was no more cures for him to spend, no more medicines to buy, there was nothing.

Nothing but you and your hosiptal bed srounned by things you loved.

"How you feeling today?" Anul whispers. "Mm." you haven't been much into talking these days.

He does his routine, clean your bedding, force feed you anything you'll take that day and check in with Rosenward on things you know didn't matter.

You were going to die, he knew it, you knew it, they both knew it.

On month six Anul doesn't renounce his coronation. Instead he stays by you side until the very end, even after youve took your last breath, Anul would probably stay with you until l your body rotted.

If only he knew. He would've kissed you harder.

[jjjjisun]

The Concert

Eunha X Male Reader | 11571 words

TW: Incest

—

"See ya mom!" my little sister Eunha shouted as she headed out the door.

She was going to her friend Umji's for a sleepover or something. If you asked me, the little denim skirt she was wearing under her poor-attempt-to-cover-it jacket said Umji's parents probably weren't home and it probably wasn't going to be just her and the other girls. More likely it would involve as much booze as high school kids could get their hands on and a bunch of horny teenagers leering at my little sister's outfit. I cringed at the thought, but she'd gotten past my parents so... whatever, I wasn't going to cause trouble.

Truthfully, I wasn't being completely honest with my parents either. Then again, they wouldn't get nearly as upset with me if I wasn't telling the truth as Eunha. I was in college and she was in high school. After all the shit I'd pulled in my senior year, my little sis was unlikely to get away with anything. She was lucky to sneak by without them seeing what she was wearing as she walked out the door. Her bare legs weren't exactly easy to miss.

It wasn't the first time either. Only two weeks ago I'd found Eunha passed out on the back stoop to our house. Obviously she knew some of the same tricks as I; if you were just quiet enough when opening the back door you could avoid walking past our parents' room on the way to your own after curfew.

I was on my way in and there was my little sis "sleeping" with her head against the post as if she'd just decided to take a seat on the way in, or so she told me when I shook her awake. But before I did... well I couldn't just un-see what she was wearing; besides, I hadn't the wits to complain. A little skirt that was fanned out where she sat, a snug cotton tank top that's black in color complemented her skin perfectly... she looked cute. I remember thinking then that if she was just another girl at the party I was coming from I probably would have tried to take her home.

That night she had gotten a little too drunk and walked home; she needed every bit of the support I offered as I took her upstairs to bed. Though that night was no different than the two or three times before when I'd found her in a similar state, I hoped she would finally take my advice not to come home so drunk again. Maybe next time I wouldn't be there to sling her over my shoulder on the way up the stairs. And I don't know many guys who would have covered her up so our parents didn't see her clothes all bunched around her chest and waist after I'd dropped her drunken self on the bed.

I think she knew I had done it, because she was especially nice to me that next day. I guess we understood each other better than I thought sometimes. It was probably the same reason that we exchanged that glance of knowing when we heard each other's answers to the question "what are your plans tonight?" from our dad. Sure I had the brotherly instinct to be worried about her in that outfit she couldn't quite hide under her coat. But I wouldn't stand in her way I was sure she'd be smart... enough.

And that was pretty much the last thought I had of her after I walked out the door. I took my truck over to my friend Minho's where we were meeting a few more friends. Minho had gotten us four tickets to an outdoor concert and our other three friends were going to try and sneak in - it wasn't too hard anyway. As soon as we were all loaded in the cab and truck bed both, a couple of cases of beer tucked between legs, we took off to a place a few miles outside the city.

When we got there of course the drinking started. there was more booze than I thought; I knew I'd have to leave my car behind. We all agreed to meet back at Mina's house where apparently nobody was home and then it was off to the front gate. Mina's friend Momo had caught my eye so I made sure to be near her when we went past the gate and inevitably lost a few stragglers. Momo was a tiny brunette with way bigger tits than I would have expected - probably due to a helpful bra. Her cute face didn't hurt but damn... I wondered if she had caught me staring one of the few times I couldn't take my eyes off her chest.

But once I got in... whoa... I didn't worry too much that Momo would be my go-to girl for the night because there were thousands of others. Hundreds...thousands, well I guess I am not great at approximating numbers but the venue was probably bigger than a football field in total. I saw the back fence where my friends would likely try and get in and headed to it.

"You jerk..." I heard from the bushes while standing there flirting with Momo.

It was Mina followed by a smiling Sung, the most drunk of our bunch that night, and I could tell he had just smacked her bare leg and probably a good handful of her ass. I couldn't help but laugh and neither could Momo. She put a hand on my arm and leaned in. I had to admit, she was pretty hot compared to a lot of the girls there; maybe I wouldn't have to even try that hard.

We all got together and stood in-line for a beer while I admired Momo and the other girls walking around in all manner of outfits and some in practically nothing at all. The music we were seeing was heavily electronic so from my little experience I knew this would be nothing short of a rave. I was starting to feel pretty dazed and that's probably why I was getting handsy with Momo.

By the time the music had started I'd lost count of my beer intake. I was holding her and Momo was rubbing against me. There really isn't a better feeling than the rumble of bass deep in your chest and the warm skin of a pretty girl close to you. Especially when she's feeling the same warm tingling that was pulling me closer to her.

At some point, I don't know when, we got separated. Perhaps it was the tan-skinned exotic looking girl who was leaning back with her hand caressing my neck. I looked down and she was wearing a top with fabric that crisscrossed her body so her sides were left bare. Her abdomen was just as tan as the rest of her and from the times she looked back at me I could see her eyes were no less alluring.

I think we made out for some time, but after talking to her for only a moment or so I realized, unfortunately, that she was either too dim-witted or too drunk to pass for more than a good-looking dance partner. The music was phenomenal, I was just the right amount of drunk, and I was flitting around from girl to girl and dancing like a fool. I was having a better time than I could have hoped for and even more so when I finally found my group of friends again. I remember thinking we should go to concerts like that more often when a really popular song came on and we started rough-housing and hollering as it began.

In the middle of the song there was a sudden jolt in the tempo and we were jumping up and down to the beat. I looked back. The crowd was jumping too, waves rippling back over the ocean of fans. Colored lights panned this way and that with the music, the beat of drums being absorbed by a dense blanket of people.

I was jumping and fist-pumping and doing all of the dumb stuff that seemed to be perfectly acceptable in that moment. Once I jumped and caught a glimpse of a guy crowd surfing. Again I jumped and saw the huge cloud of smoke that was hovering over the crowd. Once more and I caught a glimpse of what had to be the least dressed girl at the party. Naturally, I looked for her again.

Her whole back was bare, and it was all I could see of her through the throngs of people between us. I couldn't be sure but naturally I hoped her front was bare as well. She was jumping around wildly like me, and when she somewhat turned my way once or twice I could see she definitely wasn't wearing anything to support her breasts. They weren't huge, but from the side they looked like a nice little handful. It wasn't the first shirtless girl at the concert but usually the topless girls weren't the best to look at. This one had a toned little body and she looked like she knew how to use it.

I wandered forward without saying anything to my friends. A pang of guilt struck me for ditching them after we'd spent half the concert looking for each other, but I had to get closer to this girl. It was denser the closer I got to her. Not only was she farther up but it seemed like many of the guys around had the same idea as me. I pretended like I was pushing through to find my friends; that always seemed to work. All I ever got was the occasional grunt or mutter of frustration. I am a pretty decent sized guy so most people avoid conflict with me, I suppose.

I was about ten feet from her and my heart started to pound. I realized I was nervous. Something about the way this girl wasn't letting any of her leering onlookers near and seemed to be totally in her own world had me breathing fast and wondering what I would say. I watched her bob her head side to side, extend her arms up in the air and sway with the droning music the band was striking up in that moment.

The closer I got the better she looked... or maybe that was just the booze. When she turned to the side I saw a purple butterfly sticker over her nipple. Holy crap was that hot. It was almost as if seeing so much of her and yet being denied her fully naked form made me want her ten times more. The guts on this girl to wear so little to a concert that was sure to be full of young men with low morals... I resolved to take a shot.

I could see she had dirty pink hair now, and the only thing she seemed to have on besides two butterfly stickers was a short denim skirt. It wasn't unlike the one my little sister was hiding on her way out the door. I guess both of these girls knew how to get attention, though I hoped nobody had ever seen my Eunha without a top on, or so my protective instinct cautioned me. I finally made it close enough to make a move on the cutie, but not without a strong shoulder from a guy in a polo slightly larger than me. He yelled something and though I tried to ignore and walk past, I guess he wasn't pleased that I was getting between him and the nearly naked cutie. He grabbed my shoulder...

"Hey asshole!" he shouted and spun me his way.

I looked at him and tensed, wondering if I was going to have to defend myself or throw a punch.

"Relax man," I said, "I'm just looking for somebody."

"Fuck you!" he responded unreasonably, "you're just trying to get to the front!"

Usually, that would be true, but this time I was just trying to get near the most intoxicating girl I'd seen at the show. I readied myself to fight when I heard a voice behind me:

"OPPA!?"

The big guy's eyes darted over my shoulder. My fists were clenched and my already pounding heart had converted my nervous energy to adrenaline... yet the voice caught me off guard. The wide-eyed goon's gaze convinced me it was safe to turn around. And that's when I saw her.

denim skirt, some streaks of body paint across her abdomen and the two butterfly pasties I'd seen before were all there. The phenomenal body, perfect, firm breasts and adorable face I'd seen before too... on my little sister Eunha.

How could I not have seen? How didn't I know from the second I'd seen the familiar skirt? Why had my brain begged me to get closer to her when I must have known, subconsciously even, that this moment would come?

"Oppa!" she shouted again and then ran toward me. Her perfect little breasts jiggled as she pumped her legs and then jumped right at me. I caught her just in time, and it turned me toward the guy who had picked a fight. He glared, but it didn't seem he was going to interrupt us.

I could feel Eunha's tits pressed against my chest, and her toned legs firmly holding her in place. I was confused, a large part of me unwilling to let go of that magnetic pull that had drawn me to her. My little sister was practically naked in my arms and everyone around who had been staring at her for however long was watching us. Nobody could know who she was to me, or so I hoped. My eyes quickly scanned the crowd to see if any of our friends were watching. Her cheer friends were happily distracted near the front of the stage and there was at least a few hundred people between us and my group. I dared take my eyes off the crowd and look Eunha in the eye.

"Hey big bro," she said, still hanging on me like a monkey.

"Hey troublemaker." I said.

She smiled, a big, toothy grin, the way I always loved. Her gaze was a little friendly for a sister, as if the fact that her boobs were squished between us and our hips were locked together wasn't enough. I might have wondered where that was coming from, but I could smell whatever fruity vodka drink she'd had plenty of on her lips.

"YOU LIED!" Eunha pulled back while still seated in my arms and said loudly over the noise. "YOU told mom and dad that you were going to Minho's!"

"Oh yeah?" I asked, "and what about you?"

She scoffed, "what about ME?"

"I thought you were going to Umji's to practice some new cheer and sleep over?"

Eunha snickered guiltily. "Well, maybe I lied a little... you won't tell will you?"

"It depends," I threatened emptily.

Eunha was obviously one of those adorable drunks; I could hear it from the sing-songy inflection in her voice. But if you asked me she should not have been any kind of drunk with the hungry eyes I had seen fixed on her. Once again, maybe it was brotherly instinct or maybe I just knew what those guys were thinking.

I looked again at my little sister in my arms. I didn't know what to think. After all, I had come to her with much different intentions. She was still the same girl who'd just about stopped my heart when I saw her only from the side. Yes, I could see her flexing and moving her hips when I got close enough and her bare back was what had initially caught my eye. Her appearance had captured my attention, but her presence had drawn me in.

I wondered what our parents would think. Set aside Eunha's utter state of undress, and both of our irresponsible intoxication. What would they say if they saw Eunha wrapped around her brother with her teenage chest and tiny hips held tight to me. What would they say if they saw her moving up and down to the beat of the music, causing her to rub up against my already confused manhood... wait...?

She WAS doing it. Whether intentionally or not, that little minx... she was bouncing herself rhythmically and it was simply not the kind of contact a little sister should be making with her brother. She had to know... but as I looked at her again and saw that carefree smile and open mouth yelling out to the band, I knew I couldn't hold it against her.

I also knew I couldn't hold IT against her either. I was reacting to her attentions in a way that made me all the more conflicted. I lifted Eunha from me, quite easily except when she fought to hold on to me. I always loved her playfulness.

When I set her down again I was treated to another uninhibited look at her beautiful body. My little sister's tits or not, my hands struggled to stay at my sides and not reach out and touch the perky mounds that sagged not an inch on her chest. And those stickers, those fucking butterfly stickers... There was something so appealing about them - a childish and playful symbol that decorated my seductive and naughty little sister.

"You don't approve..." she said with a frown. Eunha must have caught me looking her up and down.

I used it as another excuse to gaze. Her tight tummy was streaked with paint like somebody had grabbed for her. I burned inside thinking it might have been some asshole in the crowd.

"What do you want me to say?" She had turned around now and was looking at the band while talking to me over her shoulder. Her cute butt was no less provoking; it sat proudly under a skirt that was too short to wear anywhere in my opinion.

She turned and her fingers grazed my face, just like the girl before had. I shivered at her touch; I wasn't supposed to like her doing that. "I dono..." she replied coyly. "Tell me I'm pretty at least..."

She turned again and bit her lower lip. GOD she was either a brilliant or totally natural seductress. I would tell her anything at that point.

But I still managed to hold back. "Well yea you're pretty..." I told her. I had to blink off the surging/tingling feeling of the alcohol as I tried to finish my thought. "...I just don't like all these guys staring at you."

I looked around. Maybe I was overreacting.

"Well now that my big brother is here, I think you can stop worrying." I felt her butt brush against me while she was dancing. She grabbed my arm and slung it around her. I could feel her naked front warm against my forearm.

"Shouldn't you be with some girl or something, not hanging with your little sister?" Eunha teased.

"Uh uh, now that I've found you, I'm not taking my eyes off you!" I replied quickly.

Eunha smiled and pressed her head against my shoulder, flattered. I hadn't meant it like that...

"That's not what I meant... I'm just saying..."

She turned away, seemingly pleased enough with the compliment I'd unintentionally paid her. I gave up, frustrated with her and simultaneously disarmed by her confidence.

"What about you Ms. butterflies?" She let out an incredulous 'uh!' like I'd somehow offended her by acknowledging it. "I'm surprised you haven't chosen one of your many admirers."

She was quick to respond too, "Well I'm with you aren't I?"

She looked me in the eye for a few seconds, and before I could say anything she turned back around. I would have argued, I should have, but it was true. She couldn't have known how I'd found her but I was guilty nonetheless. Eunha was by far the most interesting girl I'd come across the whole night, among thousands.

I couldn't keep my composure for too long either. I was still plenty drunk and so was she. After a minute or two of inner conflict and debating whether I should take Eunha home, leave her by herself or stay there with my scantily clad little sis, the music chose for me.

I really did love this band, and before I knew it I was dancing around just like before. This time, however, I was finally with a girl I actually wanted to be around. She was holding my arm, spinning around and I was enjoying watching her have a good time. Heck, I was having a great time myself, slowly forgetting to be careful with my hands... and my eyes with my newfound dance-partner.

I got somewhat lost in it all. Eunha was so gorgeous, and the music so entrancing... when I look back I remember my hands on her hips, running daringly up her side. I remember feeling her backside nudging against my front and the swelling it caused in my jeans. People were looking at us now and again, but nobody knew our secret. There was an attraction there that shouldn't have been, but it was ours and ours alone. I could dance with my little sister however I wanted, touch her wherever I wanted, and feel however I wanted. As long as she was by my side at this concert, nothing was forbidden.

Eunha stumbled once. I laughed at her and she feigned that she was upset. She even looked cute doing it. I worried for a moment that she might have been too drunk. Then she went back to dancing with me, leaning more heavily and being a little less inconspicuous about her affections. I felt her hands on mine. They guided me to her belly, where I could feel the feel the ridges of body-paint, the tautness of her skin, and even the dangly piercing that marked her belly-button.

She rolled her head back into me, with eyes mostly closed.

I had to act; I could have let this whole thing run its course and lead me wherever I was headed. But I knew where that would take me, and I was her older brother. I had a responsibility to Eunha and I was going to take care of her.

"It's time to go." I said, taking hold of her shoulders and saying into her ear.

"Mmmmh...okay." She said, standing up straighter and grinding her ass into me. I winced and breathed deeply.

Taking her hand I moved to our left. My car was somewhere parked out in the woods. We'd driven up close enough to hear the opener but off the beaten path to conceal the excessive drinking that usually took place before the concert. My friends wouldn't be coming back to the car, but I needed to take Eunha somewhere, if only to sleep it off.

I was determined as I began to weave through the crowd. I thought Eunha was going to just follow drunkenly along. She started to resist. 'What the heck!' I thought as I had to pull at her arm more firmly. I looked back and saw her brows furrowed and an angry glare.

I realized pretty quickly that my little sister had been acting a bit drunker than she actually was. Maybe she was using it as an excuse to be so carefree when we were dancing earlier. She hadn't resisted when we first left, but maybe she was expecting something else - not her brother chaperoning her to the car.

When we got clear of the densest part of the crowd I stopped and addressed my fuming little sister. What a sight she was: half-naked in denim and black and throwing a mini-tantrum. It was hard for me to stick to my purpose instead of acting on the urges I was feeling toward Eunha. I had to be the responsible one here, I didn't know just how much my little sister had to drink and how she was feeling about the way we were dancing earlier. I suspected she would have let it go further if I hadn't stopped.

"So...what..." Eunha said as she planted her feet and stared me down, "you're just gonna take me home and that's it?"

"No." I responded, "I was going to take you back to the truck and we can listen to the rest of the concert from there."

"Oh...okay." The corners of her mouth showed an embarrassed smile.

She took my hand, put it around her waist and walked, more amicably this time, side by side with me to the truck. It was getting a little colder now and I knew Eunha would be chilly, I could feel goosebumps on her bare skin. I pulled her tightly to me, my fingers pressing in to her warm, soft side.

When we finally got to my truck we were a ways from the crowd. The music still filled the empty woods around us and shafts of light penetrated the canopy of darkened treetops. It was an eerie place, made warm by the presence of Eunha at my side.

I hopped up into the truck bed and bent down to help my little sister up with me. Locking my hands under her arms I swiftly pulled her up and set her down in front of me. I couldn't avoid how close she came as her toes found the metal bed. I think she was impressed by the way I manhandled her, and I by the ease with which I could lift the tiny cutie. I don't care if she was my sister or not; feeling her youthful body slide into place pressed firmly to my front was enough to make my eyes roll back.

We stood there for a silent moment, neither of us knowing what to do next. Usually, with tension so thick I'd want nothing but to feel her lips on mine, but that wasn't an option. She nuzzled me, touching the tip of her nose to mine and breathing deeply. She was awaiting my next move.

After what felt like an eternity I reached down for the blankets in the storage locker, unfurling them and setting a few for us to lay on. I quickly positioned myself in the corner facing the concert to escape from our suggestive pose; Eunha followed and once again nuzzled under my arm.

My head swam with racing questions. Why were we acting like this? Why couldn't I just act the big brother and keep Eunha safe until she was sober enough to bring home? Why did every touch of her skin feel so electric?

It had to be the booze, or at least that's what I told myself despite the fact that it'd been an hour or two since my last drink. As soon as I settled in, threw a blanket over the two of us and felt my little sister snuggled up to me my worries began to melt away. The music, once again, captured me and the safety and warmth of our getaway was just what we both needed. A few people passed the truck but nobody close enough to notice us. It felt private, like we were all alone with nobody to bother us.

"I'm glad you found me," my little sister said, breaking the silence and staring up at me with her chin on my chest.

"I'm glad I found you too," I replied, "I don't know how much longer that pack of circling dogs would have left you alone."

Eunha giggled, "you think they saw something they liked?" She was clearly getting some enjoyment from goading me.

"More like they didn't see something... your clothes!"

Eunha laughed adorably and was clearly unphased this time by me calling out her outfit. In fact, she flipped the blanket off of us and opened up to me, causing her breasts to shake in place and her front to be utterly exposed to my view.

"You mean I'm not wearing enough?" she said, glancing down at herself and inviting me to do the same.

I couldn't NOT look. I set my eyes on her, seeing her perky breasts laying hardly any flatter and her athletic frame leading down to her bunched skirt. I had my eyes fixed upon her, but hers had found something else. She'd revealed her beautiful teenage body to me by flipping the blanket back, but she could see my lower half as well. And I was totally hot for her; there was no hiding the bulge in my shorts.

Eunha was clearly taken aback. As of yet I hadn't given her any direct indication that I was feeling lustful thoughts toward my little sister. And though she'd danced quite suggestively with me, we could still go home without feeling we needed to hide anything.

Yet my hardness had Eunha's mouth agape. Except it was not in disgust but rather something else. She knew what was going on in my head. I needed to be quick to act, to snub out the suggestion that I'd made unintentionally with my erection. But I was not in any position to think or act quickly. I didn't intend to... it was all too much and it was like Eunha was begging me to do something rash.

I planted my hand firmly under her breast, my thumb and forefinger plying the soft padded skin between them. Above sat the thin shroud of her butterfly and higher still a wide eyed and still open mouthed gaze from my little sister. She felt wonderful, and I finally had my hand on her teenage breast as I'd wanted to all night. I moved my fingers around, massaging her daringly.

Eunha's head rolled back a bit and she breathed in apprehensively. When I touched her more firmly next it elicited a soft "uhhh..." from her open mouth.

I kept moving my fingers in circles, handling her wonderful chest and marveling at the firmness of her unhindered breast. She let me continue long enough to build confidence. I took more of her in my hand and she sighed again, I could feel my little sister's hips begin to move involuntarily.

"Mmmmhh...Oppa" she cooed again. "We shouldn't... this is really naughty."

But her hips betrayed her words. They had found my leg and I could feel the heat from between hers as she urged herself against me. I explored her chest with my hand, moving it between her two breasts and up to her neck, then back to her other breast, feeling the butterfly sticker on my palm.

I wanted to feel more, so I pried at the edge of one sticker.

"Uhhhh Oppa... you can't," she protested, while continuing to gyrate on my leg.

I chose to listen to her body instead, and slowly peeled the wing of the butterfly backward. I watched her intently; she made no move to stop me. When I'd peeled enough to see the faintest denim of her small nipple she trembled with sensation. I pulled it off the rest of the way and saw in full what I'd been hoping for all night.

I intended to get to her other sticker but I immediately placed my hand on her breast and tested it gently. Her nipple must have been sensitive because she trembled once again.

I guess the heightened intensity of her further nakedness worked to my advantage because soon after, as my hand was sliding open-palmed over her taut stomach I felt hers moving slowly as well. First I felt it on my hip, then the soft spot of my pelvis, and then... as if it were her first time, her fingers lightly touched the bulge in my shorts.

It was my turn to groan. I had been tortured by Eunha's body all night and now she was finally moving to help relieve me. At first her hand dared not progress, resting enticingly over my hard cock with only layers of clothing between. But as I got more aggressive with my own hands and I helped pressure my knee back toward her grinding hips, my little sister found her confidence.

She wrapped as much of her hand around me as the fabric would allow and I gasped in response.

"Wowww," she whispered. It must have been bigger than she expected.

All the while, as my little sister was gaining the tenacity to take things further, I was already doing so myself. The sight of her exposed breast and my hand descending from it down her flat stomach was amazing enough, but my intentions to go lower had my heart pumping twice as hard.

My fingers reached the elastic waistband atop her denim skirt.

I could feel her breathing in and out, her abs tightening rhythmically.

We were both waiting for what I would do next. After a moment, I had waited long enough; I had to have more of my teenage sister.

I urged my fingertips between, feeling the soft skin and gentle curve of her hipbone as I did so. When I was just short of my target, Eunha's hand quickly found mine. Her palm came to rest atop mine, with the skirt between us.

Eunha's eyes looked up at me, full of desire and apprehension both. She bit at her lower lip before saying, "You should stop... unhhh... don't you think you should stop?"

She was probably right. If I didn't hold back now, things could go a lot further. I didn't know if my little sister was virgin but deep down I longed to find out. I wanted to have her in so many ways, to fuck her like she had been practically begging me all night. If the brother in me didn't intervene I might end up acting out every lust-filled vision I'd dreamt up while at Eunha's side all night, taking her in every position I'd longed to since I first caught glimpse of the beautiful cutie.

The decision was easy then. With Eunha's hand still firmly upon my member, and mine beneath her skirt as my eyes beheld her young, nearly-naked body, I threw caution to the wind. My fingers pressed down upon her mound and I watched as my little sister writhed in pleasure. Whether her protest was empty or not, the second my fingers pressured from outside her panties she was gone.

I rubbed in small circles where I could feel the precipice of her tiny opening. Even through the cloth of her bikini underwear I could feel that my little sis was wet for me. She lifted her hips when I didn't press hard enough. The hand that had been there to stop me now pushed my fingers more firmly against her.

Eunha's other hand fumbled around my shorts as she struggled to multi-task. Hard as it may have been for her to cope with her brother's attention to her aching sex, she eventually worked her hand inside my shorts.

Something clicked in me when she finally grasped me firmly, her hand on my bare cock. I was fully overcome with desire, love and lust for my little Eunha. Her pretty face looked focused upon returning the favor I was working on her pussy. Her eyes flitted to mine occasionally and then back to her hand as it worked up and down within my shorts. When our gazes met, there was no more worry or guilt, only the love and understanding of brother and sister with a clear lust for more.

She must have gotten frustrated by the obstacle of my shorts because moments later she hastily tugged the elastic band over the tent that had been formed there. My sizable penis sprang free to the open air and Eunha's longing eyes. They widened as she revealed what her hand already knew to be more than she had expected.

I took her brazenness as invitation, quickly dragging her skirt and panties both down to her knees. Eunha's face cast a second of shyness as I looked down, making sure the blanket hadn't covered my little sister's lower half as I disrobed her. She was totally bare, and from what I could tell her opening as small as I'd ever seen. If I intended to make love to her that night, she was likely to need a lot of time to adjust to my size.

Eunha continued her ministrations and explored all over me, gently grazing my head with her fingertips and testing the weight of my full balls with her hand. I touched down to my little sister's bare pussy for the first time as well. She quivered as I contacted her warmth. With two fingers I straddled her clit and stroked the full length of her young quim.

"Oooohh...fuuuuuck,.." Eunha mewed, "I can't believe we're doing this... feels so... ughhh... good."

I kept at her, rotating my fingers about her button and watching her squirm when I touched her just right. Seeing her back arch, abs ripple and her pretty breasts shift as I pleasured her, I nearly exploded. Eunha's hair was tussled over one eye; with my arm that was wrapped around her I pushed it back and rolled her toward me.

We kissed for the first time.

She tested my lips, pecking at them. I attempted to meet them more firmly but she teased me. I pulled her more tightly to me, yet still she withheld. I could sense her smile and then the breathy giggle that followed it, her breath tickling my chin.

I leaned in closer and caught her. Our lips touched firmly at last, and we both paused. We had already crossed many lines, but kissing my little sister felt equally as intimate, if not more. I pried my lips open a bit. Eunha did the same, pecking at me again. Then she pressed firmly to me, our noses intertwined and my hand left her wanton opening.

Within seconds our tongues were touching for the first time, lightly at first. But then it was more eagerly. I wanted to feel everything my little sister had to offer. Eunha sat up to get a better angle at which to kiss me but I had a bigger plans. I wanted Eunha atop me, in all her beauty, sitting in my lap and kissing me without inhibition.

I fumbled to remove my shorts the rest of the way and then Eunha's skirt. My efforts elicited a laugh from my little pink sis, but she was silenced as soon as I had my hands on her hips and pulled her atop me.

Her knees rested softly on the blanket beneath us.

Her hips had come to rest so that my erection was securely pinned beneath her bare pussy.

She looked down, with heightened awareness at the new contact we were making. I flexed my cock to make it all the more intense for her, for us both. Looking up, with one breast bare and the other still hidden beneath the remaining butterfly, I reached for it. Pausing a moment, as if I hadn't been fondling her other breast for the last ten minutes, I felt her soft skin and teased it.

Then I peeled the sticker off all in one motion. It didn't seem too painful but Eunha inhaled sharply all the same. Now she was totally naked to me. The reality aroused me: my little sister completely naked with her brother's cock actually touching her teenage pussy, But the sight spurred me to action. I urged my hands up her abdomen, holding her firmly and bringing them to her perfect breasts.

I relished the look on Eunha's face as she felt my hands upon her. I couldn't know exactly what was going on in her head but somehow I knew she was as willing a participant as I.

"God you are so beautiful Eunha," I told her, watching a big smile form on her face. She leaned down and kissed me with gratitude. I bet she looked wonderful from behind in her prone position.

After a few seconds she broke the kiss. "You are a good brother, Oppa. I love you so much."

"Somehow, I don't think Mom and Dad would agree," I said, glancing down between us were my erection was planted firmly between her tiny bare lips.

Eunha responded by thrusting her hips forward and backward along the length of my shaft. We both gasped in unison at the sensation. Our contact was near the real thing and at any moment one of us could have taken control and consummated the incestuous act we were building toward.

"Mom and Dad don't know how you protected me from all those creeps... ugh... " she moved back and forth again, "And they don't know how you tried to be good when I was being so naughty with my dancing. Oh fuck..." My little sister's words had made me involuntarily thrust my hips toward her, increasing the contact with her slit.

I had written off so much of Eunha's behavior tonight as drunkenness and now she was admitting to doing it on purpose. The tricky little tease; maybe all of those times her hand or butt had come in contact with my crotch in front of the stage weren't quite so accidental. I doubted it now.

I had one hand massaging her breasts, and another one forged a path between them and up to her neck. I half-encircled it gently and caressed her sensitive skin there.

"Oh Eunha," I said as she once again rolled her hips along my rod. "I want you so badly sis... you're driving me crazy." She obviously took that as an invitation to tease me more, lifting from my hips and letting my tip prod at her pussy. My baby sis pushed just softly enough that I was forbidden entrance before she lowered herself off again and I was rendered helpless.

"I don't want to take advantage... uhhh... " I said as she lifted up and directed my head to her pussy again. Watching me intently and capturing my gaze, she bore down on my tip enough that I held my breath and wondered what she'd do next. If I lifted my hips even an inch now my little sister would be as skewered on me as she was playing at.

She rolled her hips and my head again missed its mark. She was torturing me once more, and I was near taking control and teaching her a lesson. But Eunha had done it so she could lean in and kiss me. It's not that I didn't enjoy making out with the beautiful goddess, but I had been too close not to go further. As if she could read my mind, she removed her lips and hovered close to mine

"Oppa..." she assured me, "I want this."

With that I watched my teenage sister lift her hips from my lap and reach between us. She took hold of my cock and pointed it directly where we both wanted it. She lowered just enough to hold me in place before fixing her eyes upon mine.

All I could do was marvel, placing my hands on her hips lightly and giving my little sister complete control. I watched her, open-mouthed and wide-eyed, gazing down between us as she applied more weight. I could tell from the way her opening resisted me that she would be far tighter than I could have hoped.

"Ohh fuck bro... you're soo big... I gotta go slow."

I longed to be inside her, but I wanted Eunha to be as comfortable as possible. "It's okay sis, take your time."

She was plenty wet, her sliding back and forth already had my shaft glistening in the moonlight. She was the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen. Her dirty pink hair framed her face just so, her eyes were closed for the moment as she concentrated on lowering, torturously slowly. Her toned body held breath as she tried to continue.

I felt my head finally part her little pussy lips and wondered if she could feel me throbbing to be inside her.

And then there was resistance. Eunha's eyes were still closed so I could not search them for answer. I watched her bite her lip as she pushed past what was obviously an uncomfortable obstacle.

"Uhhhh...owwww..." she howled in a mixture of pleasure and pain.

Eunha didn't open her eyes again until she had come to rest. My staff was fully immersed in my little sister and she was panting despite being completely still.

"Oh Eunha," I said, finding her eyes desperately upon mine. "Are you a virgin baby sis?"

She grinned, though her furrowed brow revealed she was still adjusting to having her big brother filling her so completely.

"Not anymore.." she quipped. Eunha was always clever; even, it seemed, when impaled on her brother's cock.

"I didn't... ughhh..." I could feel her pulsing from all the sensation being so full was causing her, "I didn't know Eunha..."

She moved to bring our faces together again. Even the slightest movement seemed to bring her more sensation to cope with and deep breaths by which to do so.

"It's okay Oppa..." she took another breath, "I wanted it to be you..."

I was enamored. My gorgeous sister had given me the most treasured gift she had to offer. Her wonderful personality, her perfect teenage body, and now her eighteen-year virginity was mine. My hands gripped her hips more tightly. We kissed, and simultaneously I helped Eunha lift her tiny pelvis up along the path my erection allowed.

She hummed against my lips. I could feel her tense as my head brushed over her broken hymen. When her entrance finally gave way to the ridges of my tip we broke our kiss. She let the head linger at her opening, threatening entrance at any second.

"Are you ready Eunha?" I asked her.

"Uh huh," she complied.

We both assisted in lowering her down, feeling me slide into my little sister and fill her so perfectly it was like I was meant to be there.

Eunha howled, "Oooooouuuww... fuck Oppa...slower..."

We both watched as inch after inch disappeared into her. I might have urged her faster if not for the marks her nails were leaving in my arms as she held on and took me deeper. Instead I just held her and savored every second that my little sister allowed me to be inside of her. As I watched her naked little body sink lower I remained amazed that I was truly making love to the younger sister I'd known and loved all my life.

Eunha had always been adorable. She'd been the youngest cheerleader when she started high school, she loved to drive boys crazy with whatever outfits our parents would let her get away with, and she had come into her pretty teenage body early on.

Her breasts had been the same size for years, often tucked visibly into the tight-fit clothing she wore. She always had the dimples and cute cheeks, though her blue eyes were equally distracting. Years of being active had sculpted her frame. As I looked at her now I saw that the little sister I'd watched grow up for years had a body to marvel at: thin at the waist with the hint of hipbones, a slender abdomen and the bulge of her ribcage before those mouth-watering teen breasts.

I reached around to grab Eunha's butt. It was firm like the rest of her but definitely something to hold on to. I did so as she continued her up and down movements on my cock.

"Fuckk... Oh God Oppa..." she called out,

"Eunha... ughh... you're so tight sis..." I didn't know how long I could last with my baby sis controlling the tempo and squeezing my shaft so securely.

"Ohmyyygod... I can't believe we're... mmmmhhhh..." she was upping the pace at which she lifted her hips and brought them down to meet mine. I could feel my tip prodding her deep inside, the very end of her tight channel soft against my tip. "I can't believe I'm fucking my brotherrrr...uhhhh"

My hands moved about. One gripped her hip tightly and started to urge her more roughly up and down. The other gripped her side and breast alternately, I wanted to feel as much of her tiny body as I could.

The music still droned in the background. Both of us had ceased hearing it long ago, listening only to each other's breathing and sounds of ecstasy. The lights flickered between the trees and the moon shone down on us from above. Not far off were thousands of people fixated on the loud music and dancing. I thought nothing of it, instead ensnared by my nude baby sister humping herself atop me.

I shifted, sitting upright with my back against the window to the cab. Eunha didn't miss a beat, pressing her breasts firmly against me and rocking her hips in our new position. She lowered herself fully onto me, with her clit pressed against my base. My little sister may have been a virgin, but she was quickly discovering all the ways sex could make her feel.

She rolled her hips around. Locked together my tip sought new ground inside of her and she writhed as it prodded her deep within.

She gasped aloud, "ohhhHHH... Fuuuck bro... It's so far in me..."

"I know Eunha, you feel amazing," I told her, "I don't know how much more I can take."

It was like that only encouraged her. "You can't come yet Oppa... uhhh..." she grabbed on to my neck and shoulder and started rocking her hips in a way no girl I'd been with before had ever done.

"I'm not wearing a c...shit Eunha slow down...I'm not wearing a condom!"

The feeling of my little sister urging my cock in and out of her was racing me toward release faster than I could control...

"Don't cum yet... just wait..." she pleaded.

She didn't slow down, I was afraid of what might happen if she kept it up. The little teenage troublemaker confirmed my fears.

"I'm not...ohhh..." she could feel my hands trying to slow her down, she pushed them from her... "I'm not on birth control ... you can't yet I'm really ... fuuuucking close."

My head was dazed, my hands didn't know what to do and my mind was torn trying to stop me cumming in my little sis and wondering what would happen if I did. It was then that Eunha nuzzled her head to mine and locked her hips again. She gasped in my ear and then called my name.

I was going to be able to hold out. Getting my little sister pregnant was less a concern now as was watching her have her first orgasm with a man, let alone me: her brother.

"Ooooooouuuhhhhh... Daaaaaaan..." she howled, shaking so much I had to hold her to make sure she wouldn't fall from my lap.

I withdrew from her what little distance I could with the quaking little girl in my arms and pushed back inside, thinking I would only add to her orgasm. It was a grievous mistake. My little sister cumming in my lap and the one last, pivotal thrust had built me too far.

When I felt her mound connect with me, I couldn't withhold the first jet of sperm that I sent as deep into my little sister's pussy as was possible. Nor could I stop the second, or the third. Eunha was so firmly planted with me inside and her body trembling from her electric climax that I couldn't have dreamed of removing her.

Nor did I want to. In a few fateful seconds I flooded my little Eunha with cum. She pushed at my chest early enough to lean back and look deep into my eyes while my tip was spurting its final, purposeful rope of semen into my little sister's fertile womb. If the time was right, there was no question that I'd filled Eunha with enough of her brother's cum to assure that we were both in a bit of trouble.

We looked down. The juncture between us was slick with our combined fluids. I could see the denim gleam of my cum attempting to work its way out. It had reached as deep within her as it could go and now sought another way out.

The evidence of our incest was unmistakable, and the look that we shared after we both saw it was fraught with wonder. What was Eunha thinking? She had to know what her brother had just done and what it meant; was she upset with me?

She answered with a kiss.

She leaned in and hugged me close. It felt reassuring having her pressed against me. It was even more comforting the passion with which we entwined our tongues and made out until Eunha backed off to speak.

"Sooo... you came inside me..." Her voice held no disappointment whatsoever.

"Yeah... I'm so sorry... I couldn't stop it, when you..." but she stilled my voice with a finger upon my lips.

"Uh uh," she denied me, "don't be sorry. I knew you might unless I stopped... but I didn't want to." She smiled mischievously. Her look was incredibly naughty, notwithstanding the fact that her tiny pussy was still dripping with her brother's cum and his cock still hard and lodged inside of her.

I was once again overcome with love for my little sister. She wasn't just the perky teen that I used to babysit. She was that, but she was now a hot little high schooler that had just given her virginity to her brother and done a fantastic job for her first time. It made her unspeakably naughty and desirable. She was my own personal eighteen year old sex-symbol, and I couldn't wait to see what trouble she would drum up next.

"It's just that I'm at... like... the best time to get pregnant right now, or at least that's what my schedule from SexEd says" she told me, biting her pointer finger like she had for years when she did something naughty.

"Oh..." was all I could say.

I was still so hard in Eunha's slick tunnel; the danger we were in did nothing to quell that. I'm quite certain that it only made matters worse, because I was already having thoughts that I wasn't done with my little sister for the night.

She looked down, "Oh my God, you came so much! I can feel it in me! It's really warm," her face showed an obviously faked look of concern, "what if you put a baby in your own baby sister?"

"What should we do?" I asked her, incredulous.

She looked deep in thought for a moment and then said, "I think you should fuck me again, just to be sure."

I must have heard her wrong. She must not have meant she wanted us to have unprotected sex again, right there in the truck bed. When she slowly pulled herself off of me I was certain that I'd just heard what I wanted to.

She got on all fours in front of me. There was cum trailing from her bald teen pussy, I ached to feel it wrapped around me again.

"Will you fuck me like this?" she asked, looking over her shoulder at me. "Doggy right?" she looked excited to know the position.

I was paralyzed. The reality of everything... the fact that I had my little sister naked in the bed of my truck, that I'd just pumped her fertile pussy full of my sperm without birth control, and now... she wanted me to do it again?

"Come on brother! You already fucked me once, and you filled me up with all that sticky cum." She shook her behind at me, taunting me. "Don't you want to fuck me again Oppa?"

I cautiously moved forward, my erection wagged in front of me, revealing my mind to her.

"Pleaaase...?" she said with a whine.

Her whine turned to a whimper when I touched my tip to her entrance once more. I slid it up from a few inches below, bringing with it the spunk that had escaped. Looking my little sister in the eye and seeing her bite her lip in anticipation, I pushed my tip between her pussy lips and in one long stroke I sank back into her, aided by our own fluids.

Though she'd already taken my size minutes before, it was obvious that she still had to adjust to each stroke.

"Ouwww... fuck it's big... ouuuhhh... be gentle with me... ugh... Oppa," she said after I'd started to thrust into her rhythmically.

I slowed down, but as my hips met her butt I pushed hard and prodded the soft spot at her cervix. We both drew inward a deep breath when I did, and then Eunha whimpered again as I withdrew.

I grasped her as I thrusted, my thumbs each pushing into her cheeks and fingers wrapped firmly around her hips. My little sister was small enough that my hands almost entirely encircled her hips. The slick sound of me penetrating my sister was audible on the night air, and I realized that the music had finally stopped. The cries of my little sister were adorable yet I hoped they didn't draw too much attention.

"Fuck me Oppa... fuck your little sister!" She encouraged me. I'd hardly ever heard her swear. Though, with my hard cock buried inside Eunha, I knew I was learning a lot about the tiny pink-haired cutie tonight.

"Oh Eunha..." I called to her, "I love you little sis, unhhh... you feel so good... I'm so glad I found you tonight."

She reached back and grabbed my hand, then got up on her knees. I held her with my hand across her chest, palming her breast as she turned. "I love you too Oppa...ughh ... oh Fuck..." she yelped, our upright position had brought a new angle at which I was penetrating her. "I'm so happy you found me too..." she turned to kiss me. I kept urging my cock into her deeply "Jesus...fuck...I've wanted you to fuck me...uhhh for a long time," she whispered.

I was surprised. I'd thought of my little sister many times before, even imagined her when I was with other girls. She was so adorable and her tight little body had been torturing me for many years, but I wrote it off as me being a typical horny young guy. I didn't think Eunha had similar feelings.

She seemed to read the surprise on my face. "Uh huh," she affirmed, "yeah I've thought about you a lot... mmmnhh uhhhh..." she tried hard to push her ass back toward me was I met it with the slapping sound of my own thrusts.

"Remember when we went camping...ughhhh owww... with Mom and Dad?" She was having trouble talking through panting fits, but she seemed to be aroused telling me, "You kept waking up spooning me?" she asked.

"Uuuuhhh keep fucking me," she demanded as I paused, remembering the weekend.

"You had a stiffy the whole time..." I remembered, those two nights were torture and I felt so guilty wondering if my little sis had felt my hardness against her each time.

"I remember Eunha..." I put my hand around her neck, holding it daringly but gently there.

"I did that on purpose...ooohh oooh fuck..." she gasped as I impaled her harder. "I kept hoping you'd just give in and fuck me... just like you are... uhh... right... now."

My head was spinning. My little sister was blowing my mind and taking every inch of my cock at the same time. I was like an animal as I pulled out from her and quickly turned her to sit on the tool chest. She was so light and our lovemaking so aligned that we barely missed a beat.

Looking at her, seated atop the metal box and with her arms and legs around me, I pointed my cock without touching it and entered her again. I was watching her face intently. Her mouth opened. She cooed as I shoved into her again. She spasmed as I bottomed out.

"Fuuuck Oppa..." she complained, "it feels bigger like this."

I didn't stop. I withdrew and then sank home again. Eunha jerked forward as I prodded her deeply. I could have slowed down but I was so mad with lust that I didn't desire to in the slightest. I just kept pulling out of my little sister and driving into her, taking her completely.

"Oppa... uhhh I can't take it... wait... ohhh God..."

She was too weak to hold me off and I knew that if I kept fucking her I'd send her into another orgasm. I thrust again and again. Eunha's abdomen flexed. The soft flesh between her hips mounded to accept my cock into her. I grasped my little sister's hips and held her tight as I impaled her and made her mine.

When it had built enough, Eunha's climax seemed to deny her the ability to control her movements. Her hands fumbled at my chest and hips. Her legs tightly clutched around at my backside and her head rolled to the side. I felt her quim grip me and then she was cumming hard. Fluid coated our union and my little sister screamed out.

Some hundred feet away a group of concert goers must have heard her. They were walking back to their car like me and could probably see the two of us making love in the bed of my truck. My little sister was trying to contain herself but when I didn't stop pushing inside of her over and over she could do little to quiet her moaning.

The spectators would see the tiny pink-haired girl writhing and calling out through a voracious orgasm. They'd see a man, quite a bit larger than her, obviously driving her to such action with strong thrusts. Only we would know the truth, and having onlookers didn't stand a chance of stopping me from finishing off my little sis.

I did slow down so she could catch her breath. She looked at me, almost frustrated. "Oh my God..." she said, still trying to inhale and exhale deeply. She watched me, and quickly sensed by the very slow in and out movement of my hips that I wasn't finished.

"Aww, do you wanna cum Oppa?" she said, sounding like she was taunting me. "Do you wanna cum inside your little sister again?"

I did, desperately. I resumed my urgency.

"But you could get me pregnant Oppa..." she warned. "Are you gonna shoot your sticky cum inside your naughty little sister again...uhhh...even thou...oh fuck... even though I'm not on birth control?"

Her legs were pulling at me. One of her hands had my neck and the other found my balls, gently massaging them.

"But Oppa...oooOOO" she whined, "I'm only eighteen!...Ohfuckyourbig..." she cried as I buried my cock into her tight pussy roughly. "You shouldn't fill up your little sister...uhhh...with your... hot...sticky... cum "

I was close, and Eunha's words had brought me there. I'd never heard her swear before, let alone talk dirty with her brother's cock disappearing in and out of her as she practically begged for it.

"I'm gonna...ohhh... Eunha..."

I held onto her and let my lust do the rest. Her tiny frame writhed and accepted me, her teenage breasts shaking with each thrust.

"It's okay baby..." she told me, "cum for me big brother...ohhhh... cum in my little pussy... cum inside your little sister... get me ...FUCKKK... get me pregnant... I want it."

That was it, Eunha's tiny body, her hand massaging my balls, and her teasing words had brought me to my knees. I erupted into her.

It didn't seem possible, but nonetheless it felt like more than the first time. As I released rope after rope of forbidden semen into my little sister, I buried myself as deeply into her as I could. It jetted perfectly at the entrance to her womb. I coated her insides for the second time that night. And when I had all but filled my baby sis with everything I had, she trembled into a short but rewarding orgasm of her own. I could only move an inch or so within her without stimulating my own hypersensitive tip, but when I did I could feel a few last pumps of my cum added into little Eunha as she quivered through her own climax.

I held her close to me until I felt her pleasure subside. I picked her up and lay us down in the corner of the truck bed with the blankets around us. We were too hot to lay beneath one just yet but I made sure to keep Eunha warm as we lay there together.

Eunha spoke first.

"That was..." she seemed short of words, "the best thing that's ever happened to me."

I smiled at her affection. She snuggled close.

"You were perfect little sis. You ARE perfect."

She had the biggest grin on her face from my compliment. I loved seeing her so satisfied.

My hard member had not yet left her. If I wasn't so exhausted from, first the concert, and then the most amorous and sapping lovemaking I'd probably ever experience, I would have fucked my little sister again. I think she felt the same. She was totally limp in my arms, but we were both content to remain locked together at the hips with brother's cock within his own little sister.

"Now you came inside me twice!" she stated, "I can't believe how it feels, there's so much in me!"

She was right. Both times I had unloaded more into my little sister than I thought possible. I made a motion to slide my cock, finally, from inside of my teenage sister. Eunha stopped me.

"No...mnnnhhh... I want to keep it in me, just stay there a while." she instructed.

I obeyed, wincing as I returned the inch I'd pulled out of her tunnel. Both Eunha and I felt certain that she would be pregnant; there was no harm in letting my spunk warm her a while longer.

We simply remained there, quiet but for the sound of crickets and the distant voices of men disassembling the stage. Somewhere my friends were probably wondering where I was. The guys I had arrived with were probably still trying to get with one of the girls they'd brought or met at the concert. None of them would know, and I could never tell what had happened after I'd taken off toward the girl with butterfly.

I looked down at her, remembering how badly I'd wanted exactly this as I saw her across the crowd. But it was better than I had ever imagined. I had just made love to the most beautiful girl at the concert, and the most wonderful girl I'd always known.

"I love you bro," she said to me after a few moments.

"I love you too sis."

"You were better than I ever dreamed." she insisted, "I hope you aren't done with me now?" Her face had that puppy-dog look she always used on my dad. I loved it, but it wasn't necessary.

"No way Eunha," I promised, "I'm your brother, and I'll never be 'done' with you."

"Good," replied my little sister, "because I want you to fuck me and fill me up like you did everywhere we go... "

"Sure little sis," I laughed.

"In your truck...on my bed... at my school... in mom and dad's bed..." she prattled on. I caressed her abs and breasts lovingly as she spoke. When she mentioned our parents we both paused.

"What'll we tell Mom and Dad?" she asked.

"Nothing, obviously!" I responded without hesitation.

"No, silly, what will we tell them when I'm pregnant with my big brother's baby?" as if it was assured.

"We don't know that yet Eunha."

"Well if you didn't just get me pregnant, Oppa, you will soon," she said, matter-of-factly. Somehow, I loved the thought. My baby sister Eunha, walking around in public with the bump of her big brother's child...

I made love to my little sister again that night, hours later after we'd snuggled up in the cab of the truck and fallen asleep. I awoke to her spooning with me like she had that night long ago when we were camping. This time, my cock found the right place: inside my cute, eighteen-year-old, unprotected and willing little sister Eunha. It found there over and over again until I came inside her without a care in the world but to have Eunha in my arms.

Months later, the story could change if we kept up the way we were. But for now, both my little sister and I were glad that we'd gone to the same concert.