#theta reader

[m1d-45]

look, don't touch

summary: a minor mishap in the lab leads to a chain of.. interesting events with the second harbinger

word count: 4.8k

-> warnings: reader is badly burned + mentioned blood + somewhat graphic description of injury, dottore + his reputation, you think you're going to die at one point (not serious, in passing, you don't)

-> gn reader (you/yours) and non-canonical segments

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

you weren’t an earnest follower in celestia by any means, but if they could get you out of this then you would happily spend the rest of your life devoted to being a pastor.

mostly because that’s the only way you’d live to see the light of day again, but that was besides the point.

on a good day, working for any harbinger came with a lot of challenges, but you had ended up with the most ruthless and least rational. every time you walked into the doctor’s lab, there was a healthy amount of fear that it would be your last. at least one fight was going on at any given point, trying to read their horrendous handwriting gave you a headache, the constant mood swings and volatile behavior just the tip of the iceberg. on top of that, you also had to deal with being dragged into every idea and whim they had; your technical job title was merely ‘assistant,’ but that was far too narrow a band to cover everything you did that wasn’t in the fine print.

like this. standing with your hands shoved deep into the chest of a skywatcher ruin drake, fumbling for a casing supposedly “just a little further,” if beta’s continued pressuring was anything to go by. he was standing somewhere behind you, theta on the other side of the drake trying to figure out how to pry off the thick bolts sticking out of its spine. theta you could understand. he was mostly machine himself, so it made sense he’d be the one to pull apart the touchier components, but beta? beta, fussing with the wings of the drake, doing a whole lot of nothing while you shoved your very human and non-replaceable arms into a tangled mess of gears and wiring. you’d already gotten burned once, a thick droplet of oil falling onto your wrist from above that theta apologized profusely for, and you weren’t eager to do so again.

sure, if your arms did get ripped from their sockets you’re fairly certain you’d receive prosthetics in return, but that didn’t excuse anything. just because they were capable of amazing feats of science didn’t mean you wanted to be another test subject.

“you can do it,” beta ‘encouraged,’ leaning on your shoulder and not at all making it more difficult to strain for the part he wanted. “you saw the plans.”

of course you did, you were the one that had insisted he look them over again before ripping into the machine. behind the chest plate, behind the core, straight to the back was a wide bundle of wires. in the very center was a segmented strip of chained together casings shaped vaguely like dumbbells, supposedly easy enough to pull out. what was inside? who knew. probably beta. you’d found the wiring just fine—not just fine, you’d scraped yourself along far too many gears and raw edges to be entirely intact—but there was nothing inside it. you picked out the thinner wires one by one, and while you’d succeeded in finding the structure they were supposed to be in, it was empty. yanking it up had rewarded you with a bruise on your forearm and nothing in the slot below it, so you fed it back down and prepared to pull.

“please behave yourself, beta.” theta’s voice comes from higher than it was last time, a loud bang from above you reverberating through the entire machine. you try not to think about it.

“i’m supervising-”

“i’m supposed to be supervising,” you interrupt, gripping two bars of the structure and preparing yourself. “i don’t get paid enough for this.”

you breathe, your grip tightens, and you pull with everything you have. above you, something pops, and the frame in your hands is suddenly very slack. you don’t even have a chance to feel for the capsules before something hot and burning poured on your arms, a thick oil that clung to your skin and refused to leave. beta moved quicker than you could think, grabbing your sides and practically carrying you away from the machine. the sludge was forming a wide pool on the floor now, a dark lumpy black that stretched all the way up to your elbows and made you painfully aware of that fact. beta had grabbed a roll of mechanic’s towels and roughly wiped off the excess, the drag of the napkin on raw skin making you hiss. it left a reddish residue behind, though the sight of your hands quickly blurred with tears.

“theta, we’re leaving.” beta puts one hand between your shoulders and quickly pushes you out of the project room, a sliding door opening into the upper lab. you blink out your tears as best you can, mostly relying on beta to guide you past the maze of tables and machinery. this section of the lab didn’t have a medbay since the segments allowed up here never needed one, so it meant you had to walk all the way down to the lower lab for first aid. how fun. you weren’t keen on letting this stuff stay on you for any longer than it had to, but since when was any dottore known for his safety measures?

even in your limited vision, you see more heads turn toward you than usual as the door hisses open. beta don’t stop to pay them any attention, walking you straight through to the door marked with a red cross, hand tightening in your shirt when you stumble on the slight step.

“careful,” he says, like you’d ever be in this situation of your own accord.

the faucet hisses and so do you, gritting your teeth at the pressure on your hands. you blink rapidly, struggling to find the soap before he puts it right in front of you, pressing down the top and letting it fall into your hands. your skin is bubbled and angry, shaking hands and blurred vision making it impossible to figure out where anything was. instead of doing anything remotely helpful, beta just stands at your side like the world’s worst lightpost, providing no insight and only unnerving you further with his presence. the only indication he’s not lost in some manic daydream is occasional mumbling, though that may actually be evidence the more you think about it. you’re not sure how much time passes, just running water over your skin to stave off the pain. eventually, he sighs, “fine, i’ll go,” a nonsensical statement you almost don’t notice wasn’t meant for you before he speaks a little louder.

“i need to go, but i’ll get kappa for you.”

like he wasn’t already there to see you walk in. “sure.”

he lingers, then leaves. you continue washing cold water over your skin to keep the burning at bay, knowing full well its a superficial solution. best case, you’re burned severely and are either fired for incompetence or made to work through it. worst case, whatever chemical that was made its way into your bloodstream through one of the many scrapes you got and you were about to drop dead from a heart attack any moment now. neither option was rather thrilling.

your palm can’t take much more of the water pressure, but the thought of trying to twist the valve off is equally unappealing. pain, or slightly adjacent pain: a typical day in dottore’s lab. you never thought you’d be on the receiving end.

the door doesn’t creak as it’s pushed open, but the sound of boots on the floor gives it away. who you can only assume is kappa turns off the water, blotting up the excess on your arms with a soft towel that still felt too harsh.

“i know, i know…”

you watch through blurred vision—was that the cause of your headache, or was it the stress?—as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small tin. he moves delicately, barely a whisper across your skin as he spreads the salve over your arms. soft gel pads his fingers, a cushion of translucent silicone over everything sharp edge or hard plate. you could barely pick out the seams between the layers of his hand, each of them slipping and melding together in one fluid movement. the salve leaves a cool numbness wherever it touches, your pain swiftly becoming a faint memory. you’re somewhat surprised by how quickly it works, though you probably shouldn’t be. if they could figure out delusions, they could figure out an effective topical pain reliever. he gently twists your arm just enough to see if he’s missed anywhere, not pulling any of the irritated skin. once satisfied, he makes quick work of wrapping it, white bandage spiraling up your arm faster than you can blink. he tapes it shut just below your elbow, and the process begins anew.

there’s not much else to do but watch him work. your tears are finally starting to recede enough that you can see clearer, gauging the damage on your arms. it’s… well, terrible, if you’re being frank, skin peeling and blood smearing into the pale beige salve. you're definitely going to blister, and there’s no way you’ll be able to so much as pick up a pen in this condition. hopefully prime accounts for that when he decides your next shifts, though anything you do is realistically going to hurt. you’re pretty useless like this, even as a proper supervisor you couldn’t exactly take notes. you don’t have an ancient supercomputer in your brain like kappa or theta, and even the most basic of tasks involved your hands. no matter how good kappa’s medicine, there’s no way you’ll be in well enough shape by tomorrow.

“you’re worried,” kappa says, neither a question or a statement. an explanation, maybe, but to who?

“pardon?”

he ‘looks’ up (you’re fairly certain he only does that for your benefit) though his hands don’t pause, the red diamond on his face plate pulsing faintly. like his hands, the seam between black metal and bluish silicone is so small it might as well not be there. the silence stretches for longer than you know what to do with, long enough that he finishes with your arm, wiping off his hands on the towel from before. “your shirt has holes in it,” he says like it explains anything, ‘looking’ back down to wrap your hand. you’re able to watch this time, the roll weaving around your fingers and hand before being quickly spun along your arm, perfectly taut. he cuts it with his nail and tape dispenses out of his thumb to seal the end. he lingers there for a moment, thumb pressed on your inner elbow, before finally backing away. “you should change. there’s a closet behind you that should contain a spare shirt if you’d like."

you look down, noticing that he’s right. some of the goop splashed onto your shirt, leaving a smattering of holes. the skin beneath was fine, thankfully, but he was right. definitely not lab-safe, though not many of the actual substances you worked with were safe either. you were surely under-qualified to be handling khaenri’ahn machinery.

that’s beside the point. you turn around, finding the cabinet he’s talking about easily. shirts, pants, even a spare set of shoes. they seem to be mostly for the younger segments, but you pick out a shirt your size easily enough. you check behind you, seeing kappa turned away politely, and carefully pull off your shirt. you put it aside, silently thanking whoever decided to leave the shirts unbuttoned in the cabinet. probably kappa. it’s softer than you expect it to be, smooth blue that you’d almost mistake for some sort of fine silk if you didn’t know how resilient it was. every one of the segments wore them, fire, acids, and even beta’s occasional scalpel all deflected as if they were never there. it probably would have survived the corrosive from earlier, really, which makes you a bit bitter. the buttons close easily even with your limited dexterity, leaving neither bumps nor gaps down the front because prime was too good to be caught with a straight shot to his heart. if he was worse at his job it might be easier to be upset, but you couldn’t feel anything but begrudging respect about the man that hid a tie in the cuff to keep the sleeves secure around your elbow.

not for the first time, you wish you were given your own designated set. that would mean acknowledging you as more than an assistant, though, and prime seemed to be allergic to calling you even that. it was always either your name or ‘help’ with such a specific lilt that you couldn’t even describe it, something unique to whatever thoughts bounced between the precious few marbles still left in his head.

you liked to think you were more than just a standard helper. if nothing else, then the fact that you’d been working with him for as long as you had with your sanity intact had to mean something. according to rumors of payroll records from the ninth’s workers, the longest a previous assistant had lasted was barely a week over six months, and you had survived in this lab for more than a few years without getting fired, killed, or worse.

that could always end today, though. ruin drakes were endemic to sumeru and had to be carried across half of teyvat to make it to prime’s door, let alone the time spent finding and disabling them. failing a simple task on the first day was likely a perfectly fine reason to have your head on a pike. never mind that it wasn’t your fault, that it wasn’t your idea, or that you were grossly underqualified to supervise disassembly of khaenri’ahn machinery in the first place. since when was any segment known for his rational thinking and level-headed nature? fun joke.

you pick up your discarded shirt and thumb one of the many holes with a sigh. the edges were coarse and likely would only worsen in the wash, so there goes your uniform. the least of your worries, really.

“prime wants to talk to you,” kappa starts, drawing your attention towards him. his hands are folded neatly in front of him, mechanical voice slow and almost hesitant. you never knew a segment to be unsure of himself before, though you suppose prime is as good a reason as any. “but i can tell him you need rest. i understand today has been stressful for you.”

that was one way to put it. putting off talking with prime and going back to your quarters to avoid the problem for twelve hours sounded ideal, but you weren’t a fool. if prime was asking you to see him immediately after the incident, he had something to say, and denying a harbinger was a surefire route to whatever afterlife awaited you.

“thank you, but i’ll go see him now.”

his shoulders visibly fell, but he nodded. you dropped your shirt in the trash can as you followed him out, again ignoring the various other segments scattered throughout the lab. none stopped whatever they were doing, but you could feel their eyes on you, see their blue hair twist in your periphery. they’ve probably seen injuries far worse, and yours were already covered up… it was probably kappa, really. he rarely left phi’s side for any longer than he had to.

kappa input his access code without looking. or, you could only assume he wasn’t looking; even though his head was turned toward you, it didn’t mean anything. which was worse, that he could act without looking like he was, or that he acted like he needed to look?

his finger hesitates over the enter key. “you’re nervous,” he says again, this time actually feeling like it was directed at you. you never asked about before and probably never will. “he doesn’t seem upset at you.”

you bite your tongue to keep from being mean. you know he means the best—he was literally coded to be an empathetic caretaker—but prime wasn’t known for broadcasting his heart on his bloodstained sleeves. he could seem anything he wanted and it never had to reflect what he was actually feeling.

“thanks,” you reply instead, and he nods, the door sliding upward with a hiss.

the upper lab is empty. all the equipment is still there, of course, glassware and sealed jars littering the countertops, but all of the chairs are pushed in and vacant. nobody besides you walks along the tile, and the hallways beyond this section are empty too. stretches of white floor and steel doors your only company, the fluorescent lights buzzing above you.

it’s unnerving. have you written a will yet?

you turn to the right, towards prime’s office. it looks like all the rest, with a clear plastic bin hanging next to it and a keypad below that. you knock with your entire fist, two bangs that are a little too loud on your end but likely barely audible on his. his doorway is a foot thick, a well-defined border between the harsh lighting of the hall and his deceptively welcoming office.

whoever the fatui hired as interior designer deserved a raise. a nearly black wood bookshelf covers the entire left wall, volumes packed together with remarkable efficiency. on the right, a large map takes up most of the space, notes and string marking plans you don’t try to read. shelves of files and pinned up diagrams surround it in equally dense displays. the floor is a well-buffed dark wood that clicks under his heels as he rounds his desk, silent. the pristine white papers spread across his desk are the brightest thing in the room, interrupted only by the backs of the two chairs in front of his desk. he doesn’t pull one out, nor tell you to sit, only approaching you quietly. you can’t remember the last time someone dressed business casual was intimidating, but there’s a first time for everything. his gloves are a thick mystery fabric that barely a suggest a touch on your arm, blue palms carefully following the bumps and valleys of the bandage. you raise it, letting him inspect kappa’s work wordlessly. he doesn’t comment on the shake to your hand you’re certain he can feel, and in fact doesn’t give much of any indication at all. his face is unreadable behind the mask, a detail you’ve yet to determine as a good thing or not.

“theta analyzed the substance that fell on you.” his voice is quieter than you’ve ever heard before, like he’s uncertain about breaking the silence. he doesn’t let go of your hand. “it was mostly oil, yes, but it also included a mixture of slime condensate and some sort of elemental anchor. his working theory is that when the core collapsed, the slime mixture first spilled into the oil line, then that burst. the anchor dissolved into the oil, releasing its energy, and the slime helped it stick.”

dottore has a reputation well known across the entirety of teyvat and beyond. he was irrational, heretical, setting up seemingly nonsensical lines of dominoes that led up to a crushing wave of death. he did not care, he did not feel, he held no mercy. his office was more mystifying than the abyss, and a non-zero amount of his subjects had chosen the latter rather than stay. within the fatui, within his very lab, this fog did not lift. even theta and his khaenri’ahn brain couldn’t reliably track the thoughts behind prime’s actions. that thought at least made you feel a little better, because there was no way in a thousand years that you could ever rationalize prime explaining himself to you.

“you have experienced, in essence, a severe chemical burn.” finally, he lets go, stepping back and turning away to dig through the files on his desk, the rustling sounding too loud after he spoke so.. did you dare say softly? your skin prickles where he touched and you don’t know what to feel.

he comes back with an inch-thick stack of stapled papers and a pen, holding out both. you don’t dare flip up the blank cover page yet. “you will stay with kappa and phi until you are better, and follow whatever treatment plan he prescribes. you will fill one of these out three times a day: at morning, at noon, and at night. am i understood?”

paperwork? was that all? a lot of it, certainly—was there even enough time in the day to complete three of these stacks?—but far less than you were hoping for, let alone expecting. regardless, you nod, “when would you like me to start disassembling the ruin drake?”

the silence stretches. you can feel his eyes on you and you’re certain the weight isn’t phantom, even despite the mask. you run over your words again, searching for fault and finding none. you’d hoped by presuming you’d be working again you might save some of his anger, but did he not want you to? was that something he expected you to know already? did he not want the drake disassembled at all? the delicate wiring was certainly ruined by the waterfall of whatever anchor he said fell on you, and even if theta had somehow managed to salvage it there was no way it could be up to par.

“what?”

ever a man of few words. his fangs catch the light and you regret talking more with every second that goes by. “i assume you can no longer run any of your tests on it, so-”

“when did i mention the drake?” he shakes his head and crosses his arms with a surprisingly neutral sigh. “i give you explicit instructions to stay with kappa, yet barely a moment later you’re talking like you’re going to do something else. here i thought you showed promise…”

his words hold no bite. his arms, though crossed, are not taut with anger. you liked to think you’d gotten pretty good at being able to read the various segments’ moods, but that meant you’d either severely miscalculated or prime was teasing you, and you couldn’t decide which was worse.

you were lost, and the silence was continuing for uncomfortably long. “i’ll.. go see him right away, then?”

you can’t keep your voice from tilting into a question, having wandered neck-deep into unfamiliar territory, but he blessedly doesn’t comment on it. he waves you away with a stiff nod and you half-bow before turning around, not stopping until you’re safely down the hall and in the main lab with two doors between you. you leaning against the cool wall and stare at the packet in your hands. paperwork in exchange for an indefinite time off proper work sounded more than uncharacteristic to you, especially when a prized machine was damaged in the process. you turn over the pen kept beneath your thumb, seeing the ink inside slosh around within the glass chamber. it was one of his pens, not the standard practically indestructible ones kept around the labs. maybe that was why you were thrown off, he just really lost it this time. was this the calm before the storm?

you don’t stick around to find out.

the upper lab is still empty, an eerie feeling following you as you walk past the lines of tables and equipment. all of the actual chemicals are put away, which is a little reassuring, but it’s still wrong. even if the others are out, at least theta is normally sat at his desk. you walk a little quicker.

kappa is obviously awaiting your arrival, only idly watching phi mesh together gears on the floor—isn’t that a safety hazard for someone so young?—and perking up the moment you walk in. he waves you over to him, sitting on a large couch in phi’s play area. you cross the striped tape and enter the protected space, feeling only slightly like a criminal seeking sanctuary. kappa is sitting with feet propped a small coffee table in front of him, one you set down papers and pen on before joining him.

he notices the different pen. you can tell by the way his glance turns into a stare, ‘eye’ locked onto it with a slightly brighter glow. he sits dead still, transfixed… then his chest rises in another faux breath, his attention shifting to you instead. “see? not too bad.”

“i have to complete three of those a day.”

his head tilts, smile growing. “i’m glad to see he’s finally acting in accordance in his thoughts.”

before you can even begin to dissect whatever that meant, phi calls his attention from the floor. kappa’s eye flashes as he takes his feet from the table, standing.

“forgive me, i have to go. why don’t you get started on your paperwork?”

there it is. you almost forgot he was an identical copy of the guy who made you dig through a ruin machine because ‘it’ll be good work experience.’

you settle the stack of paper on your lap, uncapping the pen and flipping away the cover page to reveal the dense form beneath. your name, easy enough, then the date below that. next was the… approximate time of injury? why had he given you an incident report? he probably slipped it in on top of the other stuff for filing purposes, though you don’t know why when he would have gotten all of that information from theta. maybe he wanted to see if you’d lie? you may have willingly signed up to work under him, but you weren’t so stupid as to lie to a harbinger.

you described what you saw as best you could while not having any sort of medical training beyond ‘blood should stay inside the body,’ then treatment from kappa. your hand was already beginning to ache a bit from having to hold the pen, but it was tolerable enough when the page was finished in less than a minute. you let it relax a bit as you flipped the page, skimming the questions. your name, of course, then the date…

you flip the first page back to double-check what you already knew. they were the same. did he think you’d run out of space? it couldn’t be a fluke, surely—was one for kappa? questions fill your head, ones you ultimately decide to shake away. whatever the case, you didn’t need to touch this page, so you moved onto the next.

the next was the same. so was the next. you used your thumb to flip through the entire stack rapidly, confirming that yes, the entire packet are one-page incident reports, what’s going on? prime’s not careless enough to make a mistake like this. maybe beta, trying to one-up his past brilliant idea by sabotaging your work, or perhaps the goop had sprayed up to theta and fried his circuits.

“uh, kappa…”

he looks up from the elaborate string of gears phi has set up, smiling. “are you done? if you are, you should come over here and see what phi’s made.”

the younger boy visibly perks up, red eyes shining. his hands tap against the floor eagerly, “would you? please?”

you pointedly look at the stack, peeling up half of it so kappa can see your dilemma, but he only laughs in response. “come, dear. let’s leave that for later.”

you hesitate, unsure. there’s no reason kappa would have to lie to you. he has a direct line to prime in his head and was probably told to make sure you stayed on task, so… if he doesn’t see a problem with it, then that must mean this is how it’s meant to be, right? carefully, you set down the stack on the coffee table, capping prime’s pen and leaving it on top. prime had, for whatever reason, given you an unexpected out.

so you take it.

[parasocialbutterflyimagines]

Parasocial masterlist

You are responsible for your own media consumption beyond reading the warnings of a text. If you don't like something, please don't read it. If you don't want to see my posts, please block me.

I am very new to writing in general and am open to suggestions for improvement, but hate comments without purpose will be removed.

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[smol-dragon]

Frank loved you.

In his own weird way, the man was head over heels, enraptured by you and everything you did without ever realizing it. It wasn't his fault, he couldn't help it! You had just managed to catch his attention, was he really to blame for the escalation of his feelings each trial with you brought? How every taunt had begun to become more flirtatious, how your chases felt more playful than threatening. He knew that you knew too, why else would you stop after you threw a pallet down over his head to blow kisses at him? Why else would you waste time you could've been running just to laugh in his face?

You had to be doing this intentionally, making the man's heart ache in ways it hasn't since before the Fog. You were trying to throw him off of his game, surely! You had to have been, why else would you tease him so relentlessly?

At first he had tried to reason that you did this with everyone, that the other members of the Legion would reassure him that this was just your usual behavior, but he was surprised to learn you weren't. You treated everyone else like a regular killer, you didn't even spare them a second glance. He didn't know whether this fact pissed him off or made him happy to know what the both of you had was special.

He wasn't sure what to make of it, wasn't sure if it was just something you would do until you got bored, but he decided he'd play along for as long as you did. He'd never speak upon whatever weird arrangement between the two of you, fearing for its end otherwise, but he would allow you luxuries no one else saw.

If he cornered you, he wouldn't kill you like a lamb thrown to the wolves. He wouldn't brutalize you or make you suffer as you died; hell, he'd even give you the hatch sometimes if you seemed too down in the dumps. He would caress you and hold you close to him, breath you in and cling to you like a lifeline he never knew he needed. You saw Frank for the person he once was, a man barely holding himself together and trying to deal with the fucked up cards he was dealt. A man that craved familiarity, a man that wanted to be loved.

Even if he never took his mask off around you, he did everything he could to make you feel special. Even if it was simple acts within trials, he'd do them- when it was just the two of you, of course.

He would never say those three special words, but you knew. You knew that he loved you, in his own weird way, in a way that only a killer could. Never enough to stop the cycle, but always enough to make sure it was painless. You were both condemned, the least he could do was make the cycle of hell a little more enjoyable; however brief that was.

[jen-with-a-pen]

⊹-୨୧-⊹𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐏 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓⊹-୨୧-⊹

⊹–SUMMARY–⊹ Inexperienced and still freshly-traumatized by his first heartbreak, Steve Rogers decides to finally move away for college after taking two gap years to work, save, and help his Ma around the house. It’ll be good for him. Away from his ex. Away from his hometown. He's excited to finally chase his dreams and begin again as a promising fine arts student at Richards College. Well, almost. Thanks to a generous scholarship spanning the next four years of his life, Steve is required to participate in on-campus Greek life. It’s simple: join a frat. They shouldn't be too intimidating. At least they're not as bad as they are in the movies, right? Right..?

⊹–PAIRINGS–⊹ Art Student!Frat Brother!Steve Rogers x Film Student!Sorority Sister!F!Reader

⊹–WARNINGS–⊹ more to be added as series progresses frat bros being frat bros, sorority sisters being sorority sisters, manipulation, coercion, blackmail, fluff, angst, whump, explicit forced s3xual acts, slow burn, dissociation, nud1ty, dubcon (bordering noncon), forced drvgging, mentions of kidnapping, emotional damage, Steve's just trying his best, Bucky and Sam are major frat bros, Tony and Clint are somewhere I swear The warnings listed here are not exhaustive but generally encapsulate the series as a whole and do not represent every single chapter. Please be mindful and read the chapter warnings!

Read this fic on AO3!

The Richards College Playlist

Steve's Playlist

any art featured in the series title header and story-specific dividers was found on pinterest and is used in good faith. all credit goes to the original artists, as i could not find accurate credit for any. collage done by me

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ALL TIED UP: STEVE'S WEEK

–⊹– One: Saturday, currently.

–⊹– Two: Last Monday.

–⊹– Three: Last Tuesday.

–⊹– Four: Last Wednesday.

–⊹– Five: Last Thursday.

–⊹– Six: Saturday, still.

–⊹– Seven: Last Friday.

–⊹– Eight: Saturday, again.

–⊹– Nine: Saturday, again.

[madamemachikonew]

The Certainty of Chance (Theta Segment x Reader) - Chapter 2

Don't know why AO3 links aren't showing the preview anymore on here when you try to embed hyperlinks, but here you go anyway if you want to copy-paste it:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/59132785/chapters/168278836

After the wax museum, Theta takes you for a little drink.

(looking like this will be closer to 3-4 chapters rather than 2)

Rating Mature

[luumiinaa]

“pretty sure she called you single”, BURN🤣

[7:37 pm]

(cw: f!reader, a few curse words, no hate at all to business majors xx)

“Baby! Come on you know I didn’t mean it!” Fratboy!Jaehyun calls out with a laugh in his voice.

“You called me stupid, Jaehyun,“ You pout.

He fails to hide his laugh at the sight, "No, I said don’t be stupid. There’s a difference.”

“And there’s a difference between being single and having a girlfriend, asshole,” you reply, slamming the door behind you.

You stomp down the stairs and almost make it to the door when Taeyong, your favorite of Jaehyun’s frat brothers, asks if you were going to stay for dinner. You can never say no to him.

In the kitchen you help him chop vegetables before he finally asks you what happened, “I told Jaehyun I couldn’t spend the night because I had a big project due by Monday and he told me there was no way a project for my major would constitute me not being able to spend the night. Then he just kept talking and said that none of my classes could be harder than his.”

Taeyong stopped with wide eyes, “he said that?”

You nod quickly, “Oh yeah, then he told me that he doesn’t think any major would be harder than his business classes, especially mine, and I’d be stupid to think so.”

Taeyong ends up agreeing with you and your current upset state, Jaehyun is officially in the wrong. You can feel your phone in your pocket vibrating with texts from Jaehyun but you don’t care enough to text back. He can learn from the consequences of being rude.

When the meal is finally ready, you take a seat at the table, far away from your honorary seat at the dinner table, the seat that was right beside Jaehyun’s.

Jaehyun walks into the room and sees you sitting beside Taeyong and Haechan, “Really? You’re still butt hurt? You didn’t answer any of my texts, I wasn’t sure if you were safe.”

You make it a point not to look at him, so Haechan answers for you instead, “You have her location and you made her feel bad, she doesn’t owe you anything.”

Jaehyun glares at the younger man, he could be so annoying sometimes. While he ate, Jaehyun’s eyes were glued on you with a scowl watching you laugh and interact with everyone but him. He looked like a child who was forced to share his favorite toy, it was hilarious.

While you stood in the kitchen and continued conversing with Taeyong, Jaehyun slipped in and wrapped his arms around your waist, “are you really still mad at me baby?”

“Yes, Jaehyun,” You reply curtly, not reciprocating any type of affection like you would usually. This was new for everyone to witness, usually it was you giving the affection. It was you who initiated the hugs, used the mushy petnames, began the disgusting make out sessions. It was funny to see Jaehyun being the clingier of you two now.

He nuzzles his face in your neck, pressing kisses to the slope of your shoulder, “I’m not Jaehyun. I’m your love, your baby, your babe.”

“Not when you’re being mean.”

“I didn’t mean to say it,” he whines, hearing someone snort out a laugh in the background.

“Jaehyun, I just can’t believe you’d say that to me. You’re a fucking business major with a 2.8 GPA and I’m on the dean’s list with a 3.9. Almost all your classes are freshman level classes. Anything I do is harder than what you do,” you finally snap.

“My love, I’m sorry,” he cups your face and begins pressing kisses across your face while you still huff in annoyance in his hold.

“I don’t like it when you call me stupid or imply that I am,” You pout looking up into his eyes.

He presses his forehead to yours, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, “You’re not baby. You’re so smart and I’m the stupid one.”

Someone imitates a whipping noise and mocks, “No, I’m stupid! Me! Me! I’m so stupid!”

“Fucking whipped is what he is,” someone else chuckles.

“Would you guys knock it off, I’m trying to apologize to my girlfriend here!” Jaehyun calls out with an annoyed groan.

Another whip noise, “Pretty sure, I heard her call you single bro.”

“Did you break up?” Haechan asks hopefully, fingers visibly crossed on both hands.

“Jaehyun gets a pass this time,” you reply leaning into Jaehyun to give his cheek a kiss, ignoring the groans of the other guys in the room while he smiles happliy, “but I want flowers too.”

He kisses you softly a few times, your face still cradled in his hands while he looks you right in the eye, “then my girl is getting her flowers.”

[fruitytrollroll]

I'm writing Subsurface Circular fanfiction btw. if u even care.

[puppysuh]

SEX EDUCATION .ᐟ ( markhyuck x reader )

synopsis. mark is a virgin, the only virgin in the NCT fraternity house. it’s borderline embarrassing, so who better than to ask his roommate (who is very much not a virgin) and his overzealous girlfriend for some help?

rating. mature. (minors + ageless blogs dni)

warnings. dirty talk (bucketloads of it), voyeurism/exhibitionism, references to religion, spanking, cunniligus, meanie hyuck + inexperienced mark, humiliation kink, degrading, pet names (babygirl, baby, slut, princess), hyuck is very very condescending, mark knows most of what he knows from porn

author’s note. i have no excuse for my actions. i even winced when proofreading this because this is so so fucking dirty… but i must give the people what they want. it kinda veered away from the whole megaperv!haechan idea but i promise you he will be revisited because megaperv!haechan haunts my waking thoughts 😋 pleaseplease leave comments i love reading them hehe

might have edged @claudaze for this fic to the point where sis was fighting sleep… when you wake up n see this i hope i have done your vision justice :3 also @yvvnii commented on my original thought post for this as well 🙂‍↕️ i hope you like this baby AND @cigsaftersuh also asked to be tagged :3 should i start an official taglist… 🤔

“So… you want me to teach you how to have sex?” 

Mark Lee is in a dire situation. At the age of 22, he’s in college, taking a course in astrophysics and engineering. He’s lived a pretty normal life so far, done everything a frat brother should, except for one thing. 

Mark Lee, aged 22, has never had sex. 

It’s not something he particularly wants to be ashamed of. Given his religious nature, he should be satisfied with his virginity, should be proud that he’s saving himself until he meets the right woman. He could go on and never find a wife, and he would happily die a virgin, but he’s a frat brother, and a virgin frat brother is the last thing he wants to be. 

As of late, he’s been partying like a fool. He shouldn’t be– parties aren’t really his scene anyways– but he does anyway, hoping that at one of them, he’ll get drunk enough and finally break his chastity with a girl he’ll never talk to again. But he can’t even bring himself to drink alcohol, let alone get drunk, and every party ends with him going home early, stone cold sober and still, unfortunately, as virgin as he was before the party started. 

It’s sad. He shouldn’t be bothered by it at all, but when he sees his housemate Jaehyun bring home yet another girl (the 3rd one this week?), he gets jealous, because whilst his frat brothers are fucking like rabbits, he’s getting just as much action as a stone on the side of an abandoned highway. It’s gotten to the point where his roommate, Donghyuck, begs him to get out of the house, because he has his own girlfriend, and he can’t bring her home if his virgin roomie is wallowing in self pity under the covers every weekend. 

He doesn’t know that the reason why Mark doesn’t get any action is because he doesn’t know how to, not because he’s unattractive, because he is attractive.

The Nu Chi Theta house is one of the most popular frat houses on campus, with every girl (and even some guys too) wanting to sleep with at least one brother once in their life. There’s no shortage of hot guys in the house, and it's rumoured that to even secure a place in the house, you have to pass some kind of frat house beauty test. It’s ridiculous, and when Mark received his acceptance letter, he couldn’t believe it. He thought it would be an opening for him, a way to get invited to crazy parties and unlimited hookups, a way to finally stray from the cuffs of religion his parents were so insistent on keeping him locked up with.

What he didn’t think about, however, is how hard it would be to let go of said religious cuffs without feeling insanely guilty when he so much as strayed from the path his parents had set out for him. 

No drinking, no partying, and definitely no sex. That’s what they told him before he left, and whilst he’d shrugged it off at the time, those words followed him years later, right up until he finally decided that enough was enough. 

After walking in on Donghyuck and his girlfriend making out on his bed, he knew he had to do something, which leads him to his current situation.

“Mark, be serious with me right now.” Hyuck raises his eyebrow and tilts his head, and Mark physically curls in on himself. “You’re telling me… that you’ve never had sex because you don’t know how to?” 

“Yes, and now I’m asking you to teach me how to. I’ve seen– heard you and your girlfriend. You guys aren’t exactly… discreet.” 

“Yeah, that’s because she doesn’t want me to be discreet. She likes it when everyone knows who’s fuckin’ her.” 

Mark winces. How can Hyuck talk about you like that when you aren’t even here? He wishes that he doesn’t turn out like that, and then he remembers who he’s being taught by, and it makes him feel sick to his stomach. 

Maybe this is a bad idea. Maybe he shouldn’t be asking for help, maybe he should just find a video about it on Pornhub and try his chances from there. 

“If you’re having second thoughts, I can tell you that the hub won’t solve your problem.” It’s almost like Hyuck is a mind reader. “You’ll end up embarrassing yourself, and Taeyong will end up having to kick you out. If anyone finds out one of the NCT boys is a virgin and learnt how to fuck from the worst porn site on earth…” It's Hyuck’s turn to wince. “Look, I’ll teach you. Hands-on experience and all.”

“You mean…” 

Hyuck smiles, and Mark asks himself what exactly he’s gotten himself into. “I’ll let you fuck my girlfriend.”

You would do anything for your boyfriend. If he asked you to rob a bank, you’d hand bejewel a balaclava with pink rhinestones and shoot down the clerk with a matching gun. If he asked you to walk around campus on a leash, you’d happily get on all fours. 

So, when he asks you to start flirting with his roommate, you do so with a smile on your face. 

Mark Lee is cute. You’ve seen him around a couple of times, all baggy hoodie and reading glasses, barely saying a word to anyone and keeping to himself in his room. He’s the kind of guy you can’t help but become curious about, and one day, you ask Hyuck about him. 

“He’s kind of a loser,” he tells you between leaving kisses on your neck. “You don’t need to worry about him.” 

“But he doesn’t seem like he has a girlfriend.” You pull away and hold your boyfriend’s face in your hands. “I have a couple of friends who would drop dead at the chance to fuck an NCT guy. If he wants a girlfriend, I can get him one.” 

“It’s not a girlfriend he wants, baby, it’s sex.” 

“There’s a party next week. He can find a hookup there.” 

Hyuck scoffs. “You’re so dumb. He’s a virgin, and if he wanted a girlfriend, he wouldn’t even know how to bag himself one.” The smile he’s wearing is dangerous, and you raise your eyebrows. “Which is why…” His hands slide up your waist and slip under your baby tee. “... I need you to do me a favour.” 

That favour is the reason why you’re currently posted up against the kitchen counter in the NCT house, licking a popsicle like it’s the most delicious snack on Earth whilst staring holes into Mark from across the kitchen. You know he’s avoiding looking at you, which is why you walk up to him and tap him on the shoulder, wearing a knowing smile on your face.

“Just because Hyuck’s my boyfriend, doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. I mean, I’m friends with practically every guy here!” You widen your eyes like a doe and wrap your lips around the top of the popsicle, reveling in the way Mark gulps nervously, his Adam’s apple bobbing and eyes glued to the bright red trail of juice dribbling down your chin. “You can talk to me, y’know.” 

You take a step closer, and that seems to be Mark’s breaking point. He sharply turns on his heel and all but runs out of the kitchen, abandoning the glass of water he was nursing on the counter. You bite off the tip of the popsicle, smiling happily to yourself as you skip after him.

When Mark gets back upstairs, Hyuck is waiting for him, sitting cross legged on his bed with a smile on his face, one akin to the one you were wearing in the kitchen. You…

“I knew you’d end up running away from her. You’re more of a loser than I thought you were, dude.” 

Mark’s jaw drops to the floor. “She was in on it? And you never thought to tell me?” 

Hyuck shrugs. “She was giving you an example of how a girl would approach you at a party if she wanted to fuck you.” He eyes Mark up and down before snickering to himself. “Clearly, you failed.” 

“It was a test? And she knew?!” Mark is panicking now. His secret is basically out of the bag; you’re going to tell all of your friends that there’s a virgin in the NCT house, and they’ll tell their friends, and then he’ll get kicked out and have to live with his parents, a pious virgin for the rest of his life. 

Ironically, Mark grips the cross pendant hanging from his neck. Hyuck catches him doing it, and quirks an eyebrow. “You think God’s gonna tell you how to fuck? You have got to be kidding me.” 

“Maybe I don’t need to lose my virginity. Abstinence doesn’t sound that bad, I mean, I’ll become a priest, live in peace for the rest of my life and-” 

Mark is cut off by a sharp slap around his face. “Don’t go into religious psychosis over some pussy. I’ll still teach you, but it might be a little harder than I initially thought.” His eyes narrow, and Mark gulps again. “I didn’t think my girlfriend licking a popsicle would scare you that much.” 

“I scared him?” Mark feels like he’s just been dragged into hell by his collar, because you’re standing by the door, the popsicle and any traces of it gone from your face as you stare at him incredulously. “Oh- I didn’t mean to! I was just doing what you told me to do.” 

“And you did it very well baby.” Hyuck is approaching you, and you resume wearing that pleasant smile, allowing him to slip his arms around your waist and lead you into the bedroom, swiftly locking the door behind you. “And now, you’re gonna do something else for me.” 

Mark watches the way the two of you interact, and he hates to admit it, but he’s jealous. You look at Hyuck like he’s your everything and you’re absolutely entranced by him, gaze never breaking, even when his wandering hands slip under your skirt. He doesn’t pay any attention to the rapidly forming erection in his loose joggers when you and Hyuck start kissing, his hands full of ass pulling you closer into him. It’s borderline disgusting, the way your eyes roll back under your lids, and he really should close his eyes, but-

“D’you think he’s motivated enough now, princess?” He’s snapped out of his trance by the two of you staring at him, Hyuck’s face flushed and your chest heaving gently, lashes fluttering as you take in the sight of Mark standing there, hard as rock and red as a tomato.

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, smiling. “Should I-”

“No.” You stop in your tracks, watching as your boyfriend sits down on the bed, spreading his legs and patting his thigh as a motion for you to take a seat. “You sit down too, Mark.” He looks up at his confused roommate. “Class is now in session.” 

If Mark told himself several hours ago that he would be watching his roommate talk dirty to his girlfriend, he would’ve laughed, and then spat out his coffee. He can only watch as Hyuck pulls you forward in his lap, paying no mind to the way your skirt bunches at your hips and displays your ass in a thong that leaves little to the imagination. 

“First things first…” Hyuck looks at Mark from his side of the room, his hands stationed on your thighs straddling his lap. “You need to get the language down. It’s part of foreplay, you got that?” Mark nods. “Good. Now…” Hyuck kisses you fleetingly on the lips before looking you in the eye. “You have to tell her she’s a good girl. Most girls are into that sort of thing.

“Tell her what you wanna do to her.” Hyuck pulls your hips forward on his lap, and you groan. “Tell her you wanna fuck her, that you wanna make her feel good, better than she’s ever felt.” Your lashes flutter, and although Mark can’t see your face, you smile, wrapping your arms around your boyfriend’s neck. “See? She likes it, don’t you, pretty?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, grinding down onto him more. “Want you to fuck me.” 

Hyuck laughs. “This isn’t about you. This is about Mark.” He looks past you again at his roommate, who looks like he wants to be swallowed alive by the ground. “Are you learning anything?” 

He gulps before reciting what he’s learnt. “Talk dirty to her. Tell her what you want to do to her, that you want to…” Hyuck raises his eyebrow, a signal for Mark to continue. “...that you want to… fuck… her.” He smiles, and Mark sighs a sound of relief. 

This is difficult for him. He’s awkward, because it’s generally awkward to watch his roommate have borderline sex with his girlfriend, the same person who just gave him a raging hard on from licking a popsicle. He’s also undoubtedly jealous, because even though he doesn’t know the first thing about having sex, he wants to have sex with you, but it seems like Hyuck is doing a better job at riling you up than he ever could. 

“See how I’m touching her?” Mark redirects his focus to where Hyuck’s hands are, and it looks like he’s everywhere. “I’m not giving her what she wants just yet. I have to tease her, make her want it.” He looks back at you “Do you want it, baby?” 

You pout. “Quit teasing me!”

You’re so cute. Mark understands why Hyuck would go for a girl like you– you’re too easy; easily obeying, easily teased, easily fucked. You’re perfect for a guy with a crazy sex drive, and he’s perfect for a girl who loves to devote herself to her boyfriend. You’re a perfect couple, and Mark can feel the jealousy begin to ebb its way back into his system. 

“Don’t worry, Mark. You’ll get a turn soon enough.” Hyuck taps the back of your thigh and you nod, climbing off of his lap and onto the bed. He doesn’t have to say anything, but you know exactly what he wants you to do, pulling down your skirt and bending over on the bed, ass up in the air and head buried in the pillows. “Get over here. Look at what all those things I told you about do to her.” 

Mark almost hesitates, but when he sees Hyuck scope the meat of your ass before pulling the cheeks apart, his moves are almost robotic, and what he sees almost sends him into shock. 

He’s never seen a pussy in real life before, only in the videos, and even then he can’t bring himself to look properly. Watching pornography is basically a sin, so he only watches the censored ones, and when he comes face to face with your pussy, he feels like he’s about to explode. 

You’re still wearing your underwear. That much is apparent given the lace decorating your hips, but your cunt is so wet, it’s all but swallowed the seat of your panties, and your labia bulges around the pink fabric. It’s much more lewd in person, and Mark is frozen in his place, mouth open with no sound coming out. 

“Say something, loser. Isn’t she pretty?” 

Mark gulps before speaking. “Y-yeah.” His voice cracks, and you giggle, the syrupy sound going straight to his dick. 

“He’s so nervous,” you breathe, swaying your ass in his direction. “Such a virgin.” 

He should be embarrassed. He should really leave, let Hyuck do whatever he wants to you behind closed doors and forget this ever happened, yet he feels nothing of the sort, instead sitting down on the bed and placing a shaky hand on your ankle. “I-” 

“You what?” Hyuck sounds pissed, which is odd considering this was his suggestion. “Say something. She’s not gonna sit and wait for you forever. My girl has needs.” 

My girl. Mark gulps again. “I… I kinda wanna… eat her out.” 

Whilst you moan a little and shove your face deeper into the pillows, Hyuck claps Mark on the back, and his annoyance is replaced with a smile. “There he is! Do you want me to teach you, or do you think you got it?” 

Cunniligus is his favourite type of porn. He would rather die than admit it, but when Mark fantasises (and trust, he does), he imagines himself in between a pair of thighs, and his mouth attached to a juicy pussy. He never thought he’d get the chance, but with the way your hips sway gently, he just wants to grab onto you, pull your panties aside and-

“Do it.” It’s your voice that echoes in his head now, and he finally looks at your face. Your eyes are filled with lust and you bite down on your bottom lip, lashes fluttering as an invitation. “C’mon Markie, don’t think about it, just-” 

You’re cut off by a pair of fingers massaging your cunt. Hyuck pulls aside the seat of your thong, and gestures to your dripping arousal. “You heard her. Dig in.”

He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, because if he does, he’ll be breaking a plethora of rules set out for him since birth. This is someone else’s girlfriend, a stranger if anything, but all that fades away when he hears your reaction to Hyuck’s fingers slipping into your needy pussy. Your back arches, and you whine out like a mantra, but it isn’t the name of your boyfriend. 

It’s Mark’s name that you whine, gasping when you feel a harsh slap on your ass. “That’s not my name, pretty. Unless you want my loser roommate that bad?”

This is wrong, this is wrong, this is wro-

Mark’s lips make contact with your pussy, and he’s gone. 

He’s a messy eater, inexperienced for sure, but the feeling of his hot tongue on your folds has you collapsing into the bed. Mark’s tongue is everywhere but nowhere all at once, and when his hands come up to grip your ass, you melt into his touch. 

“There you go.” Hyuck’s voice mingles with your moans in his ear, and Mark groans. “Seems like she likes you.” For him, this is all a show, watching his loser virgin roomie tongue fuck his girlfriend. Hyuck always knew you were a slut, but he never knew you would fall this far, drool staining his pillowcase as you grind desperately onto the tongue of a guy who had never seen nor touched a pussy in his life. 

“When she’s moaning like that, it means she’s close.” Mark’s eyes flick up to his roommate, his hands still superglued to your ass and tongue still buried deep into your cunt. “Remember what I said about teasing? Can’t make her cum yet, or she’ll be too tired for what comes next.” 

What comes next? Mark’s rhythm is interrupted by Hyuck’s comment and he pulls away, licking his lips and wiping the sweat from his brow. “Do you mean…?” 

His roommate nods with a smile. “I do mean that. I’d go first but– and I hate to say this– you were so good at eating her out that if I fuck her now, she’ll cum way too early.” 

“Need it so bad…” Both boys look at you, and one scoffs whilst the other gasps. You’re a mess, probably more of a mess than Mark. Blackened tears run down your cheeks, your lipstick is smudged and drool trails down your chin as you look back at the both of them. “Want you both. Please.” 

“Both?” Mark balks. He didn’t even know that was possible. 

“What a fucking slut.” Hyuck slaps your ass and you groan, a tear running down your cheek and a dribble of arousal running down the back of your thigh. “You don’t get both regularly, but suddenly you want two cocks instead of one? C’mon, babygirl. Don’t be greedy now that Mark’s around.” 

Ordinarily, Mark would never be able to talk to anyone like that, let alone a girl, but when Hyuck says it, it sounds so natural, and your reaction is very different to what he would expect. You arch your back, eyes rolling into the back of your head. 

You like being degraded. That much is clear from the way you chase after Hyuck’s snide comments, the way you bite your lip whenever he calls you a slut. Mark raises his eyebrows. 

“She likes it when you talk dirty to her,” he whispers, looking at his roommate. “Is she… is she always like this?” 

“Always has been, and probably always will be. Why do you think she agreed to this whole thing?” Your boyfriend cards his fingers through your hair before pulling you up so that you’re flush against his chest, ass brushing against his erection through his jeans. “She wanted to humiliate herself in front of you, Mark. She wanted you to know how needy she is. For her, it was never about helping you.” Mark watches the way you shudder when Hyuck’s hand trails down your belly, fingers resting just above the peak of your clit. “Pretty girl’s always wanted to be stuffed full with another cock. And she’s always wanted it to be you.” 

Mark’s breathing is shallow. You knew he was a virgin, but you wanted him anyway, wanted to see him crumble and let himself go. 

Instead of being weirded out by this information, his lip quirks up in a smile. “Is that so?” 

Your eyelids flutter. “Y-yeah. Thought you were p-pretty.” 

His head tilts, and he’s suddenly filled with a wave of confidence. “Really? Or did you just like the fact that you would be the one to take my virginity? Isn’t Hyuck enough for you, princess?” 

The room falls silent, save for the intermingled sound of shallow breathing. Hyuck is shocked that Mark would ever say something like that, let alone use that tone, but when the shock subsides, he smiles. “Why don’t you show her how much of a slut she is?”

Mark smiles at his roommate, reveling in the way you shudder against him. “I’d love to.”

© PUPPYSUH 2025 — do not copy, repost or translate my works without permission.

[rafesteddy]

𝓕𝓮𝓫𝓻𝓾𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂

🄸 🄻🄾🅅🄴 🅈🄾🅄 🄸'🄼 🅂🄾🅁🅁🅈

𝙻𝚘𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝙸𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚆𝚎 𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚍

𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐭!𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

+18 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓓𝓝𝓘

𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔, 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝚖𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚊 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑.

cw | smut, swearing, pet names, jealousy, possessiveness, unprotected p in v, squirting, fighting, name-calling, fingering, reader tries to make rafe jealous, cyberbullying, make up sex, intox

⊹ 💌 ⁺ ˳ ✿ . ♥️ ࿐𝓖𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓗𝔂𝓪𝓽𝓽 𝓚𝓪𝓾𝓪𝓲 𝓡𝓮𝓼𝓸𝓻𝓽, 𝓗𝓪𝔀𝓪𝓲𝓲

The waves crash against the shore, a steady pulse that should be soothing, but your mind is elsewhere. You swirl your fruity cocktail, watered-down from nursing it for the last few hours, as your mind becomes consumed with thoughts of Rafe and why he hadn’t called. It hadn’t just been a day… three, to be exact. 

Rafe being busy wasn’t unusual… Greek life occupied him between meetings, events, school, and whatever else took up his time when you weren’t around. But the silence felt different this time. Deliberate even.

You open Instagram, tap his profile, and see nothing.

Topper…

You open Topper’s story, seeing your boyfriend smiling at a frat house dinner, a beer in his hand, and his phone resting on the table next to his plate of spaghetti. Your stomach twists as you think about him catching the messages you sent, seeing your face on his screen as your call comes through, choosing to let it go to voicemail. 

Your heart breaks a little more as Topper’s next story plays; Rafe packed in the back of an Uber with some friends, headed out to the bars. The following story plays from a different perspective. One row closer to the front, Rafe’s blurry face, caught in the background of her selfie. 

Kaylor Jane... Bleach blonde hair, statuesque, the type of woman who never seemed to doubt her place in the world. She’d been around before—at frat parties, lingering at different social events the boys had on campus. 

You blow out your air nice and slow, hating yourself for doing it, but you open up her profile nonetheless. 

She’s an influencer—an Alex Earle doppelgänger—with a decent following for her makeup and lifestyle posts; a mini-celebrity on campus, to say the least. 

Your stomach falls as you see the thumbnail of her evening’s Get Ready With Me—sporting an oversized Phi Delta Theta shirt. You breathe a sigh of relief, your mind instantly screaming that it’s Rafe’s, eased as you catch the year scrolled across the bottom, the shirt obviously thrifted. 

Posted 51 minutes ago | 10,657 Likes |  180 comments

@/rafecameron001: 🔥🔥🔥

You take a deep breath, trying to keep your jealousy in check, but then again, why is he commenting that? Why the hell is he on her page? Why the fuck is he commenting on her shit and not messaging you back? 

@/yourname2: ? 

“Shit,” you whisper to yourself as you see your comment below Rafe’s, angry with yourself for sending it in the first place, but now it’s too late. The last thing you were going to do was delete it. 

You log out of the app, slamming your eyes shut as you try not to let your emotions get the best of you. It was nothing scandalous—just a fire emoji, simple and vague. But your gut twists regardless. 

Rafe wasn’t the type to comment on random posts—he wasn’t even the type to browse social media. He went looking for this. Your self-control lasts a minute, tops, and when you open the app again, you see that her PFP has shifted back to pink again, making your heart and mind race knowing she uploaded another story. 

Another selfie, a dimly lit bar you recognized, packed wall-to-wall. And again, just like in the cab, you see Rafe’s blurry face posted up behind her. You bite your cheek, debating whether or not you want to make this worse for yourself as you read the caption at the bottom of the picture with a link to the Live stream on her TikTok page. 

And just like before, your curiosity gets the best of you. 

You click the link, quickly joining the live stream. Muffled music pours from your phone speakers as she and her friend lean into the camera, welcoming familiar names as they enter the room. 

Your stomach falls as you see your username roll across the feed. Her eyes brighten, glossy lips curling into a smile. 

“Ohhh, look who just joined,” Kaylor coos, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. 

Her friend sees the name as well. She chuckles cruelly, giving her friend a side eye before looking back at the screen. 

“Long time no see,” she chirps, not even mentioning your name, but you know she’s talking about you, recalling the one civics class you took together in junior year. You swallow hard, grip tightening around your phone. 

Kaylor flicks her hair over her shoulder, adjusting her Princess Polly top, her tanned tits squished between the low, swooping neckline, making the boys in the comments go insane. 

Her eyes glitter in amusement as she sees it all, reading a few comments with her friend as she laughs. 

“Wait,” she gasps, lifting her hand up to her lips. “How rude of me. You probably wanna say ‘hi’ to him, huh?” She adds, circling back to you, dragging out the last utterance like it’s a joke. 

She reaches out her manicured hand, pulling Rafe into the frame. “Rafey, babe, come here for a sec,” she purrs. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he mumbles. Rafe smiles down at her first before looking at the camera. Your chest tightens as you watch the moment unfold in front of you in real-time. 

“Say ‘hi,’” she giggles, and he finally tears his eyes away. He drops his hands to his knees, far taller than Kaylor, squinting slightly in the low lighting as he reads the comments from her thirsty viewers as they gush about him. 

@/miamibabe11: Omg he’s so hot

@/danigirl11: Ally is he your man???

@/tarahhh34231: Wait are they dating??

@/southernbellee7: He’s BLUSHING

@/stacyrae96: BIG BOY KAYLOR omg does it hurt? 

@/fallenonthefield: Does he go to FSU

@/stacyrae96: Frat boy huh? 

@/danigirl11: What’s his @

Rafe laughs, rubbing the back of his neck, cheeks a little pink in the glow of the camera. “Damn, y’all are wild,” he chuckles, clearly eating up the attention you’ve been wanting to give him. And then, Kaylor twists the knife. 

Her hand wraps around his big bicep as she leans into the frame, resting her head on his shoulder to get a better look at the comments coming in. 

“You’re fuckin’ taking my gig, Rafey,” he flirts. “They like you more than me. Why do you like him more than me?” She teases through a laugh. “Rafey… I brought you over here to say ‘hi’ to y/n, but I guess he got distracted by all these beautiful babes,” she praises her guests, making the feed flood with likes and comments again as Rafe’s expression changes slightly.

“Oh. Hey, baby,” he hums, and if you didn’t know him better, you’d think he wasn’t losing his shit completely. 

That bright smile he had plastered all over his lips falters. His strong jaw tenses, broad shoulders straightening as his eyes dart away.

“Oh, thanks, Rafe.” Kaylor’s voice is so sugary and sweet that it’s borderline smug. She reaches out, taking a cocktail from his hand before passing another to her friend. “You got these for us, right?” She asks as Rafe steps out of the frame. “Aww, thank you, love. Your boyfriend’s the sweetest.” 

Kaylor lifts the mixed drink to her lips, taking a slow sip as she bounces to the song's beat, letting the moment stretch out before striking again. “Oh shit, babe. Speaking of, I saw your little comment on my post earlier,” she says as she batts her long lash extension at the camera. “All you commented was a question mark,” she huffs confusedly, tilting her head slightly. “Did you have a question for me, or?” The chat explodes with comments—people wondering what she was talking about, wanting context and the platform so they could check it out themselves. 

@/xoxomelody: No way It was on the GRWM she replied that under her boyfriends post 💀💀💀💀

@/urfavcassie: He liked what he saw

@/nattyspams: Omg y/n leave that man

@/notannie: Omg no way this is so messy

@/officialabby: Is his gf watching?? LMAO

@/theyluvsara: She caught him red-handed

@/iloveerin08: Ally you’re EVIL for this I love it

@/cinnamongirl567: Rafe bro say something

Without responding, Kaylor blows the camera a few quick kisses, ending the Live. 

Your heart thumps in your ears as your phone trembles in your hands. You stare out at the ocean as tears shimmer in your eyes. You look down at your phone, half-expecting to see a notification from Rafe, but still, nothing comes in; not a text, not a call, nothing. 

You walk toward the bar, avoiding your little group of girls as you step around, hiding out for the moment, knowing that if anyone asked you what was wrong, you’d fall apart. 

You belly up to the bar, ordering a drink. Your body jolts as your phone buzzes against the bar top, rattling as Rafe’s face and name lights up your screen. And even though you’ve been waiting for days, you ignore it initially, wanting him to sweat it out—too stunned and too nauseous to process what had just happened. 

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

Rafe: Baby, please pick up.

Rafe: My phone died at the bar. I swear I would’ve called you sooner if I could.

Rafe: I know how bad that looked. I know. Just let me explain.

You let out a sharp, bitter laugh even if there is an “explanation” you know what you saw. The comment on her picture, the lingered gazes, that smile that has, to your better knowledge, been reserved for you and you alone. 

You stare at the messages, feeling your chest tighten. And just when you’re about to cave, another one comes in. 

Rafe: Please baby

Your jaw clenches, thumbs drumming over the keyboard, only to delete. There were a million things you wanted to say…

You: So now you text me Rafe?

You watch as he starts to type a message, then deletes it like you did. 

Rafe: You’re on a trip with your girls Princess. I was trying to give you some space so you didn’t have to worry about me.

You: Jesus Christ Rafe are you fucking kidding me? 

Rafe: What?

You: I am texting you I obviously want you to reply

Rafe: I’m sorry. I’ve been so busy.

You: Not that busy

Rafe: What are you talking about? 

You: You have not been busy enough not to reply to a text. Just stop.

Rafe: I swear baby

You: Did you know that in the time you took to send her 🔥🔥🔥 you could have said goodnight to me?

You: You let her make a fool of me on Live Rafe

He reads it immediately. Three dots pop up, then disappear. Then pop up again.

Rafe: I didn’t know she was gonna do that. I swear, I wasn’t thinking. I was just trying to be nice and then it got out of hand.

You scoff and shake your head. Trying to be nice?

You: Buying drinks for her and her friend? Laughing when everyone in the chat thought you were with her? Blushing when she flirted with you? That was you just being nice?

Rafe: It wasn’t like that

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. The worst part was that it was like that. You saw it with your own eyes. You tip your head back, trying to keep your tears in your eyes. 

Rafe: Baby? 

You: Why are you commenting on her pictures Rafe?

Rafe: Baby…

You: Answer me

You: If I go through your activity right now will I find more??? More comments like that? 

The dots appear again. Then disappear. You laugh bitterly, shaking my head. That’s what I thought.

You: You didn’t expect me to see it did you?

You close your eyes, picturing him pacing his room, stressed, running his fingers through his hair, jaw locked, fingers hovering over his screen as he tries to think of something to say that’ll dig himself out of this hole.

Rafe: We’re in the same accounting class. We’re working on a project together. She’s really nice but I don’t like her. She was wearin an old frat shirt from my house princess. It was only abt that. I was just messing around and I didn’t mean shit by it. Look at my phone you’ll see I have nothing to hide from you. Nothing. I wasn’t thinking.

You: That’s the problem Rafe. You weren’t thinking about me at all.

You stare at your screen, scrubbing away a tear as it puddles on the glass, as you wait for his reply.  

New Notification: Friend Request Kaylor Jane

Your blood boils as you see her name on your feed. Your fingers move on autopilot, rechecking her feed. It’s a short clip—just a few seconds long of Kaylor and her friend from her Live stumbling down Main Street in their heels as they head toward a cab. 

She lifts her hand, sticking up her middle finger; her tongue bit between her perfect teeth. Her hair whips in the wind, tits bouncing with each leggy step she takes as an Ariana Grande song plays. 

Song | break up with your girlfriend, i’m bored - Ariana Grande

🎶 “Break up with your girlfriend. Yeah. Yeah. ‘Cause I bored.” 🎶

@/xokaylorjane: Caption | Night’s not over yet 😉

The caption doesn’t even have to say where they’re going for you to know exactly where they’re headed. Her beautiful friend flashes the Phi Delt hand side before linking her arm with Kaylor. 

The post has only been up for seconds, but the comments have already begun. Most people following from her TikTok Live to her IG account, curious about why she left so. 

@/urfavoriteblonde: Wait where are y’all going now??

@/wtflola: Omg frat house afterparty??

@/miamidance21: She’s doing Rafe raw. next question.

@/umiamiluvr: Rafe’s house?? 👀

@/umiamiluvr: Girl you better know how to fight???? 

@/theyluvsara: Girlfriend’s gonna be PISSED LMAOtf

@/nattyspams: If I was y/n I’d be losing my shit 

Your fingers feel numb as you watch the clip again, then again, all while notifications continue to roll in from Rafe. You switch to his account, scrolling through pictures you’ve seen a hundred times before, but this time, you aren’t looking at him; you are looking for her.

@/xokaylorjane: Looking good rafey

@/xokaylorjane: Damn okayyy 👏

@/xokaylorjane: Drop the ab routine

@/xokaylorjane: 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

@/xokaylorjane: I see you Rafey

Rafe never replied—not once—but he liked every one. Every. One. You recalled him talking about his group project in Accounting; the timestamps of her comments at least cooperated with his story.

How had you missed this? 

And this wasn’t some random girl shooting her shot, either… This was someone Rafe knew. This was someone he talked to in class. Someone he spent time with at the library, someone comfortable enough to get a free drink from him. To drag him into her Live just to humiliate you. 

To everyone else, it was her flirting, and him, letting it happen. Which was embarrassing in and of itself. 

Rafe is jealous. There’s no way he would even allow a single comment to slip by without him noticing. And there’s no way he’d be okay with the shit that happened tonight.

Fucking hypocrite. 

You can barely breathe as you hit the call button, pressing it to your ear as you step away from the bar and walk toward the beach. 

“Hey, baby,” Rafe babbles—breathless as he picks it up on the second ring. 

The noise in the background is insane: loud music, shouting, laughter, the typical sounds of a frat party. 

“Are you partying right now, Rafe? Are you serious?” You scoff; the noise on the other end fading away as you utter the last word. 

Rafe let out a frustrated sigh. “Baby, I was literally just brushin’ my teeth. You’re eight thousand miles away right now… I couldn’t get to you if I tried, alright? I already looked. I’m gettin’ ready for bed.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s not, princess. Why would I wanna party now? You’re obviously pissed… With good reason,” he recovers quickly. “I just wanna talk to you and go to bed. I want this night to be over with, okay? What’s going on, baby?”

“It sounds like you have a lot to hide, Rafe.” 

“I don’t…” He answers gently. “I swear. She’s been tryin’ to talk to me for two weeks; I’m not gonna lie about that. I didn’t ask her to come out tonight. That drink… I owed her a drink for doin’ my part of the PowerPoint ‘cause I procrastinated like usual. I shouldn’t have done it, regardless. I would have killed someone if they were doin’ that shit for you.” 

“That was so embarrassing, Rafe.” 

“I know… I know, baby. I’m sorry,” whispers his voice, desperate and tired. “I left the bar. I came home. I’m not out partying. What else do you need? I’ll do it—”

“FaceTime me,” you cut him short. 

“‘Course, baby,” he assures, the FaceTime notification coming in the next second, and there he was. Rafe stands in the dim glow of his bedroom, the camera angled at the mirror, catching him shirtless in his pajama pants, his hair brushed back slightly. 

“I miss you,” he mumbles sheepishly as he looks at his phone. “You look beautiful, princess. Where are you?”

You take a deep breath, finding it more challenging to say strong as you see the anxiety in his eyes. “The beach—”

“By yourself?” He asks worriedly, with not an ounce of accusation in his voice; it's just Rafe being protective. Being the guy you never thought would put you through what he’s put you through tonight or for the last few days. 

“Yeah…” You whisper as you turn around in the cool sand, heading back toward the resort. 

The light shines on your face; Rafe, able to take in your beautiful features, your cheeks glossy with tears, your eyes reddened, and your lashes wet. 

Your bottom lip quivers, and he knows he fucked up. His heart breaks as he looks at you, and even though pure stupidity got to this point and he didn’t want anything to do with her, he couldn’t help but feel guilty. 

“Baby…” He whispers, wanting you to look at him, but you know you’ll break down completely the second you do. “I wasn’t thinking… I didn’t think it mattered because she doesn't matter to me. I wasn’t thinking about you like you deserve to be thought about. And I’m gonna make it up to you. I’m so, so sorry. See—” 

He holds out the phone, scanning it around his room. His bed is pristinely made, just like he leaves it every morning. His TV is already on, playing ESPN with the sleep timer on. 

It was normal… It was Rafe.

“I swear, princess—” Light floods the room, stealing the words off his lips. He looks toward the door, panic flashing across his face as he turns. 

“Hey, Rafey.” You hear Kaylor’s sticky, sweet voice coming from the open door, the party surging before she pulls it shut, closing the two of them inside. 

“Hey. Wha-What are you doin’ here?” He asks. 

“Just thought I’d say ‘hi’’.” You can hear the smirk in her voice as she gets closer and closer. Your body starts to rush with adrenaline and anger. 

Rafe hesitates… 

He’s just silent. 

So, if he’s not gonna say anything, I am.

“Bye, Rafe—” Your voice cuts through the quiet of Rafe’s room. 

“No. No-No,” he panics as you end the FaceTime. 

His calls come in seconds later, back to back to back, you denying each one. 

You: Hate to interrupt whatever the two of you have going on. Just know we’re done.

⊹ 💌 ⁺ ˳ ✿ . ♥️ ࿐ 𝓒𝓸𝓻𝓪𝓵 𝓖𝓪𝓫𝓵𝓮𝓼, 𝓕𝓵𝓸𝓻𝓲𝓭𝓪

The music thumps through the old house's walls, a steady beat that seems to pulse in your chest. You swirl your drink absentmindedly, leaning against the counter as you look around the packed baseball house. 

You came to distract yourself—to drown out his thoughts, but as it had been for weeks, it wasn’t working. 

Your phone buzzes in your hands, the tiny vibrations feeling almost like a taunt. 

You weren’t together… You didn’t need to torture yourself with the idea of him, but you couldn’t help yourself. 

You weren’t over him… Not in the slightest.

You move your thumb, unlocking the screen. And there he was—Rafe Cameron, his beautiful face lighting up your screen as you bring your drink to your lips, taking a sip.

Rafe, Topper, and Kelce posing for a picture at some event. He had floated the invite to you, just in case you were interested… Just as he had been for weeks as well. 

His smile is beautiful—the man is so physically attractive it fucking hurt. But it wasn’t the picture that made your heart sink; it was the comments. 

@/umiamiluvr: Looking amazing as always 😍

@/miamidance21: Are you going out tonight? I think we’re going to Bar-X

@/fallenonthefield: Check your DMs

@/southernbellee7: Daddy daddy daddy

Your stomach twists as you read through the long line of thirsty comments. After that TikTok Live with Kaylor, Rafe’s account had taken off a bit, some of those same girls still hanging around, making it more and more difficult not to feel like some insecure teenager every time he posted, but you couldn’t help it. 

And, unlike before, when he liked Kaylor’s comments, he completely ignored theirs, but you couldn’t help but think about one of them catching his eye. You couldn’t help but think about him being over trying to win you back just to move on with someone else. 

That can’t happen. You knew you needed him to see you—to think about you like you couldn’t stop thinking about him. 

You lift your camera, take a picture, making sure to give just enough away so Rafe knows exactly where you are, catching the Miami University baseball flag in the back. 

@/yourname2: Caption | Out tonight. Feeling good. 😉

And before you overthink it, you push post, adding it to your TikTok story. Maybe he’d respond, maybe he wouldn’t. Either way, you needed to feel like you weren’t the only one caught in an endless loop of missing and yearning. 

The ache grew heavier in your chest. You grabbed a bottle of tequila off the counter, pouring yourself a shot, downing one, quickly pouring another. 

Your best friend steps beside you, hauling you out of your spiral. “You okay?” She asks, her voice loud enough to be heard over the music.

“Yeah,” You lie and force a smile against the rim of your SOLO cup before you take another drink. “Having the time of my life.”

She gives you a knowing look, but she doesn’t push it. “Let’s dance… Forget about, Rafe,” she smiles as she lifts her drink for a cheers. You do the same, pounding the rest of your mixed drink before grabbing another and heading toward the dance floor. 

You sway to the music; your head, light; body lost from a few too many drinks. But for the first time in a long time, you weren’t overthinking, scrolling, or waiting for the text that would make it all better. You were just dancing… 

And, drunk… Drunk as fuck. 

A laugh bubbles up in your lips as you twirl. When you steady yourself, a strong arm laces around your waist, his fingers glinting with a few rings. 

The smell of his cologne fills your nose–spicy and woodsy–the scent of the fat blunt he just smoked clinging to his shirt as well. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmurs. You turn around fast, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling him in for a hug.

“Hey, JJ,” you smile. 

He twirls you under his finger, taking you in as he gives you a low whistle. “Goddamn, you are beautiful,” he praises. 

“Thank you,” you smile as your head tilts slightly. 

⊹ 💌 ⁺ ˳ ✿ . ♥️ ࿐

The baseball boy smirks down at you, his hands resting lightly on your waist. He’d been all over you for the last twenty minutes, whispering in your ear, his touch a little too confident.

“I’m gonna grab a beer,” he points back to his friend, his eyes never leaving yours. “Did you want anything?”

You shake your head ‘no’ and smile. “Thank you, though.” 

“Of course. Don’t move, aight?” He asks, giving you a wink before disappearing into the thick crowd. 

You move in the other direction, weaving through bodies to find a quieter spot. Grabbing your phone you open up your TikTok page, notifications stacked with a few reactions from your friends, but not Rafe. You scroll through your list of viewers, his name on the bottom, the first one to see it. 

Buzz. 

Your phone vibrates in your hand, making your chest tighten. You hesitate momentarily before pulling up his page and catching the new post. It’s simple. He was at the gym. Not here. Not at a party. Not chasing after you.

It’s a mirror selfie: defined muscles, and sweat, his shirt tucked into the waistband of his shorts. His face is serious, jaw clenched, but something was intentional about it—like he knew you would see this. And the caption? It's a direct play on yours.

@/rafecameron001: Caption | Late night at the gym. Feeling real good.

The realization hit you like a slap to the face—Rafe was playing the same game you were. And you hated how much it was working. And like clockwork, the comments and likes started flooding in. 

Kaylor… Her comment sat there, smug and bold, right under his picture.

@/xokaylorjane: Nice seeing you at the gym 😉 This is me trying to convince you to go out. What’s it gonna take? I’ll do it.

You feel the heat rise in your neck, pooling in your cheeks, vision tunneling as you reread it again. 

She had been there, talking and flirting, and she was still doing it. And Rafe? He hadn’t liked the comment… Not yet. But he also didn’t turn her down either. 

You open her account next, and there she is, leaning into the mirror and applying a fresh coat of gloss to her already too-perfect lips. Her dress is practically painted on—some viral POSTER GIRL dress, hugging every inch of her perfect body, her blonde hair piled on top of her head in a Pam Anderson-style messy bun with bedroom eyes to match. 

@/xokaylorjane: Trying to catch this frat boy’s attention 🤭 what do we think ladies?

She didn’t have to say his name. She didn’t have to tag him. You knew exactly who she was talking about, and so did her followers. Whatever… 

Your heart pounds with the bass as you walk back into the mess. You look across the way, catching JJ’s eye. He smiles, and so do you, slow and deliberate. He nods a silent invitation, telling you to ‘come here.’

By the time you reach him, he’s already holding a drink for you. “Figured you needed this,” he smiles. 

Your face twists slightly, fingers brushing over his for just a second too long. “And, what gave you that impression?” 

JJ shrugs as he tilts his head slightly, stepping closer to you. “Just had a feelin’... And, guys, talk. I know you got some shit goin’ on with Rafe.”

“You could say that,” you sigh as you look up at him. 

“I hate that guy.” 

“What?” You chuckle as you scrunch your nose. “Why?” 

“Why not,” he scoffs, taking a pull of beer. “And he’s obviously a fuckin’ idiot because he fumbled you.” JJ’s handsome face twists in disgust. 

“Got no problem helpin’ you make him jealous, sunshine. I’m sure he’s gonna lose his shit. Fuck, he might even ruin this for himself, and I’ll be right there, showin’ you how much better I’d be. Truly, it’s a win-win for me... Worst-case scenario, I only watch Rafe crash out. Best case scenario, I watch Rafe crash the fuck out and get a shot with you.” 

You take a sip, letting the alcohol burn away the last bit of hesitation you had, and before you can think it through, you step even closer. JJ’s hand brushes against yours as a smirk spreads on your lips. 

“Okay,” you whisper, and just like that, you’re dancing again. 

JJ’s hands find your waist, guiding you to the beat. He turns you around, pulling you a little closer, your back pressed against his muscular chest, his breath warm near your ear as you start to dance. 

The music pulses around you; bodies pressed close, the heat of the party thick in the air. You can feel the baseball boy’s hands on your body as he moves with you, his face tilted close. 

Light floods around you for a moment, whirling away as your friend turns her phone camera from you toward herself, catching her smiling face as she looks up at her phone. 

She glances at you, flashing a devilish smirk, her eyes glinting with amusement. And, without hesitance, your friend hits upload.

Now, all that was left to do was wait.

Buzz.

You felt the vibration through your purse, barely registering it at first as the bass thrummed through your body. 

“Oh, shit…” JJ snickers. “That was fast.” The warmth of his taunting words fans against your neck, sending chills across your body as you both look down at the notification on your lock screen from Rafe. 

Rafe: I miss you

Rafe: Can we talk? Please

Rafe: What are you up to, princess?

The timing… It's almost comically fast. You stare at the message for half a second, thumb hovering over the keyboard before rolling your eyes, locking it instead, leaving him unread. 

“Goddamn, sweetheart,” JJ laughs as he grabs your hips, turning you toward him. “You’re gonna kill him… Please do,” he teases. You roll your eyes and rise on your tippy toes, leaning in his ear. 

“I’m gonna get a drink.”

You step away, making your way through the crowd again, and just as you do, you get another notification. 

Instagram Notification: Rafe Just Uploaded a New Post.

@/rafecameron001: Caption | Think I’ll stay in tonight

Your lashes flutter, feeling flustered as you see the newest picture, angled just enough to show the TV screen. ESPN’s playing on the screen, but what is the real focus? His abs. Bare skin, toned and relaxed against the sheets, the warm glow from the screen casting just enough shadow to make it clear this wasn’t some casual shot.

@/xokaylorjane: No Rafey. Room for me? 😘

It takes everything in your being not to throw your phone against the wall. Your heart slams in your ribs as Kaylor pounces on him yet again. 

You push the “like” button on her comment as a power move, and within seconds, your phone lights up with his name. 

You close your eyes, exhaling shakily before opening your heavy eyes, vision blurring slightly as the liquor courses through your veins.  

Fuck it. 

“Hey, baby. Where are you?” He asks, his voice already tight with worry.

You smile, slow and syrupy, letting the alcohol drip into your voice. “I’m out,” 

“You sound like you’ve been drinkin’. You okay, sweetheart?” He asks, his voice low, cautious. 

You laugh, tipping your head back against the wall. “I have been,” you admit. “A lot. But it’s fine. I feel amazing.”

“You don’t sound amazing… Where are you?”

You ignore the question, leaning back into the wall, letting his question hang in the air. “I don't know, but I  think I’m gonna leave soon,” you lie.

There’s a pause, the shift in Rafe’s breathing so sudden you could feel it like a ripple through the phone. 

“How do you not know, baby?” He asks worriedly. “I’ll come get you,” he said instantly. “Just—Just tell me where you think you are.”

“I don’t need you to pick me up, Rafe,” you say lightly with a teasing bite, toeing the line, pushing him just far enough to make it hurt. “I’m not alone; I’ll be fine.”

Silence. A dead, suffocating silence. Then—“Yeah? What the fuck does that mean?” He mumbles.

“It means you don't have to worry about me—you’re good at that. You should be fine.”

“Who are you with, baby?” He asks possessively.”

“… Friends? Obviously…”

Rafe sucks in a sharp breath. “Who?”

You lick your lips—heart racing even though you’d never admit it. 

You want to hear it. The anger. The desperation. The jealousy. Just a touch on the surface of the thoughts you've been feeling. 

“Cassie, Mabel, JJ—”

“That was Maybank. Are you fucking serious?” His voice is rough, raw with something dangerous, primal. “You’re joking? You’re drunk, you’re calling me, and you’re telling me you're with him?”

“You called me?” You let out a soft hum, playing with the hem of your dress. “He’s been really, really sweet tonight. I just think the two of you got off on the wrong foot,” you slur. 

“Baby, no,” Rafe pleads, his voice shaking and urgent. “Don’t do this. I’ll come get you; I don’t care where you are. Just—Just tell me. You're at the baseball house on Beach Road, yeah? I miss you. I love you, okay? I love you. And I know I fucked up, but you don’t need to do this. Please.”

You pause, letting his words sink in, letting the weight of them pull at something deep inside you. But then—Kaylor’s comment flashes in your mind. 

“You seem busy anyway,” you sigh. “Kaylor, right? Still, Rafe? Damn, That’s crazy,” you add with faux sweetness. 

“What? No, fuck, Kaylor. You think I care about her? I care about you. You’re drunk, and you’re making stupid decisions, and I’m—” Click.

You hang up. Rafe’s name flashes on the screen instantly as he calls back, but you shove your phone deep in your purse, walking straight back into the chaos of the party.

Your hands were shaking, but you pushed past it, past him, and everything… You press your hands to JJ's chest. “You wanna get out of here?”

JJ’s grin stretches wide. “Hell yeah.” 

Your phone vibrates incessantly as his name lights up your screen over and over between desperate texts. 

Rafe: Answer me

Rafe: Are you home?

Rafe: You’re scaring me baby. Come on.

Rafe: Please just text me back and let me know you’re okay.

Rafe: Stop fucking with me. You know I'm sorry you know I love you

⊹ 💌 ⁺ ˳ ✿ . ♥️ ࿐

The apartment was quiet now, the lingering pulse of the party still buzzing faintly in her veins. 

You crash down on the couch, leaning back, closing your eyes as the TV flickers with some random movie you’re not paying attention to. 

“You okay?” JJ murmurs, his large hand resting on your hip. He shifts behind you; lips grazing your neck. “Is this okay-” BANG. BANG. BANG. 

Rafe’s urgent knocking rattles the door hinges. “Baby! Open the door!” Rafe’s voice booms through the hallway, raw and frantic. “Are you okay?” Your heart drops, breath catching in your throat.

JJ lets out a frustrated groan, tossing his head back with an annoyed sigh. “Did I mention I hate that guy?” He laughs weekly.

“Maybank?” Rafe asks from behind the door as he overhears him. 

“Calm down, bitch. Let me pull out, alright?” JJ taunts and you shoot him a glare. “M’sorry, too far,” he chuckles softly.

“I swear to God, open the fuckin’ door! I’m not leaving until I know you’re okay!” Rafe’s voice cracks a mixture of jealousy, anger, and worry breaking through his every word. “Are you okay? Baby, just—just open the door. Please.”

JJ sits up, his jaw tightening. “Do you want me to handle this?” 

“No,” you say quickly, listening as Rafe spits threats at JJ from the other side of the door. Your legs wobble slightly beneath you, the alcohol still thick in your system. “I’ll handle it.

You walk over to the door, resting your forehead against the wood, closing her eyes. “Go home, Rafe,” you whisper, soft but firm.

“No—No. Co’mon, princess. Please,” he pleads desperately, his voice hoarse and soft. “I’m sorry about, Kaylor. I’ve been tryin’ to get your attention, that’s it–” 

JJ’s wicked laugh swallows up Rafe’s words. “Pussy…”

“Anyone but him, princess…”

You turn, watching Maybank smirk as he runs his fingers lazily through his fluffy blonde hair. “This is sad, man… You’re embarrassing yourself–”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Rafe booms, his voice hitting your chest from behind the door as he hears JJ. With a deep breath, you turn the knob and open the door. 

Rafe rushes to you immediately, finding your arms, his touch rough and desperate. “Are you okay?” He asks urgently like you didn’t get yourself in this situation. “Did you drink too much? Do you need water? Did he–” His jaw clenches, eyes finding yours. “Did he try anything–” JJ scoffs and laughs again, the two of you looking back at him as he shakes his head in disgust at Rafe. “Why are you even here?” 

“You kiddin’ me, Rafe?” JJ asks as he rises to his feet, stretching like he had all the time in the world. Then, with a smirk, he runs a hand through his hair, deliberately messing it up more before casually fixing his collar—and tucking back in his shirt that was never tucked in, to begin with; a deliberate move, one final act of defiance, one last attempt to make Rafe think something had happened between the two of you before he got there.

“Alright. Time to go… Get. Out!” Rafe yells.

JJ just rolls his eyes, stepping closer. “She asked me to be here… The hell do you think I’m doin’ here, huh–”

“Bull-fucking’-shit, asshole,” Rafe spits.

“I’m the asshole, Cameron–”

“Yes, Maybanks. You are the asshole. I’m not the one takin’ advantage of drunk girls.”

“You think I’d let anything happen to her?” JJ smirks. “You and I ain’t the same, man. You think I’d take advantage of her? Hurt her?” He lets out a dark chuckle, stepping forward. “Isn’t that your job, Rafe?”

“The fuck did you just say?” Rafe asks, his voice was low and dangerous.

JJ shrugs, his blue eyes gleaming with their usual recklessness. “I mean, let’s be real here,” he says, tilting his head. “She’s only with me tonight because of you. You make it too easy, man. I barely had to try. You do all the damage yourself.

Rafe surges forward, shoving him, JJ quickly returning the hit. “Rafe, stop,” you warn. Rafe barely heard you over his ragged breathing, his big body trembling with rage. 

“Say that again, motherfucker. I fuckin’ dare you.”

“You better leave, Jay,” you say softly. 

JJ just laughs at Rafe again. “Fuck I love watchin’ you lose your mind, Cameron,” he drawls. 

“Leave,” Rafe warns as he steps chest to chest with Maybank. “She told you to leave. Get the fuck out before I kill you.” 

“Kill me? Bro, what the fuck? You don’t wanna kill me? What if you fuck up again, huh? Who’s gonna take care of her–”

“JJ,” you stop him before he can keep going. 

“Sorry, princess,” he smiles at you one last time, making Rafe scoff and suck his teeth, his body language looking like he was seconds away from taking a swing. 

“Get. The fuck. Out.” 

“You already won, Rafe. Again. But for the record?” He tilts his head, grinning, knowing exactly how to get under Rafe’s skin. “You should really learn how to keep her–” Rafe silences the blonde, throwing a big wad of cash at JJ’s chest.

JJ smiles a crooked smile as he meets Rafe’s eyes again. “You can’t just buy her frat boy?”

“No shit,” Rafe mutters, grabbing him by his shirt. “Get a cab and fuckin’ leave.”

JJ grins, having the time of his life as he gets the rise he was hoping for, lifting his hands in mock surrender. 

Rafe opens the door and shoves him back—hard. JJ stumbles into the hallway, knocking his back on the wall, and before he can rile up Rafe again, he slams the door.

The chaos shuts off completely–the apartment dead silent, apart from Rafe’s deep, labored breathing.

When you finally turn, Rafe’s already looking at you. Still angry… Still possessive… Still completely fucking wrecked over the whole thing. He strides toward you, but the second he does, you’re already walking away.

“Baby, stop,” Rafe pleads. You exhale sharply, refusing to meet his eyes, crashing down on the couch. 

Rafe’s heart fucking ached… It was so clear. And you couldn’t take it either. 

Your eyes lift to his, making him take a breath, trying to center himself as he gets your focus back. 

“Just give me a chance, baby?" His voice cracks as he moves closer, his big frame sinking onto his knees between her thighs, making himself small for you. "I love you. This is killing me."

You bite your lips as heat wells in your eyes, you, trying not to let your emotions be so clearly painted all over your face, but it’s no use. 

He looks up at you, pleading, his hands gripping your knees, his touch careful but desperate, making you look away to keep the tears in your eyes. “Princess… C’mon,” he whispers, his voice shattered. "Just listen to me. Look at me." 

Rafe takes your hand, lifting it to his lips, kissing the top as he tries to pull you back in. 

"I fucked up," he whispers against her skin. "I fucked up at the beginning of the month, and I've been trying to fix it ever since. Everything I did—everything was to get your attention."

He hangs his head low, shifting a little closer. 

"I don't want anything to do with Kaylor," he says, shaking his head and running his hands down your thighs. "I don't want anyone else, baby. I just want you back." He takes a deep breath, his broad shoulders tense with frustration and regret.

Rafe Cameron, the man who would never let anyone else see this side of him but you on his knees, begging for your forgiveness, completely and utterly ruined for you. 

“It was never more than talking… I don’t know why I didn’t put her in her place, why I let her embarrass you. I’m an idiot…”

You lift your hands, cupping his face, making him melt. The second you touched him, his shoulders drop, breath hitching, his hands gripping your thighs like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. 

"I swear to you," he whispers, pressing into your touch. "If you give me another chance... I'll take care of you. I'll do it right this time."

Your mouth crashes against his, urgent and deep taking him by surprise. Rafe kisses you back with the same intensity, his big arms wrapping around your body tightly like you might slip away. 

He groans into your kiss, hands moving up your body, gripping your waist, sitting down before pulling you on top, right where you belong. 

Your fingers twist into his shirt, needing him closer, feeling the heat of his body against yours. 

You smile against his lips as your fingers slip under his cotton shirt, fingers working higher and higher. 

“Princess…” He whispers against your lips, breathing rapidly before pulling back enough for you to chase his lips. Your eyes lock on his, your head spinning from the lingering buzz and his taste. 

“Mhmm…” 

“You—Fuck, are you sure you want this, sweetheart? Right now?” He asks as he leans in, kissing along your neck inside. 

Your head falls to the side, giving him more as your hands slip under the elastic of his sweat. 

“Of course, I want this, Rafe…”

“I just—You’re drunk, pretty. I don’t want you to hate me later.” He whispers hot against your skin as his fingers trace up your inner thigh, disappearing under your skirt, pressing against your soaked panties, making you whimper for him. 

“Rafe…” You sigh as you tug at the fabric of his pants. Rafe rushes to pull them down his thighs, quickly tearing off his white shirt before you can even finish your sentence. “Do you care?” You chuckle teasingly as he looks back at you with hungry eyes. 

Rafe’s eyes fall to your chest, watching with half-lidded eyes as you pop open the buttons of your cropped blouse one by one. He licks his lips, his eyes glazing over when he sees your breasts pressed together in a pretty lace bra. He swallows hard, shaking his head before meeting your eyes again. 

“Rafe Cameron…” 

“Mhmm…” He hums as his hands wrap around your back, unclipping your bra and letting it fall between you. 

“Do. You. Care?” 

His big hands reach up, cupping your tits in his hands. “You’re so fucking perfect–”

“Rafe, you have two options here. Either you fuck me, or you leave… You decide–” Rafe steals your words off your lips before you can say any more, lifting you before tossing you to your back on the couch. 

He buries his face in his chest, nuzzling into your sensitive skin. Rafe takes your nipple between his plump lips, swirling and sucking as your head falls back. 

You feel Rafe smile against your neck before his hand drifts under your skirt, fingers brushing against the soaked lace of your panties. “Fuck, I missed you, baby,” he hums. 

Rafe pulls down your skirt, ripping down your panties as well before tossing them to the side. He kisses you again, letting his tongue slip between your lips. 

Your tongue rolls slowly with his as you wrap your fingers around his thick dick. Rafe groans deeply—the pads of his rough fingers start circling your aching clit. 

“I can’t tell you how much I need this,” he smiles as his fingers trace your soaked slit, too, teasing your entrance. “Wanna fuck your pussy so bad,” he mimics his word with a thrust of his hand, fucking two long fingers in your tight hole, making you gasp. “I’m gonna make you feel so, so good…” he hums between kisses as he curls his fingers inside you, making your back arch off the couch. 

“Rafe, fuck!” You cry as he drags his fingers across your G-spot, making your body tremble. You tug on his long cock, pulling to the tip. Precum drips off his throbbing tip, landing on your soft skin, rolling warmly down your inner thigh, making goosebumps flair across your bare skin.

Rafe pulls back slightly, grabbing his dick in his big fist and pressing his tip against your clit, making you squeal as you find yourself so close to falling over the edge.

He strokes quickly, rubbing your clit with his swollen tip, his precum mixing with your wetness, teasing the both of you. 

“I’m gonna cum—fuck. Fuck!” You cry as you grab your tits in your hands, watching him get you off with his tip alone. Your eyes roll in the back of your head, toes curling as your pussy flutters around nothing. 

“Atta girl… Fuck, that’s my girl,” Rafe praises, biting his lips, focusing hard on not cumming as he sees you like this. 

He smacks his cock against your cunt, making your muscle jump with each tap, the slick sounds of your pussy making him smirk. 

“Goddamn, baby,” he mumbles as he lowers himself to your lips, breathing heavily with you. “I could lie and say I forgot how wet this pussy gets, but I’m dreamin’ about it every night ...” 

Rafe rubs his fat tip along your slit, making you suck in a breath. His eyes fall down your body, watching as you move your hips ever so slightly, craving him inside you. “Please,” you whisper. 

“Shit,” he smiles as he circles his head around your soaked hole, teasing you as he presses himself in just a little before pulling his hips back. “Nothin’ better, I swear,” he hums drunkenly before thrusting inside, knocking the breath out of your chest. 

Rafe fucks into your slow at first, his eyes still trained on your body, watching your curves bounce with each thrust. 

Your pussy pulls him in with each stroke; filthy wet sucking sounds filling your ears and his as your slickness soaks him—essence rolling down his heavy balls onto the couch below.

His movements become more possessive and forceful, rutting into you with urgency. You grab for him, cursing under your breath as your pleasure mounts, feeling yourself about to come undone for him again. 

“Come on, sweetheart. Give it to me… I know you’re gonna cum. Think I forgot what this pussy feels like when you’re about to cum too… Just do it. Cum on my dick, baby,” He mumbles, his deep fucked-out voice barely heard over the clapping of your skin against his. 

Rafe buries himself into you, throwing his hips into you again and again as his name leaves your lips in a strangled moan as you fall apart. 

Rafe’s thick fingers push between your lips. You swirl your tongue and suck, looking up at him as he continues to stroke, blinking away overstimulated tears. 

“One more, princess. Okay?” He asks. 

His fingers press against your clit, rubbing fast, making fat tears roll down your cheeks. 

Your bottom lip trembles as his cock rocks in and rocks out, filling you deliciously each time.

“Rafe…” You whine as you look at the slight space between your bodies, watching your sloppy cunt take every inch—Rafe’s dick pulls out each time, slicked with your wetness, his big fingers slopping through the mess “M’gonna cum.” 

“Shittt,” he moans as your pussy tightens around him, your body cumming harder than it ever has before, taking him with it. Rafe moans your name as his hips stutter, muscles flexing as he fucks his cum deep.

He pulls back just enough to look down at you underneath him—his soft lips claiming yours tenderly as your bodies soften against each other. You breathe a deep sigh of relief as he kisses the corner of your lips, then your cheek, working to your neck before tucking himself close. 

The room is quiet now. The chaos of the night had settled, the alcohol faded from your system, leaving only clarity in its place. No more buzzing or reckless decisions—just the two of you wrapped in each other's arms. 

“Thank you, princess,” he whispers as he looks at you like you’re his whole world. “I missed you… So fucking much.” Rafe cups your cheek in his hand, letting his thumb glide along your bottom lip. 

“I missed you too,” you breathe. 

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, blinking quickly, scrunching his nose to keep his emotions at bay. “I love you, and I’m so sorry. I hope you believe me.”

“I forgive you,” you whisper, watching his eyes soften as he looks back at you. “I love you—” Rafe pulls you in, kissing you slowly. And when you kissed him back, soft and sure, he felt like he could breathe again. 

⊹ 💌 ⁺ ˳ ✿ . ♥️ ࿐

Part 2

dividers | @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[frameacloud]

Image description: Several symbols combined into one.

One is a symbol of Judaism, which is two triangles interlaced, making the six-pointed Star of David.

Another is a symbol of therianthropy, which is made of two Greek letters interlaced: the triangle-shaped delta, and the theta, which is a circle with a horizontal bar inside its middle.

Furthermore, these are in the three colors of the transgender flag. Those are blue for boys, pink for girls, and "white for those who are intersex, transitioning or consider themselves having a neutral or undefined gender," as described by Monica Helms, the creator of that flag.

The shade of pink shown here is darker than that of the trans flag, because it's from another symbol: the pink triangle. This originated in Nazi Germany as a badge to mark concentration camp prisoners as homosexuals, much as Jewish prisoners had to wear a badge of the star. In the 1970s and 1980s, the gay rights movement adopted the pink triangle as a memorial of those prisoners and to protest homophobia and the homophobia-driven discrimination against people who have HIV and AIDS.

The overall effect of these combined symbols is that of the usual Star of David with the addition of a white circle and white inner bar. The Star's upward pointing triangle is a blue outline, and it is also the delta. The Star's downward pointing triangle is a solid pink triangle.

Description ends.

I am an inhuman queer Jew and by G-d I love symbols

[mrspiastri]

✩ first and last 🦢

pairing: lando norris x reader

cw: fluff, first time relationships

wc: 3.6k words

an: thank you to @castofstrangerthings for the req! i couldn’t directly respond to it for some reason so here! also i know you asked for oscar but this just felt so apt for lando i had to!! :p

For Y/N, dating wasn’t really something at the forefront of her mind. After hearing horror stories of all the crazy boyfriends her friends had to endure since middle school, she was more than content remaining celibate.

This continued throughout her schooling days, where she never bothered to start dating. And it was a big help to her cause that no boys ever made a move on her.

It wasn’t that she was unattractive, nor was it her personality. She was well-known throughout her school, and the teachers liked her too. She had a few male friends as well, and while they enjoyed hanging out, she was never asked out by even one of them.

So, she was the butt of her friends' lighthearted jokes about how she was the only one graduating high school without ever having a boyfriend, kissing someone, or even being romantically interested in a man. Hell, she hadn’t even been on a date before!

Y/N much preferred it this way—'more men, more problems' was her belief in life. However, this changed when she went to university.

She and Lando Norris met on the same day of orientation, both eager to join their uni’s debate team. After being seated next to each other for almost an hour during auditions, they were called in to debate each other on the topic of whether the ‘male loneliness epidemic’ was real. Much to her chagrin, Y/N had to argue for the motion.

That very debate was the foundation of their friendship, and now, in junior year, the pair remained closer than ever.

🪻🪻🪻

Being raised in a family with a wonderful mother and two sisters really sets a man up for success in the dating world. Lando was always in demand, his alluring and charming personality combined with his ravishing good looks and mild-mannered ways leading to girls constantly trying their luck with him.

At every party, every ten or so minutes, he was either being snogged by a pretty blonde or comparing hand sizes with a striking brunette.

He always admired Y/N’s commitment to being single, knowing her feelings towards the dating scene in today’s world. And somewhere along the line, his admiration for her changed to awe, and from awe, it evolved into emotions he never thought he’d ever feel for her.

After spending the better half of the past two years stuck by her side, with the third one beginning a few weeks ago, he found himself falling headfirst for Y/N and all her quirks and dynamics.

He had found it very difficult to admit it to himself that he fancied her, but on a random Tuesday morning, as she was wallowing over the waffles running out at breakfast, it hit him like a lightning bolt:

He had the biggest, fattest, most irrepressible crush on his best friend.

He had seen her for the first time when they were just freshly turned 18-year-olds, sniggering over the terrible chairs they had to sit on while waiting their turn for auditions. He was there when she was upset over not being able to sign up for a class she was desperate to take in her first semester.

He giggled while she almost keeled over after taking her first-ever shot of tequila at a sorority party at Kappa Alpha Theta, and he was the one who held her hair up while she threw up into a toilet bowl, rubbing her back soothingly as she moaned over how she would never touch alcohol again.

So how was someone supposed to continue being best friends with the girl he was falling for faster than a meteor hurling through space?

To him, the answer was simple: dropping simple but subtle hints to make his intentions known.

🪻🪻🪻

The hints had started small, but now they were practically glaring neon signs. At least, to everyone except Y/N.

Lando had tried everything to make his feelings clear. He was always touching her, always standing closer than necessary, always finding ways to bring her into his space. He carried her books when she complained they were too heavy, sent her good morning texts every single day, and even learned the complicated coffee order she had been too embarrassed to repeat for him.

But nothing seemed to get through to her. And what made it worse was that everyone around them began noticing the change.

“Okay, but seriously,” her roommate drawled one afternoon as they sat in the campus café. “Are you guys, like, together-together?”

Y/N snorted, picking at her croissant. “What? No.”

Her roommate raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “So you’re telling me your best friend, who, by the way, has turned down every single girl who’s tried to ask him out in the last six months, just happens to buy you coffee every morning, keeps your favorite hoodie in his car in case you get cold, and practically looks like he’s in love every time he stares at you for more than five seconds?”

Lando, sitting beside Y/N, didn’t even pretend to be embarrassed. He just leaned back in his chair, an amused smirk tugging at his lips as he watched her flounder for an answer.

“He’s just—” Y/N shook her head, laughing lightly. “That’s just how he is. Lando’s nice to everyone.”

Her friend scoffed. “Yeah, but he’s not doing any of that for me. Or anyone else.”

Lando chuckled, reaching out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind Y/N’s ear. The gesture was so natural, so casual, that she barely even registered it, except for the way her heart suddenly felt like it was trying to break a world record for fastest beats per minute.

“I mean, I could start buying you coffee every morning,” he mused, tilting his head at the girl in front of them. “But I think Y/N might get jealous.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, laughing. “Oh, please.”

But internally? She was spiralling.

Because the idea of Lando doing these things for someone else, buying their favorite drinks, remembering their order, keeping a hoodie for them, made her stomach twist in a way she didn’t want to analyze too closely.

And it wasn’t just her roommate who had questioned them, either. At a party the previous weekend, they had been standing by the drinks table when a guy in their Stats class had wandered over, glancing between them with an appraising look.

“You two are dating, right?” he asked, casually pouring himself a drink.

Y/N choked on her own sip of beer. “What? No.”

He blinked. “Huh. Could’ve fooled me.”

She laughed it off, brushing the idea away as she always did, but Lando, who had been leaning against the table beside her, hand warm on the small of her back, had simply raised an eyebrow, amused.

🪻🪻🪻

Over the course of midterms week, Y/N was seconds away from throwing her laptop out the nearest window and dramatically declaring herself an academic failure.

She had spent hours buried in notes, highlighting until her fingers cramped, and yet nothing was sticking. Her brain was mush. Her body was tense. Her stress levels were at an all-time high.

Meanwhile. Lando, sitting across from her in their usual library spot, looked annoyingly unbothered.

“How are you so calm?” she groaned, dropping her head onto her open textbook.

Lando smirked, stretching his arms behind his head like he wasn’t on the verge of multiple deadlines. “Because one of us needs to be. And let’s be honest, it was never gonna be you.”

She shot him a glare that had absolutely no bite to it. “You’re supposed to be suffering with me.

“I am,” he said, eyes twinkling with amusement. “I just look better doing it.”

She huffed dramatically, rubbing her temples. “I’m so close to losing my mind.”

That was apparently enough for Lando to intervene. Without a word, he stood up and walked over to her side of the table, nudging her chair back slightly before physically turning it so she was facing him. Before she could protest, he crouched down in front of her, settling his hands on her knees.

Y/N stopped breathing.

“Peach,” he murmured, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles over her bare skin. “You need a break.”

Her brain stuttered at the nickname, and she knew exactly what he was referencing. It began in the winter break of freshman year, after a visit to Y/N’s house.

Her mom had been all too eager to embarrass her, flipping through old photo albums until she landed on the picture, one of baby Y/N, no older than two, sitting in a tiny plastic chair in her backyard, absolutely covered in peach juice.

There were peach slices in her chubby fists, sticky residue all over her cheeks, and a look of pure, unfiltered joy on her face as she devoured the fruit like it was the best thing in the world.

Lando had lost it.

“No way,” he had laughed, taking a picture of the photo for future blackmail. “You were a menace.”

“I was a child,” Y/N had huffed, cheeks burning as she tried (and failed) to snatch the album from him.

Her mom had only made it worse, recounting how Y/N had been obsessed with peaches, demanding them at every meal and managing to make a colossal mess every single time.

And that is where ‘Peach’ originated from.

She barely managed to remember that moment, when she felt Lando’s warm hands trailing up and down her thighs, fingers grazing the hem of her shorts.

“I can’t take a break,” she whispered, voice embarrassingly shaky.

“You can,” he said, firm but soft, his grip tightening slightly. “And you will. Because if you stress yourself into a breakdown, who’s gonna remind me when all my assignments are due?”

Y/N would have laughed, if she wasn’t mentally losing it at the way his hands lingered on her thighs, his touch burning and grounding.

“Five minutes,” he coaxed, voice a low hum. “Let me take care of you, yeah?”

She swore she blacked out for a moment.

Because what the FUCK?

When did he get so touchy? And why did he have to sound like that? Like he was saying something completely normal but making it sound criminally intimate?

“I…” She swallowed hard, eyes darting anywhere but his face. “I don’t know how to turn my brain off.”

Lando sighed, standing back up—but instead of moving away, he settled behind her chair, placing his hands on her shoulders and squeezing gently.

“Then let me do it for you.” And holy shit.

The moment his hands started kneading into her muscles, Y/N melted.

His thumbs dug into the tense spots at the base of her neck, slow and deliberate, like he was unraveling her stress with his hands alone. His fingers pressed into the tight knots in her shoulders, rubbing small, soothing circles that sent a shiver down her spine.

“Fuck,” she muttered, eyes fluttering shut before she could stop herself.

Lando chuckled behind her. “That good, huh?”

She wanted to be embarrassed, but she was too far gone to care. His touch was ridiculously good, and for the first time all week, she felt her body relax.

“That’s it,” he murmured, voice low as he leaned down slightly, his breath warm against the side of her face. “Just breathe, sweetheart.”

She absolutely did not breathe.

Instead, she sat there, skin burning, heart racing, mind spiraling at the fact that her best friend was currently massaging her like it was the most normal thing in the world.

And then, because Lando loved making her suffer, he let his fingers slide up, brushing lightly against the sensitive skin of her neck before tracing back down her shoulders.

Y/N jumped.

Lando laughed, his voice right in her ear. “Ticklish?”

“N-no,” she lied, gripping the edges of her chair so tight her knuckles turned white.

“Mm,” he hummed, clearly amused. He gave her shoulders one last squeeze before finally stepping back. “Feel better?”

No. Absolutely not. She felt like she needed to go outside and scream into the void.

But she nodded anyway, avoiding his gaze like her life depended on it.

“Good.” Lando ruffled her hair, grinning. “Now let’s get back to work before you have a full-on breakdown.”

Y/N didn’t have a breakdown over midterms. But she did have one over the realization that she was so fucking screwed.

After hell week, she locked herself in her dorm room, trying to make sense of the past few weeks. For almost 3 months, Lando had been inciting the most out of the blue emotions in Y/N.

He had changed. But it didn’t mean anything.

He had always been tactile, affectionate. He had always been protective, always made her feel like she mattered. It was just who he was.

The problem was, she had started to want it. To crave the warmth of his palm on her thigh when he absentmindedly reached for her during study sessions. To hear the way he murmured "Night, Peach," like it was something soft and fragile and theirs.

And she hated herself for it. Because Lando didn’t like her. Because if he did, if any of this meant something to him, surely he would have said something by now.

Right?

So she did what she had always done.

She laughed when their friends teased them about how they acted like a couple. She rolled her eyes when people assumed they were together. She ignored the way her heart ached every time he pulled away, convinced herself she was imagining the way he looked at her sometimes, like he saw through everything.

Because no matter how much she was falling for him, Lando wasn’t falling for her.

And she just had to live with it.

🪻🪻🪻

From the very first time she visited his home in Bristol, Lando’s parents had welcomed her like she was one of their own. His sisters had immediately pulled her into their group, and his mum and dad never let her leave without offering her enough food to last a month.

So when his parents insisted she come home with him for the semester break, she hadn’t even thought to say no.

Now, sitting in his childhood bedroom, cross-legged on his bed as she flipped through an old photo album his dad had pulled out, she was glad she had agreed.

The photos were a goldmine, including one showing a 6 year old Lando, gap-toothed and grinning, covered in dirt from head to toe after what was probably an ill-advised adventure outside.

“You were so tiny,” she teased, laughing as she held up a picture of him pouting dramatically in a blazer and a pair of trousers that were slightly too big on him.

Lando, who had been sitting beside her, propped up on his elbow, rolled his eyes. “Not anymore I’m not,” he winked at her.

She huffed out a laugh, turning back to the photo. But his gaze lingered on her a beat longer than usual.

Y/N felt it, felt the weight of it, the same way she always did when he looked at her like that. Like she was something worth looking at.

The air between them had been charged for weeks now, the space they usually occupied so comfortably together feeling too small, like something unspoken was pressing against the edges.

She ignored it. She always ignored it.

Because no matter how much she overthought his touches, his lingering stares, the way he felt different lately, she couldn’t let herself believe it meant anything.

But Lando?

He had just about had enough.

He had tried subtlety. He had tried patience. But it had become painfully clear that Y/N, his oblivious best friend, was never going to realize what was right in front of her. So he decided, right then and there, that he was done waiting.

He sat up, closing the photo album in her lap and ignoring the small noise of protest she made. She blinked up at him in confusion, and God, how had he gone so long without kissing her?

“I can’t do this anymore.” His voice was quiet, firm.

Y/N frowned. “Do what?”

Lando inhaled sharply. “This. The hints, the waiting, hoping you’ll get it, I can’t anymore.”

She stared at him, brows furrowing in confusion, and it made him want to scream.

He reached out, cupping her jaw with one hand, his thumb brushing against her cheek in the softest way possible.

Y/N froze.

“I like you,” he said, the words steady and clear. “I like you in a way that isn’t just friendly, in a way that makes me want to pull you close every time I see you.”

“I like you in a way that makes it physically impossible for me to look at you and not think about how badly I want to be yours.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, her pulse roaring in her ears. “You’re joking,” she said weakly.

Lando let out a soft, frustrated laugh, shaking his head. “No, Peach. I’m not joking. I’m telling you, finally telling you, that I’ve wanted you for so long, and I can’t keep pretending I don’t.”

Her brain stalled.

Every moment she had overthought suddenly flashed through her mind, the lingering touches, the way he always called her Peach like it was something sacred, the way he had never once left her side, had never once let her doubt that he would be there.

And now, here he was, saying the thing she had never let herself believe. Her silence stretched between them, and for the first time in a long time, Lando looked uncertain.

His hand, still resting against her jaw, twitched slightly, like he was afraid she was going to pull away.

“Say something,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

“I—” She swallowed hard, trying to piece together a coherent thought. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything.”

And before she could overthink it, before she could let herself spiral into a million reasons why this couldn’t be real, Lando leaned in and kissed her.

It was soft at first, a question rather than a demand. His lips brushed against hers hesitantly, like he was giving her a chance to pull away.

She didn’t.

Instead, she melted, her hands finding his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric like it was the only thing grounding her.

That was all Lando needed.

His other hand found her waist, tugging her closer until there was no space left between them. The kiss deepened, slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world to make up for the moments they had wasted.

When they finally pulled apart, Y/N’s heart was hammering, her head spinning. Lando rested his forehead against hers, his breath warm against her lips.

“Please tell me you know what to say,” he murmured, a teasing lilt to his voice.

Y/N let out a breathless laugh, shaking her head. “Yeah, I think I have an idea.”

“Good.” Lando grinned, pressing another soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Took you long enough.”

🪻🪻🪻

It had been almost a year since that night at his family home in Bristol, since he had finally given up on the hints and just told her. Since he had kissed her like he had been waiting his whole life to do it. Since she had stopped pretending she wasn’t completely, irreversibly his.

Now, they were curled up on his bed in his off-campus apartment, the soft glow of morning slipping through the blinds. Lando was still half-asleep, his face buried in the crook of her neck, arms wrapped around her like he had no intention of letting go.

“You’re staring,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep.

Y/N smiled, running her fingers through his curls. “Am not.”

Lando huffed out a laugh, pulling her impossibly closer. “Liar.”

“Lando.”

He hummed, still fixated on her in his arms. “Yeah, Peach?”

She smiled. The nickname had never gone away.

She stretched out on the bed, letting her cheek rest against the pillow as she watched him. “Did you know you’re my first in everything?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Everything?”

“Everything,” she confirmed, biting her lip. “First kiss, first boyfriend, first person I’ve ever said ‘I love you’ to…” She paused, eyes twinkling. “And, you know. First in other ways.”

Lando smirked. “I’m very aware, sweetheart.”

Her face burned, but she refused to look away. “You’re my first everything. It’s kind of unfair, don’t you think?”

His fingers reached out to her, brushing them over her flushed cheek. “You’re my first real everything too, you know,” he murmured, voice softer now.

She blinked up at him. “Really?”

Lando nodded, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “First girl I’ve ever been completely gone for.”

A kiss on her cheek. “First person I’ve ever loved.”

Another kiss, this time to her nose. “First person I never want to lose.”

Y/N’s heart swelled. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer to her. He laughed, letting her hold him close as he buried his face in her neck, his arms slipping around her waist like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I love you,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his curls.

Lando tightened his hold on her, his lips brushing against her collarbone as he murmured, “I love you more, Peach.”

And she believed it, because if there was one thing she knew for certain, it was that Lando Norris was her first in everything.

And if she was lucky, he’d also be her last.

i’m going to be so honest i started writing this at like 11 something pm and finished by around 2 am. and i only proof read like maybe the first few scenes and then i gave up bc i genuinely feel so sleepy rn, but yes here you go my geeks ^_^

[pucksandpower]

Worlds Apart

Max Verstappen x Sargeant!Reader

Summary: everyone seems to have something to say about your relationship with Max, but at the end of the day all that matters is the two of you

Warnings: Jos Verstappen

Based on a request by @butterflyexe

The sorority house is pulsing with noise — music, laughter, the clink of plastic cups. You weave through the crowd, feeling very much out of place amongst the scantily clad co-eds. Your sundress and sandals seem prudish in comparison.

“Y/N! There you are!” Chelsea, your big sister in Kappa Alpha Theta, comes barreling over with a few of her friends in tow. “We were just talking about you.”

You eye them warily. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, like how you’re totally wasting your college experience pining over some old race car driver instead of playing the field.” Chelsea’s friend, Brittany, smirks as she takes a sip of her drink.

You bristle at that. “Max is not old! He’s only 26.”

“Exactly,” Chelsea says, putting an arm around your shoulders. “You’re a sophomore dating a whole ass man who’s nearly 30. It’s weird.”

“No it’s not!” You protest, shrugging off her arm. “We’ve been together over a year. I really like him.”

“Like him?” Brittany scoffs. “Wake up, Y/N. He’s an international celebrity dating a little college student. You’re just his side piece.”

The words hit like a slap to the face. “That’s not true!”

“Then why does he never post about you on social media?” Chelsea counters. “I follow him and you’re never on his accounts.”

“We just value our privacy,” you mumble, but her words have sown seeds of doubt.

Chelsea gives you a pitying look. “Honey, I’m just trying to watch out for you. There are so many great guys here on campus that would treat you right.”

Your eyes narrow at the dig. “You mean like those meathead frat bros that never shut up about their high school glory days? No thanks.”

The girls all gasp in mock offense. Brittany steps closer, using her height advantage to loom over you. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, talking about our men like that.”

“Yeah?” You stand your ground, hands on your hips. “Well maybe if they acted like men instead of immature little boys, I wouldn’t have to.”

A hush falls over the nearby crowd, all eyes on your confrontation. Brittany looks murderous until one of her sidekicks tugs her sleeve, murmuring “Let’s go, it’s not worth it.” She sneers at you one last time before stalking off, leaving you and Chelsea alone.

Your big sister sighs, rubbing her temples. “Why are you so hell-bent on making this hard on yourself, Y/N? Max is a world away, both physically and in terms of life experience. You could have any guy at this school eating out of the palm of your hand. Why not take advantage of that?”

Her words are salt in the wound. You blink back tears, fighting to keep your voice steady. “Because I love Max. He makes me incredibly happy. And yeah, the distance is hard and he’s older and more established in his career. But he’s kind and smart and we just … connect, you know? I’ve never felt this way about anyone else.”

Chelsea shakes her head pityingly. “I’m just trying to watch out for you. I’d hate to see you get your heart broken over some long-distance fling.”

“It’s not a fling!” You’re sick of trying to convince everyone. Pushing past her, you storm out of the suffocating house and into the cool night air. Gulping it down, you sink down onto the steps, chest heaving with anger and hurt and frustration.

Alone at last, you let the tears come. You know the doubts eating at you are unfair — Max has been nothing but devoted and caring throughout your relationship, even with his insanely busy schedule. But the fears voiced by Chelsea and her crew have burrowed under your skin. Maybe you are just a naive little plaything for him. Maybe he’ll eventually get bored and move on to someone more sophisticated and on his level.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket — a FaceTime call from the man in question himself. You fumble to answer it, swiping hastily at your damp cheeks. “H-Hey you.”

“There’s my gorgeous girl!” His bright smile fills the screen, momentarily banishing your worries. “I only have a few minutes before FP1, but I couldn’t wait to see that pretty face.”

You can’t help but return his warm grin, though it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “I miss you so much, Max.”

His brow furrows at your tone. “What’s wrong, liefje? You sound upset.”

You want to brush it off, but maybe this is your chance to finally get those nagging fears off your chest. “It’s just … things have been rough lately with the girls. They keep saying I’m wasting my time with you, that you’re going to leave me for someone else, that I’m just a naive little girl you’re using for fun.”

He’s silent for a long moment, then curses under his breath. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. That must be really hard to deal with, on top of the distance.”

“It is,” you admit, blinking back fresh tears. “And as much as I try to ignore them and have faith in us, their words have started to get to me. I mean … why don’t you ever post about me on social media? Do you not want the world to know about me?”

A shadow crosses his features. Clearly he’s heard this criticism before. “My reasons for keeping my relationships private have nothing to do with you, okay? I keep that part of my life off social media to avoid a media frenzy and protect the people I care about.” His expression softens. “But you better believe everyone important in my life knows about you — my family, my closest mates. Hell, the whole Red Bull garage is sick of hearing me go on and on about how amazing my girl is.”

You can’t help but laugh through your tears, some of the weight lifting off your chest. “Really?”

“Of course!” He chuckles. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, Y/N. No matter how far apart we are or what anyone else says, you’re the only one I want.”

Your cheeks flush at his heart-melting words. In that moment, you don’t care about your snotty sorority sisters or the distance or anything else — just being completely in love with this amazing man. “I wish you were here,” you murmur, drinking in every detail of his face. “I miss holding you so damn much.”

Max’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “Maybe you can show me how much later tonight, when we’re all alone to video call properly?”

You giggle and smack your hand over the camera, feeling suddenly shy. “Max Verstappen, you incorrigible flirt!”

“You love it.” His voice takes on a deeper, huskier tone that sends tingles down your spine. “And you’re going to love what I have planned for your next visit even more ...”

You spend the next few giddy minutes shamelessly flirting back and forth, soaking up precious moments of intimacy through the phone line to sustain you until you can be together again. When his race engineer appears in the background, beckoning him to the track, you’re both full of regretful sighs.

“Duty calls,” Max says wistfully. “But I’ll call you later, okay? We can pick up where we left off ...” He waggles his eyebrows mischievously.

You can’t stop your face-splitting grin. “I’ll be counting the minutes.”

“Bye schatje. Love you to the moon and back.”

“Love you too!” You clutch the phone to your chest after he disconnects, completely lovestruck. All your insecurities have melted away under the heat of Max’s devoted words and that heart-stopping smile.

It’s going to be okay.

He chose you — Y/N Sargeant, sophomore student, for all your flaws and relative immaturity. And you’ve never felt luckier.

Spirits lifted, you bound back into the house and upstairs to your bedroom. You’ll ignore Chelsea and her nasty friends for the rest of the night, instead losing yourself in daydreams of the next time you’ll be wrapped in Max’s strong arms.

Your relationship may be a long-distance whirlwind, but you’re all in and you’ve never been happier. Let the other sorority girls whisper — you’ve snagged yourself a keeper.

***

Max drains the last of his water bottle as he exits the Red Bull garage, sweat still beading on his brow from the qualifying session. He stretches his arms over his head with a satisfied groan — even after all these years in Formula 1, there’s no better feeling than pushing a car to its limits on the track.

“Max! A word, if you please.”

He cringes at the familiar bark, turning to find his father bearing down on him like a storm cloud. So much for basking in the post-qualifying glow. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Jos’ mouth presses into a grim line, eyes smoldering behind the lenses of his sunglasses. “Well, for one, I saw that interview of yours from yesterday making the rounds online.”

Max fights the urge to roll his eyes. Of course his old man would find something to criticize. “And? I thought it was pretty standard, nothing controversial.”

“Oh, I’m sure you didn’t mean it to be controversial.” Jos sneers the word like a curse. “But dodging questions about your girlfriend and claiming you prefer to keep your private life private? It’s only going to stoke more media speculation and rumors.”

“Is that so bad?” Max counters. “I like to keep things out of the spotlight as much as I can. You know how ravenous the press is.”

“Don’t play dumb with me, son.” Jos steps closer, his voice lowering to a dangerous hiss. “I know exactly who this girl of yours is.”

Max feels his hackles rising at his dad’s dismissive tone when speaking about you. He opens his mouth to retort, but Jos barrels on.

“First it was that damn Kelly Piquet and her baggage, and now you’ve upgraded to jailbait? What is it with you and dating either old hags or naive teenagers, Max?”

“That’s enough!” Max snarls, feeling his face flush with anger. “How dare you talk about them like that, especially Y/N. She’s an incredible woman, and our age gap means nothing.”

Jos scoffs loudly. “Come off it, boy! She’s just a child, a nobody playing at being a WAG. You were born for greatness, bred to be a champion. Why on earth would you hitch your wagon to some college bimbo barely out of nappies?”

It’s like a red mist descends over Max’s vision at his father’s vile words about you. Before he can stop himself, his fist lashes out and connects squarely with Jos’ jawbone, sending the older man stumbling back.

“Don’t you ever speak about her that way again,” Max seethes, cradling his throbbing hand. “Y/N is ten times the person you’ll ever be. Smart, mature, driven as hell —she’s going to accomplish incredible things someday, whether you respect her or not.”

Jos regains his footing, clutching the blooming bruise on his cheek and glaring daggers at his son. “How dare you strike me, you ungrateful little shit! I gave you everything — the training, the opportunities, the sacrifices to get you to this level. And this is how you repay me?”

Max refuses to be baited, meeting his father’s glare with stony resolution. “Maybe if you didn’t insist on being such a hateful, miserable bastard all the time, I wouldn’t have to. All I want is for you to be civil and show some respect. Is that too much to ask?”

He huffs out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. “But that’s not your way, is it? You’d rather condemn me for daring to find happiness with someone, just because she’s younger or doesn’t fit into your narrow ideas of what my life should look like. Well, I’ve got a newsflash for you. It’s my fucking life and I’ll live it however I damn well please.”

Jos opens his mouth, undoubtedly to fire off more vitriol, but Max cuts him off with a raised hand. He’s said his piece, expending the last of his energy and patience dealing with his father’s bullheadedness — at least for today. Right now, all he wants is to retreat somewhere quiet and let his thoughts drift across the ocean to you.

“Save it. I’m done arguing.” He turns on his heel and stalks away, Jos shouting insults at his retreating back.

Don’t react, don’t react. His jaw clenches almost painfully as he navigates the familiar path back to his driver’s room, typing out a quick message.

You free to chat soon, gorgeous? Need to hear your voice.

The reply comes almost instantly. For you, always. Give me 20 mins? ❤️

He can’t stop the surge of warmth at your words, the tension slowly draining from his shoulders. That’s his girl — always knowing exactly what he needs, even from thousands of miles away. And isn’t that what matters most of all?

After showering and changing into casual sweats and a t-shirt, Max sinks onto the small couch placed against the wall, pillows arranged just so to prop up his aching back and shoulders. He picks up his phone and dials your number, heart rate kicking up a notch in eager anticipation.

After what feels like an eternity but is surely only a few rings, your face fills the screen. You must have just gotten back from class — your hair is tousled and loose, your makeup-free skin flushed and glowing in the South Florida sun.

“Well hey there, handsome.” Your teasing smirk dissipates as you get a better look at him. “Max? Are you okay? You look exhausted.”

“I am now,” he manages, relief already washing over him at the simple sight of you. He drinks in every last detail like a man parched. “Just had a bit of a run-in with my dad and needed an escape.”

Concern flashes in your warm eyes. “Oh no, what happened?”

So he tells you — the interview rumors, his dad ambushing him and lobbing insults, the explosive fight that caused him to lose his cool and strike the first blow. You listen with sympathy, every encouraging nod and murmured reassurance calming his frazzled nerves until the story is spent, leaving him strangely at peace.

“Thank you for sharing all that with me, babe,” you say once he’s finished. Your voice is gentle but firm. “I’m sorry Jos was so out of line, but you were totally right to stand up to him. Nobody gets to dismiss our relationship or talk about you like that.”

Max blows out a long breath, raking a hand through his shower-damp hair. “I know, I just … I hate letting him get under my skin like that, you know? No matter how much I try to rise above it, he always finds a way to trigger something deep down. It’s exhausting constantly needing to defend myself and the people I care about.”

“But that’s not your burden to bear alone, Max.” You shake your head adamantly, jaw set in that stubborn way he loves. “Let me help shoulder that weight, even if I can’t actually be there physically yet. I’m on your team, remember? We’re partners. I’ve got your back.”

Your words loosen a knot of tension he didn’t realize he was carrying. Of course you get it, you always do. He knows in that moment how lucky he is to have found his teammate, his shelter in the storm that rages on no matter how successful he becomes.

“Have I told you lately how amazing you are?” His voice comes out low, thick with emotion. “How did I ever get so lucky?”

Your radiant smile could power entire cities. “By being you, silly. And for the record, your dad is way off base. There’s nothing wrong with you wanting a mature, driven, accomplished partner — even if she happens to be younger.”

“Age shaming goes both ways, apparently.”

“Apparently,” you agree wryly. “I had my own fun today ...”

As you launch into explaining the shenanigans that occurred during your morning lecture, Max feels himself relaxing further and further into the couch, a dopey grin spreading across his face. On and on the two of you go, playfully trading stories until his father and the endless pressures of his career have fully melted away, replaced by this perfect bubble the two of you inhabit.

When you hit a lull, stifling a yawn behind your hand, Max reluctantly decides to let you go for the night. “Do you have some time before your next class? You should get some rest.”

“Aw, I’m fine!” You protest through another jaw-cracking yawn. “I’m not done talking to my favorite driver yet.”

Max chuckles fondly. This stubborn streak of yours will be the death of him someday. “We both know that’s a lie. I can practically hear your bed calling your name for a nap from here.”

“Hmph, fine.” You stick out your full bottom lip in an exaggerated pout that makes his heart skip. “I guess if you insist on being all reasonable and stuff.”

“That’s me, a real fun-sucker.” He matches your playful tone, though his eyes are serious. “But before you go … can you just say it? For me?”

You immediately soften, gazing at him through the camera with so much tenderness, it almost winds him. “I love you, Max. More than anything.”

He exhales heavily, as if your words have physically lifted a weight from his shoulders. “I love you too, Y/N. And your love, your belief in me … it’s everything. Never doubt that, okay?”

“I won’t if you don’t,” you promise with a wink. “Good luck, babe. I’ll be dreaming of you.”

“Sweet dreams, liefje.”

Even after disconnecting the call, Max sits there for several long moments, staring at the now-dark screen with a besotted grin. His chest is pleasantly warm, full to bursting with the soul-deep reassurance that only you can provide.

Screw whatever toxic nonsense his dad tries to peddle about your age gap or his career. You’re the beating heart that sustains him, the sun around which his entire universe orbits. No disapproving authority figure or rumor mill gossip could ever change that fundamental truth.

So let his father rage and splutter all he wants about how “inappropriate” your relationship is. Max has tasted the extraordinary, found his home and partner in the most vibrant woman he’s ever met. All those lonely, empty years without that missing piece suddenly feel like a hazy, long-forgotten dream.

As Max sips his energy drink and prepares for another demanding few hours at the track, he can’t keep the dopey smile off his face. You’re worth enduring a thousand more shouting matches with his dad, worth traversing any distance just to hear your laugh again.

Max is the luckiest bastard alive to have earned your heart, and he’ll never take that gift for granted.

***

You shoulder your backpack and push through the double doors of the lecture hall, finally free from classes for the summer. The late afternoon sun bakes the quad in a warm glow as you pause for a moment, breathing in the sweet semi-tropical air.

For two years, this campus has been your entire world. Endless cycles of classes, parties, study sessions, and chaos with your sisters from Kappa Alpha Theta. But now, as you glance around at the laughing students basking in the first days of freedom, you feel a strange sense of restlessness settle over you.

Like there’s some place — somewhere — else you’re meant to be.

Shaking it off, you start heading for the student parking lot to meet up with Chelsea. You only make it a few steps before unusually loud cheers and shouts draw your attention to a small crowd forming near the front entrance.

Rows of parked cars block your view, but the distinctive growl of a high-performance engine cuts through the commotion. Your pulse instantly kicks up a notch as your mind puts it together.

That’s no ordinary car.

That’s a multimillion dollar, 800 horsepower British rocket. Sleek, powerful, luxuriously elegant.

Just like-

“No way ...” you breathe out, books slipping from your slackened grip as the glossy green bodywork of an Aston Martin DBS Superleggera slides into view. Because draped over the driver’s side door in that achingly familiar display of casual arrogance ...

“Max!” You shout his name in disbelieving joy even as your feet are carrying you toward him at a full sprint.

His head snaps up at the sound and your heart nearly stops at the way his whole face ignites with radiant delight. That brilliant smile you’ve ached to see in person for so long now stretching those full lips in the most heart-stoppingly beautiful way.

He pushes off from the car, hands outstretched, and in the space of a single frantic heartbeat you’ve flung yourself into his arms with a breathless laugh.

“What are you doing here?” You demand giddily as Max’s strong arms engulf you, swinging your frame around in a tight circle. You’re vaguely aware of the other students going nuts, people shouting and whistles piercing the air, but you only have eyes and ears for this incredible man holding you tightly.

Max just chuckles warmly, murmuring your name with raw affection before crashing his lips to yours in a scorching kiss that leaves you dizzy. You melt into the fierce embrace, parting your lips eagerly to taste the slight sweetness of Red Bull and dark chocolate that is so distinctly Max.

“Surprise, schatje,” he rumbles against your smiling mouth between heated, openmouthed kisses. “Thought I would swing by and pick up my favorite student myself.”

“Oh my god!” You laugh delightedly, cupping his chiseled jaw to drink in every perfectly imperfect inch of his beloved face. The strong jawline, the dimpled chin, those piercing blue eyes crinkling at the corners as he beams at you.

“When did you … how did you …” You’re at a loss for words, overcome with giddy euphoria at having Max here, warm and solid and real in your arms again after so many endless months.

A fresh wave of cheers and hollers suddenly cuts through your joyful bubble as half the crowd seems to recognize the celebrity in their midst. Dozens of camera phones whip out to capture the unexpectedly intimate reunion between you and Max.

“Who is that guy?”

“No way, that’s Max freaking Verstappen!”

“Y/N, how do you know Max Verstappen?”

The shouts and questions reach a fever pitch, finally breaking through your amorous fugue. Blushing furiously, you pull back just enough to murmur against Max’s chest.

“Well, much as I’d love to keep making out with my insanely hot boyfriend in the middle of campus, maybe we should take this somewhere a bit more private?”

Max gives a deep, rich laugh at that, the sound vibrating pleasantly against you.

“You are a wise woman, liefje,” he praises in that deliciously accented baritone. He presses one last, searing kiss to your smiling lips before reluctantly disentangling himself. “Though I would have thought you might like to give all your classmates one more delightful bit of inspiration to remember you by before you depart for the summer?”

He leers at you playfully as a chorus of whoops and whistles greets his flirtatious suggestion. You can’t help but bark out a laugh, shoving his chest lightly in mock admonishment even as heat rushes to your cheeks.

“You’re impossible!”

“No, just hopelessly in love with you,” he counters easily, reaching out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind your ear. The tenderness in his voice and touch instantly gentles your teasing mood into something infinitely fonder.

This remarkable man, so genuine and caring beneath the roguish exterior cultivated for the cameras. You’re struck by a sudden lance of melancholy at the thought of how little the world really knows of the real Max Verstappen.

But then his eyes crinkle in that way that speaks of unabashed adoration just for you and the feeling passes. Because you know him better than anyone. And he sees you just the same. Two souls intertwined by a rare, precious understanding.

Max’s hand slides around to cup the back of your neck, his thumb brushing lightly over your thundering pulse point. The tender motion instantly sets your nerves alight with renewed longing.

“So,” his voice drops to an impossibly deep bedroom octave meant only for your ears. “Shall we give the good people at the University of Miami one last show before I whisk you away for a few months of long overdue privacy?”

There’s the barest hint of a filthy promise underlying the words. You swallow thickly, unconsciously pressing closer as Max’s velvet tones wash over you like a physical caress.

“And just where will you be taking me?” You manage to tease back, forcing a bravado your hammering heart doesn’t feel.

“Well ...” He leans in until his lips brush the delicate shell of your ear. You shiver helplessly at the heated puff of air ghosting your sensitive skin.

“First,” he begins in a heated murmur, “we’re going to swing by your sorority house to gather your belongings.”

“Okay ...” You nod faintly, hyper-aware of Max’s intoxicating proximity.

“Then I’ll be driving us straight to your parents’ place in Fort Lauderdale,” he continues lowly. “Per the strict instructions of one Logan Sargeant, of course.”

You can’t help the surprised laugh that bursts forth. Trust your brother to strong-arm his way into Max’s surprise plans.

“He didn’t give you too hard a time, did he?” You ask through your giggles. “I can only imagine the threats he must have ...”

You trail off at the feeling of Max’s talented mouth blazing a trail of kisses along the slender column of your throat. Every exploratory brush of his lips and insistent swipe of tongue steals the breath from your lungs.

“Max ...” You whine out his name without conscious thought, going pliant against the solid wall of his body.

“Shhh,” he rumbles against your overwrought senses. “Let me finish first.”

There’s a maddening pause where the only sounds are the rushing waves of cheers and chaos from the delighted crowd watching your every move, hungered gazes drinking in every scorching caress Max bestows upon you. Under any other circumstances, the thought of being so shamelessly devoured by hundreds of strangers’ eyes would have you recoiling in embarrassment.

But Max’s presence, his heated touch and low, sinful voice have you spellbound, uncaring of your audience.

“After we’ve satisfied your family’s demands to see us with their own eyes,” he purrs. “We’ll be boarding my jet bright and early for someplace much more ... pleasurable.”

Your skin prickles with delicious tension as Max continues in that low, rough whisper.

“We’ll spend a few lazy days lounging on a private beach in Aruba, just the two of us.” His large hand roves provocatively down the curve of your spine to boldly grip your backside, pulling your hips flush against the insistent bulge in his designer jeans. “Catching up on all the things I’ve been dreaming about for months, schatje.”

A tremulous whimper escapes your parted lips at the blatant promise underlying Max’s words. You flatten your palms against the firm planes of his chest, feeling his powerful heartbeat thundering in time with your own.

“A-And after that?” You somehow manage in a breathy rasp, scarcely daring to hope.

Max’s only response is a low, thrumming chuckle that you feel vibrate across your heated skin. His chin dips, molten blue eyes searing into yours with naked hunger.

“After that?” He husks, stealing the breath from your lungs with a devastating grin. “Well, then I’ll finally get to introduce the world to my favorite girl.”

And neither of you can wait.

[junkissed]

nightwalker

member — vampire!minghao x f reader genre — smut, a little thriller/horror/supernatural word count — 6.6k synopsis — the closing shift at the university library isn't the most exciting job in the world, but your hot colleague makes it a whole lot better. another added bonus: he's a vampire. content warnings — mentions of blood, blood drinking (from reader), biting, not really compliant with vampire lore (i made some stuff up for the sake of making it spookier so just go with it), minghao is kinda creepy but he's a nice vampire i promise smut warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, fingering, making out, aphrodisiac vampire venom (?), plenty of consent!! notes — inspired by the song "nightwalker" by ten! the biggest thanks ever to mars @onlymingyus for helping me brainstorm this one, from start to finish (plus @cheolism and @wonustars for fleshing out the concept with me!). i worked so so hard to get this out in time for halloween, and this is my first vampire fic so it was a challenge to get it to a place i was happy with. i hope yall enjoy, and please lmk in a reblog/comment/ask if it's something you liked or want to see more of !! :D

there are many places that are exciting at night. bars, clubs, restaurants, theaters. especially on a saturday night, the town is full of life.

the university library where you work is not one of those places.

the study rooms have long since closed; computers have been shut off and the last few students have trudged home with bags under their eyes and bags full of half-finished papers. you don't usually work this late, but you're covering the graveyard shift for jun, who has a date with his girlfriend tonight. he definitely owes you one for this, but you get overtime pay for it so does it really matter in the end?

the closing shift isn't difficult. there's a few carts of returned books that need to be shelved, but that's really all there is to it. the only downside is that there's only one person working at night, so you're alone. but then again, some people might see that as an upside. as for you, it's got both pros and cons. it's not a shift you'd go out of your way to ask for, but you don't mind it once in a while. it's usually pretty peaceful after dark, and you can put on your headphones and play your music as loud as you want.

you pick up a stack of books for the history shelf, turning one over and flipping through it mindlessly. the cover is intricately detailed with flourishing silver engraving, and you pause a second longer to stare at it before you flip it around to check the number on its side.

you start to climb up the ladder and run your finger across the spines on the shelf, stopping where there's an empty space between the books. the job isn't hard, but it is boring. counting, shelving, counting again, alphabetizing. 

there's a sharp crack against the library window and you startle, whipping your head around to check behind you. but there's nothing there. it wasn't supposed to storm today… but it's probably just the wind. or maybe a sudden thunderstorm. or, it could be the guys from theta chi again. yeah, that sounds more like it. always the college kids getting up to trouble. it is a saturday night, after all, and this close to halloween there's bound to be at least a couple people throwing ragers tonight.

whatever it is, it's probably nothing to worry about. you've already locked up the rest of the building, so it’s just you alone in here now.

you turn back to the shelf, shoving the book into place before you reach for the next. best to get this over with as quickly as possible so you can go home. 

there's another booming sound, and now you're sure it's thunder because the whole room almost seems to rumble. you startle again at the noise, but this time your foot slips off the ladder and you lose your balance. you only have a split second to brace yourself as you start to fall, but you don't hit the ground.

suddenly there's a hand on your lower back, another on your arm, and you land on somebody's chest instead. you let out a scream, your loud shriek echoing through the silence of the library, and whoever caught you sets you back down on the floor.

you look up to see who it is, and you come face to face with the most gorgeous man you've ever seen. his long blond hair falls in waves at his shoulders, and his pale skin almost seems to sparkle under the overhead lights.

“you alright?” he asks calmly, breaking your trance.

you blink quickly and smooth down your shirt, trying to collect yourself. you just screamed at the top of your lungs in this poor man's face, and he's still being as polite as ever. “yeah, i'm fine, thanks to you. i'm lucky you were there.” you clear you throat and offer him a weary smile as you tell him your name. “i'm so sorry about that, by the way. and, you are…?”

“minghao,” he finishes for you. he doesn't say anything more. his tone is gentle and friendly, but there's still a sizzle of tension in the air around him that feels out of place.

you're trying to wrack your brain for information, but nothing's coming up. “you look familiar. do you work on campus? or— you're a student here?” you add the last part quickly, afraid to assume wrong. he looks young enough to be a student, but he sure doesn't seem like one. a grad student, maybe? or a phd candidate?

he nods. “department of health sciences.” he suddenly pauses, tilting his head to chuckle as if he's just thought of the funniest thing. “i'm sorry, i should've introduced myself better. you probably meet a lot of people, in a place like this.” he holds out his hand for you to shake. “dr. xu. maybe that name is a bit more recognizable. i teach classes in the fall.”

that feels a little more reassuring. and if he only teaches during the fall semester, that explains why you didn't recognize him more quickly.

you reach out to take his hand, and a shiver runs instantly through you when you feel his freezing palm against yours. the heater is running inside the building, but he just came in so maybe it's colder outside than you realize. but still, his grip feels unnaturally cold, as if he's radiating ice from the inside out.

“sorry, i'm just a little surprised. i thought i was in here alone. i swear i locked those doors…” you trail off, subconsciously glancing at the entrance. didn't you lock them? you hum quietly, trying to clear your mind. it's late, so clearly you aren't focused as much as you thought you were. “anyway. what can i help you with?”

minghao chuckles, almost sounding shy. “oh, i'm just here to return a book.” he pulls out a small, leather bound book from the pocket of his coat and hands it to you. his fingers graze against your wrist, and you have to force yourself not to wince at how cold his touch is. “working late, you know how it is.”

you scoff softly, nodding. “i sure do.” why do you suddenly feel like your tongue is in knots? “i'll check this in for you. is there anything…”

“no, that's all.” his words are short, but his tone still has that pleasant lilt to it that puts you at ease. “you've been quite helpful, i appreciate it. i'll get out of your way now.” he bows his head politely, giving you another smile. “be careful with those stairs.”

you turn around to set his book on the table behind you, letting out a chuckle as you start to reply. “i wi—”

but when you turn back around to tell him goodbye, he's already disappeared and you're standing by yourself. the library is deadly silent, not even the sound of footsteps or a door creaking. you turn again to look around for any signs of life, but the large room is completely empty.

you exhale, rubbing a hand across your forehead. the only evidence that minghao was ever there is the book still sitting on the table, looking up at you innocently, as if mocking your confusion.

whatever. all you have to do is just finish putting everything away so you can go home. it's not much longer.

by the time you collect your things and close up the library (you're sure that you did this time, double and triple checking every lock), it's well after midnight.

at this time of night the buses aren't running anymore, so you're stuck walking home. yet another reason to yell at jun later, but you probably won't. you just hope for his sake that his date had better been worth it.

you're not afraid of the dark. it's a fairly safe town, and aside from the college kids stealing each other's bikes and throwing rocks at people's windows, there's not a whole lot of crime that happens here. but still, you don't want to be the first to change that.

you stick close to the inside edge of the sidewalk, your gaze flitting around you as you hold your bag tighter to your chest. your encounter at the library has already put you on edge, making the usually peaceful night sounds feel spookier. the chirp of crickets and the distant howling of dogs (or maybe wolves?) only makes you more nervous as you pick up your pace. you're already almost halfway home. everything is fine.

a whispering sound in the dark makes you freeze, and you catch a shadow slip past the light of a street lamp on the ground. the sound seems to bounce around, unintelligible soft breaths floating around your ears. it's hard to tell if it's only in your head or not.

“hello?” you call out loudly, trying to sound brave. you pull out your phone and turn on the flashlight, shining it around, but there's nothing there. probably just an animal, you tell yourself, but you know you're lying to yourself. no animal you've ever known sounds like that. the disjointed murmurs in your ears makes your skin prickle. maybe it's… fuck, you don't even know what it might be anymore. but you're getting closer now. everything is fine.

you start walking again and the whispering sound returns, and it makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. the street is dark and empty, not a single car in sight, not a single light turned on inside the houses you walk past. it's too quiet, eerie.

you see another shadow moving. the whispering finally fades into a clear voice, calling out your name, and it sounds uncomfortably familiar. you whip around to check behind you, but the sight of minghao makes you relax. 

you exhale slowly, almost wanting to laugh with how overwhelmed with relief you are. you're not alone. there's someone here, and it's someone you know. everything is fine.

“are you following me, or something?” you scoff jokingly, but there's a little bit of truth to your words. two coincidences in one night feels like too many, but you're still glad to see him.

minghao laughs warmly, and somehow it makes the street seem smaller. “no, i live over here. i left the lab pretty late, just had some projects to finish up before tomorrow. sorry for startling you.” he pauses, looking you up and down. “i'm assuming you live down this way, too… would you like me to walk you home? it’s not very safe being out here alone at night, especially this time of year.”

his last words seem strange to you. what’s so different about this time of year? but a sharp gust of wind whips your coat around, so you don’t really have time to dwell on it for long. 

you pull your sleeves down to cover your hands, crossing your arms tightly over your chest to keep warm. it’s not usually this chilly, but maybe it’s just because you’re not usually out this late. the whistling of the wind through the trees makes you shiver, and you get the strange feeling that something’s watching you, something just out of reach. and suddenly, minghao’s offer seems like the best thing that could’ve happened to you tonight.

“please,” you tell him with a nod. “that would be great. thank you.”

he flashes another smile, and his teeth glint in the low light of the street lamp as he moves closer to you. “it’s my pleasure.”

now that minghao’s beside you, you’re able to zone out a little as you walk back to your house. the anxious, sort of uncomfortable feeling gnawing at the back of your thoughts is still there, but you push it down. it’s just the late hour. it’s just the wind. it’s just your mind playing tricks on you, and there’s really nothing to be worried about. 

you only realize that you’ve arrived once you notice minghao stop beside you. your mind is still elsewhere, so it doesn’t occur to you until later to wonder how he knew which house to stop at. the wind has completely died down, and the silence that follows is eerie, like the calm before a storm. except there is no storm. there’s only you, and minghao, and the dead of night.

you climb the steps to your front porch and pull your mail out from the metal box on the wall, tucking it under your arm as you fumble with your keys. your hand shakes from the cold as you move to unlock the door. “do you wanna stay for drinks or something?” you say, stepping inside and looking back at him.

you swear you see something flash across his eyes, but you're probably imagining things again; it's probably from the porch light flickering again. you really need to get that lightbulb changed soon. you've been putting it off for weeks, but as long as it still keeps your front door lit, then it's a project for another day.

he gives you a closed-mouth smile, nodding. “that'd be nice.” but despite his agreement he stays rooted in his spot outside, unmoving.

you hesitate in confusion. “well… come on in,” you say after a beat, gesturing inside the house with your arm. 

he finally moves, stepping tentatively through the doorway. once he's inside you flip the latch behind him, waiting for the familiar click as you hear the deadbolt slide into place. suddenly there's a tension in the room that you hadn't noticed before, and you can feel minghao's eyes following your every move.

“do you have extra locks for your door?”

he speaks up suddenly, and you jump a little in surprise. you're not usually on edge like this, but maybe it's just the season. they do say that strange things happen around halloween, after all. and on top of that, it's a full moon tonight, too.

when you don't reply right away, minghao pauses and leans against the kitchen counter, his tone casual as if he’s discussing the weather. “i just came across an article the other day about how easy it is for people to break those locks. you can never be too prepared, especially living alone…” he trails off, shrugging his shoulders.

you nod. you’d never mentioned living alone. but then again, that much is probably already obvious. no other cars parked in front of your house, no extra pairs of shoes in your front doorway, no lights on when you got home. “yeah.” you shift in place, trying to figure out how to bring the mood up.

“am i scaring you?” he asks, crossing his arms. his voice is gentle, but there's a hint of a smirk on his face that makes butterflies rise in your stomach.

“no.” you bite your lip. “should i be scared?”

“guess you’ll have to find out.”

you clear your throat and turn towards the counter, feeling your cheeks burn with heat. obviously he's just messing with you, and you have no reason to be this nervous. “i… i should probably just put my mail away, then i'll find us something to drink. you’re probably tired, i’ll just—”

in your haste to look busy, your hand slips and the stack of papers scatter across the floor. the edge of one of the thicker envelopes catches on your index finger, slicing through the skin, and immediately a pinprick of blood starts to seep from the cut. you jump backwards in surprise and let out a yelp, inhaling sharply as you bring your finger to your mouth out of instinct. 

when you realize what you've done, you pull your finger out of your mouth, squeezing your other hand around the wound to try and stop the bleeding. “sorry! oh my god, this is so embarrassing, i—”

but you stop when you look up and see minghao frozen in place, staring at your hand. his eyes have suddenly grown dark, a deep pitch black so that you can’t see his pupils, and his gaze is still fixed on the small smeared pool of crimson red on your fingertip. you’re about to ask him something, although you’re not sure what you mean to ask, but he speaks before you can get another word out.

“can i see?” 

his voice is like a lullaby, filling your ears like soft music, and before you can even think about what you’re doing you find yourself lifting your hand and holding it out towards him.

his eyelashes flutter as he takes your hand gingerly, his nostrils flared as he watches the blood still running down your finger. he finally breaks his concentration away from the cut, lifting his gaze to stare at you. the look in his eyes is so intense, and you swear you see his eye twitch but it could’ve just been a blink. he doesn’t break eye contact as he lifts your hand to his mouth, sliding his lips around your finger. you think you feel his teeth graze against your skin, but you probably imagined that. 

“band-aid?”

it’s not until he speaks a second later that you realize he’s taken your finger out of his mouth, and you look down at the cut. your hand feels cold and clammy, and you’re so dizzy that you have to lean against the counter so you don’t fall over. you blink and try to shake yourself out of your daze, but your body feels so heavy all of a sudden, too slow to move. even the soft kitchen light seems unnaturally bright to your eyes, and you feel lightheaded, as if all the blood in your body has rushed to the cut on your finger. “huh?”

minghao’s voice comes through clearer now, no longer the sweet melodic tone you’d heard earlier. now the sound is sharp, easily slicing through the warm fog in your mind. “do you have a band-aid?” he repeats.

you exhale, finally coming back to your senses, though your hand is still shaking in minghao’s grip. “y-yeah. the… drawer…” you manage to lift your other hand to point across the kitchen. you swallow thickly, trying to ground yourself and calm down. for some reason you feel positive he can hear your heart pounding in your throat. “there’s a box. by the silverware.”

he moves away, but you vaguely register that he still hasn’t let go of your hand. his hand is freezing, his touch ice cold against your skin, and you feel yourself shiver. the overwhelming urge to sleep overtakes you, and you let your eyes fall closed for a moment while you wait for him.

when you open your eyes again, you’re not in the kitchen anymore. you swear your eyes were only closed for a split second, no longer than a single blink, but now you’re sitting on your couch with your finger tightly wrapped in a bandage.

minghao stands in front of you, watching you closely.  “are you okay?” he asks. his voice is clear again, as casual as can be, and you almost thing you've dreamed this whole situation up. it's a better explanation, at least, than acknowledging you embarrassing yourself in front of your hot colleague.

your head feels so heavy, and you lean against the back of the couch to relieve the ache in your neck. there's a chill in your body that wasn't there before, a tingling feeling that almost borders on pleasurable, but you force it away. 

you forgot he'd even asked you a question until he lets out a sigh, running his fingers through his long hair to flip it out of his face. “i told you it's not safe to be around here at night alone.”

you frown in confusion, your head still feeling woozy. “it's only a papercut, minghao. and i'm fine, i'm not alone. there's a perfectly good doctor standing in my house right now.”

he clicks his teeth at your response, though you can't figure out what you'd said wrong. “you're a naive little thing, aren't you?” he exhales, tsking almost disapprovingly.

despite his tone, his words almost make you laugh, because suddenly everything makes sense. the shy meeting at the library, the encounter in the street, him offering to walk you home… this whole time, it's all been connected, and it took something as small as a papercut to figure it out. “are you hitting on me?”

he lets out a noise of surprise and starts to open his mouth, but you continue before he can say anything. “you could've just asked for my number, you know. i'm not taking classes at the university, so i don't think there's any rules against it.”

“trust me, i would really enjoy that; but no, that's not the reason i'm here.” he manages to get a word in, but you're not deterred. you can see it in the way he stands in front of you, eyeing you like the most delicious treat he's ever seen. you can't believe you didn't realize it sooner.

you hum, crossing your arms as you stare up at him from the couch. “but you do want to sleep with me.”

“i— maybe,” minghao huffs, but you swear you see a little bit of pink in his pale cheeks. he shifts on his feet, a timid expression on his face that seems unbefitting for a man who literally just stuck your bloodied finger in his mouth. “but—”

“aw, don't be shy.” you smile. “i won't bite. promise.”

that gets a laugh out of him. “but i might.”

“ooh, freaky.” you raise your eyebrows. you didn't strike him as the type to be into that, but maybe it's a doctor thing. and besides, who are you to judge? “are you, like, a vampire or something?”

you expect him to laugh again, but he seems unphased by your accusation, simply nodding like you'd just asked him his favorite food instead of whether or not he's a mythical undead creature. “yeah. does that frighten you?”

you shake your head, but you stop quickly when the motion makes you a little dizzy, though you can't comprehend why. “nah, i've seen worse. i had an ex-boyfriend that wanted to be my dog and let me walk him around my house on a leash, but…” you stop, realizing you're probably giving out too many details that minghao probably doesn't care about. “anyway, you already sucked on my finger, so it can't get any weirder than that. are you gonna bite my neck? because that's kinda hot.”

minghao's eyes widen, surprised by your offer, as if he's not the one who just claimed to be a vampire. he narrows his eyes and stays silent for a moment, listening for an inaudible sound. he must decide that you're being genuine, because he quickly relaxes, his lips turning up into a smile. “i… could. only if you want me to. if you'd let me.”

“i do want you to.”

he groans like that's the best idea he's ever heard in his life, and it makes you giggle. it's been too long since you've had somebody in your house who's this enthusiastic about roleplaying. maybe this is the change up you've needed in your life. it's perfectly fitting for the halloween season, too.

“are you sure?” he asks, and you suddenly realize his voice has dropped a few octaves lower. damn, he really is into this.

you pull yourself to your feet, still feeling a little lightheaded, but you're thinking clearly. you're sure of it. if you get in trouble with the university for fucking somebody who's technically your coworker, then so be it. 

“yeah. go on, bite me.”

in one swift motion minghao swoops in, pulling you closer and pressing his lips against yours. his hand wraps around your neck to keep you in place and he inhales sharply, his nails digging into your skin as he tightens his grip. any reservations you still had about him are gone the second you feel his teeth drag against your lips, his tongue slipping into your mouth easily.

you whimper into his mouth as he kisses you, but a second later he pulls away and releases his hand from around your neck, leaving you gasping for breath. he moves again, casually settling himself down on the couch in the spot where you'd just been, and you watch his movements with wide eyes.

he seems refreshed just from the kiss, his eyes sparkling with a new kind of light. he pats his thigh, spreading his legs out wider as he gets comfortable. before he even says a word you feel drawn to him, immediately moving towards him as if being beckoned by an invisible force.

“come on, darling, sit. you want me to bite you?” he finally speaks up. he flashes a grin at you as you plant yourself on his lap, your knees on either side of his hips. you're expecting his body to be warm, but like when you shook his hand in the library, all you feel is cold. a shiver runs through you at the feeling, and you briefly consider getting up to turn the heater on first, but you're already melting into minghao's lap and it feels way too good to leave now when you're just getting started.

“such a pretty thing.” he brushes your hair off your neck and back behind your ear, sending another shiver down your spine at his freezing touch and his deep voice. “will you give me a little taste?” 

his tone makes you pause. you thought he'd have let up on the joke by now, but he seems completely serious to see this through. either he just really likes to roleplay, or…

thunder cracks outside, and you startle on his lap. but he just chuckles, his hand snaking around your waist to hold you tighter against him. “don't be afraid, now. the fear makes you taste so sour, and you're much too beautiful for that, my darling.” he lets out a hum, and your gaze is drawn to his eyes like a magnet. “you're safe with me. just relax and let yourself enjoy it. i promise you'll like it.”

he pauses to wait for your nod, and once you do he moves in closer, his long eyelashes fluttering as he flicks his gaze up to look at your eyes one more time. he goes completely still, inhaling like he's searching for something. but after a moment he seems satisfied with this position, and he settles his ice cold lips against the warmth of your neck.

“ready?” he murmurs against your skin, and his breath makes your skin erupt with goosebumps. it's strangely reminiscent of a chilly gust of wind, the same cold wind blowing outside your house tonight.

you nod again, suddenly feeling shy. his name is on the tip of your tongue, but it instantly dies in your throat before any sound leaves your lips, and you feel his teeth sink into your neck. you choke out a gasp, whimpering at the split second of pain that blooms under your skin but bleeds into pleasure almost as quickly as it begins.

you let out a shaky exhale, struggling to catch your breath. every muscle in your body feels paralyzed. you squeeze your hand on minghao's shoulder, your nails digging into his back as hard as you can.

your lips are parted so beautifully in euphoria, minghao thinks, and yet you don't even realize it. of course you wouldn't. you don't understand how perfect you are, how perfect you are for him. he doesn't let up, plunging his teeth deeper into your neck as he revels at the flood of arousal in your veins that melts onto his tongue like candy.

you try to suppress a moan but it falls from your lips before you can think hard enough to stop it, your hips rolling against his lap. you've never felt a rush like this before in your life. you're addicted to it. every sensation is heightened, every nerve alight with ice cold fire.

you let out a whine and then moan again, grinding your hips down on him desperately. you can vaguely register the hard, thick bulge of his length between your legs but it's the last thing on your mind right now, so focused on chasing the high that's building inside you. you can taste colors and sounds and smells, almost overwhelmed with how sensitive everything is, yet it's the best feeling you've ever had.

he pulls back from you slowly and you whimper as you feel his fangs retract from your neck, leaving you with an even colder sensation that prickles on your skin. his tongue laps at the fresh wound, but your brain can't determine whether the dripping wetness on your skin is blood or saliva. 

“more,” you gasp out once you find your voice again, still panting in exhilaration. your head is full of pressure and you feel dizzy again, even more than earlier. you have to fight to keep your head upright instead of letting it fall against his chest, the weight almost unbearable, but nothing compared to how good your body feels right now.

“no more.” minghao shakes his head firmly. his mouth is stained with blood, the dark crimson red that's blotted over his plush lips making them seem even paler in contrast. he reaches one hand up to hold the back of your neck, and instantly you feel relief from the aching heaviness of your head. “that's enough for tonight. can't let you lose any more blood, sweetheart. but thank you for the snack.”

you exhale quietly as you try to breathe naturally again, but your hips never stop moving. minghao can hear the vibrations from your heart pounding as you grind down against his lap, and it only stirs him up further. it's been a long time since he's been this excited about something other than feeding. he almost can't remember the last time he'd felt the desire to be intimate, and that only makes you seem all the more exciting. it's not what he'd been expecting when he'd offered to follow you home tonight, but this outcome is much, much better.

you're quieter than he'd thought you would be. but then again, everyone reacts differently to him. some in horror, some in shock, some in fear, some in lust. you... well, it's clear you're enjoying it. but you're too quiet. he wants to hear your beautiful screams, the desperate way your breath catches in your throat as your lungs fill with air. he wants to hear the rush of blood in your veins, tinged sweet with your arousal like sticky melted sugar. more than anything he wants to drink you up, but he can't. even if he could, he won't. a beautiful thing like you, you're the kind of meal that someone like him waits centuries for, like a perfectly aged wine savored slowly over years instead of gulped down in one sitting. he's already had a taste of you, and he's perfectly content to wait centuries more for another bite. luckily, he's a very patient man.

but you don't have the benefit of centuries of patience like he does, and he can tell. this isn't enough for you. he can smell it, he can practically taste it in the air that you're not going to get off like this, at least not without taking more from you. and he's determined not to let his appetite get the best of him, not when you're so satisfying in so many other ways. 

“you know you can do better than that, angel,” he murmurs. the nickname burns his tongue, a sharp stinging pain as it leaves his icy lips, but he doesn't care. anything he has to go through to have any part of you, even the wrath of heaven itself, is well worth it to him. all you need is a little encouragement, and he's happy to provide.

you let out a whine, your eyes meeting his dark ones as you tentatively rest your hands on his shoulders once more. he feels firm beneath your grasp, although you don't know why you were expecting him not to be. the tingling feeling in your body is starting to wear off, and he doesn't feel real. there's a fog around everything right now, hazy like walking through a dream. or maybe a nightmare. it's too hard to tell right now. maybe you'll wake up in a few hours and look back on this and laugh. maybe you fell asleep at the library and never even made it home. the only thing you know for sure is that you're never covering another night shift for jun ever again after this. or, maybe you will. actually, maybe you'll offer to cover his shifts every night, if it gives you another chance to see minghao again.

“you're thinking too hard, darling,” minghao interrupts, though you haven't spoken out loud. “i can't do anything you won't like. can't hurt you, at least not tonight. but you're too sweet to waste, anyway. i wouldn't dare spoil you.” he hums, tilting his head downward to look at you through his lashes, his eyes boring into you so intensely that you feel it in the deepest parts of your soul. 

“then, what are you going to do?” you manage breathlessly, meeting his gaze. you're so eager for more, and you're not even trying to hide it anymore. you don't think you could hide it no matter how hard you tried.

minghao hums, brushing your hair back again with his slender fingers. “mm, how about you show me where your bedroom is first, darling? then i'll tell you.”

but before you can answer he stands up and scoops you up into his arms. it seems like only a second passes before he reaches your room, depositing you on your bed with a cold gust of air.

you can't see him in the darkness, and you almost start to call out for him nervously. you've grown used to the familiar coldness of his body, and the room feels emptier without his touch. but as soon as the thought crosses your mind, the candles on your windowsill suddenly flicker to life, crackling with a small burst of flame.

“better?” minghao murmurs, appearing beside you at the edge of the bed. his figure seems to melt into the darkness, barely visible at the edges of your vision, but you know he's there.

“would be even better if you'd touch me already,” you reply, and that earns you a smirk from him.

“forgive me for giving you a chance to change your mind.” minghao huffs and rolls his eyes a little. eager may have been an understatement. 

you whine impatiently and reach out for him, but he cuts you off before you can protest. his voice grows serious, the same sharp tone he used earlier that registers so clearly in your mind. “you're allowed to say no. i'm not using any tricks on you to make you obey me. if you want to stop, then i will.”

something about his voice feels genuine, and you know he's telling the truth. “okay,” you hum softly, trying to match his serious tone. “but i'm saying yes.”

he exhales almost in exasperation, but he's smiling as he leans down over the bed to capture your lips again. his mouth is cold, but this time you're expecting it and it doesn't catch you so off guard.

you're getting used to the feeling of kissing minghao. he tastes better than anyone you've ever kissed, and it's quite easy once your brain manages to get past the initial mental barrier of holy shit you're kissing a vampire and he's really good at it.

one of his hands finds its way down your pants, and instinctively you bite down on his lip in surprise at the sudden icy sensation rubbing between your folds. but that only makes him groan and press his fingers harder against you, moving up to trace circles around your clit.

you whimper into his mouth, your hips simultaneously bucking towards him and away from him as he sinks a finger inside. the cold feeling is such a new sensation, and you clench down automatically around him.

but despite the coldness of his touch, your cheeks are burning hot, and it's getting harder and harder to catch your breath. you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down closer to you, the front of his body pressed against yours, and he slides in another finger.

he almost can't believe you're real. this close to you he can hear your heartbeat thumping and he knows you're alive, the saccharine-sweet scent of your blood coursing through your veins serving only as a reminder of his own mortality. you're everything he's not: warm and alive and full of emotion, but that only makes him want you more.

the wind has picked up again, drowning out the sounds of your moans as the trees outside thud their branches against the side of the house. it only takes another moment for you to reach your peak, falling apart around him with a choked whimper. he slips his fingers halfway out before thrusting them back in, repeating the motion as he presses the heel of his palm against your clit for more stimulation.

his nostrils flare as your scent gets even more powerful, and he has to concentrate all his energy on keeping himself in check. he's never been more tempted to drink from someone in all his life. he can still taste your blood on his tongue from earlier, his mouth beginning to water at the memory, and in the back of his mind he wonders if you can taste it, too. if you were that good before, then he can only imagine how you'd taste now, with the added syrup of your arousal. you're like an ambrosia he can never have, the sweetest nectar he's ever had the pleasure of sampling. 

his resolve is crumbling, but he promised he wouldn't drink any more. it would hurt you, and it would pain him even more than it would you. if he says anything then you'd only plead for him to do more, lost in the aphrodisiac of his venom and unable to tell your own limits, so he keeps his thoughts to himself and just kisses you harder, swallowing your moans instead of your blood. maybe if he's lucky he'll get another chance to have you another day, once you've had time to rest and recover. if you're willing, he could keep this up for a while. you could be his. forever. 

your thoughts are fuzzy when he pulls away from you, keeping his fingers buried inside for a moment longer before slipping out. the candles’ flames dance wildly, casting long shadows across your walls as minghao seems to shimmer in the air beside you.

“wait,” you call out for him weakly, still catching your breath as you come down. “please.”

minghao hums, his figure solidifying on the bed above you. he slides his fingers into his mouth, slowly licking your wetness off of them with a groan before he moves to unbutton his shirt.

“oh, i'm not going anywhere.”

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! i'm pretty new to writing non-human characters so feedback would be super appreciated, i hope you liked it <3 thanks for reading!!

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[smol-dragon]

Snow Laden Tragedies

The Legion/Reader , Frank Morrison/Reader , Joey/Reader , Susie/Reader , Julie/Reader , F.J.S.J/Reader Chapter 1 of ?? Word Count: 2,580 words Chapter Warnings: Violence against reader Summary:

All you could do was run. You don't know how you got to this place or why there are suddenly murderers on your heel, but you can do nothing but run as you fight for your life to survive. It's unfortunate, really, that your circumstances are so odd, an oddity that doesn't go unnoticed by a certain group of killers. New toys are always fun and you're the shiniest one yet.

Cross posted on AO3

You didn't know how this started, how you got here, but all you knew was that you had to run.

Your heart felt as if it wanted to burst out of your chest, the thundering roar of blood pumping through your veins making it hard to hear your pursuer; but you knew he was there. You had watched as he struck down another woman from afar, tearing into her flesh with his blade. Her screams had echoed in the forest as her blood sullied pristine snow, the display being all that you needed to know you were in danger. This man would do the same to you if you didn't get away, you had to run.

In your haste you nearly fell, your sneakers now a detriment on the slick snow beneath you. You stumbled, but after a few botched steps you managed to regain your balance. You had almost let out a sigh of relief, but the sounds of steps quickly approaching made you realize your mistake. He had finished off whoever it was he was previously preoccupied with, leaving you as a final witness; a final victim. Without sparing a second thought, you took off into the woods.

Flecks of snow pelted your face as your lungs burned, trying to make sense of the world around you as it passed by in a blur. Nothing about this place was familiar. Hell, it wasn’t even snowing where you were just an hour ago, yet you now found yourself in a tundra? It was confusing to say the least, but you didn’t have time to consider the possibilities; not while being chased. Your heart hammered in your chest from exertion as you dared to look back, a mistake that had your blood running cold.

He had gotten closer, so much so that you could actually make out the finer details of his appearance. The mask you saw was worn down, a crudely drawn smiley face leering back at you and hiding whatever expression the maniac had underneath. You couldn’t even see his eyes through the holes, the entire thing was designed to successfully hide his identity. Everything else about him seemed normal, if not for the new and old bloodstains that littered his clothes. The glint of metal in his hand made you look towards his knife, one you were now realizing was being raised above his head. Your eyes widened slightly as you saw him push himself to seemingly his own limits, gaining speed as he barreled after you.

At this rate, you wouldn’t stand a chance. You returned your focus to the world ahead of you and willed your legs to work harder, teeth gritting as you could hear his irregular breathing like he was right at your heels. He probably was, but you didn’t dare turn around to check. Your only confirmation was the feeling of wind grazing your back, a strike that barely missed. Almost immediately after would sounds of pain leave the masked man, his footsteps briefly slowing. You weren’t sure what just happened, but you’d happily accept the gained distance without question and use it to your advantage.

You pushed yourself further, deeper into the snow laden terrain, the lack of landmarks or anything substantial concerning you. You didn’t know where you were, how you ended up in this place, or if you were even heading towards anything that could help you. For all you knew, you were just heading deeper into seclusion and cementing your fate. It was a thought that gnawed at the back of your psyche as you veered around conifers and other pines, but you were determined to try and live regardless. You’d run for as long as you had to, as long as you could until you dropped and couldn’t run anymore. 

But, it would seem fate was some-what kind to you.

Barely hidden in the endless haze of white would the outline of something solid and far more man-made catch your attention; a small building amongst the snow. It didn’t look inhabited, perhaps one of those old camping checkpoints for people out in the wilderness, but you didn’t care. A building meant there was a door and maybe, just maybe, a chance to buy yourself enough time to catch your breath.

You practically jumped up the stairs, skipping steps, as you rushed to the door. You could hear the heavy steps of your would-be attacker behind you as you slammed the door shut, quickly pushing the lock into place before a fit of coughs overcame you. Barely a few seconds would pass before something (or in this case, someone) collided with the door, rattling the wood on its hinges. You flinched from the sound of the impact, backing away from the door as the man battered at your only divider. He persisted for s few moments, but eventually all would fall silent.

You knew he was still out there, possibly waiting, but it seemed for the time being he had stopped. You weren’t sure why his assault had paused, but you would use the moment of respite to catch your breath and try to think of a plan. The interior proved far more useless than you would've liked, only fitted with a few pieces of furniture and an old wood burner, nothing that could help you evade the man just outside the door. The only thing that could even count as useful was a window on the opposite side of the building, but you didn't know whether or not such a plan would work. Surely he'd hear you the moment your feet touched snow, so how would you-?

A loud bang caused you to jump, eyes widening as you snapped your attention to its source. He had started to hit the door again, however this time with far more force; he was trying to break it down.

"Shit-" You swore under your breath, reanimating and rushing towards the window. You tugged it upwards harshly, hissing in pain as you were met with stark resistance. It was locked and, from the looks of it, the latch that kept it shut had jammed long ago. You were stuck and there was no means to escape, at least, not without some work.

"Fuck!"

The banging had increased in volume, the masked man's labored breathing audible through the cracks he had managed to produce. You were running out of time, so you did the only thing you could think of. Grabbing a nearby chair, you lifted it over your head and hit it against the glass with all of your might, yelping as the wooden object bounced off. The shock of the impact went straight to your arms, but it didn't deter you. Either you managed to break this window and slip through, or you'd die a horrible death.

You swung once, twice, thrice more until there was finally give, the old window shattering and spilling fragments down onto the snow below. You didn't waste any time the moment the window was clear, ignoring the shards that dug into your clothes and skin as you pushed yourself out the opening. You landed in the snow below unceremoniously, crying out in pain as a larger fragment dug into your side; but it wasn't enough to keep you from being able to move. No, you stood relatively quickly, your adrenaline muting your pain as you pushed yourself to your feet.

The door inside of the house would finally splinter and give, the sounds of it breaking filling you with urgency. The masked maniac would figure out your means of escape soon and if you didn’t get moving you’d lose the opportunity. A shiver ran down your spine as you once again forced yourself into motion, only pausing briefly as you looked at some of the splintered glass. A means to defend yourself wouldn’t hurt, right? Without a second though you grabbed the largest shard you could fit in your palm before taking off, holding your make-shift weapon firmly as you left behind the only structure you had seen for some time. You could tell by the distant shouting that he had figured out your plan, but by then you had already ran into the white haze; he’d only be able to follow you by your tracks now.

It at least gave you a slight advantage, but one you knew wouldn’t last if you slowed down. It didn’t matter that the cold was slowly seeping into your bones, causing your muscles to spasm perpetually. It didn’t matter that your fingers and toes were going numb, you had to keep moving. He would catch you if you stopped and you feared what he would do over the looming threat of hypothermia. At least, that was what you told yourself as you continued into the woods. 

And continue you would, running until you could no more, until you were forced to a slow trudge. The snow had not stopped falling since this entire ordeal began and the effects of it were starting to get to you. The cold had long since consumed your body- you couldn’t even feel your hands or feet anymore. Your limbs were growing tired, both from exertion and from the freezing temps stiffening your joints, but you couldn’t stop. If you stopped, he’d catch you. If you stopped, the cold would consume you. You had to keep moving, you had to-

Something would catch your foot and bring you tumbling forwards, falling onto the ground with a groan. You’d look back to see the offending object, only to realize it was a root. A tree root that was slightly jutted out of the ground, masked by the layers of fresh and fluffy snow. It was almost ironic that something so cliche would be the cause of your downfall, but as you tried to push yourself back up you found that you couldn’t . No matter how much you tried, your arms and legs would not work. They were too tired, too slow; your previous actions were starting to catch up with you at the worst possible time. This was it, surely, this was the end.

You let out a slow, shuddering breath as you screwed your eyes shut, trying to fight the urge to cry if only to prevent your eyes from potentially being frozen shut. Out of all the ways you could’ve died, alone in the snow was definitely up there for one of the worst. Maybe you should’ve let that deranged killer catch you. It was a thought that would echo in your mind as you stared off into the forest, so sure that you would see nothing amongst the bland white.

And then you saw him.

The masked man, his form barely visible, was stalking closer with the same murderous intent he had before. Your mind screamed at you to run, but you could barely even get your fingers to cooperate with you, much less your legs. You just had to wish for a different death, didn’t you? There was nothing you could do as you watched him approach, almost certain he was looking directly at you. It wasn’t until he was a few paces away did you realize he hadn’t seen you, didn’t even know you were there until he was basically right on top of you.

Your presence on the ground seemingly surprised him, as he stopped rather suddenly. Apparently, he hadn’t accounted for you to just be on the ground, helpless. You watched as the masked man remained motionless, staring at you as if to see if this was a trick. Sure, you still had the glass in your hands, but it wouldn’t do you much good in this position. At best you could piss him off, but you weren’t really sure if you wanted to do that. Finally he would move, stepping closer and finally speaking.

“You fucking fell ?” He spoke in disbelief, the annoyance dripping from his tone. You weren’t sure why, but it wasn’t as if you could ask or respond; you were just so goddamn cold . Your lack of response only served to irritate him further, as he let out a frustrated groan and kicked at your side. You winced, making a weak noise of pain, but didn’t move beyond that. 

“Jesus Christ, you’re fucking pathetic.” The knife that he had previously brandished would hang limp in his grasp as he crouched, using the blade’s tip to poke and prod at you. Each pin-prick was barely felt, some not felt at all even when he pressed the blade into your skin, your nerves long since numbed from the temperature. Though you couldn’t see his eyes through his mask, you could tell he was watching the small droplets of blood bubble from his handiwork, almost intently observing them. Whatever was going on through his head, though, didn’t pull him away from reality long, as his head tilted up to look at you.

“You can’t feel any of this, can you.” He spoke bluntly, monotonous and disappointed at the mere prospect that you weren’t in pain. Maybe the cold was serving to your benefit after all. You nodded your head slightly to answer, earning you a noise in frustration from the other before he stood and kicked at the ground. “Mother fucker! Of course you fucking can’t. Piece of shit- you just had to run, didn’t you?” He paced momentarily in a circle as he vented his frustrations to you, a prospect you found odd but could do nothing to stop. He would eventually turn back to you, spinning on his heels and pointing his knife at you in an almost accusatory manner. “All your stupid friends died like they were supposed to, even screamed like little bitches , but you just had to run.” He once again closed the distance, standing over you before snatching you up by the collar of your shirt. You made a sound of protest, shaking hands moving to grip at the hand that grabbed you, only to find he had once again stopped. 

You tried your best to balance yourself as he had his moment, one which didn’t last very long as his other hand raised to grab your wrist. You were confused, but seemingly so was he, a fact you couldn’t wrap your head around.

“You’re cold?” He sounded dumbfounded, as if the both of you weren’t in the middle of a snowstorm. “How the fuck…” His words trailed off, staring at your wrist as if it offended him before turning his attention back to his face. It seemed whatever plans he originally had detoured, as he immediately released you back into the snow. The back of your head had barely made contact with the ground when you looked up to see him holding his knife awkwardly, the butt end of it pointed towards you rather than the blade. And immediately, did that butt end come down and collide with the side of your skull. The first hit did nothing but jar you, a cry of pain escaping you as you tried to recoil away. The masked man’s free hand moved to press against your neck, kneeling over you and squeezing your torso between his legs as he once again struck you.

Though your throat was dry and hoarse you managed to scream, a sound that was cut off abruptly as he struck you on the side of the head a third time.

And just like that, everything went dark.

[phoenixblaze1412]

may i request a gn!reader being freaky with the older segments for fun and to just tease em while they’re working in the lab. Like leaving touches (caressing their faces, tracing a hand down on their chests, etc.) leaving em kisses on the neck, etc. Then just leaving them with blue balls

and one day reader gets cornered by all of em and spicy shit happens uhhh yeah

It started as a game.

You were bored.

They were brilliant—always busy with their experiments, immersed in data, ignoring your presence for hours on end.

So, naturally, you decided to interrupt.

You started with Gamma.

He was hunched over a microscope, muttering to himself. You leaned in and let your fingers brush down the back of his neck, tracing the veins beneath his skin. He stiffened immediately.

“You're tense,” you whispered, lips brushing his ear. “You should take a break, Gamma.”

He didn’t respond—not with words. Just a sharp inhale and a faint twitch below the belt.

You smiled.

Then Theta, you traced your fingertips over his chest as he reviewed surgical notes. “Does your heart ever race in that cold body?” you murmured, letting your tongue flick over his neck before walking away.

Omega tried to ignore the kiss you left on his jaw. He clenched the table, growled your name lowly, but didn’t move.

Delta snapped a pencil in his hand when you straddled the stool behind him and massaged his shoulders, letting your breath ghost down the back of his neck.

Then you walked out of the lab.

Like nothing happened.

Like you didn’t just awaken every feral instinct in four dangerous minds.

Hours passed. They said nothing. You began to think you got away with it.

Until the lights dimmed in your wing of the lab.

Until the door locked behind you.

Until four very pissed-off Segments cornered you in the dark.

Gamma was the first to grab you, slamming you against the wall, lips crashing into yours with fevered anger.

“You think we’re toys, firecracker?” he growled, grinding into your thigh. “You thought we wouldn’t make you pay?”

“Made us walk around thinking about you for hours,” Theta hissed, sliding behind you, pinning your arms back. “Now you get to be our lab rat.”

Omega and Delta circled in like sharks. Omega’s gloves were off. Delta’s shirt was unbuttoned.

“You’ll be sore for days,” Delta purred.

“Beg now,” Omega demanded. “Before we take it.”

You were already aching, but you smirked, defiant.

“Make me.”

They did.

———

They stripped you fast, leaving you exposed on a lab table, restraints locking your wrists over your head. Cold metal beneath your back, four mouths on you at once.

Theta left bite marks down your chest.

Gamma sucked bruises onto your thighs.

Omega slipped two slick fingers inside you, curling expertly while Delta whispered: “You're ours now.”

And then?

They denied you.

Over and over.

Teased to the edge. Again. And again.

Every time you begged, they laughed.

“Not yet.”

“You wanted this.”

“You don’t get to finish until we do.”

.

.

Finally, they gave it to you.

Delta pinned your hips, his length thick, ruthless, ramming into you deep while he growled filth into your ear. “Tight little tease, gonna break you open.”

Gamma grabbed your throat and let out a small coo at how you're taking the others well while thrusting into your mouth, using your tongue to vent his built-up frustration.

Theta held your legs open, letting everyone watch your hole stretch, your body twitching as you finally came..only to be flipped and taken again.

Omega rutted inside you. His release hot, punishing, enough to make you sob. “Now you’re marked. Claimed."

Each Segment took their turn.

And then again.

And again.

You were drooling, trembling, belly full, body twitching from overstimulation.

They didn’t unbind you right away.

They just stroked you gently, whispered in your ears, kissed your bruises.

“Next time,” Gamma purred, “we do it in the main lab.”

“Let’s see how loud you scream during dissection lectures,” Theta teased.

“You’re not walking tomorrow,” Delta smirked, kissing your temple.

Omega simply looked down at your cum-streaked, shaking form and said:

“Touch me during a test again… and we’ll breed you on the exam table.”

[madamemachikonew]

*** NEW FIC ***

THETA SEGMENT OC x Fem Reader

The Theta Segment takes you out for a date in Fontaine City during which you contemplate the inevitability of Fate and nature -v- nurture.

Chapter 1 of 2

Rating Mature