#please everything always comes back to them

[vynlrecord]

# jjk men's fave places to have their hands when you're having sex

ft. Toji, Gojo, Geto, Sukuna, Nanami

wc: 1.6k - if you have a request or just wanna ramble about your faves, my inbox is always open <3 reblogs appreciated just so then i can gauge if people like it or not

Satoru Gojo (breasts + wrists/hands)

He completely adores the way your wrists fit in his hands, loves everything it symbolises to him. He’s more powerful, you both know it, but he doesn’t need to take it, especially not when he melts at you offering it so freely. Holding your wrists up almost instinctively when you can tell he’s longing for something to ground him in the moment. He’ll happily have his hands on any inch of your body but to him there’s nothing like holding your wrists as he thrusts into you.

Sometimes he’ll pay attention to the flutter of your pulse as he switches the pace, he’ll pull out just enough for you to whine, before thrusting all the way back in one go, increasing the rhythm and focusing so intently on the increase of your pulse, giving him a sense of satisfaction. He craves the feeling of your skin against his, he doesn’t need ropes to do a job he’s perfectly capable of doing, one he loves so dearly. It keeps him grounded, it’s real, no barriers or infinity to stop him, just feeling you completely and it’s his favourite way too, often letting his fingers slip down to intertwine with yours when he’s feeling particularly touchy.

And of course it’s the same with your breasts, it’s a comforting thing to hold you so close, feeling the soft flesh, or occasionally pinching your nipple softly to earn a gasp he loves the sound of. He can claim it’s all about your pleasure, and in some ways it is, he wants to make you feel good but mostly it’s his own selfish need, his fixation with holding them when he’s feeling needy, it sends a rush straight to his cock, he swears he could hold them all day.

─ ─ ─ ─

Toji Fushiguro (ankles + thighs)

Ankles are a favourite of his, perhaps not the first thing you’d assume but there’s something pleasing to him about having a hand wrapped around your ankles as you lay there with him holding your legs up enough so that he can thrust at an impossibly deep angle. He appreciates the power that holding your wrists could give too but for him it’s nothing like your ankles. Whilst he’s in this position, he sets the pace, he could be slow to tease you and some nights he definitely will, claiming it’s punishment for you acting like a brat, or relentless and overwhelming.

The hold on your ankle gives him enough leverage over the movements. It allows him control whilst not drawing in too close, giving him enough distance to steer clear from vulnerability, yet still allowing intimacy in how gentle his touch is, the way he’ll kiss your ankles, peppering more and more along your skin and trailing downwards. In doing so, his hands naturally drift to your thighs, easily making second place as his favourite spot to rest his hands. He’s a thighs man through and through, practically obsessed with the feel of them.

He’s a hardened man with rough hands, yet in these moments with you, he can get lost in the softness of your skin, holding onto your thighs as if they’re the salvation he has to cling to in order to save himself. And god, he knows he’d certainly hold onto them for as long as he can. Hearing your sweet moans as he watches his hand squeeze your thigh is more than just a momentary turn on, it’s a way for him to stake claim. He’d forever deny to you that he’s possessive but having that hold on you in such a sensual area, perhaps leaving a few tender bruises that bloom into a beautiful shade makes him feel more territorial than he ever has and he’s come to learn it’s a feeling he loves, not one he wishes to run from.

─ ─ ─ ─

Suguru Geto (neck + ass)

Geto would like to say he is a man for subtlety, opting for the neck as his favourite place, not for aggressive claim, just deliberate touch that conveys more than words. If he’s fucking you from behind, he’ll have his hand on the nape of your neck, maybe his fingers delicately moving to the front, tenderly brushing against your throat in a quiet claim.

For him it’s about the presence, he doesn’t need to always indulge in breathplay to feel control, he knows the second you feel his hand there, you practically turn into a docile kitten and the look you give him in that moment is enough for him to want to blow his load in an instant. He would be lying though if he said he didn’t appreciate the vulnerability of the neck, the trust you have in him, knowing he won’t hurt you is one of the reasons he adores it so much. Knowing he can feel the fluttering of your pulse under his fingers as you both chase your high and have you not feeling fear but love and affection makes him feel more powerful than if you were kneeling at his feet and he relishes in it.

Though his hand will always find his way to your ass eventually, whether to squeeze or simply run his fingers along your skin, he loves how soft it is, the give as it fills his palm. Sometimes it’s for leverage when he’s pounding into you and needs to keep you tethered to him, others it’s teasing, almost taunting. He’ll let his palm linger, making you wonder if he’ll deliver a soft slap, pulling back as you expect it, only for his hand to return just as gently, simply smoothing back over.

But when he does get the urge to spank you, the way you react is enough for him to grant it as a favourite place for his hand to be, the way your body reverberates, the sharp gasp, the little whine that quickly melds into a moan. It’s a sound he could live on forever, savouring it as his hand caresses the area to soothe it, before giving your ass another squeeze he can never resist doing.

─ ─ ─ ─

Ryomen Sukuna (hair + stomach)

There is no question for Sukuna, he’ll answer no hesitation that it’s your stomach. With the size difference between you, it’s almost instinctual. He just can’t get enough of the way your belly bulges with every thrust of his hips, he could watch it forever, entranced by it, letting his hand run over the soft skin as he feels how deep you’re able to take him.

It’s his favourite part of you honestly, a softness he craves, it doesn’t matter how it looks, your insecurities will vanish with him, he’ll worship your belly no matter what, because it’s his, and he loves you for the way that you are. He gets to feel your soft flesh under his hand as his hips meet yours continuously, there’s something primal in it he feels, knowing that his possessiveness increases tenfold from just resting his hand there and he’s not shy about it.

Oh but he’d never forget about your hair, his ultimate source of control when the two of you are fucking. Having it grasped in his fist makes him feel powerful, he knows he’s powerful already but general power and power over you? Well those are two completely different things, the latter being the one that makes him dizzy. The way you allow him to grab it, tug it if he so wishes, using the grip to guide your head wherever he wants.

He could tilt your head back, wanting to see you arch your back just slightly more as he thrusted his cock inside you, or baring your throat for kisses or teasing nibbles. And  when the tug is just a little hard enough to mix a gasp into your moans, it’s music to his ears, he lives for the dance of pain and pleasure and adores the way you respond to it, giving into the pull, knowing you trust him so sincerely.

─ ─ ─ ─

Kento Nanami (hips + face)

Nanami is nothing if not devoted when in love, these two places being easy favourites, your hips and face are where his worship naturally leads. He longs to take care of you, appreciate you in the way you deserve to be, and is one of the reasons he’s so drawn to the missionary position. It lets him see you, properly, hold eye contact as his cock slips through your folds, wanting to pick up on every reaction, see every inch of pleasure on your face, the way your breath mingles together, the closeness is everything. His hands instinctively reach out to caress your face, cup your chin as he peppers kisses along every inch, your jaw, your cheeks, your temples, there is not a single part that won’t feel Nanami’s love.

He’ll take it slow, there’s no urgency in his devotion, he’ll let his fingers brush along your soft skin as he bites down on your shoulder to muffle his groans when you clench particularly tightly around him. His eyes practically roll back when his fingers meet your lips and you part to let him slide them in, no pressure, just resting on your tongue as you look at each other with so much love and affection. And then, there are your hips, he doesn’t hold onto them with a desperate possessiveness as he pounds into you, he doesn’t need to, he just holds them with a quiet message, wanting to anchor himself to you.

He relishes in this connection, feeling so close as he’s balls deep inside you, his hands on your hips serve to ground him, keep him in the moment as his breathing grows shaky. His hold is firm enough to let him guide the movements, using your hips to meet his thrusts, but always gentle, he’ll draw soft circles against the skin there, admiring every inch of your heated skin, the touch there always a silent vow of his love.

─ �� ─ ─

a/n: it's been forever since i've gotten back into writing so i'm not sure if i can even still do it lmao

[muxshwriting]

bruises and a backache

max verstappen x teammate!reader

summary: hiding an injury from your teammate and then proving yourself beyond his overprotective-ness || warnings: bruises, past injury || word count: 1790 || masterlist

Max was pounding at the bathroom door, his blood rushing hot and fast through his body like he’d just stepped out of the cockpit mid-race. His palm slammed flat against the wood again. “Y/N,” he said, voice tight, bordering on frantic. “Open the door.”

The sound of the shower was still running, steam curling out from the cracks in the doorframe, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the noise he’d heard, the unmistakable sound of you stifling a scream. “I’m fine!” you called out, your voice thin and shaking as you tried to steady it. “It's just… a spider.” You try to make it sound casual but it comes out confused and as an almost question.

“A spider?” he repeated, disbelieving. “You’re not scared of spiders.”

You paused, eyes trained on your reflection in the fogged-up mirror. “It just surprised me,” you added quickly, the lie tasting stale on your tongue.

But Max wasn’t letting it go. You could hear him draw in a slow breath through his nose, trying to rein in the panic in his chest. “Please just… unlock the door,” he said, softer now. “Let me see you. Are you hurt?” Your words did nothing to calm Max's racing heart, only serving to make him more concerned. His body slumps forward, trying to be closer to you as his forehead rests on the door. "Can you unlock the door? Let me check you're alright?"

You stared at the lock, heart thudding. You didn’t want to lie to him. Not really. But you also didn’t want the storm you knew was waiting on the other side of that door. “You can't come in,” you tried again, voice light, teasing, desperate. “I'm changing.”

“It's nothing I haven't seen before. I’ve seen you change,” he shot back. “You've got to lie better. What's happening?”

There was a moment of silence before you gave in with a small sigh, walking over and unlocking the door with a soft click. Max watches the shadow retract and as soon as the lock is turned, he was already pushing it open.

You stood there, in your underwear, staring into the mirror, eyes flicking to his reflection as he entered. His gaze dropped to your skin instantly, like it always did, but instead of wandering hands and a smile, all that crossed his face was alarm. Your back still had the scars of childhood races etched onto it but it was now a mess of blooming bruises, angry purples and fading yellows. But Max could instantly tell which ones were new.

You hadn’t even made it into your shower and you were frozen in place like a deer caught in the beam of his attention. Max didn’t say anything at first. Just stared.

Then, quietly; “Where did you get those, schat?”

You closed your eyes for a second and reached for your shirt, fumbling with it as you gave up on pretending you were fine. The ache in your muscles was too much tonight, and your stupid scream had ruined the last of your cover. “They’re from the crash last week,” you said softly. “It’s nothing serious. We checked everything- the medical team checked, everything’s okay. I just knocked them weirdly when I was changing.”

Max’s brows furrowed hard. “We checked?” he echoed. “Who’s we? Does Christian know?”

You hesitated. That was enough of an answer.

“Are you kidding me?” he barked. “Everyone knew except me?”

“I didn’t want to hide it from you-”

“Then why did you?”

“Because you would do exactly this,” you said, voice sharp but tired. “You’d panic. You’d hover. You’d worry and forget how to focus. And I couldn’t do that to you.”

Max exhaled harshly, scrubbing a hand over his face. “You should’ve told me.”

You looked up at him. “I didn’t want you to stop seeing me as your teammate first. I didn’t want to become a problem to manage.”

His expression twisted at that, something between frustration and heartbreak. He stepped forward, his hand brushing your arm carefully.

“You’re never a problem,” he said. “But you are my-" His mind jumped for something that didn't compeltely give the game away to his feelings. There were the countless nights of binging tv shows with you, culred up on on sofas and slipping away into each other's motorhomes. "You're my person. Do you get that? If you’re hurt, I need to know.”

Your shoulders dropped, the weight of the truth finally settling between you. “I’m sorry,” you whispered.

Max pulled you close, one hand cradling the back of your neck, the other ghosting over your bruised skin like he wished he could draw the pain out of it. “You don’t have to be sorry,” he murmured. “Just don’t make me find out like this again. I want to worry with you. Not because you shut me out.”

You nodded against his chest. His heartbeat thudded steadily under your ear.

“Okay,” you said. “I promise.”

The paddock buzzed with its usual pre-race energy, mechanics moving like clockwork, journalists circling like flies, engines humming in the distance. You walked toward the Red Bull garage in your race suit, helmet in hand, eyes focused ahead.

Max, of course, was already there. He spotted you immediately and beelined across the garage like a heat-seeking missile. “Morning,” he said casually, walking beside you. “Sleep okay?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Max. Still fine.”

He nodded once, like he didn’t quite believe you. “Did you take the painkillers Christian gave you?”

You gave him a look. “Max.”

“Just checking.”

He hovered as you moved to your station, watching as you adjusted the strap on your suit and flexed your shoulders, testing the pain quietly, discreetly. It twinged, sure, but nothing that would stop you from racing.

Max narrowed his eyes. “Was that a wince?”

“No,” you lied with the confidence of someone who’d already practiced it twice in the mirror. “Just adjusting.”

He didn’t look convinced. “We can still switch you out for Liam, you know. It’s not too late.”

You scoffed and turned to him fully, jabbing your finger into his chest. “Don’t start with that again. I passed medical. I’m cleared. I'm racing.”

Max lifted his hands in surrender but stepped a little closer. “I know. I know. It’s just… I watched the replay again last night.”

You paused. “Why would you do that to yourself? It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was just a racing incident.”

He looked at you like you’d said the dumbest thing imaginable. “Racing incident or not, I nearly lost you.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavier than the sound of pit tools and shouting engineers. You softened, resting your hand on his forearm. “You didn’t. I’m right here.”

He looked down at your hand, then at you again. “Yeah, but I also wasn’t there. I didn’t know. You were hurting and I didn’t see it.”

“And now you do,” you said. “So let me drive, Max. Please. Don’t let this be the thing that makes you forget who I am.”

He stared at you for a moment, searching your face like he could read every inch of emotion you weren’t saying aloud. Then, reluctantly, he nodded.

“Fine,” he said. “But if you so much as blink weirdly on the radio, I’m calling it in.”

You rolled your eyes, lips quirking. “Deal.” You're both hiding small laughs as you part.

As you turned to leave, Max called after you, “And don’t worry about carrying your helmet and your pre-race things again. I told the interns to do it.”

You turned over your shoulder, walking backwards with a smirk. “Max, are you trying to seduce me with team orders?”

He smirked right back, eyes gleaming. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

When you cross the line in first place, the throbbing of your back seems to fade away with the joy of the occassion. Max rounds off the podium but when your parked up in parc ferme, his first thought is to crouch by your car, take your helmet in his own hands and his eyes scanning you like he was reading telemetry. He didn't say anything at first, waiting, not with champagne or celebration in mind.

Just walked up, hands hovering until he gently pulled you into his chest. Not a crushing hug, he knew better, but a steady one. Solid. Careful. Like he was trying to hold you together without hurting you.

“You’re walking a little stiff,” he murmured near your ear, voice just for you.

You let out a soft breath, arms around his waist. “It’s fine. I’m just sore.”

Max pulled back to look at you, eyes narrowed, like he could spot every lie beneath your skin. “Sore how?” he asked, tone more measured now. “Like regular ‘I just drove 300 kilometers’ sore, or ‘I haven’t told my teammate my back’s killing me’ sore?”

You sighed, cheeks flushing. “Don’t do that thing where you read my mind.” He didn’t smile. Not this time. He reached out and gently, so gently, brushed his fingers against your side. When you flinched just slightly, his jaw clenched. “You shouldn’t have pushed it that hard,” he said softly, not angry, just concerned.

“I needed to prove-”

“You don’t need to prove anything to me,” he interrupted. “I don’t care if you finished first or dead last, I just need to know you’re not hurting worse because of it.”

You looked down at your hands, pulling your gloves off gently. “I never need to prove it to you. But it wasn’t that bad, I paced myself, I didn’t take risks. I just… I needed to feel normal.”

Max exhaled slowly, running a hand through his sweat-matted hair. “You are normal. Taking care of yourself doesn’t mean weak.” His voice dropped even lower, quieter now with the noise of the crowd fading in the background. “If you’d told me it was too much, I would’ve been proud of you for stepping out. I need you to remember that, okay?”

You nodded slowly, eyes flicking up to his. “I was careful, Max. I promise. I know I’m not back to 100% yet.”

He searched your face for a long second, then finally gave a small nod of his own. “Alright,” he said. “But you’re icing your back the minute we get to the motorhome. And I’m carrying your suitcase. And I’m not negotiating on either.”

You huffed a quiet laugh. “Yes, Captain Verstappen.”

He smiled this time, just a little. “You can win the race, but I’m still calling the recovery strategy.”

You lean in and almost want to kiss his cheek. “Thanks for watching out for me.”

“Always.” He tilted his head to your waiting team. “Go get 'em.”

[bluewxrld07]

Soap (2)

Lando Norris X F!Reader

Summary: Y/N has always loved hard and shows that through affection. Especially lately. She's a touch-starved kind of lovergirl, and Lando has always been okay with it. At least she thought so.

Guess I better wash my mouth out with soap

Warning(s): angst, possessiveness, physical altercations

A/N: Tag list is completely full!! You guys are amazing wtf😭🩵 The keyboard got away from me, guys. Good luck getting through this🤧. Oops hehe. There's a poll at the bottom, so feel free to vote after reading. See u soon, friends

The world was quiet.

It was calm, especially after all the noise from the race weekend.

Y/N was tired. She couldn't keep her eyes open, her mental state just shutting down the more she stayed awake.

It felt as if she was feeling everything at once, and that brought her to the point of numbness. Feeling nothing at all. Just complete tiredness.

Max looked back from the front seat, seeing her state, fighting the exhaustion from all the crying and debriefs they had stuck around for. He could see her mind shutting down, her eyes lazily following the objects that they passed by.

She had told him she would come out with them, despite the way her eyes were puffy as she assured him.

At this point, he would put a chair in front of the door to prevent her from leaving. There would always be another opportunity for her to go out with them. He couldn't bear to see how she'd try to hold herself while being out at a loud restaurant. Not after what happened.

It was the way Max's heart broke as he heard her sob to herself in his arms.

The last time he had ever seen her cry, let alone cry like this, was when her childhood cat had to be put down. That was almost six years ago.

She's the strongest person he's ever met, ever seen. Especially with what she deals with on a daily basis.

The girl was now slowly letting her eyes close, barely fighting it. Her eyes felt too sore and heavy to put any more battle into keeping herself fully conscious.

When they arrived back at the hotel, Max couldn't help but jump out of the car and quickly open her door.

He didn't hesitate to wrap one arm under her legs, the other around her back, before lifting her into his arms. His security guard scurried over with his arms out to take her instead, Max shaking his head. "I've got her, don't," he sternly orders, the guard nodding slowly before backing away and guiding them inside.

Max felt her grip tighten on his black button-up, clenching and unclenching as she tried fighting her tiredness.

He reached his hotel room, letting his guard swipe the keycard as Max nodded at him. "I won't be long," he says to him, receiving a nod as he holds the door open for the pair.

His guard closes the door behind them, standing outside to give Max privacy, while the driver walks Y/N over to his bed. He sets her body down softly on the mattress, watching her stir slightly to look at him with a furrow.

"Max," she mutters, her eyes barely able to keep her eyes open. "What's-"

He shook his head with a hum, sitting by her side and caressing her cheek. "No," he says. "You need to rest."

Her puffed eyes tried to look up at him through her lashes, and Max rubbed a thumb over the dried tears that sat on her cheek. "What about dinner?"

He chuckles softly. "There'll be plenty more," he nods down at her. "You need to let your body and mind rest after today," he tells her. He watches her softly grab his wrist, only to hesitate before her fingers could wrap around his skin, deciding against it and putting her hand down.

Max frowns as she turns away from him. "Schat?" he asks in confusion.

She shook her head. "Please just don't," her voice sounding shaky. "You're doing enough. I don't want to suffocate you."

Max swears his chest tightens at her words. She had never pushed his touch away. Let alone anyone's. "Schat, you aren't."

"Maybe there is something wrong with me. Maybe I shouldn't be this way."

Oh, he was going to kill Lando.

Instead of saying anything else, knowing if she turned away, that she was truly done talking, he stood up and leaned over her with both of his hands caging her small figure in, holding him up from crushing her. He lets his lips press to her temple.

"You're never suffocating," he assures her. "Your love and affection with everyone is my favorite thing about you."

With that, he stands up slowly and turns around to walk towards the door to leave. He doesn't miss the way he hears her sobs quietly leave her lips, Max fighting with himself to just stay there and hold her the rest of the night.

Yet he knew that when she wanted space, which was a rare sighting, to give her the space she was creating.

Once he let the door shut softly behind him, he kept his head down while his mind raced a million miles a minute. His guard spoke up after a few moments. "Max?"

The Dutch driver clenches his jaw for a second, his head snapping up with a darker look in his eyes.

"Let's go, or we'll be late."

They were both off shortly after that, Max's pace faster with every step he took. He could feel his insides burning. Twisting.

The drive was quiet as they made their way to the restaurant, Max keeping his gaze out the window as he fidgeted with his bottom lip. His jaw was clenching and unclenching every other moment.

He didn't hesitate to whip his door open once they arrived, not giving the valet driver a chance to open it for him.

He was walking like he had a purpose, and in that moment, he did.

Once his eyes found the large table where the other drivers were sitting, he felt his face harden when he didn't see the familiar McLaren driver there.

The drivers all smile at Max when they see him, some of them soon frowning at his glare.

"Where's Norris?" his voice boomed out, not missing the flinches from a few of the guys that were close to him.

Oscar, being the only one who knew what was about to happen, answers first. "Max, don't."

Max scoffs and swats at him. "Geef me die onzin niet, where is he?" (Don't give me that shit, where is he?)

Everyone's demeanor had dropped immediately, knowing that when Max started speaking Dutch, he was not to be messed with. He was already pissed, and when a pissed off Max is near, nobody wanted to be in that damage path.

"Where?" his voice booms, getting some stares thrown his way. He didn't care.

"I think he went to the bathroom. Said something about needing to freshen up," Pierre announces, not failing to watch as Max makes his way over towards the direction of the restrooms.

Once Max found the hallway leading down to the men's room, he pushed the door open, seeing Lando in front of the sink, patting water over his face. His gaze slowly turned over when he heard the door slam open, his entire face falling and turning white.

"Max-"

"Jij verdomde klootzak," (You fucking bastard) he laughs bitterly, stalking closer to Lando, who was backing away slowly as the Dutch driver got closer.

"How dare you?" Max growls. "Hm? How fucking dare you?" his tone getting louder before he pushes Lando hard. Lando put his hands up in surrender, trying to sputter out apologies.

"I give you my fucking blessing for her, and this? This is how you treat her? Are you fucking serious, Norris?" his voice booms, echoing across the bathroom walls. He pushes Lando harshly with every word that leaves his mouth.

"Max, look. I was upset with the race, I didn't-"

"I don't give a fuck if it's about the DNF. I wouldn't give a fuck if you got a disqualification penalty! You don't fucking treat her like she's some fucking scum on the bottom of your shoe!" he screams, giving one final hard push to Lando's chest, the thump of his back meeting the marble walls behind him echoing loudly.

"I didn't mean it, I just was frustrated-"

"Jouw gevoelens kunnen mij niks schelen, Norris!" (I don't care about your fucking feelings, Norris!) Max yells back bitterly, his hands slamming against the wall right next to Lando's head. Lando clenched his jaw, holding himself back as he let Max scream at him. He deserved that. He deserved a lot worse if he were honest.

Before he can even put another hand on Lando, Lewis and Oscar scurry inside, grabbing Max by his shoulders to pull him away from Lando.

"Let's not do this," Lewis says to Max as the Dutch fights his hold. He points at Lando.

"You realize you made her cry, Lando? She rarely does, and you made tears fall from her eyes!"

Lando felt his heart clench, his stomach dropping as he remembered the tears glossing over her eyes. "I didn't mean-"

"I held her there, as she sobbed in my arms. Sobbed! Saying she felt like an inconvenience, like she suffocates people. What did you fucking say to her?"

Lando couldn't get the words out, but Max already knew in that moment. His eyes widened, seeing that just by Lando's face alone, it really was all true. He said she was suffocating. Clingy. Lando said her touch was too much. Max scoffs bitterly, rolling his eyes.

"You're fucking dead to me, Norris," he spat, letting Lewis guide him out of the bathroom. "Verdomd dood!" (Fucking dead!) he yells back once more before leaving with Lewis.

Oscar has his arms crossed, turning back to face Lando, who just stands there in shock. "Mate, what did you do?" he asks in a knowing tone, more so making it sound like a rhetorical question.

Lando lets out a strangled sob as he begins to rub his face, sliding down against the wall. "I fucked up is what I did."

"He's going to have your head," he tuts, walking over to his friend and extending a hand. "Literally and figuratively. He's going to kill you next race."

Lando shook his head, keeping his stare over at the door, waiting for Max to come barging back in. "He's gonna kill me before we even make it to practice day."

Once Oscar had helped Lando clean himself up, looking more presentable, they left the men's room.

They made it to the table, seeing Max's spot was still empty, Lando felt his insides churn. Waiting for Max to pop up behind him somehwere.

"Where's Max?" Oscar asked as they sat down.

Lewis answers this time. "He left," he admits. "He said he'd rather be taking care of Y/N than be here. Said if he stayed any longer, he was going to throw something at Lando or drag him out by his ear."

Lando let out a groan, letting his head fall onto the table with a thud.

"Mate, what the actual fuck did you do to piss him off so badly?" Charles asked across the table. Lando just shook his head.

"He made Y/N cry from my understanding," Lewis reveals, causing every single head at the table to turn to Lando.

"What did you do? She never cries," George spoke up, a frown on his face. Most of the guys agreeing, being just as confused as Russell was.

Oscar spoke up this time, pursing his lips. "He let his anger out on her. Said she's suffocating and clingy basically."

"Oscar!" Lando seethes, snapping his head over at his teammate, a glare on his face. Oscar shrugged while sipping his drink, all the guys exchanging whispers and groans at Lando.

"Mate, you fucked up. Bad," Oscar says, not backing down.

"You're absolute toast."

"Max is going to have your head on a stick."

"I'm shocked he didn't drag you out already."

"Mate, you're in deep shit. Max doesn't play when it comes to her."

Lando groans before raising his hands to stop them from commenting more.

"I know. Guys, I know!" he snaps, making them all go quiet. "I just- I let my anger get hold of my emotions at the wrong time. I regret it with everything in me. I do."

"You don't realize how bad that is. You're lucky he let you even get a chance to be with her. His possessive ass," Lewis scoffs more to himself as he shook his head, sipping on his drink. The entire table looks his way, Lando frowning at his words.

"What's supposed to mean?" Lando sputters, feeling offended by Hamilton's words.

Lewis set his drink down, crossing his arms over the table while leaning towards Lando's direction.

"It means he doesn't share," he admits. "Not Y/N at least."

Lando feels his heart drop to his ass.

No. There was no way. He would've known.

Lando tilts his head, eyes squinting knowingly. He shook his head. "No. He's not, there's no way."

George cuts in, eyebrows furrowing. "What am I missing?"

Lewis leans back in his chair. "Max has been in love with Y/N for years," He says, reaching for his drink once more. Everyone at the table stays silent. It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

"When she told him she wanted to be with you, he wanted her to be happy. After everything she helped him through growing up, she was his escape. Especially when his dad was harsh on him. He vowed to always make sure she was happy. He knew you could give her that, but he fought himself a lot with going against it."

Lando feels his insides caving as Lewis reveals every word. "He saw how happy you made her. That's all he ever wants for her, even if it's not him," he chuckles, seeing Lando's face. "He did say if it didn't work out between you two, that he would make that move."

Lando leans back in his seat with a groan, head falling back while he rubs his face out of stress, curses leaving his lips.

"So, if you thought you had any chance to win her back, Max is going to try and beat you to it. You probably have lost your chance," Lewis points out, sipping on his drink.

"And if we know anything about Max." George trails off.

"He never loses. Especially when it's something he wants."

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

It was the next morning. Clouds covered the sky as it cried.

Max sat with his back against the headboard of his bed, hearing the door open from the bathroom. Y/N just finishing up a shower.

She hadn't really slept. When she would finally hit a deeper level of slumber, she would jolt up crying.

She didn't even let Max get close to her, not wanting to be touched, which was a new thing she was doing. Max hated it. He hated that she felt as if her needing and wanting touch to calm down was too much.

So he would sit there, feeling helpless, as she just held herself.

He had snuck down the hallway earlier that morning while she was somewhat asleep, packing up all of her things that were in her hotel room, bringing them up to his own. Knowing full well she'd end up doing that in the morning anyway.

She hated being alone when she was hurting. It was rare, but when it happened, Max was always there. He could always pick up on it.

He straightens up slightly when she walks around the corner, donning a pair of her sweats and one of his Redbull t-shirts. Deciding to stick with comfier pair of clothes for the flight back home.

Max had declined going to the F1 premiere, wanting to focus on Y/N as well as just not liking the idea of being stuck in New York around the press. Or having to keep things professional with Lando when he wanted to run him over with his car.

"You all packed up?" he asks softly, watching her nod.

He doesn't miss the way her face was blotched and puffy again, signaling she had cried a bit more while in the bathroom.

"Schat," he trails off in a sadder tone, getting up from his bed to walk to her. Y/N backs away from Max, shaking her head. "Please," she croaks. "Just don't touch me. Not right now."

Max stops in his tracks, feeling his heart hurt at her words. He nods reluctantly, deciding instead to busy himself with gathering both of their bags. His gaze going to see outside by the entry, seeing some fans and paps already waiting by the cars.

"They're lining up outside," he says slowly, handing her a hoodie to throw over her head. She says nothing, only sniffling as she puts it on.

The pair don't say anything more as they finished grabbing their things, leaving the hotel room to head downstairs.

Max would usually stop to take a few photos with the fans that stood outside, but he was only keeping his mind on getting Y/N past the crowd.

The security guards held the front door open as they saw Max and Y/N making their way outside, another guard going over to open the car door.

Max makes his way in front of her to shield the other side from seeing her, keeping his gaze on her figure. Y/N didn't hesitate to scurry into the car, Max pressing a hand softly on her back to help her up into the car. The man ignored the calls and pleas of his name before stepping inside the car behind her.

The door shuts behind the guard who climbs in after Max, soon being driven off towards the airport.

It was quiet the entire way there, Max keeping a close but safe distance from her in the shared backseat. He doesn't miss how her phone buzzes, seeing her peer down at it only to double-click the home button to decline it.

Lando had been blowing up her phone since the night before. Especially after Max had left, her phone wouldn't stop buzzing.

Y/N declined every call, putting his messages on Do Not Disturb. The more she sat with what he had said to her, the more it made her think back to every time he made a face when she would touch him.

She didn't know how long he felt that way with her, Y/N letting her mind overthink to the point it made her feel sick.

It wasn't good for her, and she knew that. She couldn't help it. Not when she had given herself fully to Lando in every way. Thinking he was it for her. That he was all she wanted. She was all he wanted. So she thought.

Max watched as she began to pinch at the skin on her wrists, something she did when her mind wouldn't stop running.

"Genoeg lieverd. Je zult je huid weer beschadigen," (Enough, darling. You'll damage the skin again) he says softly to her. She doesn't acknowledge his words, only pinching harder to try and stop her mind.

Max didn't hesitate in the next few moments, not caring if she yelled or glared at him as he touched her. He reached over to grab her hands, holding onto them. She snaps her gaze away from the window with a frown.

He looks at her. "If you're going to pinch skin, pinch mine. Not yours," he instructs. Y/N doesn't see anything but assurance in his eyes, Max nodding slowly with a hum. "You can't hurt me. You never could."

Y/N bites her lip before nodding. Max has her lean into his body as she begins to fidget again. But this time, with his own hands.

Max lets his head fall onto her own, watching her whole body, for the first time in the last day, soften. The more she fidgeted, seeing how it didn't hurt or affect him in any way, the more it relaxed her mind. She didn't know why.

It brought her a calming sensation, feeling Max's touch against her own body, and it made her whole body begin to relax.

Once they had arrived at the airport, Max didn't release her hands once. He kept his hands laced with her own. He only removed them once to adjust his hold, having her walk behind him as he made her lace her hands with his behind his back. They stayed that way as they walked up into the jet.

Max helped her set her backpack down on one of the cushioned chairs, and that was the time he released her hands.

He thanked the flight attendant crew as they loaded their things onto the jet, then exchanged a few words with his security guard and publicist.

Y/N stood there with an exhausted look in her eyes, just wanting to finally sleep. Let her mind and her body rest.

Once Max was done talking to them, he made his way over towards her figure. He didn't say anything, only guiding her to the back of the private jet. Y/N followed him slowly, Max opening the door to the small bedroom.

A bed in the corner, a TV sitting in front of it, while there was a recliner chair embedded into the floor on the other side of the room with a table in front of it.

This was usually where Max disappeared to when they had long flights, knowing he tried sleeping whenever he could get the chance.

He shut the door behind her softly before crawling into bed and getting comfy. Max turns back to her, seeing her stand there looking absolutely defeated.

"Come on," he assures, motioning for her to come lie down. Y/N shrugs. "I don't want to take up your space."

Max gives her a knowing look, clenching his jaw. "You could never. You know that," he says, his tone more stern. "Lay down."

Instead of her prying and arguing more, knowing she wouldn't win it, she doesn't fight it, not having anything left in that moment. Y/N cautiously goes to climb in, keeping her distance as best as she can. Giving him his space.

Max notices her actions, immediately ignoring the eyeroll he wanted to do, and wraps his arms around her waist to pull her back towards his figure.

She lets out a low squeak at his actions, and Max turns her to lie against him. He doesn't miss the way her body instantly caves into his side, him helping her lie her head on his chest as he laces their hands together in case she begins to pinch and pick at her skin again.

"Je hoeft je geen zorgen te maken, ik heb je lieverd," (You don't have to worry, I got you darling) he mumbles against her temple. He hears her sigh, the way he knows she is fighting with her body in her head. The way she tries to tense, but her body craves every touch that's being given to her. "Sleep."

That's all he has to mutter to her before her eyes finally begin to close, the closeness of another one's body heat lulling her into a deeper slumber.

Max kisses her head, letting his thumb caress the top of her hand as he feels the tenseness in her body falter away. He kisses her head once more.

"I've got you."

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

A/N: Me after pressing "Post now"

Sooooooo hehe.... That got away from me, and I'm not sorry. Lando is a dumbass as we know. Are we loving a protective Max? How're we feeling overall, friends? Vote below. I love you guys <3, I'll see you soon ;)

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[a-casxandra]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐃

Zayne's pov | the other side of the story

[Part 1]

You had always been the brightest part of Zayne’s life.

Three years. Three years of quiet breakfasts before dawn shifts, sleepy forehead kisses in the locker room, walking each other home under flickering streetlights. He wasn’t a man of words, but with you, he never needed them. You understood his silences. You understood him.

He had been planning it for months now. The proposal.

The ring sat in his desk drawer at Akso Hospital, hidden beneath files of bypass patients and transplant rosters. Platinum band, simple diamond—just like you. Understated, beautiful, eternal.

He was going to ask you to marry him after he saved MC.

MC. His childhood friend. Practically a little sister.

When she came in with her worsening heart condition, he felt responsible. She had no family left, no one to stay by her side. And Zayne… he was a doctor. He was her doctor. It was his duty to be there.

That day you walked in on them, the day everything shattered—

Zayne remembered the moment in blinding clarity.

“You should eat more vegetables.” he said, setting down MC’s lunch tray. It was bland, tailored for her condition, but necessary.

“Says the doctor who hates carrots,” MC teased, reaching out and flicking his wrist. Then she paused, silent for a moment, looking at him with unreadable eyes.

“Zayne… thank you. For always being here.”

“Of course.” He smiled faintly, busy checking her IV drip.

And then, without warning, her fingers curled around his collar and pulled him down. Her lips pressed against his. It lasted barely a second before Zayne jerked back, stunned.

“MC—what are you doing?” His voice was firm, almost cold.

That’s when the door opened. And there you were.

Your eyes widened. Your face crumpled with heartbreak before you turned and fled.

“Wait—[Name], it’s not what it looks like!”

He ran after you, his chest aching with panic. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to propose to you after MC’s surgery. After everything was calm again.

In the silent hallway, he grabbed your wrist. “Please—listen to me. Let me explain.”

“What is there to explain!?” you snapped, tears filling your eyes. “Does our three years together mean nothing to you, Zayne?”

“No—no, that’s not it. Please… don’t make me choose between you two.”

Because how could he choose between his entire world—you—and the life of a girl who saw him as her last hope? MC was family. She was a little sister, a patient. Someone he swore to save.

“Why? Because you’ll choose her…?”

Your voice trembled. Shattered. And he couldn’t find the words. He reached out, but you stepped back, the distance between you widening into a chasm that he couldn’t cross.

Afterwards, he went to MC’s room.

She sat up, clutching her sheets. “I’m sorry… I just… I thought maybe… you…”

Zayne shook his head. His eyes were cold, clinical. “Don’t misunderstand. You’re like a sister to me. I’m your doctor. My only responsibility is to save you. Nothing more.”

MC’s tears fell freely, but he didn’t comfort her. Because his heart belonged to only one person.

You.

Zayne planned to fix things after her surgery. To save MC’s life, clear the misunderstanding, and finally propose to you. He imagined kneeling before you in your shared apartment, holding the ring with trembling fingers, telling you everything he never said enough.

But fate was cruel.

“Where’s [Name]?” zayne asked immediately after the operation ended. Thanks to the last-minute donor, MC was stable. Her vitals strong. Relief flooded his body, because now—now he could go to you.

But the nurses wouldn’t meet his eyes. Dr. Greyson’s expression was tight with grief.

“Greyson. Where is she?” Zayne demanded, his voice trembling for the first time in years.

Greyson swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Come with me.”

They walked down the corridor in silence, each step echoing like a funeral march. When they entered the donor room, Zayne felt his chest tighten.

On the table lay a body covered in white sheets. He approached with shaking hands, gripping the edge before Greyson slowly pulled the blanket back.

And there you were.

Still. Silent. Beautiful, even in death.

“No… no, no, no, no—” Zayne choked, falling to his knees. He clutched your cold hand, tears splashing onto your pale skin. His thumb brushed the empty spot on your finger, the spot where he planned to place your ring.

He reached into his pocket with shaking fingers, pulling out the velvet box. Opening it, he slipped the ring onto your stiff hand, pressing his forehead against it as sobs tore through his chest.

“I was supposed to propose to you… I was supposed to spend forever with you…” His voice cracked. “Why… why did you leave thinking I didn’t love you? God… [Name], I love you. I love you so much.”

But it was too late.

No surgery could fix this. No time could undo this. You were the cut that always bleeds—and now, the wound would never close.

He loved you.

Zayne only loved you.

𝗕𝘂𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗶𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗲𝗹𝘀𝗲...

Author's note : so.. I don't think i made this angsty enough...

[wonderlandwalker]

Fighting Dirty

𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 / 𝐭𝐥𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 / 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: abby anderson x reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.4k 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Isaac’s golden rule: Loyalty above all. Abby’s spent years obeying it—until you, all sharp edges and I dare you eyes, make her question everything. 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: porn with plot, mdni, once again I know Ellie isn't part of the Seattle crew but this is fiction and here she is because I simply can't not include her

𝐚/𝐧: I really need to stop writing when I'm ovulating but here it is anyway so yeah (might come back and edit more when I'm less horny we'll see) oh and please let me know if there's any requests i've fallen down the rabbit hole with this one

It’s common knowledge at the WLF not to fuck with you—everyone knows it, though for two very different reasons.

One—you’re lethal. You move like a blade unsheathed: all controlled violence and sharp edges. The training yard is your proving ground, and the mat drinks blood more often than sweat when you’re on it. Soldiers twice your size hit the ground before they register the strike, their pride bruised worse than their ribs. Knuckles split, breath steady—you don’t hesitate. Not with cocky recruits who mistake silence for weakness, not with grizzled veterans who forget their place. 

Two—Isaac Dixon owns this city, and you? You’re his. Not by blood, but by something thicker—something carved into the bones of this ruined world. The man who raised you after everything fell apart doesn’t tolerate disrespect, least of all toward you. And if some idiot is stupid enough to cross you and lives to tell the tale? They won’t for much longer, not once Isaac finds out. And he always finds out.

Abby knows this better than anyone. She’s seen it firsthand—the way his grip tightens on your shoulder when some fresh recruit lingers too long on the curve of your smile, the way his voice drops into something lethal when your name leaves someone’s lips wrong. It should terrify her.

It does.

But not enough.

Not when she’s lying awake at night, replaying the sound of your laugh—low, warm—in the hollow of her skull. Not when she catches the flex of your hands during drills and imagines them dragging her closer by the waist, fingers digging into the softness beneath her armour. 

It’s treasonous.

You are treasonous.

The way your sweat-slicked skin glows under the flickering gym lights, the way your teeth graze your bottom lip when you’re focused—Christ, even the way you breathe feels like a provocation. Every glance, every accidental brush of your fingers against hers, every time you smirk at something she says—it’s all a slow, sweet torture. She shouldn’t be tracing the lines of your body with her eyes in the mess hall, shouldn’t be lingering outside the showers just to hear the hitch in your voice when you hum some old song under the water. She shouldn’t be imagining what it would be like to press you against the wall of some abandoned storage room, her mouth hot on your neck, her hands slipping under your shirt while you gasp her name like a prayer.

But she does.

And it’s killing her.

Because wanting you isn’t like wanting anyone else. It’s not something she can exorcise with a rough fuck in a supply closet, not something she can walk away from with a smirk and a shrug. No, this feeling lingers. It festers. It follows her like a devil on her shoulder, whispering all the things she can’t have—

The way your breath would shudder if she bit down on your collarbone.

The way your hips would roll against hers if she pinned you beneath her.

The way you’d moan, soft and broken, if she finally, finally let herself take what she’s been craving.

It started with the glances—sharp, stolen things, like she was committing a crime just by looking at you. You’d catch them in the fractured seconds when she thought you weren’t watching: dark, assessing, lingering a second too long before she’d wrench her gaze away. Her jaw would tighten, teeth pressing into the soft flesh of her lower lip, like she was pissed at herself for looking, pissed at you for existing in her periphery like a thorn she couldn’t pluck out—or maybe more like a wound she kept pressing on, just to feel it sting.

And oh, how it stung.

Because then came the touches—small at first. The brush of her knuckles when she passed you supplies, calloused and deliberate even in its carelessness. The way her hands lingered a heartbeat too long during sparring, fingers digging into your hip to adjust your stance—her grip firm enough to brand you through your clothes. You’d smirk, and she’d snatch her hand back like you’d burnt her, muttering "Focus" like it wasn’t her own touch that unravelled you.

But the worst—the absolute worst—was the way she looked at you after. Like she was caught between wanting to wipe that smirk off your face and devouring you whole. Her jaw would clench when you smiled at her, teeth grinding like she was imagining all the ways she could shut you up. Her fist? Maybe. Her mouth? Definitely. Her thighs? God, yes. You’d seen the way her muscles flexed when she trained, sweat-slick and powerful, and you weren’t above admitting—at least to yourself—how badly you wanted her to put them to better use. Wanted her to pin you down and ruin you with them, just to see if she’d finally, finally lose that fucking control.

And then there’s right now—

The gym is a living thing around you: packed bodies and shouted bets, the air thick with sweat and the electric buzz of violence—or maybe that’s just the current arcing between the two of you, sharp enough to scorch.

Sparring matches are always prime entertainment here, but this? This is a spectacle.

Two of Seattle’s best fighters circling each other like the wolves they are, the mat a battleground of scuffed rubber and spit-shined pride. Abby shifts her weight across from you, rolling her shoulders in a way that makes her muscles flex under her sweat-damp tank top. The fabric clings to every ridge, every scar, and fuck, it should be illegal to look that good while also being fully capable of snapping you in half.

She’s stronger—all corded muscle and brutal precision, her strikes calibrated to bruise, not break. Every swing is controlled fury, like she’s holding back just enough to keep from wrecking you. 

But you’re faster.

You slip past her guard like you’re floating, twisting away before she can land a hit that would leave blossoms of violet and gold under your skin. The near-misses send your pulse jackrabbiting, your body thrumming with the thrill of almost. Every block sends a jolt up your arms; every graze of her knuckles burns, lingering a second too long, like she’s savouring the contact. Like she can’t help herself.

She lunges. You dodge. The crowd erupts as you pivot, using her momentum against her—but she recovers fast, too fucking fast, her body slamming into yours with a force that knocks the breath from your lungs. The mat hits your back with a dull thud, and then—

She’s there.

Thighs caging yours, her weight pinning you down like she’s been dreaming of this. The room dissolves into white noise; all you can focus on is the hot puff of her breath against your lips, the way her eyes flicker into something hungry, something desperate, just for a second—before she schools her expression back into that infuriating, ice-cold control. But you felt it. The way her pulse jumped when your hips rolled up against hers. The ragged hitch in her breathing when your mouth grazes her jaw.

"Going to admit you like having me underneath you," you murmur, "or do you want to keep playing pretend?"

Her grip tightens on your wrists, fingers digging in hard, and you watch the war in her eyes—the way her pupils swallow the colour whole, the flush creeping up her neck like a confession. The crowd is screaming, but all you hear is the sharp click of her swallow when your knee nudges between her thighs—

She knew this was a bad idea.

Knew it the second you stepped onto the mat, all cocky smirks and infuriating grace, like the fight was already yours. Knew it when the first brush of your skin against hers sent a spark down her spine, violent and bright, the kind that starts wildfires. Knew it when the crowd started chanting, their voices a distant buzz under the static in her ears—because the heat in your eyes told her you knew. Knew exactly what was going on in her head.

And now?

She’s fucking trapped.

Not by you—no, you’re the one pinned beneath her—but by the way your breath fans over her skin, by the way your voice curls around her like smoke, thick and intoxicating. By the way, your body arches into hers like you were made to fit there. By the fact that every cell in her body is screaming at her to either kiss you senseless or run.

A gasp tears itself from your throat—lost in the roar of the crowd, swallowed by the chaos. But you know she hears it, because her breath hitches, sharp and sudden, her body locking up like she’s been electrocuted. Her muscles coil so tight you can feel the tremor in her thighs where they bracket yours, her pulse kicking wildly under your fingertips. Her lips part—just to drag in air like she’s drowning. Like you’re the oxygen she’s starving for.

A ragged breath escapes her, and she swears under her breath—low, filthy, the kind of word that would’ve earned her a demerit from Isaac if he’d heard it.

Isaac.

The thought hits her like a punch to the gut.

Because you’re his. Not in the way she is—his soldier, his apprentice, his loyalty—but in the way that matters. The way that makes his voice soften when he asks if you’ve eaten. The way he barks at anyone who spars against you too hard. The way he watches you sometimes, like he’s memorising the ghost of someone he couldn’t save.

And Abby?

She owes him everything.

But then you move—twisting your hips, leveraging her distraction, and flipping her onto her back in one smooth motion. The crowd erupts—someone whoops, someone else groans—but all you see is the way Abby’s pupils blow wide, her gaze dropping helplessly to the rapid rise and fall of your chest. She stares at your lips, parted and panting, at the sweat glistening in the dip of your collarbone, a bead trailing down like an invitation, at the way your tank top has slipped just slightly, the fabric clinging to every desperate breath, and the hint of skin beneath taunting her.

You grin down at her, slow and knowing. "My eyes are up here."

Her hand snaps up, fingers curling around your wrist—too tight, too desperate—but she doesn’t shove you off. Doesn’t move. Just holds you there, her grip trembling with the effort of not pulling you closer, of not giving in to the thing clawing up her throat.

Her voice is a growl, rough with restraint. "You’re going to fucking regret—"

A particularly loud holler splits the air, reality crashes back in—and just like that, the moment shatters. Her grip slackens, fingers twitching like she’s been burnt. Her throat bobs as she swallows hard, too hard, like she’s forcing down something hungry and unfinished.  With a snarl she shoves you off with enough force to send you across the mat. She's on her feet in one fluid motion, her breathing ragged.

"That's enough for today."

The words come out clipped, military-precise, but her voice cracks on the last syllable. She won't look at you. Can't. The flush creeping up her neck betrays her, turning the tips of her ears the same violent red as a fresh bruise. Every muscle in her back is corded tight as she stalks away.

The gym holds its breath. Dozens of eyes track her retreat—some amused, some confused, all riveted. The air hums with unspoken questions, the kind that'll fuel barracks gossip for weeks. Then Ellie shatters the silence like a brick through glass: "Pay up, shitheads!" Her cackle cuts through the tension like a knife. "Told you she'd fold first!”

Afterward, things get...complicated.

Abby doesn't just avoid you—she wages war against your memory. For days, she becomes a ghost in the compound, her presence evaporating the moment you enter a room. She takes the longest patrol routes, the ones that leave her boots caked in frozen mud and her fingers numb enough to forget how they once trembled against your skin. She volunteers for back-to-back overnight watches, staring into the pitch black until her vision blurs and doubles, praying for raiders or infected—anything she can justify pummelling into submission.

She runs stadium stairs until her lungs scream for mercy, until her thighs shake so violently she has to clutch the rusted railing to remain upright, sweat dripping from her nose onto concrete below. The weight room echoes with her punishment—plates clanging, her grunts sharp and guttural as she lifts until her muscles shriek in protest, until the barbell slips from her sweat-slick palms and crashes to the floor with a sound like gunfire.

Sleep is a casualty in this campaign. When exhaustion finally claims her—if you can call those fitful two-hour stretches sleep—she collapses in the barracks instead of her usual bunk. The thin mattress does nothing to cushion the distance she's trying to put between you, the space that does nothing to quiet the guilt gnawing at her ribs like a starved animal.

But it's all useless. A fool's errand.

Because when the compound falls silent and her eyes finally close—

She still sees you.

No matter how far she goes, the realization follows—if she stops—if she so much as hesitates—she’ll have to face it.

So she runs faster.

The archives are quiet at this hour, the kind of silence that presses against eardrums and makes breath feel too loud. Flickering fluorescent lights hum their death rattle overhead, casting erratic shadows that jump across Abby's hunched shoulders like spectators to her torment. Paper rustles under her restless hands—mission reports, supply manifests, anything with enough dry facts to drown out the memory of your voice, your scent, the way your body had yielded beneath hers only to flip the script and leave her gasping.

Her braid drips onto the collar of her shirt, the damp chill doing nothing to soothe the fever under her skin. Three showers today—three rounds of near-scalding water that failed to strip away the phantom sensation of your hips rolling up against hers. The soap had turned her hands raw, but she still smells you in the steam: that hint of salt and something sweeter beneath, the scent that had flooded her senses when she'd pinned you down. When your breath had caught just enough for her to hear it. When your eyes had gone dark with the same hunger currently eating her alive from the inside out.

Fuck.

Her pen snaps between her fingers. Ink bleeds across the inventory sheet like a bruise. She drags her nails down her forehead hard enough to leave red trails, as if she could physically scrape the images from her mind—Your lips parting when she leaned in too close. The way your pulse jumped under her grip. The sinful arch of your back when she—

"You avoiding me or something, Anderson?"

Your voice is a lit match tossed into a powder keg.

Abby's spine locks. Her breath stops dead in her lungs. There in the doorway, haloed by the dim hallway light, you lounge against the frame with that infuriating half-smirk—the one that lives in her dreams now, the one that makes her want to either slam you against the nearest surface or flee this godforsaken compound forever.

She hadn't heard you approach. Hadn't sensed your presence until it was too late. Too busy drowning in the kind of thoughts that would have Isaac demoting her to latrine duty for a month if he ever guessed. 

The overhead light flickers again. In the strobe-like effect, she sees the knowing tilt of your head, the way your crossed arms make your tank top strain just so across your shoulders. Worst of all, she sees the way your gaze drops to her whitened knuckles, to the ruined paperwork, to the rapid rise and fall of her chest—reading her like one of these damned mission logs.

Abby goes rigid—muscles locking like she’s spotted a threat, a mistake, something she can’t afford. Because that’s what this is, isn’t it? A fucking mistake of nuclear proportions. She might be Isaac's apprentice, his razor-edged weapon honed to perfection, but you—

You're his pride. His joy.

The one who makes that permanent crease between his brows soften when you walk into a room. The one he looks at like you personally hung the goddamn moon and arranged the stars to match your freckles. His voice drops half an octave when he speaks to you, all rough edges sanded smooth—a tone Abby's only ever heard him use with one other person, back when there were still photos on his desk instead of empty spaces.

And her?

She's the soldier he trusts to keep her hands clean. The one he expects to be ruthless, disciplined, and unbreakable. Not the woman who fucks recruits in supply closets when the nightmares get too loud, who leaves a trail of broken hearts and rumpled sheets because it's easier than letting anyone see the cracks in her armour.

Isaac would kill her if he knew.

Not just because it's you—though that alone would be enough—but because he'd never believe this is different. That she's lying awake, aching for you in a way that terrifies her, because this isn't just hunger—it's something worse. Something that feels suspiciously like yours, like she wants to carve out a space inside her ribs just for you to ruin.

Why would he believe it?

She doesn't even let herself believe it.

"Why can't you just let this go?"

You've seen Abby angry before—fury is her native language—but this is something else entirely. This isn't the hot, reckless rage of battle; it's something slower, sharper, like a blade being drawn deliberately across skin. Her voice drops to a whisper that somehow carries more threat than a scream ever could.

"You tell me," you counter, stepping closer until your shadow swallows hers whole. "You've been staring at me for months."

She knew you’d noticed—hadn’t exactly been subtle with the way her gaze lingered a second too long when you stretched after training, muscles taut and glistening under the afternoon sun. Hadn’t hidden the way her knuckles whitened around her rifle when you laughed at one of Ellie’s stupid jokes, your head thrown back, throat bared like an invitation—like a fucking feast laid out just for her.

But she hadn’t expected you to call her out on it. To strip her bare with nothing but a challenge in your voice and that goddamn smirk that’s been haunting her dreams.

"You’re imagining things," she lies, but her pulse is a traitor, hammering where your fingers could so easily press against her throat—where they have before, in the ring, when she pretended it was just combat and not coveting. When she told herself the way her breath caught was from exertion, not the way your nails dug into her skin like you wanted to leave marks.

"Am I?" You tilt your head, eyes dark with something that makes her stomach twist, her skin too tight over the wildfire in her veins. "Then why do you look like you want to fight me?"

Abby’s breath stutters.

"Unless", you murmur, stepping closer, close enough that the heat of your body sears through the space between you, "you’d rather fuck me."

Both.

She wants both.

To break you—to pin you down and watch that smirk dissolve into gasps, to see if you’d still be so smug with her teeth at your pulse.

To bend you—to make you unravel under her hands, to hear the way your voice would crack when she finally wrings the truth out of you.

To ruin you—to leave you just as haunted as she is, just as desperate, just as hers.

To be ruined—to let you strip her bare until there’s nothing left but the truth she hasn’t dared to say.

And fuck Isaac. Fuck his expectations. Fuck the way he looks at you like something precious, because she’s not his perfect soldier right now—she’s a woman starved, and you’re the only thing she’s ever wanted to devour.

One second, there’s space. The next—

Her hand fists in your shirt, yanking you forward so hard your body slams into hers. The impact knocks the air from your lungs, but you don’t care—not when her breath is ragged against your mouth, hot and uneven, her lips so close you can taste the coffee she drank hours ago, the faint metallic tang of blood from where she’s bitten through her own restraint.

"You don’t know what you’re asking for."

Her voice is low. Dangerous. A last warning—the final chance to back away.

"Then show me."

And fuck, she does.

Her mouth crashes into yours like a gunshot—

No hesitation. No delicacy. Just hunger and heat and months of denial exploding between you in a single, devastating kiss.

Abby kisses like she fights—all teeth and dominance, her tongue sliding against yours with a greed that borders on violence. There’s no softness here, no tentative exploration—just the bruising press of her lips, the sharp bite of her canines when you gasp, and the way her fingers dig into your hips.

She pins you against the desk, the edge digging into your thighs as her body cages you in. One hand stays twisted in your shirt, crushing the fabric in her fist like she’s afraid you’ll vanish if she lets go, while the other grips your hip to haul you onto the desk—no asking, no gentleness, just taking.

And, God, you love it.

Your hands tangle in her hair, tugging hard enough to make her groan—a rough, broken sound that vibrates against your mouth.

"Fuck," she growls, tearing her lips from yours to bite down your neck, sucking dark marks into your skin like she’s claiming them. Like she wants the whole fucking base to know you’re hers.

Her knee presses between your thighs, forcing you to grind down shamelessly against the hard muscle, the friction perfect, maddening. Abby’s grip tightens—possessive—her fingers digging into your waist hard enough to leave proof, while her other hand slips into your shorts with a confidence that makes your breath stutter.

She teases you first—cruel, calculated—her fingertips tracing slow, torturous circles around your clit, just enough to make your hips jerk, your nails claw at her shoulders. Then, without warning, she slides inside with a single, ruthless thrust, her fingers curling just so against that spot that makes you see stars.

"Fuck—Abby—"

"Gotta be quiet," she murmurs, nipping at your jaw, her breath hot and uneven against your ear. "Unless you want this to be over before I’ve even really started."

You bite your lip to stifle the whimper building in your throat, but it’s useless—your body betrays you, hips rocking against her fingers, chasing the pressure as she curls them just right, her thumb circling your clit in tight, relentless strokes.

She watches you with dark, satisfied eyes, drinking in every twitch of your muscles, every hitched breath, and every desperate roll of your hips. She knows exactly what she’s doing to you. How her fingers drag against your walls, how her palm grinds against you with every shallow thrust, how your thighs tremble when she slows just to hear you plead her name.

Your back arches toward her, your thighs clamping around her wrist like you can keep her there forever. But she doesn’t let up, her fingers pumping deep and steady, her teeth scraping your pulse point as she growls.

"Such a good girl for me."

Your body locks at the praise, a silent scream caught in your throat as pleasure wrecks you, wave after wave, her fingers milking you through it until you’re gasping, squirming, her name a broken chant on your lips.

But she still doesn’t stop.

Not when you whimper, oversensitive. Not when your legs shake so badly she has to tighten her grip to keep you upright. Not until your fingers are tangled in her hair, tugging weakly, your breath coming in ragged, uneven pants.

Then—finally—she pulls back, her fingers glistening as she drags them slowly over your lower lip.

"Look at you." Her voice is rough with something between awe and hunger, the words dragging across your skin like calloused fingers. "Fucking ruined."

Her thumb presses against your bottom lip, forcing your mouth open, and you taste yourself on her skin—salt and heat and her, always her. That distinct blend of gun oil and sweat and the cheap mint toothpaste from the barracks.

When she leans in to kiss you again, it’s deep and filthy, her tongue licking into your mouth like she’s starving. Like she’s trying to consume every gasp, every whimper you’ve given her, like she wants to carve herself into the very air you breathe, and you realise with dizzying clarity:

This isn’t close to enough for her.

Not when her free hand is already sliding up your stomach, thumb brushing over the curve of your chest in a possessive sweep, as if mapping every inch of you for later. 

Not when the growl in her throat vibrates against your lips, raw and unchecked, the sound of a woman who’s spent too long holding back.

She nips at your jaw, sharp enough to make you gasp, then soothes the sting with her tongue, slow and deliberate. Her breath is hot against your ear as she murmurs:

"Oh, baby…" A chuckle, dark and promising. "I’m only getting started."

There’s no hesitation in her touch now, no pretence of restraint. Just hunger, honed to a razor’s edge, and the unspoken truth between you: This was always going to happen.

[creativepromptsforwriting]

Drabble List #16

75 prompts to write drabbles or longer stories.

"I can't let them take everything."

"What is your relationship?"

"I'm not afraid of the future."

"I didn't ask for your help."

"We're in this together."

"You have to let me go."

"I won't let them take you."

"We need to stay focused."

"This isn't just a game."

"We have to stay together."

"I can't do this without you."

"You need to see the bigger picture."

"This changes everything."

"We have to be brave."

"This changes everything."

"We need to find our own path."

"This isn't about us; it's about everyone."

"I'm not afraid to stand alone."

"We need to find the strength within ourselves."

"I don't see this working out for us."

"This is our story, and we're writing it together."

"I can see myself living like this."

"You're living in a dream world."

"The stars are beautiful."

"Can you like not?"

"I didn't even know you exist."

"Call me queen."

"Are you for real?"

"There is no proof for that."

"Do you want to see it?"

"And goodbye!"

"Why do you always make things hard?"

"Really good to see you."

"Don't be so greedy."

"There is probably a very reasonable explanation for that."

"I don't see this working out for us."

"That is a line we shouldn't cross."

"I know you too well for that."

"Why is everyone running?"

"It could be dangerous."

"Loneliness is a disease."

"I'm so proud of myself."

"How do you intend to do this?"

"You can't always win."

"Oh, what a joy."

"Don't be so stupid."

"And here we go again."

"I feel like there is more to come."

"It's a mystery we may never solve."

"Have you seen the monster?"

"I'm freezing and I'm not happy about it."

"That's too much energy."

"Come on, everybody, let's go."

"How do you want to win them back?"

"What is your signature dish?"

"Please come with me to my family event."

"Our communication skills are so bad."

"We were never friends."

"You're a little confused."

"Because this is how I like it."

"Everything is identical."

"Let's see how this plays out."

"That's so inspiring."

"You weren’t supposed to see that."

"I never said it was going to be easy, just that it was worth it."

"What's the price of this?"

"You don’t have to pretend anymore. I know the truth."

"Are you really going to trust them over me?"

"Just because I don’t say much doesn’t mean I don’t notice everything."

"You have no idea what I’ve sacrificed for this."

"Tell me, what’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?"

"You always said you’d never lie to me."

"I knew you would be back. You always come back."

"What would you do if I told you I had one day left to live?"

"And here we go again..."

Drabble Masterlist

Have fun creating and writing!

If you like my blog and want to support me, you can buy me a coffee or become a member! And check out my Instagram! 🥰

[chaes-tea]

── // feeling the dream .

// kpop demon hunters fic. // jinu x reader. // a/n: hi! i hadn't planned on expanding living the nightmare, but here you go! his pov: living the nightmare ⚠️!! WARNING: kpop demon hunters spoilers !!

Your eyes shoot open, your vision blurred by tears. Blinking them away, you grab your phone from your nightstand.

3:48 am.

You had that dream again. Well, not exactly again, but this is the only one that's recurring. These dreams specifically always seem to take place in the same time period, with the same people. A mother, a little girl, a young man, and... you? At least, that's the perspective these dreams always put you in.

Dressed in rags, surrounded by a variety of medicinal plants, you figured that 'you' were a low class physician. Glimpses of the noble class attire in other dreams suggested that all of these dreams take place in Joseon, Korea. Though no two dreams were ever the same, they always involved the same mother, little girl, and young man. Despite the muffled voices and the blurred faces, you couldn't help but feel that they were related to 'you'. The terms 'in-laws' and 'lover' comes to mind. Were they family? Were they 'your' family?

It's strange, you think. These dreams are starting to feel more and more familiar to you. Nostalgic, like you've experienced them before. A cold winter night, a scorching hot summer, a warm embrace, a kiss under the starry sky– all with that man.

You decided to tell Rumi about it the next night.

"I've had them for a while now," you said. "I don't really know how to explain it. It's almost like... they're my own memories? But not really. It feels like I'm living someone else's life."

"Have you talked to Celine about this?" You shake your head.

"No, though that probably isn't a bad idea."

"It wouldn't hurt to try, she might know a thing or two." She says. "So, you've had these dreams for how long and never told me?"

"Rumi, please-"

"Just kidding~"

You and Rumi have been friends since childhood, way before the formation of Huntr/x. With both of your mothers being a part of the Sunlight Sisters, it was inevitable that you two would stay friends.

The two of you chat about anything and everything else, until a wave of tiredness hits you.

"Okay, Roomba, I'm getting tired," you say, holding back a yawn, "I'm gonna head out now. Good night."

"Hehe, goodnight, [Name]."

You didn't end up telling her about your latest dream, though, which woke you up in tears. In the dream, 'you' reached a hand out to a person's back, large wooden palace doors closing behind them. The distress, the sadness, the pain, you felt it all. But this time, you got a name.

You drift off to sleep, thinking of the name from the dream.

"Jinu!"

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"Is this place even credible, Zoey?" You ask, staring at the entrance suspiciously.

"Don't you ever listen to Bobby, [Name]? The internet. Never. Lies!"

It was the day after Rumi lost her voice. Zoey suggested to get tonics from a shady looking alleyway doctor.

"There's no way he's legit, Zoey." Mira replies.

"The reviews were so good though!"

Needless to say that that whole ordeal was an experience to be remembered. After losing the staring contest with Mira, the doctor gave Rumi a box of the tonics– or, as Mira calls it, 'voice juice'– and the four of you went off on your merry way.

"We got the tonics! Yay!" Zoey exclaims. "Once your voice is fixed, we can get back to the important stuff, like the fans!"

"What exactly is in this 'voice juice' anyways?" You ask, taking a peek into the box.

Before you could take a better look at the tonics, the four of you see shadows in front of you. Five young men turn the corner. Tall, photogenic, straight off the cover of a magazine. A few of them talked amongst themselves, some listening into the conversations. One of them, a man with black hair, trails behind them, lost in his own thoughts, until he directs his gaze forward, past the men in front of him, and he looks at you.

The moment he sees you, it's like something in his expression changes. Not visually, but the way he looks at you with his chocolate colored eyes feels like he knows you. Not in the way that a fan recognizes their favorite artist, but like he knows knows you. And you don't know why, but you also feel like you know him.

He looks away and gently pulls the cyan haired man closer to him, making space for your group to pass.

"Excuse us."

You can't say for sure, but you feel like you've heard that voice before.

Later that night, you have another dream about 'you' again. This time, it's dark, 'your' eyelids are heavy, about to fall asleep. The sound of crickets fill the night, and there's a gentle breeze in the air. A comforting touch tucks a strand of hair away. Your conscious knows it's the young man again. He presses a kiss to 'your' forehead before whispering.

"Good night."

[organic-bloodbath]

Hide & Seek

Dae-ho x Reader

Summary: You and Dae-ho have become friends during the games and now are on the same team in the hide and seek game.

SPOILERS TO S3 EP2

Warnings: Angst. 💔

A/N: Yes i'm here instantly back at writing fics when the season came out. I wrote this super quickly.

(Please don't ask me about my unfinished fic series.)

☆☆☆

Dae-ho had protected you during each of the games. In some way at least, been there for you by your side.

Red light green light – he stood in front of you when you accidentally moved, preventing the doll from detecting you.

"Are you alright?" the man in front of you whispered over his shoulder, having noticed you almost twist your ankle. You just gave him a nod, appreaciating his help.

"I'm Dae-ho," he introduced himself after you had crossed the finish line.

"Nice to meet you, Dae-ho," you said. "Y/N."

Mini games – his leg was attached to yours, he was whispering comforting words to you when it was your turn to play and your hands were shaking like crazy, giving a soft comforting squeeze on your shoulder.

"You got this, take your time. We're in no hurry yet. Concentrate," Dae-ho whispered into your ear, quiet enough for nobody else to hear.

When the game was finished and you had passed your second game, it was the first time you hugged him, like it was just natural to do so. It startled him at first, but your arms around him, body pressed against his, made his heart flutter and insides feel all warm.

Mingle – he pulled you into a room with him after your former teammates abandoned you, resulting you to end up on your own.

"Thank you," you said after the door was closed and locked behind you, leaving you alone in the room with Dae-ho. "I wish this was the last round. Had to be."

You leaned against the wall, falling down to sit on the floor. Dae-ho sat down next to you.

"You doing alright?" he asked.

You turned your head towards him and smiled. "Always."

Now, it was time for hide and seek, and the players were divided in two groups: blue to hide and red to kill. Both you and Dae-ho were on the blue team. At least you didn't have to kill someone. Forced to end someone's life just to expand yours.

"Come on, let's stay together and search for the exit," Dae-ho whispered to you, taking your hand in his. You trusted him with your life and let him lead you forward before the red team would arrive to hunt you down.

Even though he had lied to all of you about who he was, you knew you would be safe with him. He wasn't a Marine and only lied to get into the group with Gi-hun and the others. Dae-ho had revealed this to you one time when you were eating dinner together, just the two of us. He felt comfortable around you and could tell you everything without the feeling of you judging him.

"I... i'm sorry i lied, pretended to be someone else," Dae-ho said quietly, avoiding eye contact with you. "I'm such a loser, a coward, a –"

"Dae-ho," you interrupted and put your finger under his chin, turning his head to look at you. "You're not a loser to me. You are not a coward, you hear me?"

At one point during the hide and seek, you were separated from Dae-ho when two players from the red team were about to attack you: Myung-gi and Nam-gyu – apparently they had teamed up to kill as a pair. It was rather strange to see Nam-gyu with someone else than Thanos.

"Now look at this," Nam-gyu chuckled, looking between you and Dae-ho, standing side by side. "How convenient, two targets right in front of us. This is almost too easy, isn't it right Myung-gi?"

However, another member from the blue team managed to surprise them from behind, allowing you and Dae-ho to escape. Now, you were on your own.

"E-excuse me," a voice said behind you when you had entered another room (sadly another dead end), stuttering. You quickly turned around, just to see Min-su in his red vest and a knife in his hand, the tip pointing up. "Have you... have you seen Se-mi? I need to find her."

Your heart ached for his words, not daring to tell him that his friend was already dead. Didn't he know? How could he not know at this point? Wait... was he on drugs?

However, he was the one to hold a knife and you had to play along, even though you didn't believe for a second that this boy would be able to kill.

"I think... i think i saw her just a moment ago, turning to the left from there," you explained, not entirely sure how convincing you managed to make yourself to sound.

You didn't find Dae-ho anywhere, and every second away from him made you more and more anxious for his safety. He could take care of himself, right? He was alright, you were both going to make it. He couldn't be far away. He was fine.

He had to be fine.

You used your triangle key to open as many doors as you could, searching for the exit but with no result.

Then, another announcement was called.

"Player 388, eliminated."

That was the moment your heart stopped for a second and your entire body froze on the spot.

"No," you whispered, the word leaving your mouth on its own. "No no no no no."

You started frantically to run in the corridors, your throat and feet burning up but you had to find him. Your heart was beating so fast and the air to breathe was running out – you felt like you were going to pass out any moment.

Gi-hun was walking towards you slowly and looking like a total zombie. You were about to back off, even though you didn't think he'd actually kill you (or would he?), but then saw the blade of his knife covered in blood.

He didn't share even a short glance at your way, as if you were completely invisible to him.

Eventually you turned around another corner, seeing a body laying on the ground, blood smeared on the floor and dyed the green pants red. You took a few careful steps closer.

388.

You kneeled down next to the body. His body. Eyes staring up at the ceiling, all life drained out of them.

You cupped his cheek with your hand. Your lip was trembling and tears were rising in your eyes as you brushed his cheekbone, skin starting to turn cold.

"When we get out, i'd like to see you again," Dae-ho said, a little shyly.

"Yeah?" you smiled. "I'd like that too."

"For real?" Dae-ho asked, a relieved smile spreading on his lips. A part of him was afraid you'd say no and would just laugh at him, but you didn't. "I'll take you somewhere nice. What do you like to eat?"

A part of you knew that it wasn't going to happen. Both of you weren't going to get out of here alive. So many people had died, and now Dae-ho was one of them.

There was only 2 minutes left of the game. Your ankle was injured so you wouldn't be able to run, and you had no clue which way the exit would be.

You took the knife in your hand you had found near one of the dead bodies earlier and held it now close against your chest. You laid down on the floor, right by Dae-ho's side, resting your head on his chest which didn't move and didn't have a beating heart underneath. A tear fell down your cheek on his shirt.

Everything was still and silent.

"Could i... could i sleep with you tonight?" you asked, afraid of someone from the 'O' team attacking you in your sleep.

Dae-ho looked to be at loss for words for a moment but then nodded and made space for you on the bed. "Oh, um yeah that's alright. Come on."

You laid down next to him just as the lights went out, resting your head on his chest, a heart beating against your ear.

"Goodnight, Dae-ho," you whispered.

"Good night, Y/N," he replied, brushing his fingers softly through your hair.

When the game was over and the guards arrived to make you leave, you sat up again. You took one last look at Dae-ho and closed his eyes with your fingers.

"I won't forget you," you whispered and leaned down to press a kiss on his forehead.

☆☆☆

A/N: I am NOT okay. Anyways send me requests for season 3 ~

[izzih22]

My favorite trope is bestie to lovers but you already did a story like that before I believe so do enemies to lovers or friends with benefits

Don’t Make This Complicated

Note: I hope y’all like this I wasn’t to sure what to do ngl

Azzi’s breath caught when she heard the lock click behind her.

Paige didn’t say a word.

Just leaned against the door of her apartment, arms crossed, blue eyes fixed on Azzi like she already knew exactly what she came for. Like this had all happened before.

Because it had.

Too many times.

Too many nights where they crossed lines they swore they wouldn’t. Where it was supposed to just be casual no strings, no feelings, no talking about it after.

Paige never asked her to stay the night. Azzi never expected her to.

But still, she always lingered a little too long.

Azzi swallowed hard. “Hey.”

Paige didn’t move. “You said you weren’t coming.”

“I changed my mind.”

Paige stepped closer, slow and sure. “Yeah?”

Azzi nodded, cheeks flushed already. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“You never can without me, huh?”

Azzi didn’t respond, but the way her body shifted, soft and uncertain, gave her away. Paige loved that how easily Azzi came undone, how she never had to say a word for Paige to read her like a favorite book she knew by heart.

Without asking, Paige reached for her, hand curling around the back of Azzi’s neck. Gentle at first. Then tighter. Azzi let out the smallest exhale, one that made Paige smirk.

“Take off your shoes.”

Azzi obeyed.

“Jacket too.”

Azzi shrugged it off, every movement unhurried, almost reverent. She knew the game. Knew what Paige liked. Knew exactly where this was headed.

But tonight felt… different.

Paige guided her to the couch, fingers brushing against Azzi’s waist. “Sit.”

Azzi sat, legs close together, hands in her lap like she didn’t know what to do with them.

“You nervous?” Paige asked, voice low, teasing.

Azzi looked up at her. “No.”

“Liar.”

Paige moved in between Azzi’s knees, hand resting on her thigh. Azzi’s breath hitched again.

“I don’t get you,” Paige murmured, her thumb brushing soft circles over Azzi’s skin. “You say this doesn’t mean anything, that it’s just physical. But you look at me like I’m everything.”

Azzi blinked, caught.

“I—I don’t.”

Paige leaned in. “You do.”

Her lips hovered just above Azzi’s. “You act like you’re mine.”

Azzi whispered, “I am, when I’m here.”

That flicker of vulnerability… Paige felt it like a punch to the chest. She kissed her then, fierce and unrelenting. Azzi melted into it, her hands clutching at Paige’s hoodie like she was drowning and Paige was the only thing keeping her above water.

This wasn’t just about heat or tension or dominance anymore.

It was the way Azzi always gave herself so completely without needing to be asked.

It was the way Paige couldn’t help but want to protect her, ruin her, hold her all at once.

Paige pulled back, lips swollen, eyes searching Azzi’s face. “You drive me insane, you know that?”

Azzi nodded slowly. “You do the same to me.”

“Then why are we still pretending this is just sex?”

Azzi didn’t answer at first. Just looked at her with something raw in her eyes.

“Because if I say it out loud,” she said, voice shaking, “I’m scared you’ll leave.”

Paige was quiet.

Then, she sat back slightly, taking Azzi’s chin between her fingers, tilting her face up.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Paige said. “Not unless you tell me to.”

Azzi’s eyes closed. Her lips trembled. “Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t.”

And she didn’t.

Not that night. Not the next.

And somewhere between the kisses and the tangled limbs in Paige’s bed, neither of them could pretend anymore.

Whatever this was it was already more.

They just weren’t ready to say it.

Not yet.

But soon.

Maybe next time.

Maybe when Paige didn’t leave the room after. Maybe when Azzi finally asked her to stay.

[makeitworse]

MR GENERAL

more older bf seungcheol hcs. 18+

⠀ ⠀WOULD YOU MAKE ME YOUR BOSS, PRETTY PLEASE?

✦ you’re always showing cheol reels and “brainrot” (he learned that one from you) slop he couldn’t understand for the life of him. you once said “what the sigma?” and he looked at you like you were speaking in tongues. still, he makes an effort, even if he picks up the lingo wrong half the time. he’ll randomly parrot slang he’d heard you say with no lead-in, just to get a reaction. you cringe more than anything, but it’s worth it since it usually earns a laugh from you— especially when he earnestly tries to learn tiktok dances with you, creaky joints and all.

✦ one father’s day, you wrote him a card that referred to him as your “old man”, signed “with love, your barely-legal baby”. it was just for the fun of it, to piss him off. it worked. he nearly choked while reading it, and your stomach hurt from laughing when he got genuinely irritated at you. cheol swore he’d burn the damn thing, but it’s still tucked into the back of his nightstand drawer. he didn’t have the heart to destroy something you made for him, even if looking at it makes him shiver.

✦ not the biggest fan of when you hang out with the younger members too long, especially when they make you laugh. you’ve never given cheol a reason to doubt you, but his mind’s prone to spiralling over these things. he’s well aware that he’s older— not the exciting, youthful guy you could have. sometimes he gets quiet after you come home from spending time with the group, like he’s trying not to let his insecurity show. but you know him better than that. and you always find a way to remind him he’s the only one you want.

✦ the world’s most prolific cuddlebug. he plays it cool in front of the others, but behind closed doors? you can’t get him off of you. cheol sleeps with an arm wrapped fully around your waist, nose buried in your neck, like he’s scared you’ll disappear if he lets go. it’s even worse when he’s tired or sick— he becomes the clingiest, grumpiest man-sized baby alive. won’t move unless it’s to pull you even closer.

✦ he never lets you open doors, never lets you pull out your own chair. he’s already there before you can even think to, hand on the handle or the backrest before you can blink. you used to tease him for being so chivalrous, but he’d just shrug like it’s second nature, saying “you shouldn’t have to lift a finger when i’m around.”

✦ for someone who tends to lay off his phone, the majority of his storage is his ridiculous amount of photos of you. candids, selfies. silly ones where you’re drooling in your sleep or messily chewing a drumstick. blurry ones you didn’t even know he took. he takes great pride in being your personal photographer; particularly over the fact that alot of your social media posts are pictures he took. cheol once admitted that he scrolls through his photo album during quick breaks at work. “you make everything else there feel boring”, he’d said with a shy smile.

✦ mixed in with the soft ones, though? a stash of very not-safe-for-work pictures and videos. you know exactly what he likes— lingerie that hugs your figure right, a sultry drip in your voice when you say his name. his personal favourites are the videos: he’s a sucker for the ones where you’re on your knees for him, cheeks hollowed out, eyes glossy and pliant. he watches them when you’re not around, desperate to feel close to your warmth with a hand wrapped tight around himself, your name under his breath.

✦ sure, you miss him often. but cheol misses you more. hell of a lot more. has to dip out of rehearsals sometimes when your texts get a little too bold— sending him a risqué photo and he’s suddenly painfully hard, pressed against the inside of his pants with no relief in sight. he’s older, sure. he tells you his stamina isn’t what it used to be. but when you touch him right, look at him with half-lidded eyes and your lower lip between your teeth? he could feel like he just turned twenty again. and he’ll keep going until you’re the one tapping out.

✦ he’s got a bad habit of getting in moods where he’s insecure about his body— especially when you’re surrounded by younger guys with flat stomachs and endless energy. he doesn’t say it outright, but you catch him glancing in the mirror with a critical eye, going out wearing baggy clothes and layered outfits. you always tell him how sexy he looks anyways. once, he wore a black compression top to the gym; about to throw a sweatshirt over it when you practically launched yourself at him. the rest of his clothes didn’t stay on for much longer after that… but he’s been wearing them more ever since.

✦ it doesn’t matter if you’re completely, 100% in the wrong— if you yelled at him, accused him, even lied— the second your voice cracks, eyes shining with tears, cheol folds. his anger evaporates, replaced by panic and guilt. can’t even remember what you were arguing about. he cups your face with both hands, voice soft and broken: “hey, no, baby. please don’t cry.” you could get cheol to do just about anything for you, if just to see you smile again.

✦ he’s in that stage of his life where marriage and family are very real potential, not just dreams saved for later. he thinks about what it would look like: how it’d feel waking up next to you every morning, little kids running around with your face. but he’d never pressure you. would never ask more of you than you’re ready to give. “don’t feel like you have to do anything,” he says one night, thumb stroking your cheek. “long as i get to keep loving you. that’s enough.” and you’d always be his number one girl anyways.

mlist · taglist 〃

@lightinbug @sherrayyyyy @namsgyu @riddlerloveb0t @ttturnitup @rafesbunniebby @nicaeno @babycaratdeul @sseungcheols @sunnysidesins @livelaughloveseventeen @nezhamoment @nervousaggressive

@cheers2hani @chocolattexyz @riyahwooahae @macheriezz @onceuponateenagetrash @choshushu @theold8 @thedragonholder @jihooniesss @markkiatocafe @channieschubbycake @okinawwa @cheers2hani @accalus @hhwksixjshs @priisprii @wenhuihuii @t-bag2 @natalicss

[mydearestbeloved]

Chapter 1 [Draft]

Saja Boys x Isekaid!Demon?Reader x Huntrix

Content Warnings: This chapter contains elements of gore—this is a work of fiction, I do not condone or glorify violence in real life; Historical Inaccuracies—I'm not well-versed in Korea's history, culture, and language, so please go easy on me 🙏

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

You open your eyes to a sky soaked in midnight.

For a split second, it feels like surfacing from deep underwater—like you’d been holding your breath for hours, maybe longer, and finally, finally clawed your way back to air. A gasp tears through your throat. It's dry. Scraped. Your lungs burn.

You don’t remember why.

The thought barely formed before it unraveled, slipping from your grasp like mist. You couldn't hold onto it. You couldn't hold onto anything—not the shape of your thoughts, not the tremor rocking through your limbs, not the heat that was now beginning to simmer low in your belly.

The air is thick, heavy. It clings to your skin like oil.

Your chest heaves and every inhale fans, rough and dry through a sore throat. The pain was dull—muted by something louder inside.

A churning.

A clawing.

Hunger.

A primal impulse, ancient and raw, rising from the depths of your core like a beast pressing its face against the inside of your skin.

You stumbled forward.

The road beneath you was weathered stone, every step digging into your bare feet. But it didn’t register—not really. The fog coiling between unfamiliar stone buildings. The eerie silence. The cold of the air brushing your exposed skin. Even your own body felt strange.

Your limbs feel too long. Your balance, off. The soft fabric hanging from your shoulders. Something whispers, “You’re not quite right.” To someone too far gone to care.

But your legs moved anyway, like it’s done this before, dragging you forward, nose tilted to the air without realizing, following a scent you couldn’t name even if you were conscious enough to try.

All you knew was that it needed to be fed.

——oOo——

Her name was Hae-Bok. "Great fortune." A name her mother gave her during a time when hope still bloomed on dirt roads and prayers still worked.

But there was no fortune in this alley tonight.

“Shhh. Don’t make it harder than it has to be.”

The hand clamped over her mouth stinks of tobacco and something fouler. His nails dig into her cheek as he jerks her head back, and she kicks blindly at air.

They tied her up. Back to the damp bricks, the ropes around her wrists are tight, ankles scraped raw, mouth gagged, the cut across her cheek stinging where a ringed hand had slapped her earlier. Six men towered before her. She could see their silhouettes under the moonlight, could hear their laughter—dry, hollow, like wolves joking about which part of the deer to chew first.

“Pretty face,” one of them sneered. “Shame we have to sell it piece by piece.”

The words turn her insides to ice. Her mouth tastes like bile behind the gag.

Hae-Bok—daughter of no one, mother to one—her thoughts circled like trapped birds.

Yul-ri… my baby…

The words were muffled behind the cloth in her mouth. Her scream died there. Her tears did not.

She imagined her daughter's tiny hands, her feverish little forehead, the way she always smiled with her two front teeth when Hae-Bok brought back rice and sweet porridge. That smile, that little face, was the only thing she lived for. But now—

What’ll happen when she doesn’t come home? Does she still have enough rice in the sack? Will she know who to go to—will anyone care?

A sob cracks through her nose.

And then—

Then, everything changes.

In the span of one blink, the men were gone.

The alley was… not the alley. Or rather, it was, but wrong. Warped. As though the space itself had tilted—shifted—her somewhere sideways, just far enough from the danger that it felt more like a nightmare than an escape.

And in front of her…

A woman.

Draped in white, flowing and stained faintly at the edges, as though dipped in smoke and ash,  barefoot and still as bone. The mist curled around her, yet no breath steamed from her lips.

Ice prickled along Hae-Bok’s skin.

She shuffled backward instinctively until her spine met the wall. Her heartbeat pounded against her ribs, fast, terrified.

The woman in white took a step forward.

The air around her bit like winter when she knelt.

Hae-Bok flinched, her eyes squeezed shut in dread.

This was it. This was the end. If the men didn’t kill her, this ghost would.

But—

Shk.

The cords around her wrists fell slack. Her ankles, freed. The cloth gag slipped from her mouth, its middle cut through by something sharp.

She opens her eyes.

The cold intensifies.

The ghost was close. Too close.

The ghost’s finger—long, unnaturally pointed—pressed gently to Hae-Bok’s lips.

Her hair hangs in tangled mess, but even through the veil of it, there are eyes.

But there was no hostility. Just… cold. And something inhuman in the glint.

You look as lost as she is.

“Don’t scream.”

And then—

Gone.

The mist parted.

The sounds of men's screams echo from far off—twisted, distant, coming through a thick fog.

But Hae-Bok was already moving. Running. Her legs screamed in protest, but she didn’t stop. Couldn’t. She doesn’t wait to question it. Doesn’t want to look. She didn’t care.

She follows her memory, her instincts. Her daughter's face in her mind.

She remembered the way.

Home. Home. Home.

The fog thins as she sprints through the empty road. Her fingers find the old wooden door. She fumbles with it. Opens.

“Eomma!”

The little voice broke her.

Yul-ri leapt into her arms, toothy smile bright like a lamp in the dark.

Tears spill as Hae-Bok crumples to the floor, clutching her daughter as if to fuse their bodies back together, sobbing, whispering thank yous over and over into her child’s hair through cracked lips, breathless and trembling.

To the ghost in the mist.

——oOo——

“Aishhh—michin geoya, where the hell did that woman go?!”

Gwak Seol-jun’s voice echoed sharply down the alley walls, rough and ragged with disbelief. His boots stomped through the puddles as he kicked over an empty basket and snarled at the shadows. “She was right here! Tied up like a pig, mouth stuffed. You—you saw her, didn’t you?!”

His underlings—five in total—glanced at each other. One scratched the back of his head with a grimace.

“I swear on my late mother, Boss, she was right where you’re standing…”

Gwak Seol-jun whipped around and smacked the nearest man across the face with the back of his hand. The crack of it echoed like a whip. The man staggered.

“Don’t swear on dead people when your eyes can’t even catch a walking corpse,” he spat. “That widow owed me five nyang of silver, and not a single coin paid back.”

He paced, fuming. “I knew she was useless the moment she came crawling to borrow coin for that sick brat of hers. All tears and shaking hands. Thought I was being generous—offering mercy to some abandoned sow who’d fetch a decent price if we kept her face intact.”

Another man chuckled. “She was pretty. Could’ve warmed us all up before sending her south. Eunhae Market likes them soft and quiet.”

The others laughed.

Seol-jun smirked, but the edge in his voice sharpened. “And now she’s gone. Vanished like a ghost, with no rope, no blood, no sign. What—do you all think she flew away on her dead husband’s back?”

He turned to bark another insult, but something stopped him.

A hum.

Not sound exactly. Not music either. But resonance. A low, slow vibration that sank into the bones and made the teeth ache.

The temperature sank low, far too quickly for a summer night. The air, damp and sticky moments ago, had turned thin and brittle, like frost pressing against the skin. And the fog—thicker than before—rolled in silent waves down the alley, a pale sheen gathered along the edge. The lantern on the post flickered.

One of the men dropped his half-chewed tobacco stick.

The others fell quiet.

The youngest—Mu-sik—gulped, stepping back. “Boss…”

“What now?!”

And there—at the mouth of the alley where the mist bled from the darkness—stood a figure.

A woman.

Draped in white, bare-footed, still as death. Her hair hung wild around her face, strands glinting like wet silk. Her robe was unlike anything Seol-jun had seen—old, not peasant’s wear, nor noble’s silk, but something older, far older. Goryeo? No—Silla, maybe. But it shimmered faintly like starlight trapped in rice cloth.

Her face obscured, only lips and chin, she hadn’t looked up.

Yet she was walking. Slowly. Toward them.

“…What the fuck…” Seol-jun muttered, squinting. “You one of the temple freaks or something?”

No answer.

He stepped forward, scoffing, posturing with a sneer. “What, did the widow hire you to play bulgasal and scare us in the fog? Tsk.”

“…”

“You don’t even talk? Stupid bitch.”

Still nothing, the mist coiled at her feet like a living thing.

“Oi. I’m talking to you, whore.” His voice grew more venomous. “You think you’re scary with your funeral gown and silence? Hah. Scared some street rats already? Try me.”

He waved a hand sharply. “Grab her. Break her legs if you have to, I want answers—now.”

They men moved. All but one.

Mu-sik again—spoke up. “Boss… I-I don’t like this. Something’s not right…”

“Did I ask for your feelings, beoseon?!” Seol-jun snapped, turning to smack him again.

Thump.

He paused.

Mu-sik’s face had gone pale.

Eyes locked behind Seol-jun.

Thump.

Another sound behind him.

Then another.

He turned.

The alley was quiet.

Too quiet.

Four bodies lay crumpled like discarded sacks on the cobbled stone.

Not a drop of blood. Not a wound on their bodies.

Just… gone.

Their chests no longer rose.

Their eyes were open, but stared into nothing.

And the woman in white was still walking forward.

Each barefoot step eerily soundless, her presence devouring the space around her like a tide made of mist and death.

Seol-jun’s bravado withered. His sneer slipped into a grimace, then panic.

“N-no…” he stammered. “What are you…?”

Then, on instinct, he grabbed Mu-sik by the shoulders and shoved him forward like a human shield.

“Go! Stop her! Do something!”

Mu-sik stumbled, protesting—“Boss—!”

But he didn’t make it halfway.

A few seconds passed.

Then his shoulders sagged. His head slumped forward.

No sound.

Just stillness.

Seol-jun, breathing hard, let go.

Mu-sik’s body dropped like a severed puppet.

His eyes stared upward. Vacant. Hollow.

Soulless.

“AAAARGH!”

The scream that tore from Seol-jun’s throat was thin, unmanly—pure terror given voice.

He staggered backward, hands scrabbling behind him until his back slammed into the stone wall of the alley. The impact rattled him, but he didn’t care. He looked left. Right. No escape. The fog was so thick now he could no longer see the sides of the alley—no windows, no corners, only endless, pale mist.

“Help—someone—ANYONE—”

He tried to scream again—

But he never got the chance.

A hand clamped down over his mouth.

Hard.

Ice-cold fingers dug into his face—so cold it burned, the way frozen metal did in deep winter. The claws—because they were claws—sank into the meat of his cheeks, holding him in place as if he weighed nothing.

CRACK.

His head slammed into the stone behind him. White exploded behind his eyes.

Pain flared up the back of his skull like lightning.

The fog swirled.

The cold grew worse.

His eyes rolled upward in panic, following the arm that held him—smooth, inhumanly flawless, glowing with intricate floral markings like plum blossoms inked in moonlight. The patterns curled over skin too perfect to be real, too delicate to belong to something so deadly.

They followed up—past the wrist, the throat.

And then—

Your face.

Half-shadowed by your disheveled hair, lips parting just enough to reveal sharp, inhuman fangs.

Your eyes—

Turning blazing red.

Hungry.

Unforgiving.

The last sound Gwak Seol-jun ever made was a strangled whimper lost behind your hand.

Then the light in his eyes vanished—

Sucked away into the void where your hunger waited.

——oOo——

Blue.

So appetizing—so warm.

They float just out of reach, like fireflies in fog. They pulse, thrum, shimmer against your dimming vision like stars underwater. You want them. You need them.

And they’re yours.

Warm sloshes in your belly.

A little relief. A dull throb of satisfaction.

But not enough.

Still hungry.

You blink.

Everything’s blurry.

Colors don’t make sense—shapes even less. The only things that register are glowing blue—faint, flickering. Floating and slipping away like stars sinking into water.

You wanted them.

You had them.

You remember that.

But they're gone now.

Nothing left.

Nothing glowing.

Only red.

Your eyes shift.

Red.

It doesn’t glow like the blue. But somehow, in the foggy maze of your thoughts, it still looks… appetizing.

Your head tilts. Your legs carry you forward without command.

Something soft brushes against your face.

You open your mouth.

Bite.

Your teeth sink into something plush, still warm. A mouthful, liquid floods over your tongue—coppery, thick, soothing. You suck, the way a starving animal drinks from a spring.

Something heavy slumps under you.

Your hands move again.

You’re pressing—pushing into something soft and wet. Your fingers find something solid and pulsing once. Still warm. You pull.

A sound squelches as it tears free.

You shove it into your mouth and bite. Chew.

The soreness in your throat eases with every swallow. The heat in your stomach cools—just a little.

Not enough.

Again.

Your body repeats the motion. Crawl. Grab. Bite. Suck. Rip. Chew. Swallow.

Another drained. Another devoured.

Sometimes, there were the hard parts, but they crumbled in your mouth soon after.

You lose track of how many.

Only that you kept going.

And going.

You don’t know where one ends and another begins.

You don’t want to know.

You only want the hunger to end.

So, you keep eating. Keep drinking. Keep tearing.

Again. Again. Again.

Until the screaming in your stomach starts to quiet.

You blink.

Your vision clears.

Like waking up from a sleep you didn’t know you were in.

Your body… hurts.

Your head pounds—a sharp ache flaring behind your eyes. You squint against it, groaning softly. Slowly, you become aware of your position.

You’re… sitting.

Sitting… in an alley?

Under a full moon.

The mist drapes the air like silk, the entrance to the street still hazy, still glowing faint.

And on the stone ground…

Ripped fabrics.

Red-stained.

Your eyes scan slowly, heart thudding.

Then they land in your lap.

Glinting. Metal. A ring—

Pale. Bent. Jointed.

—on a severed finger.

“—!!”

Your scream tears free from your raw throat.

The finger tumbles to the ground with a soft thup, rolling away like a loose coin.

You clutch your mouth, trembling, but something wet trails down your chin.

Drip.

You touch it.

Your thumb comes away red.

You stare.

Your body trembles harder.

Your other hand follows—both palms now raised, shaking in front of you.

Slick.

Sticky.

You can smell it.

The metal scent in the air.

Blood.

It’s all blood.

Your breathing stutters. Sharp. Loud. Too loud. Your lungs won’t fill properly. The world tilts. The panic is crashing in—now.

Your stomach twist—you want to threw up but something prevented you to.

“No—no no no—” you rasp, voice thin and hoarse.

You remember.

You remember everything—blue, red, hunger, and now—

You needed to get out.

Get out.

You scrambled, hands against something solid—an old crate, or maybe a wall. You force yourself upright. Your legs wobbled violently.

But you move.

One step.

Then another.

Then another.

Then you’re running.

Or stumbling—anything to get away.

Blindly.

The fog parts ahead of you like a curtain.

You don’t notice.

You don’t notice how it curls back, yielding to your steps.

You don’t see the way the buildings blur around you—roofs giving way to branches, lanterns replaced with moonlit leaves, stone beneath your feet slowly shifting to dirt, to roots, to uneven patches of grass.

Your body keeps going.

You heave.

You pant.

You trip—

And you collapse.

Your knees hit the earth. Then your side.

You lay there, curled, sobbing.

The sound of water rushing nearby—soft, steady—cradles you like a lullaby.

And finally,

Everything fades to black.

End Note:

Unedited Draft of [20/06/2025]

[sweetdispatch]

Hi!! So excited to read your fics!

Requesting 9 water, 2 and 1 air, 5 earth and 3 fire !!

Ungrateful - Q. Hughes

v' elements pairing: Quinn Hughes x fem!reader summary: You never know how it feels to be loved until you met Quinn and his family warning: none

Since you can remember, your parents never had been in your life. They cared about their work more than about you. Everyone was telling you how cool it is to have such chill parents because they never cared about your grades and behaviour. In reality it wasn’t cool. You missed their presence. You wished that your parents would care about you. 

Everything you had been doing wasn't in their interest. You won a competition? They weren’t there. You graduated? They didn’t care. That’s why you moved out from your house and went to study in a different country, far away from them. As expected, they didn’t care. They never called you, like you weren’t even existing in their life. 

That’s why it was so tough for you to open up when you met Quinn. You couldn’t believe that someone would be interested in your life. It was such a weird feeling for you to have someone who would be there for you no matter what. Despite his busy schedule, he was always showing up for you. 

Quinn knew about your non existing relationship with your parents and he never pressured you to meet his parents. He didn’t want you to feel obligated, he wanted this to be your decision. Unfortunately, his parents showed up in Vancouver without any warning and you were forced to meet them. 

You couldn’t believe how great a relationship with parents he had. You felt jealousy growing inside of you that was later covered with your dark thoughts. You felt that you’re the problem, that you were a bother to your family and that’s why they never cared about you. His parents loved you the minute they met you. With time, they started treating you as their own daughter. 

For the first time, you went with Quinn to his lake house for summer. You felt the love and support everywhere. It was a bizarre feeling for you because you never had this in your own house. All the time there, you were sitting almost quietly, scared that one word could bring them to reality that you're an intruder. 

But this never happened. His mom loved you like a daughter and wanted to spend every free second with you. She was laughing that she never had a daughter and now she can do all the fun girly things with you. His dad taught you everything that your father never did. You learnt how to fish, how to play golf and how to fix small issues in a car. 

Quinn’ brothers were as amazing as his parents. They were joking that you’re better than Quinn and made you feel welcome and loved. You adored spending time with them but with time everything became too much for you. During one of the movie nights, you went to the bathroom and locked yourself there. 

Tears started spilling from your eyes. You felt overwhelmed by them. You felt not worth all the love and that you’re not good enough to be part of his family. Quinn could sense that something was off and he quickly ran upstairs after you. He walked into his bedroom and knocked on his bathroom door.

“Are you here babe?” Quinn asked. 

“Yes, I’m coming in a minute” You tried to stop crying and get yourself together. 

“I hear you crying. Please open the door so we can talk” Quinn begged you and you did it. He walked to the bathroom and closed the door. Quickly, he pulled you into a hug and you started crying again. “I got you” 

“I’m sorry but this is too much for me” You whispered. 

“Talk to me” Quinn’ hand was smoothing your back. 

“Your family. I love them so much but I don’t belong here. I don’t deserve this attention and love from them. I was growing up in a house where I was invisible and it’s too much for me when I’m in the centre and they care about me” You told him. “I know it’s stupid but I can’t help it”

“It’s not stupid. I’m sorry if they were throwing themselves at you but they wanted to know you and to spend more time with you. I told them about your family and they want to show you that family is not only blood relation but family is a group of people that love you and they do. I can tell them to let you breath” Quinn proposed and looked at your face. 

“I don’t want to be ungrateful. They opened the doors and hearts for me” You told Quinn and he smiled at you. 

“They will love you no matter what” Quinn kissed your forehead. “How about we go for a road trip to the ice cream shop you like?” Quinn proposed. 

“I don’t want to ruin your movie night with your family” You told him. 

“You’re not ruining anything and you’re my family too” Quinn grabbed your hand. “Let’s go, I’m buying”

[formulafanfics13]

Driver’s Room, Door Locked - OP81 🔥✨

Masterlist

Oscar was walking too fast. Charles could barely keep up, trailing behind him with that lazy, unreadable grin he always wore like armor. Sunglasses on, iced coffee in hand, not giving a single fuck, until he noticed the way Oscar’s entire body tensed.

“Shit,” Charles muttered, taking another slow sip. “Is that her?”

Oscar didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His jaw locked. Shoulders squared. Fingers clenched around his phone so tightly he thought the screen might crack. She was standing just outside the McLaren motorhome, leaning against the carbon fiber exterior like she fucking belonged there, like she wasn’t about to break him with nothing but a smile. Lando stood beside her, far too close. Laughing at something she’d said. His hand brushed her arm.

Oscar saw red. Charles did not miss it. “Mate,” he started, “you’re so in love with her it’s painful.”

Oscar shot him a glare sharp enough to slice through Kevlar. “No, I’m not.”

Charles just chuckled. “Oui, you are. It's been obvious from the first time you brought her here. You think no one sees it? You think the grid doesn’t notice how you get when she’s around? Please.”

Oscar didn’t respond. Couldn’t. His blood was already boiling. His ears roared. He couldn’t hear what she and Lando were saying, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t need to. The way Lando’s gaze lingered on her lips was enough. The way she giggled, looking up through her lashes, letting him stand that fucking close, Oscar didn’t know whether he wanted to scream or snap his neck. And then Lando reached out. Just a little. Just a light graze of her hip like it meant nothing.

Oscar moved.

“Where are you-?” Charles started, but Oscar didn’t answer. He stormed off. Straight toward her. Lando saw him coming and smiled like everything was fine. Like this wasn’t about to fucking blow.

Oscar didn’t speak. Not at first. He walked right up, inserted himself between her and Lando, so close she had to tilt her chin up to meet his eyes. His palm found the small of her back, not gently, and his fingers curled into her top like he was claiming her in front of God and everyone.

“Oscar?” she blinked, surprised, voice sweet, teasing. “What’s up-?”

“Need to talk,” he said, flat. Clipped. Barely restrained.

“Uh…” she glanced at Lando.

Lando raised his eyebrows. “Everything alright?”

Oscar gave him a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah. All good, mate.” Then he grabbed her wrist, firm and possessive, and pulled her with him.

She stumbled a little, thrown by the sudden heat in his grip. “Osc, what the fuck-?”

“Not here.” He didn’t slow. He didn’t explain. Through the paddock, ignoring the stares. Through the sliding doors of the McLaren motorhome. Down the corridor, ignoring the PR staff and the engineers and the interns who all turned their heads as he stormed past, dragging her in tow. His driver's room door slammed shut behind them. The lock clicked.

She barely had time to turn before his hands were on her. “Oscar-!” His mouth crashed into hers before she could finish the sentence, all teeth and fire and the kind of desperate aggression he’d spent years pretending he didn’t feel. He kissed like he was starved. Like she was oxygen. Like he needed to erase Lando’s fucking fingerprints from her skin.

Her back hit the wall. She gasped. He took the opportunity, tongue slipping between her lips, one hand tangling in her hair while the other slid up under her shirt with zero finesse. Just want. Raw, shaking want. “What the fuck is going on with you?” she panted when he finally pulled back, lips swollen, breath caught.

Oscar’s eyes were dark. Almost black. “Were you flirting with him?”

She froze. “What?”

“Lando.” He said the name like it was poison. “Outside the motorhome. Were you flirting?”

She blinked. Then laughed, confused. “Why do you care?” 

Wrong move. Oscar grabbed her jaw, tilting her face up hard enough to make her eyes widen. “Because he’s not allowed to touch what’s mine.”

Her breath caught. “I’m not yours.”

He stared her down, pupils blown, pulse hammering under his skin. “Yes,” he said, “you fucking are.”

And then he turned her around. Pushed her forward. Bent her over the narrow bench that lined the wall, one hand between her shoulder blades, the other already yanking her leggings down her thighs.

“Wait-Oscar-”

“I don’t want to hear it.” His voice was thick, broken, strained like he was at the edge of something dangerous. “You let him look at you like that. Laugh like that. Touch you.”

Her panties hit the floor. She gasped as cool air hit the backs of her thighs. Oscar groaned at the sight, dragging one hand down the curve of her ass like he didn’t know whether to worship her or destroy her. “Fuck,” he muttered, voice ragged. “Do you know what you do to me?” He didn’t wait. His belt unbuckled, jeans shoved low, briefs just enough to free himself. He was hard already, painfully so, every nerve in his body screaming for her. He didn’t tease. He didn’t ask.

He pressed forward, shoved in, all at once.

She cried out, loud, sharp. His hand flew to her mouth, muffling it.

“Shhh,” he breathed, teeth clenched, buried inside her so deep he thought he might black out. “You take me so fucking well. Like you’re made for it. Fuck-”

He started to move. Hard. Fast. Unforgiving. Every thrust drove her forward into the wall. The bench creaked under the force of it. Her moans were ragged, swallowed by his palm, body arching back into him with every desperate slam of his hips.

“You’re mine,” he panted, forehead pressed to the back of her neck. “Always have been. Since we were kids. And you fucking know it.”

She whimpered, eyes rolling back, unable to speak. He pulled out just enough to slam back in harder, his hand gripping her waist so tightly she knew she’d bruise. She loved it. Hated it. Couldn’t stop it. “You want him?” he bit out. “You want Lando to see you like this? Fucked dumb on my cock, dripping for me?”

She shook her head, the movement wild and helpless.

“No?” he growled. “Then fucking say it.”

“I-” she gasped, trembling. “I don’t-fuck-I don’t want anyone but you.”

He snarled. Grabbed her hair. Yanked her upright so her back slammed into his chest, hips still snapping relentlessly. “Say it again.”

“I want you,” she cried out. “Just you.”

Oscar groaned like the sound of it broke him. His thrusts turned frantic. Messy. He was close, too close, hips stuttering as his hand slid down her front, fingers between her legs, circling brutally fast.

She broke first. Came with a strangled scream, legs shaking, walls tightening around him so hard it knocked the breath from his lungs. He followed seconds later, slamming in one last time, his whole body seizing as he spilled inside her, forehead pressed to her shoulder.

Silence followed. Heavy. Hot. Drenched in sweat and broken breath. She collapsed forward, barely catching herself on the bench. Oscar didn’t let her go — arms wrapped around her waist, holding her against him like he was afraid she’d vanish if he blinked.

“Fuck,” he whispered against her shoulder, voice cracking. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

She turned her head just enough to look at him. Her cheeks were flushed. Eyes wide. Mouth red and raw from his kiss. “Don’t say sorry,” she whispered.

Oscar swallowed hard. His hands trembled where they held her. “I meant it,” he said, so quietly she almost missed it. “You’re mine. I’ve always wanted you. I just couldn’t admit it. Not until I saw you with him.”

She stared at him for a long, long moment. Then reached up and touched his cheek, tender despite the bruises he’d left on her skin. “Next time,” she said, “just tell me. Before you go full caveman.”

He let out a breathless, broken laugh. “No promises.”

And then he kissed her again, slower this time, gentler, but just as ruined. Because whatever they’d been before this moment, friends, maybe, or something like it, they sure as fuck weren’t anymore.

Not now. Not after this. Not after he claimed her like she was already his. Because maybe… she always had been.

[pittsick]

AMNESIA.

summary: After losing the only person who ever believed in him, Rafe is left haunted by memories of a love he took for granted. Now, everything reminds him of the girl who once made him feel like he could be better—but who had to leave to save herself. Alone with his regrets, Rafe realizes that forgetting would be easier—but remembering is all he has left.

pairing: rafe cameron x mention of afab!girlfriend

cw: emotional hurt, drug / alcohol mentions, heartbreak, toxic behavior (past), implied emotional neglect.

taglist: @imperishablereverie, @userhotd, @lvve-talks, @prismozo, @bluestrd, @shahabaqsa0310 @222col (to be added)

Rafe woke up alone again.

The sunlight bled through the blinds in streaks, slicing across his face like a punishment. His head throbbed, the remnants of a bad night clinging to him like smoke. The half-empty bottle of bourbon on the floor reflected the morning in warped golden hues. His shirt was twisted, a reminder that he’d passed out on the couch again, not even bothering to make it to bed.

You used to wake him up gently. Your hand would brush over his jaw, thumb trailing that one spot he was too proud to admit he liked. You'd say his name soft like a prayer.

“Rafe…”

But that voice was long gone.

He dragged himself up, ran a hand through the mess of his hair, and stared blankly at the TV that was still playing some show neither of you would’ve ever watched together. The apartment felt too big. Too clean. Too silent. No coffee brewing, no feet padding across hardwood, no you humming under your breath.

Just the echo of everything he lost.

He never thought about mornings before. They were nothing to him. Just hours he had to suffer through to get to the high, the rush, the crash. But with you… mornings became sacred. You made them feel like a beginning, not an aftermath.

You made everything feel like it could be new.

He remembered the way you made space for him, even when he didn’t deserve it. How you’d reach for his hand under the table when his father was too loud, too cruel. How you always left your side of the bed unmade because you said it was like an invitation for him to come back. How you let him cry into your collarbone when things got too heavy, when he was too ashamed to be Rafe Cameron.

You never judged him. Not even once.

And maybe that’s why it hurts now. Because he never deserved that kind of softness.

You didn’t leave because of a single mistake. It was the slow wear of a thousand little things—nights he didn’t call, mornings he left you alone, promises he made with a silver tongue and forgot before sunrise. You said you loved him, but you couldn’t love him into becoming someone better. He had to choose that himself.

And he didn’t. Not when it mattered. Now? All he could think about was you.

He saw you everywhere.

In the record store downtown—where the guy behind the counter still asked how “his girl” was. In the street where you once danced barefoot in the rain because you said nobody else would and you wanted to feel alive. In his closet, where your favorite hoodie still hung, the one he couldn’t bring himself to wash.

It didn’t even smell like you anymore. That was the part that wrecked him.

He opened his phone for the fifth time that morning. Still no messages. Still no sign that you were thinking about him. You’d blocked him on everything.

At first, it made him furious. How dare you cut him off? How could you pretend it didn’t mean anything? But now… he understood. You had to survive. And loving Rafe Cameron? That was something no one survived without scars.

So you left. And maybe that was the most powerful thing you’d ever done. He scrolled through old photos like a masochist. There you were—wrapped up in his hoodie, sun kissing your cheeks, smiling up at him like he hung the moon.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

Why hadn’t he fought harder?

You’d begged him. Talk to me, Rafe. Please. Just let me in. And he’d shut down. Pushed you away. Told you it wasn’t your problem, that he was fine. Now he’d kill to hear your voice ask just one more time.

Sometimes, late at night, when everything slowed and he was too tired to lie to himself, he whispered your name into the dark. Like maybe it would summon you back, but you weren’t coming back. Not now. Maybe not ever.

He imagined you moving on. Laughing at someone else's jokes. Holding someone else's hand. Kissing someone who didn’t flinch at tenderness. Someone who didn’t need fixing.

The thought made his throat close up. He slammed his fist into the couch cushion beside him, breathing hard like the loss was physical.

It was physical.

His body remembered the way you touched him. How your fingertips traced his ribs when you thought he was asleep. How you kissed the bruises on his knuckles after fights you told him not to start. How you clung to him like maybe, just maybe, he could still be saved.

You were the only one who ever believed in him. The only one who ever saw the boy under the armor, under the rage and the name and the weight of being Ward Cameron’s son.

And he repaid you with silence. With slammed doors. With nights spent out, high and unreachable.

God, he wished he could forget.

He wished he had amnesia. Wished he couldn’t remember the way you cried the night you packed your bag. Wished he didn’t remember how you kissed his forehead and told him you loved him anyway—because that was worse than if you’d screamed. Worse than if you’d said nothing.

You loved him. And you still left. Because love wasn’t enough anymore. He stumbled into the kitchen. Poured himself a glass of water but didn’t drink it. Just stared at it like it might offer him clarity.

You used to leave notes on the fridge.

"Don’t forget to eat today." "You looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to wake you." "I love you."

Now there was only a stain where the tape had been.

He leaned against the counter and shut his eyes.

He remembered the way you looked that day at the beach. Hair a mess, feet buried in sand, laughing like nothing in the world could touch you. And you let him hold you. Let him press his forehead to yours and breathe you in. Said something stupid like I could stay in this moment forever.

He meant it, he still means it. But forever doesn’t wait around for men like him. And you? You deserved a forever that didn’t leave bruises.

He thought about calling your best friend, just to ask how you were. To hear your name said out loud. But he didn’t. Because some things weren’t his anymore. He wasn’t yours. Not your boyfriend. Not your secret keeper. Not your broken thing to love back to life.

You belonged to someone else now—maybe not another person, but a different version of yourself. One that didn’t look back. One that no longer stood in the ashes of what you two used to be.

He got in his car and drove. No music. No destination. Just movement. Just the illusion that he was getting somewhere. But it didn’t matter where he went—every road looked like a place you used to be.

The bridge where you first told him you loved him, the old diner you swore made the best milkshakes, that gas station where you danced with him to a pop song just because it was playing too loud.

He pulled over and pressed his forehead to the steering wheel, biting back a scream. He used to think pain made him strong, that burying everything made him invincible. But this kind of pain?

This quiet, invisible heartbreak? It made him human.

Later, he walked the shoreline of your favorite beach. You weren’t there, but he swore he could still feel your presence in the wind. He sat in the sand and pulled his hoodie tighter: yours. Still yours.

He buried his hands in the sand, just like you used to do, digging like you’d find something precious underneath. Rafe didn’t cry often. Not where anyone could see, but he cried now. For the things he said; the things he didn’t. For the way you always smiled; even when you were hurting. For the way you loved him when no one else did.

For the fact that, no matter how hard he wished—no matter how deep the ache—you weren’t coming back. He didn’t blame you.

Not anymore.

He blamed himself; for not listening, for letting his demons win, for thinking you’d always be there. And maybe that’s what stung the most. You were never supposed to become a memory, you were supposed to be his future. Now, you were just a ghost he carried everywhere.

And if he could forget? If he could wipe his mind clean of every touch, every whisper, every time you looked at him like he was more than his worst choices? He wouldn’t, because pain was the only thing he had left of you.

And he’d rather hurt forever than forget you ever loved him at all.

note: this is my entry for @zyafics MRGA because this is genuinely a good idea... hopefully this belongs to the campaign!!

[itzserein]

"Platonic? What part of this is Platonic?"

Daniela Avanzini x Fem!reader Angst, toxic best friend!Daniela, suggestive, mentions of e-cigs & alcohol

Masterlist

A/n: Hi this is my first upload here holy- I'm so sorry this took so long and I hope that you all like this🤸‍♀️ and yes hi I'm the anon on Jay's asks that said this was way too similar to that anons request and I PROMISE I DID NOT COPY THIS I'VE BEEN WORKING ON THIS FOR THE PAST FEW MONTHS MAYBE A YEAR NOW😭 SO NO ONE CANCEL ME PLS </3 anyways please enjoy

The world around you felt like it was constantly spinning at such a fast rate at that and it only seemed to be increasing by the second and you felt dizzy, super dizzy that it wasn't even an understatement. It didn't come a point where you wanted to throw up everything you had digested just yet but it really felt like you were just underwater.

Everything was so distorted, and it definitely felt like there was some sort of immense pressure coming from your head at the sensation. Your senses felt dull, at the same time everything felt too much and yet here you were, still attempting to do the impossible as you tried to make out whatever was around you.

Or was that just a problem with your actual vision? You honestly had no clue but even if that was the case you were still completely aware of your surroundings and what was happening.

Kinda...

Okay that was a lie, you weren't totally conscious of everything but you still had somewhat of a grip of what was going on.

Right now, you were in the middle of a booth that you were unfortunately cooped up in next to your best friend, also known as, Daniela Avanzini. From what you could register right now, you could see the Cuban girl talking to some of her friends that were next to her, people who you were also kind of acquainted with, you could say, due to the amount of times you had met up with them whenever you were together with Dani.

You didn't technically know a lot of information about the group, just that they were friends that Dani had met through school and a couple of other mutual friends they had. You never really got together with them unless the girl invited them out. They had their own lives and studies to worry about anyways. Besides, it wasn't like it was your intention to even obtain that kind of closeness with them in the first place.

The group was just talking (a bit too chaotically) to one another, the topic they were going on about? You honestly couldn't care less. You just watched as they conversed amongst themselves, and you weren't surprised when you saw that they had somehow waged war against on one another as they constantly fought over Daniela's vape. Apparently, the group of friends didn't have one of their own which was well, reasonable given how expensive they were.

If you were being honest, you found the interaction kind of amusing with how often they kept launching themselves at each other just to get a hit while Daniela herself constantly complained about it being passed around so much that her juice was about to run out because of these so-called hyena's, in her words.

Back on your side of the booth, there were your actual close friends. You had met them through an event from school that your academic organization had set up. At the time, you weren't technically too open to the idea of being grouped together with a bunch of freshmen for a stupid game to be honest but for some odd reason you clicked with them despite your initial disapproval.

They were a group of friends you actually hung out with a lot and talked to almost every opportunity that you could get and since they were just freshmen, the reality dawned upon you pretty soon that you were their senior (unfortunately). So, this would always result in them asking advice for specific classes or just straight up complain to you about how hard the subjects were whenever they saw you, but they were surviving, somehow.

They were also currently having their own topic, another new conversation you weren't entirely listening into with how nauseous you felt. Despite that, you could somewhat still make out the shot glasses that you guys had prepared already in their grasps. That only indicated one thing, another round of shots was already going to start being passed around the tiny and cramped booth you all were in.

This very group of friends that you had beside you were the entire reason why you had come here and ended up all nauseous and out of it in the first place. You guys did this often though, so everyone was already used to having this kind of outcome whenever you guys hung out. Compared to the first time you came here though, it felt like a whole different story.

The entire thing was just chaotic and very unplanned to say the least. Your classes scheduled for that tiring day had already ended and you were just waiting on their last class to finish up, all because you simply refused to go home early that day. By the time you guys arrived at your destination and drank a couple bottles, you were instantly drunk and to your demise, they had taken videos of you to remember the embarrassment that had gone down, which you still complained about whenever they brought it up.

From that point onward, it had become a regular occurrence for you guys to go out and drink occasionally you guys would even play a few games of pool in between. Though that was just an activity to keep you guys from getting absolutely wrecked and it was only for some of you that wanted to play whenever drinking.

Just a few minutes ago, you were peacefully playing a game with a few of your friends even taking a drag in between whenever it wasn't your turn. The usual stuff really but you guessed today was definitely something, very different than what you were used to. Everyone was, for some odd reason, feeling confident and you obviously weren't prepared for any of the chaos that was happening right now.

This is already the fifth freaking bottle you all had today and gosh it was at times like this that you really hated having a low alcohol tolerance cause what the actual hell, you don't think you can last any longer with how quickly they were passing the shots around.

Heck, this was technically already your sixth one of the day. You had been here since earlier this morning and you had already shared an entire bottle just with this girl that was beside you (said girl being none other than Daniela). You didn't have classes to worry about thankfully but that still didn't change the fact that you didn't even know how on earth you were still conscious and aware of what was happening when you were usually the first person to back out when the alcohol started to take its effects on you, knowing how weak your tolerance actually was.

Right now, you were resting your head on the Cuban girl's shoulder, not daring to get up with how dizzy you were. Besides, you felt comfortable in this position and gosh, you could distinctly smell her scent despite everything that just seemed purposely try and clash with your senses.

For some reason, Dani's scent has always been something that comforted you and you still didn't really know the entire reason why, it just somehow did and she didn't seem to mind how clingy you became to her because of this. You had let her know just how much you loved it from the start anyway, so she probably just let you since it seemed perfectly normal to do so between best friends, despite it probably being weird to an outsider's point of view.

"Hey, you doing okay there?" she asked, noticing how quiet you had been in spite of all the noise around you both. You didn't bother to speak though, only humming in response to her question. You didn't want to move that much or even talk right now with how much your head was spinning.

Though despite not wanting to, you couldn't help but shift just a little closer to her, inhaling a bit more of her intoxicating scent which had somehow helped calm down your spinning head a tad bit. Not as much as you hoped it would but it did still help "Do you still remember our talk last Tuesday?" she asked all of a sudden which made you confused because why the hell was she asking that now of all times?

Despite your shock though, there is absolutely no goddamn way you could ever forget about the talk you guys had literally two days ago, you don't think you could ever forget that even if you tried.

The two of you had situated at her house, inside her room to be exact, alone. A usual occurrence since her parents were always at work until late into the night and you always dropped by her place. You usually dropped by when your classes ended earlier than the set time and you didn't really feel like going home just yet but were too tired to hang out with other friends. It's not like her place was that far from yours anyway. It was just a 5-10 minute bus ride away anyway depending on traffic.

You were initially practicing a song to play on her guitar, something you've always been doing whenever you visited ever since you two did that cover of "we fell in love in october." Ever since that day you two impulsively decided to do that cover, you had been learning new songs to play cause well why the fuck not?

Daniela on the other hand, was on her phone at the moment, annoyed with you which left you having to constantly apologize to her. Apparently, she was trying to draw you playing the guitar a while ago and didn't want to tell you because she wanted it to be a surprise.

You, obviously not aware of this, now had to try and make it up to her since she was now sulking, you did not know how you could do that though so you just held her guitar up and told her to start drawing again if she wanted too. She just pouted and put the notebook she used to draw back into her bedside drawer.

The two of you dipped back into silence after a few moments and despite the fact you still felt a bit bad, you decided to just drop it in the end and continue practicing the song. Nothing else could be heard in the room except the strumming of the guitar and the occasional errors you made every now and then, well, until she decided to talk to you again that is "You know? I just realized something, you are the gayest person I have ever met and yet you still haven't kissed someone." You could only roll your eyes at this remark because seriously? She had decided to tease you now? Way to hurt your pride.

You gave the girl a dead serious look on your face just to show her that you were not at all amused with this and you could literally see the smirk on Daniela's face when she saw the expression you had, it made you really wanted to wipe that smug look off right about now.

"Why are you volunteering?" you asked with the same amount of playful teasing in your tone. If Daniela was going to tease you, who says that you were gonna let her off so easily? You weren't going to be 'tormented' like this without putting up some sort of fight against it, especially if it's Dani who starts it.

When the Cuban girl hadn't replied for a few moments, you started feeling confident, thinking that your words had finally made her back down. You weren't expecting Dani to have some kind of comeback to that but you are literally taken aback when she speaks up and just casually says "Why not?"

And with that you were literally choking on nothing but freaking air, now thrown into a sudden coughing fit from how surprised you were from the response. She looked even more smug when your playful demeanor (and confidence to answer her like that) had suddenly disappeared.

What did she say just now?

You couldn't process that for short period time, you were literally just staring at the girl with wide eyes, trying to find the right words to refute whatever she had just said. You couldn't deny that the confidence Daniela had was unbelievably high, you had already known beforehand that her confidence was already over the roof but damn you didn't expect it to be this goddamn high. At this point did a barrier even exist?

"How about let's do it when you don't have a boyfriend then" you told her, playfully. Your tone was not at all serious because you knew, Daniela would never go through with it, or she would be risking everything set between you two.

With that you went back to playing the guitar peacefully not thinking of anything else but the placement of your hands to play the right chords, while Daniela just went on her laptop to find something else to do.

Low and behold, the day after that very conversation, Daniela's boyfriend had broken off their relationship for some stupid ass reason the boy most probably came up with on the spot. Right after that happened, she had called you and you honestly weren't surprised when you had gotten a sudden call from her.

The Cuban girl always calls you out of nowhere and you were used to it, to the point you were seemingly unbothered by it every time it happened. She'd usually just call to tell you a random joke or simply just to make you jealous because she was in a 'steady and 'happy' relationship and would always make you feel the irony of being a single for literally your entire life, but this time it was different.

You weren't shocked when you received the sudden call from her, but you were definitely surprised to hear that she was crying on the other end.

Almost instantly you grew worried and the two of you talked it out for almost an hour just so you could have somewhat of an idea of what was even happening that caused her to seek out some sort of comfort from you.

You tried to console the girl the best you could despite it just being over the phone. Even when your entire being was just practically screaming at you to hang up and run to wherever she was just to hug her, let her know it was going to be okay, maybe not now but soon. You wanted to let her know that she wasn't alone in this and she never was going to be alone dealing with all of this.

Today was now Thursday and Daniela had unsurprisingly gotten mad fucking drunk as hell all because of that stupid guy. You honestly still couldn't comprehend the reason as to why he had broken it off but you just assumed it was completely unreasonable, you didn't want to find out either way.

She managed to sleep off the alcohol in her system at least and was now currently sober but that did not without her causing a total ruckus and you having to take care of her for a couple of hours. Whatever the case, she was okay now and no longer going crazy at least.

As of the moment, you were honestly just confused as to why she even brought that topic up again in the first place?

You couldn't help but pull away from your comfortable position on her shoulder and sit up straight at this, now staring at her with a confused expression plastered especially when you saw the small smirk on her face once again. As mentioned earlier, you might be a bit lightheaded from the copious amount of alcohol you consumed. That in no way meant that you were no longer aware of the events that were happening right now.

"Well, I don't have a boyfriend now" she says with the same daring, cocky tone she has always used whenever the two of you were teasing one another. It almost made you believe that she was actually going to go through with it, almost and it honestly made you scoff. This girl really was something.

"As if you'll actually do it" you said sarcastically, rolling your eyes as if you were challenging her to just do it even though you knew she wouldn't actually dare to. She may have been teasing you literally two days ago just to rub it in your face that you had no courage to actually kiss someone but you highly doubted that she would push through with it here out of all places for multiple factors.

Number one, being the most obvious, she and her boyfriend literally just broke up. It hadn't even been a full 24 hours and even though you didn't really like the guy, you didn't want to disrespect him like that. Number two, the both of you were in between all your friends and the moment any of them caught you two in the act, your friends would go absolutely ballistic. They'd mostly direct that energy at Dani though because everyone knew you have never had a relationship ever in your life and were very 'innocent' when it came to these kind of things.

Three, Dani was your freaking best friend, the person you have been with through thick and thin and trusted with your life but that did not mean any of you could just casually cross this specific boundary though. Four, this was a public place literally anyone else could simply walk by and see the two of you making out, you may not know these people and vice versa but that would not make the secondhand embarrassment of the act go away.

Lastly, the so-called simple action would definitely change the dynamic of your friendship with the Latina girl on a lot of different levels. Hell, it could change the both of you entirely and you had no idea if any of you could ever face the consequences if you two actually did it. You knew she wouldn't risk that and you knew that the girl would think better than that.

God forbid- you were so completely and utterly wrong to think all that, you had totally forgotten how impulsive Dani was.

Because at the very next moment after saying all that, you felt one of her hands slowly creep up the side of your neck and damn you couldn't believe it. She was so gentle with you even as she pulled you just a bit closer to her and it had caught you so completely off guard. You've seen this soft side of Daniela often, but you never thought you would see it in this kind of context.

All this was just making your mind spin even more (if that was even possible). You didn't even register the fact that her lips were already on yours until she pulled you even closer and tenderly caressed your cheek just to help you relax even if it was just tiny bit more. You couldn't help but close your eyes at the simple gesture and it was because of all this that you tried to savor the moment.

You were so taken aback by how soft her lips felt and how sickeningly sweet they tasted and yet before you could even try and reciprocate it, she had already pulled away. The kiss had left you breathless and you were frozen in place, not knowing what to say, heck you don't think you could form a proper coherent thought at this moment in time.

"Wha-" you thought, the whole scene loading in your brain. It was like your mind was literally buffering because what the freaking heck, did that actually just happen? Dani's lips were actually on yours? Did she really just kiss you? This could not be fucking real.

Was this legitimately real life? Because if it is holy fuck, Daniela Avanzini, your best friend, had just stolen your first kiss and you let her.

You were stunned, you couldn't believe that had happened but despite all that, there was one thing you were sure about in your clouded mind, you absolutely fucking loved how her lips tasted. With your mind so distorted from the kiss or maybe it was really just the alcohol taking its effects on you, you couldn't hold it in anymore.

A sudden rush of adrenaline had entered your system and it was because of that rush that you had somehow gained the courage to ask for one more from the girl.

You honestly expected her to laugh it off and tease you, you expected nothing more from her but no. She was immediately giving in to what you wanted, leaning closer and initiating it all over again. This time, instead of immediately pulling away, she had let you set the pace and she let you savor it.

Oh gosh, was this how kissing someone really felt like? Cause it was absolute heaven, the way she was so gentle with you made you practically melt against her.

You could easily tell that Daniela didn't want to overwhelm you since it was your first time and you felt touched by the simple thought. Dani had intentionally let you take your time and she was letting you adjust to it for however long you needed to. You honestly could've stayed like that forever and if air wasn't a necessity to keep living, you think you would've but alas you couldn't do anything about it.

You forced yourself with all the will power you had to pull away and with that you slowly opened your eyes to look at Daniela, really look at her and you don't know what came over you to feel all these things but you were just there stunned, heart beating so loudly that you felt like it was about to jump out of your chest.

It was like you both were stuck in your own little world that no one could step into but you two. She was just staring at you with a small smile on her face, as if reassuring you that it was done, that everything was okay now. While here you were in front of her, out of breath and not knowing what to think.

The girl had taken notice of your dazed-like state and could only shake her head out of amusement at your reaction "You must be drunk, you would never let me kiss you like that twice if you were even the slightest bit sober."

That put you out of your trance, you just rolled your eyes at her words because of course she'd choose to tease you after all that just happened "Shut up" you said lowly before shoving her shoulder in a playful manner.

She only laughed it off and pulled on your arm as she got up and out of the booth "Come with me to the bathroom for a moment?" she asked and you could only nod in response, not trusting your voice and you really weren't being given a choice anyway as she was already pulling you away from your friends.

If murder was actually legal, you think you would have already killed Daniela on multiple occasions. Sadly, it wasn't, so you just settled into planning in your head the multiple ways you could have possibly ended her a long, long time ago.

Dani had been teasing you non-stop ever since that night happened (hence the awakening urge) and you swear if she teased you one more time you would actually kiss her again just to shu- wait what? No.

Anyway- whenever you were talking to Daniela, she would somehow always, always find a way to weave it into the conversation she knew how shy it made you each and every time she did bring it up. You couldn't even look in her direction whenever she reminded you about the entire ordeal.

You wanted to get back at her for all the playful banters, but you knew that no matter what you did, you would always end up being the embarrassed, blushing mess you were. It was like all ounce of fight that you had in you would leave the moment she would talk about it and it was honestly crazy how you still hadn't found a way to rebut all her teasing towards you.

Right now, you were thankful she hadn't reminded you about it today. If this was any other regular day, she would seize every chance she got just to embarrass you and it was really a miracle she hasn't yet.

You knew the Cuban girl and her playful nature and you knew that she wouldn't last an entire hour without teasing you. You figured that it was because she knew you were busy and decided to give you a small break, for now.

It was now a new week, Monday, and exactly seven days before your finals would start. You were again hanging out at Daniela's place. The two of you were chilling as usual, for once, you weren't busy tinkering with the girls' guitar and practicing another new song to possibly cover. Instead, you were cuddled up next to her, the two of you just doom scrolling, watching the random videos that would appear on her feed. Neither of you bothering to bring up what had went down last Thursday.

You sighed contentedly, the weight of everything from school slowly lifting off your shoulders as you shifted closer to the girl, growing sleepy. If it weren't for the fact that you knew that you weren't in your own home, you would have fallen asleep the moment you arrived.

Honestly speaking, you were tired, extremely tired since you both had just came from school and just being inside the damn building already drains the life out of you. You had taken a grueling quiz earlier that day and it was so hard that the moment you got out of the room and saw the girl patiently waiting for you, you were complaining nonstop about the questions and how difficult it was to answer them even though you studied so hard to ace it. You were honestly praying that you somehow passed because you knew just how much of your grade it could effect if it was ever too low.

Daniela on the other hand, had skipped her classes again, she wasn't even trying to catch up despite missing half a semester's worth of classes. You were not really surprised by this, but you also didn't get why she would enroll in the first place if she wasn't going to attend any of her classes anyway.

You didn't dare speak up about it though, you just decided to shut up and let her do whatever the hell she wanted. "My life, my rules" is what she would argue the moment you would try to bring it up to her anyway. So you didn't, you instead chose to enjoy the peace of the moment you were sharing with her right now.

"You're extra clingy today" Daniela says. She wasn't using the usual teasing tone that you were used to hearing, it felt like it was more of an observation that she just had to point out.

"I could stop" you said, immediately moving to get up and off the bed but before you could even attempt do so, she was already grabbing onto your arm, forcefully pulling you back into your previous position.

You felt your body lose balance at the force she used. She had clearly underestimated the amount of strength she had and it causes you to land right on top of the girl. You immediately tried placing your hands on either side of her body so you could hover above her but you're already too late when you feel your head land on her chest.

You could only look up at her and sigh at her mischievous antics "Stay, I like it" she says to you with a small, cheeky grin plastered on her face. Despite the playful look she had on, you could sense that she was being genuine saying those words.

"Good then" you said, returning the smile with one of your own.

The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, neither of you even minding the intimate position you guys were in and yet, you both could still feel the sudden rise of tension in the room.

It wasn't the usual light and comforting presence you felt whenever you were with one another, but it wasn't really a bad kind of tension either. It felt almost electrifying, like a major turn of events was about to take place at any given moment.

The two of you didn't realize the growing tension though, you were quite literally just staring at each other too caught up and mesmerized by one another's simple presence. It honestly made you want to laugh at how stupid you both probably looked right now but you couldn't. You didn't want to pull yourself away from whatever this was and if you were being honest, you were actually anticipating the girls next move.

You see the way Daniela's gaze slowly moves down from your eyes to your lips and that small movement makes your breath hitch. You see her smile turn into a little smirk and you knew exactly what was on the Cuban girl's mind at that moment so you brace yourself.

Without another moments hesitation she was immediately pulling you further onto herself just to plant your lips on hers. You don't know what to say, not like you could say anything in that moment anyway. You honestly don't really know what to do either, you just stayed like that shocked like it's the first time all over again.

Yet you can tell that Dani knows exactly what she wants. You feel the way her hands roam your body like she was exploring your entire being, like she wanted more from you and you feel those same hands take place on your waist urging you to shift and sit down on her lap instead. Your bodies move accordingly, as if it was second nature like the two of you have done this a million times before.

You don't protest, you don't make any move to stop whatever is happening and you have no intention to do so whatsoever. Quite the contrary actually, you want more, you need more and without even noticing yourself you had already wrapped your arms around her neck and pulled her even closer, deepening the kiss.

It was just the two of you, alone in her room, trapped in your own little bubble that no one could step into even if they dared. The crazy part? You loved it, loved being in the confines of her room kissing her like there was no tomorrow, like it was your own little secret in which it kind of was.

You loved the feeling of it all, the feeling of freedom like you could do whatever the hell you guys wanted, the thrill you experienced, the feeling that there were no constraints, no nothings, no what ifs. Just you two, enjoying your own little world.

Neither of you minded anything else that was going on around you guys. You both just enjoyed the moment, savoring the taste of one another.

The two of you only pull away when the need for air arises, still neither of you speaking a word. You both were just left panting, catching your breaths as you both processed what just happened, afraid if one of you spoke it would ruin the moment "So...."

"So" she follows, the two of you not knowing what to say or do at this moment. You just chuckle, gosh you couldn't believe you both were acting shy as if you guys weren't ready to jump each other's bones and break so many forbidden boundaries just a few moments ago.

Daniela lets out a small laugh too, the realization of the situation hitting her and she was honestly glad you seemed to be thinking the same, like why would you two be shy now? After everything you both have been through together, the two of you thought of acting tense now? It was so stupid "Can I?" she asks and you knew exactly what she meant.

"Just don't go too far" you answer her, you don't care at this point.

"Duly noted" the Cuban girl says, before leaning in once again. Her hands taking place on your waist again to keep you steady on her lap while you tangled your hands in the girl's hair, pulling her impossibly closer and you two stayed like this for a long while.

It had been a couple weeks since that scene in Daniela's place happened and honestly, it was crazy, you think that all of this is just fucking insane. Just the fact that the two of you would still continue to do it whenever you were together was absurd and yet it was always so quick, never that discreet for others to not notice what you two were up to but it never went on too long for other people to complain as much.

It was honestly just absurd but the more you thought about it, the more you wanted to see her again, the more you want for it to repeat.

It was like a fire had set inside you and you were burning with need, need for more of her, need for that thrill you had whenever with her, that rush. It scared you, how much it had grown over the course of the few weeks it had been happening but at the same time you didn't bother with it much.

You had a lengthy discussion about all of this with your friends, the very same people you were with the day it went down and to no surprise, they were livid. Not at you of course, but at Dani for even proposing such a thing in the first place (even if it was a stupid joke).

They warned you of the dire consequences of this weird set-up you two had. The group treated you as if you were their baby after all, knowing you had never been in a relationship before and had gotten yourself into such a fucked up situation, they couldn't help but worry for you and how things would end up.

You could have your heart broken by this or worse, they didn't want to see you end up like that and they didn't want the reason of your heart break to be over a stupid situation like this.

The thing is whenever it was just you and Daniela together, you guys would always talk it out and openly communicate on what kind of boundaries neither of you should ever cross with one another. The only problem? Even with all that, you still found yourself faltering, especially when the girl would do all these gestures toward you, actions that she would never do with just anyone.

She would update you constantly after the break-up happened, claiming that she was used to updating someone and needed to do it to keep her sanity in check. She would even tell you to come by her place more often to the point that you actually had to start rejecting her offer a couple of times just to put your own life first and that was all just because she didn't want to feel lonely at home due to being alone for majority of the time.

She'd just practically be on you all throughout, physically or not and it was a cycle you were unconsciously getting conditioned to follow even if it was against your own will.

Like a freaking puppy, you would obey every word and it was honestly a bit weird to you how you couldn't even try and go against her word even if you wanted too because you knew every time she would ask, she'd make the time you were with her worth it and she knew that you would always love it, need it even.

You needed her even when your brain screamed no and that this was all just a ruse and it was because of all this that you slowly started to question yourself. Were you really just doing this for the thrill? Or was there something more?

You were getting tired of everything, especially with how often it was happening, the confusing feelings, the constant overthinking, the repetitive reminders, just the entire situation.

So without even thinking, you impulsively asked your friends to hang out after classes ended. You guys of course went to the usual spot, back to where it all fucking started.

It was there that you took out everything you were feeling. You would take a shot every time you would think of her, start to overthink everything all over again, remember the way her lips tasted, remember the simple gestures she would do while you were together, everything.

It was so frustrating, that you couldn't get Daniela off your mind and it got to the point where you started to question your own decisions all over again because why the fuck did you let her? Why didn't you pull away the moment she even tried? Yell at her for starting this with that simple teasing statement? Just why? You just wanted to blame the girl for all these confusing feelings and for letting the entire thing get this far.

You knew that deep down you couldn't though, you were as much of a willing participant in this as she was, you brought this onto yourself too. You sighed to yourself at this before you took another shot, feeling the burn of the alcohol as it went down your throat. It made you grimace slightly but you didn't care, you just wanted to let out all your pent up frustrations, to feel or think of anything other than that.

"Yo Y/n! You up for a game?" one of your friends Lara asks, successfully cutting you off from your deep train of thoughts.

You nodded immediately and got up from your sitting position as the Indian girl moved to start setting up the table again. Lara had always been the first person in your little group to say yes no matter who asked to go out, she was always the type who just wanted to have a good time after all but she was also aware that you never asked to go and hang out like this unless you were going through something. As much as she wanted to ask what was going on though, she respected your space, you would tell them whatever you were thinking of when you were ready.

"So anything interesting happen?" she asks cautiously as you grabbed one of the cue sticks from the side as well as some chalk for your hand so it would glide smoothly between your fingers.

"A lot" you answered her dryly, as you leaned down and onto the table. You shifted your thoughts from the Latina woman to focus all your energy into your break at that moment and as you let the cue slide onto your fingers, you successfully broke the little triangle at the end of table, signaling the start of the game.

Lara watched you carefully, taking note of the amount of strength you put into that shot with how the cue ball rolled all over the table before she moved into a suitable position to start her turn since nothing fell into the pockets "Do you wanna talk about it?" she asks softly, like the girl was only suggesting because she was Lara Raj, and you knew that she would never force you to talk about something, hell she wouldn't even ask that kind of question to someone unless she noticed how pent up the person actually was.

You sighed as you looked over behind you right at the very booth you all were sat in that night, you didn't want to bring it up to be honest. You came here to get rid of these thoughts, to just enjoy the night for once without having to think about it even more than you already should, without actually having to go to sleep at night filled with the guilt of everything you were feeling "Am I going to be given a choice that I don't want to talk about it?"

"From me? Yeah. From the others? Highly doubt it" Lara says as she prepares to make her shot which to no one's surprise was successful.

You shook your head at her answer out of amusement because it actually was true. Lara had never been the type pry or push people into talking about things these kind of things but your other friends were an entirely different story. It wasn't that they would push anyone to tell them for the sake of drama, just that they insisted that the person needed to talk for them to understand and help even though it was too much at times, for you personally anyway "It's just about Dani" you started.

"About your weird set-up?" the girl asks as she made an attempt to pot another ball but narrowly missed it making her groan out of frustration.

You chuckled at her attempt before nodding your head at the question "Yeah."

"Have you talked to her about it?" she asks as she moved away from the table to let you make your turn.

"All the time" you answered as you made your shot with a lot more force than necessary, that didn't matter to you though since you still successfully potted a ball.

Lara could only grimace at the amount of strength you were using with each time you hit the cue ball. She was honestly a bit scared you were going to make it fly off the table and hit someone but the girl knew you were just trying to let out everything that you were feeling through the game and she was glad that you had an outlet to channel all that negative energy somewhere else but that still did nothing to ease her worry for everyone else's safety.

Lara has honestly never seen this side of you, none of your friends have actually. You have always been the person who stayed chill no matter what the situation, the type that just went with the flow and what happens, well, happens. You always stayed calm, kept a level head even when everyone else was already losing their cool at something that had happened or something they were talking about with the group.

You truthfully didn't have a care in the world about anything else other than your academic performance and other personal stuff that you didn't share to anyone even Lara herself that openly, so to see you like this was so new.

"So what has you so frustrated about it then?" she asked as you made your way across the table.

You sigh not knowing how to give an answer that question when you yourself were unsure of everything that you were feeling right now "She's just so, I don't know...confusing?"

The Indian girl just stares at you, perplexed by the answer you had given her "Do you mind expounding on that or-"

"Okay wait, I mean that- like, she does these things while we...kiss and it makes me feel things and then there's the fact she keeps updating me like she can't survive unless she does it. She's always asking me to come by her place and I honestly don't know anymore if I'm just doing this for the thrill or if there's something more and it's just so frustrating that I can't even tell her any of this because I know that she'll think I'm weird or I'm-"

"Woah, okay calm down" Lara cuts you off, surprised by how much you were actually able to tell her. She was completely fine with it, she just wasn't expecting you to tell her so much. You weren't much of an open person after all so to say that much to her caught her a bit off guard.

"Sorry" you quickly apologized as you quickly made another shot in potting a ball, this time it was unsuccessful.

Lara takes a few steps closer to you before she places a hand on your shoulder, trying to comfort you even with the simple gesture "It's alright really but really I don't think drinking this away or a game of pool is gonna make you feel any better about all this, talk to her about everything your feeling. Not just specific things that are happening in the moment, let her know I'm sure that she'll understand."

"The thing is I don't even know what I'm feeling" you answered, your voice going a whole octave lower than it usually was due to all the thoughts in your head mixing together and it caused nothing but chaos.

You were feeling frustrated all over again because of this conversation but you also knew that Lara meant no harm when she asked, it was your choice to tell her anyway. You could have chosen not to honestly, but you trusted the girl and you knew that she could help you figure out what to do. You did admit more than once that Lara gave out one of the most realistic advice in the group and you would prefer that more than comfort or reassurance that it was going to be okay honestly speaking.

"Well than answer this for me, do you have feelings for Dani?"

You looked at her, questioningly because why the hell would she ask such an absurd question in the first place "What- okay, she's hot, kind and really talented but I don't thi-"

"Y/n, calm down it was a simple yes or no question. I don't need the details, I just want you to answer it directly" Lara cuts you off once again. She really wanted to laugh at the reaction you were giving her right now but she knew you didn't need someone teasing you. You just needed a wake-up call, someone to knock you back into reality and she obviously did not want you rambling and saying something you could possibly regret later on too knowing your other friends were also there. It's only then that you start to think though, really think for a moment.

Did you have feelings for Daniela? Looking back at it all now with that thought, it could actually explain a few (A LOT) of your actions but you didn't think that you having feelings could be the actual reason. You never saw the girl in that kind of way....

Okay, never mind maybe you have.

Maybe you have imagined way more times than you'd like to actually admit. You have had those kind of thoughts but you it's not like you chose to drone on about any of them further than you were supposed to. Daniela was your best friend and it was wrong to like your best friend, hell even think of them in that kind of way.

Still, you couldn't help it when started taking notice even of the smallest details about her, it was like you could read her like an open book. From her little habits like the way her eyebrows would furrow even deeper the more she concentrated on something, the slight shift in her mood whenever someone mentioned something she didn't like, the cute way she would always stick out her tongue teasingly whenever you were taking a video and pointing the camera at her.

God, just how many things about her did you not even realize you learned about. Were you crazy at this point? To know someone better than they probably did than themselves. You didn't know, it was all just insane. You didn't know why each and every detail you found out about her made you look forward to just seeing Dani even more, maybe it was the fact you loved learning all these little things about her. What she liked and what she didn't, what she would do to simply pass the time, what kind of antics she would do during specific situations. You weren't sure but you did know one thing, the way you were feeling definitely wasn't something between friends.

"I think...I do" you finally answered the girl's question. You were still somewhat unsure actually but you having feelings did bring light to the problem in this entire situation and it actually made you realize so much.

Lara clapped lightly, a teasing smile starting to grow on her face. She figured now would be a good time to start lightening the mood between you two and she was right when she saw you just give one of your regular death stares that you gave instead of looking away and staying quiet. Though she would never admit it, that glare did scare her too since you could really kill someone with that glare "Congrats on finding out something we have all known way before you have" she said and it just made you roll your eyes at her behavior

"Shut up" you said as you pushed her away with the other end of the cue stick. She immediately dodged, not wanting to get a sudden injury.

"Alright, alright I'll stop!" she yelled, surrendering as she saw you moving closer to her with the cue stick that you were now holding with both hands.

You smiled at this and patted her head "Good."

"So what are you going to do about this now?" Lara asks, wondering how you were going to deal with this now that you were aware of this new problem that had arisen. You sighed, not knowing how else to solve this except by simply telling her.

"I guess I'll talk to her about this so we can finally stop this bullshit of a set-up"

"Finally, a good idea from you"

"Oh shut up!" you say, shoving Lara's shoulder playfully.

It had grown late into the night, no vehicles had been passing by for a bit so the streets were more or less quiet. Besides, you figured that most people would be asleep by this time anyway and that gave you the perfect opportunity to talk with Daniela.

On your way here, you had been watching as the neighborhood which was lit up with bright lights that had nearly blinded you a few minutes ago slowly went out one by one, turning into a chilling darkness. Only a few still had signs of life in them, including the one you were sitting in front of which obviously was none other than Daniela's place.

You had sent the girl a text on your way here that had you wanted to talk but you never mentioned about what, much to her dismay. Hell, you even told her that you weren't going to waltz in her place like you usually did because what you were about to talk about was definitely going to be quick so here you were.

You knew that after this conversation with her the dynamic that you two had would change into something unrecognizable and you honestly had no hopes that you two would go back to the way you guys used to be after everything. Then again, you weren't doing this to salvage your relationship with her, you were doing this because you just wanted to get this over with and end this fucked up mess.

You just sat there for a few minutes, waiting for the inevitable to happen. You had texted the girl a few minutes ago that you had already arrived so you were expecting the girl to be out in a few moments. When you did hear the door open and her foot steps that slowly came closer to you, you didn't even bother looking back. You just stared at the road ahead, your hands supporting your upper body as you had placed yourself in a leant back position.

With how relaxed you looked no one would have expected that the conversation you were going to open up about was going to be one of the heaviest conversations you were ever going to have in your life "Hey" Daniela greeted you.

You hummed, acknowledging her presence as you enjoyed the peace and quiet the night had brought. To you, the chilling night wasn't something to be terrified of, it was more like one of the only times you could have the peace and quiet that your heart craved to be.

For Daniela though it was the total opposite, she's always felt unease in the darkness, which is why she always had some kind of light on and right now that unease didn't go away, it heightened even, she was puzzled and she was definitely on high alert. While she was used to you showing up to her place out of nowhere, that didn't mean she wasn't scared with the way you texted her with such a serious message. What was so important that you needed her to come out of her own home just so you two could be alone?

She took a deep breath in just to try and calm her nerves down a bit but as she did, she could smell the distinct scent of the alcohol you had drunken earlier, catching her off guard. Daniela then turned to you just to confirm if the stench was really coming from you and that only confirmed her suspicions when the smell became stronger "Are...you drunk?" she asked, curious. You never went out and drank without her, ever.

"A little" you replied, plainly. You didn't bother to hide it and you didn't care if she found out whether you drank or what and she wasn't used to this. You always asked her first if she wanted to come, you always went to her first. Everyone knew that Daniela was your go to person whenever you wanted to hang out, so what was going on? Why didn't she ask you this time?

The girl just shakes her head, disappointed by your actions but she knew that you didn't come here just to be scolded by her. She could only sigh and just get straight to the point, she knew it was already so late and that in your current state you should be getting home as soon as possible to rest, plus her parents could get mad at her for being out here so late "So what did you wanna talk about?" she asks.

"I think you already know why I came here, Dani" you said as you slowly turned your head toward her. She wasn't looking at you and you knew exactly why. Daniela knows your mannerisms and she knows that you aren't the type to actually look someone in the eye. So, the Cuban girl opted to stare at the road too, she knew there was no way on earth you would look at her eye to eye even with such a serious conversation at stake and she would never force you to do.

Still, you watched the way her brows furrowed at your words because she really had no clue on why you wanted to talk to her "I don't though" she says.

You just sighed, you weren't that surprised that Dani was this dense to be honest, but you still had some kind of hope that you wouldn't have to spell it out to her. It was obvious after all why you had come here "Alright then, it's about this stupid set-up we have" you tell her and it comes out a bit harsh. A kind of tone Daniela has never expected to hear directed at her, especially from you.

Daniela turns to you, slightly bewildered but she doesn't take your tone seriously "Why? I thought you liked it?" she says, a small teasing smile starts to show on her face.

You know that the girl was completely oblivious to your seriousness and that she doesn't realize you were completely done with the entire thing. This wasn't funny to you anymore and this wasn't just some everyday thing that happened because of stupid hormones. This entire situation was becoming real, too real and you needed this to end before it got in the way of too many other things in your life.

You were exhausted enough as it was, you didn't need this draining you even more than it already has "At first I was, but Dani we both know we crossed a line that night. A line that none of us ever should have crossed in the first place, you know that I've never had a girlfriend and still decided to go through with it, why?"

Daniela is taken aback by your answer and it's only then that it finally dawns on her the seriousness of this conversation that was taking place but if she was being honest she didn't know herself why she initiated it. It was a decision purely out of whim "Well I thought it'd be fun and I don't know? Just to get it over with?"

Your expression darkens, you expected a much better reason than that. You already knew prior to this that there was no salvaging what you guys had after this talk but you didn't think the reason that she started all this would actually be this stupid. What was all this to her then? "What the actual fuck? Are you saying that this was all some sort of sick game?"

"Y/n no, that's not what I said-"

"Except it is Dani, it is exactly what you're trying to say. Did you find fun in the fact you took one of the most important experiences in my life just because? That is so fucking messed up"

"No, I don't know why okay, I just. I wasn't thinking and you seemed to enjoy anyway so I gave it, isn't that what you wanted?"

"Dani, I said all that because I knew you that wouldn't, I never expected you to actually go through with it and okay...maybe I did enjoy it for a time. Until it was all becoming too real."

"What the hell do you mean by that?" Daniela asks because she doesn't get it, she doesn't understand why you were telling her all this, why now were you having second thoughts.

You let out a frustrated huff at that because you didn't know if the girl was just playing dumb or what, could she really not read the room? "For fuck's sake Avanzini, I think I have feelings for you!" you screamed out. You didn't care who would hear what you said, you didn't care about the fact you two were just outside her house fighting by the side of the road.

You just needed to get it out there because you know if you waited just a bit longer, you would lose yourself. You didn't want this to consume you anymore than it already has and you couldn't carry the weight of it all any longer.

Daniela was shocked by this revelation because you both had promised that this wouldn't happen, that it never would. You swore you would never fall, hell you were the first person to say it, to mention that if any one of you fell, they'd be stupid but here you were "Y/n..." she says, her voice cracking by how stunned she was by the sudden confession.

Daniela doesn't know how to take it, she doesn't know how to respond. She doesn't want to hurt you with reality that she doesn't like you back but she also doesn't want you to be led on. You knew that, from the start you did and still fell and it was stupid because you knew that she would never see you that way.

"I know...I swore that I never would but the longer this kept going, the longer I felt so confused by all these thoughts and...the longer this kept going the more I questioned myself on why I let you do it in the first place. I just can't do this anymore Dani, I can't keep pretending that this is nothing to me" you said. You knew that you were just adding oil to the fire you had just set with those next words but it was either that or let yourself explode if you kept it to yourself any second longer.

The Cuban girl was frozen in place, processing everything you had just said. She didn't expect you of all people to suddenly confess their feelings to her like this and she didn't know what exactly to do about it "I'm going back in" she said, quickly getting up from her position as she went back inside.

You scoffed when you heard that but you had no intention of stopping her. You know that Daniela was like that by nature. You just watched her as she got up and walked inside her home before you got up and proceeded the walk back to your own. Knowing how late it was you couldn't hail a cab and you didn't have the money anyway. You could only sigh as you looked up into the night sky and quietly walked away from the place you once found solitude in.

At least you had told her.

wc: 10.1k

ctto for all the pics used here

[inseobts]

Her

sanji x fem!reader ➜ law x fem!reader

SONG | 'her' by mino || spotify || youtube || apple music

A/N | I hope the povs are well written lmao I had no idea how to do them

TAGS | past relantionship, angst (sanji), soft (law), bittersweet reunion, emotional tension, hurt/comfort

WORDS COUNT | 2.3k

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

Your POV

You feel it before you see it.

The breeze from the sea, warmer than usual. Laughter. A voice you know too well. A scent of salt and fire and spice.

Sanji.

You stop walking. The blue scarf around your neck shifts in the wind.

“Captain...” you say quietly, looking over your shoulder. Law’s standing nearby, arms crossed.

“Hm?”

“I changed my mind. I’ll wait here.”

He lifts a brow “Scared?”

You let out a short breath “No. Just… tired.”

Law doesn’t push. He nods and walks ahead.

You should’ve stayed on the Polar Tang.

But it’s too late. Chopper’s already seen you.

“Y/N!!!”

You flinch as the little reindeer throws himself into your arms “Chopper…”

Now the others notice. Nami’s eyes go wide. Usopp blinks, confused. Robin smiles kindly. Zoro frowns. Franky shouts something. Brook makes a joke.

And then... You see him.

Sanji.

He walks up slowly, stops a few feet from you. His eyes scan your face, then drop to the scarf. The blue one Law gave you.

“Hey.” he says, voice low.

“Hi...” you reply.

It’s been two years since you left the crew.

Since you left him.

He doesn’t ask how you are. He doesn’t need to. His eyes say everything.

You look away “Didn’t think I’d see you again.”

“You… look good.” he says as he eyes stops on your scarf.

You touch it without thinking “It’s warm.”

He laughs, but there’s no joy in it “Yeah. Must be.”

Sanji’s POV

You’re right in front of Sanji.

Your hair’s a little longer. You look calmer. But not happier. That's what he thinks seeing you.

But… you look good. He has to admit this.

It suits you, as always.

Your hair and the way it flows.

A part of my heart aches.

You are completely out of reach.

The scarf.

You’re even matching… Sanji wonders how much you had to insist to convince him to wear it.

Sanji would have proposed it to you instead.

It suits you, that blue scarf.

But the fact that there’s another one next to it.

Bothers me, blue, side by side.

The way you two are walking, it doesn’t really fit.

It’s all wrong.

Luffy invites you to eat. Of course he does.

You agrees. Of course you do.

Why wouldn’t you? It’s just food. It’s just a table. It’s just everyone pretending we’re not broken.

Sanji brings out the food and sets down a plate in front of you.

You whispers, “Thank you.”

Sanji wants to say, don’t thank me—stay. But he just nods.

Everyone talks like nothing happened. Everyone but Sanji.

Law stays close to your side. Sanji can see how he looks at you. Calm, steady. Like he belongs there. Like he’s your home now.

In the stories, you two spitefully whisper to each other.

I wonder if I have a place in it.

After dinner, you get up and walk to the edge of the deck. The wind pulls your scarf again.

Sanji follows you.

You turn before he can speak.

“Don’t,” you say “Don’t make this harder.”

He swallows “Do you love him?”

You hesitate. That pause? It kills him.

“I’m trying to...” you say.

Tomorrow, look good with me…

Please look good with me.

One day, let’s look good together.

Please look good with me.

He wants to take your hand. He wants to say come back. He wants to say he doesn’t look right with you. But you’re already turning away.

He lights a cigarette. The lighter shakes.

“Stay for dessert.” he says instead.

You stop. Look over your shoulder.

“…Okay,” you say “Then I go.”

He pretends he's not watching.

You’re sitting with Law now. Knees turned slightly toward him, but not close enough to touch. You laugh softly, nervously. Your hand brushes the scarf again like you’re checking it’s still there. That it still means something.

“Law,” you say with that sweet tone you used to save for him, “if you keep frowning like that, people will think you’re always mad.”

He doesn’t even look up, just shrugs “They’re not wrong.”

You giggle “It’s cute, though.”

Sanji's jaw clenches.

That’s what you say. Cute. But he doesn’t say anything back. Doesn’t smile. Doesn’t react.

Of course he doesn’t. He’s stone. Cold and sharp, like the scalpel he lives by.

It doesn’t fit you, the hard liquor.

The mean words and the soulless expression.

He doesn’t deserve that laugh. That warmth.

He doesn’t even try. He just sits there like a wall.

All Sanji can think is "If it were me… I’d be making you cry from laughing too hard, not wondering if I’m listening. I’d hold your hand like it’s made of gold. I’d kiss you like you were never meant to be anyone else’s."

He carries over the dessert tray. Not because he has to. Because it’s you.

The plate he slides in front of you has your favorite. He remembered. Of course he did.

You light up “You still make this?”

“Only when I miss you.” he says without even thinking.

Your lips part slightly. You don’t answer. Law says nothing either, even tho his hands tighten around his cup.

Sanji kneels next to the table “One bite. Just try it, yeah?”

You give in. Picks up the fork and takes a bite.

And when you close your eyes and smiles? He dies and come back to life in the same second.

“This is still the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” you say quietly.

“I could make it every day for you.” he says.

Your smile fades just a little. You look at him with those eyes… the ones that used to hold oceans for him.

“Sanji…” you whisper.

He shakes his head as he says “Don’t say anything. Just… remember that.”

But all what he really wanted to say was "If you gave me even a corner of your world again, I’d fill it with joy. I’d never leave you wondering. I’d remind you every day you’re enough."

"You think Law is safety, but I would be warmth. Then, I’ll take away half of your sadness. If you make me a place by your side."

You take another bite, not looking at him.

Law finally speaks “We’re leaving in the morning.”

Sanji suddenly stands. His chest burns.

He sees you avoid his eyes.

So he walks away before you can see the cracks.

Your POV

You feel it before it happens.

The shift in the air. The way Sanji stands. The weight in his shoulders. The quiet goodbye he doesn’t say.

He walks away like he’s used to people not choosing him.

And for a second, you just… sit there.

Frozen.

The fork in your hand feels heavy now.

The cake doesn’t taste like anything anymore.

You look up. And Law is already watching you.

His face is unreadable, but not cold. Never cold, not with you. He doesn’t ask where your heart is right now. He knows it isn’t something that can be answered with a sentence.

You hesitate “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he asks, soft but steady.

You lower your eyes “For… being a mess.”

Law leans back slightly, arms crossed “You’re not a mess. You’re human.”

You look at him again.

There’s no jealousy. No anger.

Just quiet understanding in his dark eyes. Like he already knew this might happen. Like he still trusts you anyway.

“I need to talk to him.” you say.

“I figured,” he answers simply “Go.”

You blink, surprised “You’re not mad?”

Law scoffs lightly “You think I’d want someone who keeps her feelings locked up just to protect mine?”

“No…” you whisper.

He nods once “I don’t know what you’ll say to him. But whatever it is, I believe you’ll do it with honesty.”

You swallow the knot in your throat. Stand.

You look back one last time. Law’s already looking toward the sea now, letting you go without chains.

You walk fast.

Down the steps of the Sunny, past the crates and ropes and barrels of a ship your heart still remember like it’s home. Your feet echo on the wooden deck, heart racing, scarf trailing behind you.

You spot him, lighting a cigarette, hand trembling slightly as he cups the flame.

“Sanji!”

He turns, startled.

You slow down as you reach him. You don’t speak right away. You’re not even sure what you’re going to say yet. But you had to come. That much you know.

His eyes search your face like he’s afraid he’s dreaming.

“…You didn’t have to follow me.” he says, voice rough.

“I know,” you say “But I wanted to.”

You stand there for a moment, unsure. The corridor is quiet now. Only the sound of waves and your heart beating too fast.

Sanji looks surprised you’re still here.

He slowly lowers the cigarette between his lips. Then pauses.

Then… he puts it out.

Without a word, he presses it against the railing and tosses it into the small bucket near his feet.

You notice. Of course you do.

“I still hate that smell.” you say softly.

He chuckles under his breath “I know.”

You sit down beside him. Close, but not touching. You hug your knees to your chest and stare at the stars.

For a few minutes, it’s just the two of you and the silence.

Then his voice breaks it, raw, quiet, cracking.

“I still think about you. Every damn day.”

You turn to look at him, but he’s staring at the horizon.

“I pretended I didn’t care. I smiled, flirted, laughed with the crew. But nothing ever felt right after you left. Not food. Not mornings. Not women.” He swallows hard “I hated that now you chose someone else. That you’re here… next to him.”

He finally looks at you.

“Blue scarf, cold stare. He doesn’t fit you.”

You sigh. Not annoyed, just tired. Of running. Of hurting him.

“I feel really good with him,” you say “I like being with him.”

Sanji blinks, face twisting for just a second “But do you love being with him?”

His voice is sharp but shaky.

“You used to say you loved being with me. You remember that?”

You look away.

“I remember,” you whisper “I truly loved being with you. I’m not denying that.”

You meet his eyes “I loved you, Sanji.”

That stops everything.

His lips part “…Loved.”

His voice is nothing but breath. Like the word alone is a blade.

You nod slowly “Even if I don’t use the word love when I talk about Law doesn’t mean I feel bad with him. Or that I’m using him to get over you.”

You tuck your face into your knees, trying to hold it together.

“It’s been years since we broke up,” you say into your arms “And I just got with Law. I’m not trying to rush it. I don’t want to make him feel uncomfortable. I’m trying to give him time for these things…”

You lift your head, just a little.

“…But Sanji… I do love him. A lot, actually.”

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak.

Just looks at you like the wind got knocked out of him.

Your heart hurts seeing his face like that. You didn’t want this to be cruel. You just wanted to be honest.

His shoulders drop.

And then he smiles.

Not the flirty one. Not the fake one. The sad one.

“I get it,” he says quietly “I really do.”

You stare at him “Sanji…”

He shakes his head gently “I just want you to be happy. I was stupid enough to hope it might be with me again.”

He reaches out and tucks your hair behind your ear, soft like always.

“Guess I was right about one thing.” he says.

You blink “What?”

“That blue looks good next to you,” he grins a little, “but if it makes you feel safe, then… maybe that’s what matters more.”

Law’s POV

You’ve been gone for a while.

The wind shifts. The sea makes its usual music… constant, indifferent.

Law waits on the edge of the ship, arms crossed, leaning against a post. The scarf you left flutters gently at his neck. It still holds your warmth. Your scent. Not fully his yet, but familiar enough to ache.

He doesn’t need to hear your words to know how it ended.

Sanji’s not crying. But he looks like he might. His hands shake just slightly when he pulls out another cigarette. He lights it this time.

And you walk back.

Slowly.

Like you’re walking away from something that once felt like home.

You don’t say anything when you reach Law. Just leans against the rail beside him, silent, eyes on the ocean.

He doesn’t even have the heart to ask.

You finally speak.

“You were right,” you say “I just had to be honest.”

He glances sideways “And?”

Your voice is soft “I told him I loved him once. I don’t anymore.”

Seems like you have more to say, so he just waits.

“I told him I love you now.”

His chest tightens, not with surprise, but with something heavier. Something real.

You don’t look at him when you say it. You’re trembling a little. Arms crossed over yourself.

So he takes off the scarf and gently wraps it around your shoulders instead.

“You’re cold.” he says.

You look at him finally, eyes wide.

He shrugs “You always think so much, you forget to notice when you’re freezing.”

A faint smile tugs at your lips. Your eyes are glassy.

He hates seeing you cry. But he knows it’s okay if you do it now. This time, it’s not because you’re lost. It’s because you’ve found something worth holding onto.

He doesn’t say I love you back. Not yet.

But he knows he doesn’t need to. He knows that’s not what you want to hear right now.

He just stay. He will always stay. He will always be there.

And so do you, Y/N.