#...even though i want to explain So Badly

[inthelibrarybtw]

you want me to pretend? | twelve

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: college!basketball!captain!rafe x college!student!reader content: fluff, angst, college au, smau/irl, mentions of medical procedures, surgery, hospitals, medicine, jealousy, breastfeeding mentioned once.

summary: You were trying to make one problem disappear. You were tired, so you lied. That small lie led you to contact the last person you wanted to ask for help. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Rafe; only that you didn’t want to deal with his constant teasing more than you already did. Also, you two weren't that close, but this one lie was going to bring you two closer and maybe help some truths come to light.

word count: 1.9k

authors note: it took me longer than I wanted but my health wasn't cooperating. This wasn't supposed to be a flashback but if I had added this to last chapter it would've been too long. We will be back to the present time line next part, I just needed to get this out of the way. ENJOY 🙂‍↕️

11 | 12 | 13

Sophomore year - Spring Break 2023

“Look, it’s not packed, I told you,” you said to Kelce.  

“Yeah, whatever,” he rolled his eyes. He didn’t want to come to the beach, but you and Angie did, and he was tagging along because it was his only day with nothing planned.  

“You know you are crashing, right?” you teased him.  

“Excuse me for wanting to spend time with my best friend.” Kelce rolled his eyes again as you laid out something for the three of you to sit on.  

“I am spending time with my best friend,” you said with a little smirk, referring to Angie and not him.  

“Just say you hate me,” he said, putting a hand over his chest and pretending to be hurt. Meanwhile, Angie was just chuckling and setting down some of the items she had brought for the picnic at the beach.  

After the three of you were settled, you took some pictures as you always did and started talking. The conversation began with Angie telling you about Ethan and what had happened with him in more detail, and that he had tried to explain why he did what he did, but only made things worse. Kelce gave his opinions when asked; he knew better than to interrupt the two of you during your catch-up session. The conversation shifted to Kelce and Nikki, the girl he was seeing. She was nice, and you didn’t have much to tell him about her, just that sometimes she was a bit too jealous, but he knew that and liked it.

After eating and having a lighthearted chat, Kelce decided to probe a bit about the Jordan and Rafe topic. He wasn’t asking to get something out of it, but after the party and the date a month ago, he had been wanting to ask some things, though he had held back, not wanting to piss you off. You had reacted a bit badly to his lack of enthusiasm when you told him about the date, so he had refrained from asking why you had suddenly decided to give all your energy and attention to Jordan when you had been feeling unsure about him.  

“So, how are things with Jordan? Any plans for this week?”  

“No, we have been talking here and there. He wants to go out again, but our schedules keep clashing.”  

“It’s spring break; shouldn’t he be free?” Kelce tried to sound supportive, but he didn’t like Jordan; there was something that didn’t sit right with him. The only person he had admitted this to was Rafe because he knew he also didn’t like him, though Rafe’s reasons were completely different. Kelce just didn’t like the guy, while Rafe didn’t like Jordan because you liked Jordan. Jealousy.  

“He has plans with his family,” you said, taking a sip of your Coke. 

“Okay, yeah, I get it…” he paused. “But besides that, everything is good, right?”  

“Yes, after the date, he has been even sweeter, mentioning things I told him, and he always brings up the date. I’m taking it as a good sign.” You said, and Angie nodded as if to reassure you.  

“No regrets on going on the date then?” Kelce stated rather than questioned.  

“No regrets at all,” you said with a smile. “Why? You thought I was regretting it?”  

“No, no, just making sure you feel okay with him.”  

“I do, thanks for asking.”  

“So Rafe?” he said, not knowing how else to bring it up. You knitted your eyebrows.  

“Rafe? What about Rafe?”  

“You don’t like him anymore?”  

“What?” You asked, even more confused; he had caught you off guard. You hadn’t told him you had a crush on him. Angie had been the only one who knew about what you called a silly crush.  

“Or did I get it wrong?” Kelce asked, trying to read your reaction. You sighed, giving up.  

“No… I did have a little crush on him for a while, but it’s over now.” He smirked at your answer.  

“When?”  

“When what?”  

“When did you get over him? Was it before or after you saw him kissing Sofia?” He was testing you, and you hated it.  

“Who is Sofia?” Angie asked, a bit confused.  

“High school friend of Kelce,” you explained to her. “And that kiss is not relevant.” It was; you knew it had been relevant. It had been the whole reason you decided to move on.  

“If you say so.”  

“Kelce, I don’t like him anymore, okay?”  

“Thought it was a silly crush,” Angie added, grinning.  

“Angie!” you huffed and rolled your eyes.

—

This time, the family spring break trip had also been a family reunion; older cousins and other relatives had tagged along. There were more kids around this time, and Emily was over the moon to have cousins her age and even nieces and nephews who were her age or close to it to play with. Rafe mingled and talked to everyone, but at the end of the day, he always returned to what he felt comfortable with: Sarah. They were that pair of cousins who did almost everything together since childhood, and people mistook them for siblings. His mom and Sarah’s mom had been best friends since college, and by luck or destiny, they had married brothers, which led them to share a last name. Later on, it resulted in Sarah having her aunt’s name as her middle name.

So, as with any other dinner, Sarah and Rafe were sitting next to each other, ready to comment on whatever would happen during the meal or had happened earlier. 

“Who do you think will end up drinking more tonight?” Sarah asked. 

“Grandpa, maybe; it’s always him. Watch him make toasts for nothing to excuse his drinking,” Rafe said, chuckling under his breath. 

“I think it's gonna be Liliana. She officially stopped breastfeeding, and she said she wasn't looking after the baby today.” She chuckled, and Rafe rolled his eyes. 

“I know; she almost threw Theo at me today.” 

The dinner went on normally, just as they had expected. At one point, it was just the grown-ups at the table, but they were not interested in that talk, and Sarah had wanted to ask Rafe something for a while but hadn’t had the chance to do so. 

“So… how are you feeling now about the Y/N situation?” she asked, a bit scared of how he was going to react. 

“What situation?” 

“Your feelings for her.” 

“I’m okay; she’s with Jordan, so I don’t care anymore.” He said it was nothing, but Sarah knew better. This time, she didn’t want to push him to say more, or he would shut her off entirely, and that was not her intention. 

“So that’s it?” she asked, a bit concerned. Rafe sighed.

“Yeah, that’s it…” 

“Want to talk about it?” 

“No, she’s just a friend, I guess. I don’t know; we never got to talk or hang out one-on-one, so I guess she’s just part of the friend group but not my friend.” Sarah noticed the resignation in his voice, and it made her feel bad. She knew Jordan a bit, and she didn’t feel like he was a bad guy. Of course, between Jordan and Rafe, she would choose Rafe for you, but you were happy with Jordan. 

“I’m sorry…” 

“Look, she’s with him, and I just don’t care anymore. It’s her life; she can do whatever she wants, and that’s it.”

Coming out of the anesthesia was hell. You didn’t remember anything you had done. You thought you had just passed out, but according to the nurses, you talked a lot. You even fought with one of them. You apologized, and she said she was used to it; she knew patients didn’t mean it. 

As your mom had gone out of your room to check on you and see if the insurance was covering this, a nurse helped you shower and get ready to go home. Even though you knew it didn’t matter how you looked, you styled your hair and did your makeup because you wanted to look presentable. 

“Is your boyfriend waiting for you at home?” the nurse asked in a gentle tone, just trying to make conversation. 

“Oh no, no, I don’t have a boyfriend,” you chuckled softly. 

“Oh, I’m sorry for asking. I just assumed from the way you were talking about this guy when you were coming out of the anesthesia.” 

“Oh, did I say his name?” you asked, curious about what you had said. 

“No, honey, I’m sorry, but you were saying how nice and thoughtful he was at your birthday. I don’t interrupt when patients are like that; I just let them talk,” she said gently, and you felt your heart skip a beat. Rafe. 

“Probably just one of my friends,” you lied. You didn’t have to lie to the nurse who didn’t know about your life, but you did. 

“Well then, you have amazing friends,” she said.

—

When you got back home, you stayed in the living room, not wanting to walk up the stairs. Jordan had called you, asking if he could drop by to see how you were doing, and you had agreed. When he arrived, you two talked, and he met your mom briefly. You were listening to music and just hanging out when the doorbell rang.

“Don’t even try to stand up,” he said in a warning but caring tone. He wanted to go answer the door, but your mom went first. You heard a soft, “Thanks,” before she closed the door.

“What was it?” you asked loud enough for your mom to hear.

“Sarah sent you a get-well-soon basket.” She placed the basket next to you so you could see what was inside. 

“This is too cute; I need to text her.” Jordan smiled at your reaction to the gift from Sarah. “Oh, look at the card! It has a band-aid,” you chuckled softly as you looked at the front of the card. It was a band-aid with googly eyes, stick hands, and legs, and it read, “Get well soon.”

After texting Sarah, you grabbed the card and checked what she had told you. It was signed just as she said it would be: Sarah and Rafe. You felt something tug at your heart as you read the handwritten note, but you had to ignore it.  

“Jordan, can you change the song, please?” He nodded and went to grab your phone to change the song.  

“Of course.” He didn’t mean to see the texts waiting there for you to read, but he did. Rafe Cameron. He knew Rafe as one of Topper's friends. You had mentioned him a couple of times when you two had started talking, but it never made him worry.  

Jordan didn’t think of himself as a jealous guy, but when he read what Rafe had bought you, it made him want to hit the guy. Why was he buying you things? Wasn’t this supposed to be just from Sarah?  

“Can I see the card?” he asked. You nodded and passed it to him. When he opened it, he suppressed a huff. He had seen your reaction to the card, and now that he knew Rafe was in it, something just didn’t sit right with him. He was sure his eye was going to start twitching if he didn’t calm down.  

Jordan tried to ignore the feeling for the rest of the time he was there. He canceled a plan he had just made to stay there in a way to compensate for not buying you anything like Sarah and Rafe had done. He didn’t tell you how he felt; you needed to focus on your recovery, and he had to focus on not feeling jealous of Rafe.

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REBLOGS, COMMENTS AND LIKES ARE ALWAYS WELCOMED

INTHELIBRARYBTW ✧.

[cherry-coffees]

gamer!Caitlyn hcs ♡

cw: 837 words | gamer!Caitlyn x gamer!reader, established relationship, fluff, PC games mentioned but these can apply to any type of gaming

Gamer!Caitlyn who isn’t a gamer at first. She’s never played a video game in her life, as Cassandra usually dismissed them with a wave of her gloved hand, saying there were much more productive things her daughter could be doing.

Gamer!Caitlyn first gets into video games because you really want to play with her. She starts to protest when you bring it up, listing her seemingly endless paperwork as an excuse, but eventually caves to your pleading eyes. She grumbles when she downloads the game on her high-quality hextech computer, but she doesn't really mind. Not if it makes you happy.

Gamer!Caitlyn smiles adoringly at you while you explain all the mechanics of the game to her. She can’t help it. You’re just so cute, rambling about the controls and how she can access her inventory. Though, being that she’s never played any video games, she assures you that she’ll catch up. “I’ll figure it out, darling. I’m quite good at investigations, you know.”

Gamer!Caitlyn who actually does figure things out. She struggles for the first few minutes, having bad aim when you face off against enemies. She’s extremely annoyed about this given her talent as a sharpshooter, and it only motivates her to become good. So she does.

Gamer!Caitlyn starts playing nightly after her fumble. She spends her time practicing so she can catch up to you, learn all the skills you seem to naturally possess. So when you spend the night at her place a few days later, you walk into her bedroom to find her with headphones on, furiously clicking her mouse. You jaw goes slack with shock, and you have to blink a few times to entirely process how quickly your girlfriend became a gamer.

Gamer!Caitlyn is so proud of her progress. Caitlyn prides herself in being a composed, proper woman, but she’s beside herself the next time you play together. “Look, darling!” She beams, pointing to her rapidly increasing levels and full inventory. She's like a child that wants to show off their underwater handstand at the pool. “Now we can win together!”

Gamer!Caitlyn who becomes better than you, much to your annoyance. You sulk when she outscores you in matches, teasing you with her proud comments and a nudge to your side. She softens, though, when you spin your chair around to face away from her. “Love,” she complains when you’re hidden from her view. She tugs your chair towards hers, spinning you back around so she can kiss your cheeks. “I should be thanking you. Without you, I would have never played a video game in my life.”

Gamer!Caitlyn doesn’t understand trash talk. She doesn’t know the culture of playfully fighting with people on chat, arguing about who will come out on top. So when someone starts chatting you gloating about a win, she is not happy. You have to grab her hands and pull them away from her keyboard, but by the time you do, she’s already scolding them for how badly they had performed. Even when you (gently) explain that it’s part of gaming culture, she sends you a glare. She does not tolerate anyone bad-mouthing her beautiful, beloved girlfriend.

Gamer!Caitlyn buys you any game you want. You fall in love with a new skin for an avatar? Caitlyn’s logging on to buy it the second you mention it. You want to go out shopping for a new game that caught your eye? Caitlyn’s handing you her card. The second Jayce tells her about the newest hextech PC, it’s in a package at your doorstep, along with a note written in Caitlyn’s neat cursive. “I have some meetings today, darling, so let’s play together tonight. I love you.”

Gamer!Caitlyn ensures that she’s still true to being a morning person. No matter how late she stays up with you, she’ll be up and ready in the mornings, leaving a steaming teacup at your bedside with a kiss on your forehead.

Gamer!Caitlyn who, on the flip side, loves staying up late if it means you get sleepy. She glances over when the battle ends, noting your slow blinks and limp posture. “Oh, my love,” she coos, unable to help herself because you’re just so cute. “Let’s get you to bed, hm?”

Gamer!Caitlyn sits you in her lap when you need a break. Even if you just want to skip a round to eat something or drink some water, she’s already tugging you into her lap, wrapping her arms around your waist as she hits the controls on her keyboard.

Gamer!Caitlyn loves video games because of you. Not only playing with you, but how your whole body lights up when you explain a game to her, or how big you smile when your favorite game hosts a special event. Mostly, though, she loves the bond it creates. She adores you, always has. She’d fall asleep next to you every night if she could. She just loves the layer it adds to your relationship: a shared passion that allows for even more time spent together. 

Gamer!Caitlyn adores video games, but it all stems from her adoration for you.

Inspired bc I love video games (and playing them with people I like teehee)

Anyways! I hope everyone is doing well! Thank you for all your patience while I work through my mental health struggles and for all the birthday wishes this past week. My readers are so lovely, ily guys <3

~Cherry 🍒

[ghostlychai]

TADC SPOILERS AND THEORIES

-This will be going over scenes in the newest episode and contents within Episode 5: Untitled. Please only read ahead if you want these spoilers and I guess if you want to hear my theory lol-

🔴🔵🔴🔵🔴🔵🔴🔵🔴🔵🔴🔵🔴🔵🔴🔵🔴🔵

You Have Been Warned!

Alright, so this episode has already been a lot but i have a hard question for all of us to theorize as I am so confused as to what these puppets represent at this point.

Like we obviously know that most of them are NPC Ais, Npc’s for background effect to try and show life in this world. But, what if not all of them are. Specifically I’m talking about this scene right here.

Its overall creepy to think that someone is watching, but even from the beginning of this episode:

They’re Keeping Tabs

So here comes my theory: This might be an admin of the digital circus.

Hear me out! Think about it in terms of how games are made, of course the creators will be admins who can use a sort of God Mode/Not real player models to make sure the game is running correctly and no one is cheating. Many admins do this to make sure everything is going as planned, and for a show that traps people who put the headset on, there has to be a creator/s.

So what if they use these npc models to check in and see how their victims are doing? What if they keep an eye on them with models that Cain uses all the time, blending in and not arising suspicions until now? Especially when Pomni catches one in the act of watching over the crew.

It would be easy to trick an Ai, especially when you created everything, and have a back door into watching everything thats going on. Cain could think it’s just another permanent NPC that he can’t remove and shouldn’t interact with, especially if they code him to ignore these players models.

I also have this feeling that of course the creator/s would be watching everything, even if its through the show itself, they probably have to go in and make sure the code isn’t twisting up! Probably to check in on Cain too, especially since he had a breakdown about his adventures being bad in the previous episode. They were watching and probably decided to come in and re code Cain slightly, especially how mad he was at Zooble. Cain getting really mad and defensive is a different coping tactic from what we saw in therapy, he wasn’t always so defensive like that.

Personally I find that he was slightly different in this episode, instead of looking inward he decided to ignore it and prove that they are wrong about his adventures. What happened to the Cain who sat down and internalized that the cast isn’t happy with his adventures, the one who started to break down when he realized it wasn’t what they wanted? To me that shows he cares about what they think, and in episode 5 it feels like the caring part was shut away slightly, like he wasn’t supposed to be this real with the crew. Like someone gave him influence to not care as much.

It also explains how drastic the changes to the adventures are: First we started with the gloinks, harmless truthfully, most likely darker in terms of being eatin to destroy the queen, but it could be something that they would figure out with words.

Second was the candy kingdom, darkest part of that adventure was the fudge monster. But there was a huge chance that he wouldn’t have even been apart of the adventure if everything didn’t glitch out. It’s only due to them falling into the gorge that he became an active character. It only got worse when Jax decided to open the kingdom to him, but that was a players decision, not part of the plot. It all could have been more wholesome, not dangerous.

Adventure 3 was dangerous, but its specifically because Cain really wanted Zooble to like it so badly he thought mature meant “scary and freaky”. So yes a lot more dangerous, but Cain is trying though, he cares about how Zooble feels and wants them to be included. His attitude for this adventure also splits, he gives them the choice for something wholesome or ‘AHHHHHHH for Mature Zoobles Only”. And the wholesome route was pretty casual, especially seeing how Ragatha, Jax and Gangle dealt with the adventure.

Episode 4 is where I see stuff start to change, how everything has a bit more edge, even in a fast food restaurant. How there is drugged ingredients, the punishment seems more harsh for Jax, and how it’s basically a stress torture for Gangle. It feels elevated in horror, cause most of the other horror was more events happening outside of the adventure, out of bounds. It’s like someone is watching and wanting them to suffer, like an admin who find the psychological torture amusing and wants to watch these people fall apart.

Then, this guy pops in on episode 5, not having any sense in why an NPC is allowed in the circus like this. Why is he allowed here? Why hasn’t Cain noticed? Wouldn’t this NPC just be obliterated like Gummy Goo?

Why is Cain adding so many dangerous and horrific plot likes to his adventures now? They slowly get picked off by OSHA violations in a factory? They have to survive a war with human organs? A fucking apocalypse? When did he start getting so dark in his content, this is supposed to be a general audience show, and what could have influenced him?

So i looked back in the first episode and, there’s a lot of these doors:

Listen: I know these could be stand in for future characters, that’s 100% a possibility and probably true for most doors. But, why is he in the middle of these scenes?

Why in such a lore driven moment would you stick a unmarked door, cause they could just put another random character on there to represent the people he’s lost. But no, they place a wooden puppet, not with an x, implying that someone is alive. So, Multiple unmarked player models could be around and interacting with this world.

This feels so symbolic to this show, like someone might be personally catering to the crews torture, but not with an extravagant character of their own, an NPC player model. Especially right next to the “Friend” who recently abstracted? The one person Jax really cared about, no no, something seems really fishy about this door.

So to conclude this, I might be totally wrong, this might be an invisible character or someone who slipped through Cains programming, but something just seems off. We also haven’t gotten into the conversation of who even made this VR set and programming.

Just food for thought 💖

[reallyromealone]

Title: Tokyo host club

Chapter: 8

Fandom: Tokyo revengers ohshc, KNB

Genre: fluff

Warnings: mentions of abuse, omegaverse, angst and fluff, scenting, crying, Makoto Hanamiya

Notes: works kicking my ass but I'm taking two weeks for vacation so more writing woo

Summary: mitsukuni and the reader go on a date where they see the omegas ex boyfriend

🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛

(name) was excited to spend his summer with haruhi, the two going to her dad's friends bed and breakfast to get some quiet time + (name) had a chess open in the area so it worked out.

He was a little bummed he couldn't spend his birthday with mitsukuni and his family but it was fine, the soon to be sixteen year old just happy to be out of Tokyo for a bit. (Name) Was cleaning and polishing the dining tables while Haruhi put the linens on the clothes line.

"HARUHI!" the sound of Tamaki screaming startled (name) and he looked to see the linens fly in the air, damn it. He was gonna have to grab that.

-

(Name) Stood beside haruhi, an annoyed expression on his face that slowly melted when mitsukuni doted on him and the two strayed away from the chaos "Tama and the others came because Tama thought haruhi was in danger but I came to see you ~" the Alpha was already fully aware on (name)s summer plans and had his own plans to surprise him but seeing the opportunity, he couldn't miss it "you know I'm still working, right? I can't just stop it all"

"And you know I could have taken you to Switzerland!"

"Mitsu, I don't even have my passport" (name) reminded and the Alpha pouted, there was the other reason neither brought up and that was (name)s grandpa's health decline. (Name) Was worried about going this far but Shinichiro practically booted him out claiming the Omega needed to relax and that Shinichiro would pick him up asap if anything happened.

"Well! That's neither here nor there! Now where are those treats you spoke of!"

-

The group sat in the garden with tea, (name) sipping casually until kyoya spoke about expulsion for getting a job. His blood froze and for a second the smell of rot made it to the host clubs nose before (name) got his scent under control and (name) was gonna be honest... He kind of blacked out the rest of the conversation out of anxiety.

When he finally checked back into the conversation, there was something about a competition but Mitsukuni was focused on him more than anything, panic in his eyes at the omegas short and distant responses "the lights are back on!" Mitsukuni whispered teasingly and (name) smiled back meekly, having not felt that level of anxiety since the time Emma almost got shot...

He never thought he would feel that level of anxiety again.

Mitsukuni knew how badly (name) needed this scholarship, wanting to support and help his family in any way he could and after high school, mitsukuni taking over his own family's business once he finishes university.

And when that happens he already had a plan partner with S.S motors to boost it.

But (name) didn't need to know that.

Not yet.

"Tama and the others are fighting for the room but taka and I already have a cottage more in town" mitsukuni explained and linked his fingers with (name) "don't worry (nickname), you're not getting expelled... They're just being jerks to haru-chan" jerks indeed as (name) found the manipulation towards the beta girl quite cruel honestly.

Rich people really didn't get it, did they?

(Name) Continued his work, working as a repair man of sorts in the b&b and fixing everything though the other alphas kept trying to step in "my sweet son, let me handle it!" Tamaki tried to say and (name) lifted a leveler "Tamaki, what is this?" The alpha failed to answer "I have been working with tools and the likes since my brother could put them in my hands, trust me I'm fine"

And with that (name) had an air conditioner to go fix, Mitsukuni following along to watch his omega fix things! He was so attractive when he got things fixed!

-

(Name) Was thankful to be given the day off the following day, having wanted to go see the shops in town but first he had to go grab his mate, Mitsukuni wanted to join him and (name) had to go awaken the beast.

Why were all the short blonds in his life nightmares to wake up?

Well at least he didn't get cussed out like he did with Mikey.

(Name) Was let in to the expansive and ornate cottage without a fuss, the place had to be double the size of where (name) was working. Walking into the blonds room, he saw the lump under the blanket and huffed with love in his eyes "mitsu, wake up" he said softly, leaning over the Alpha who grumbled "come on, you wanted me to wake you"

"Hmf..."

"... Come on Alpha, please?" This turned out to be a mistake, the other grabbing (name)s wrist and pulling him into bed, half awake and in a bitchy mood "careful" the Alpha warned and snuggled into (name), face pressed into the others neck before going back to sleep and (name) knew he wasn't going to get out of here in one piece, snuggling into the other and deciding to join the Alpha.

When (name) woke, he was snuggled into the others chest, purring sweetly and subconsciously chirping. This was the best sleep he's ever had, feeling the Alpha gently play with his (hair/nape) while texting with one hand on his phone, glancing down as if he wasn't just a monster two hours ago "good morning~!" His words light and airy, he could get used to having his omega so close to cuddle and kiss, "you ready to go, sleepyhead?" Mitsukuni said teasingly before they got up, the Alpha still in his pajamas and wandered to go change. The alpha changed in the washroom with the door slightly cracked open to talk "I'm starving, can we get some yummy food?" Mitsukuni asked and (name) shrugged "I could eat, I saw a cute deli when I rode here" the Omega had brought his bike to the small town to do deliveries and such, acclimating easily to the groove of the town.

"Rode here?"

"Yeah? On my bike?" He said confused and the Alpha stepped out dressed, wandering to the window and indeed there was a shiny motorcycle sitting in the driveway, he forgot his mate drove a motorcycle.

"Don't worry alpha, we can go your way" (name) used that nickname again and Mitsukuni turned and the love in his eyes was unexplainable.

-

Mitsukuni watched as (name) enjoyed his lunch, the Omega so serene and content around his alpha... Mitsukuni was so unapologetically in love with (name) in ways he didn't know were possible and sleeping together... That was honestly the best sleep he ever had, he loved his naps and sleep but this was... It was like his world was complete.

"(Name)?" A voice called out and he saw (name) freeze before his eyes sharpened a bit, gripping his fork and Mitsukuni looked at the man behind the Omega, first thing he noticed were some big ass eyebrows.

"Hanamiya" (name) hissed, scent turning sour and the Alpha in question smirked "come on, don't be like that" his voice condescending and mocking and eyes holding a look that mitsukuni didn't like "you used to be so good"

Mitsukuni would be a liar if he didn't do a full background check on (name).

He knew everything, every detail of the omegas life but he never said anything... He wanted (name) to be ready to talk about the dark and scary.

And he recognized Makoto Hanamiya at that moment, he didn't know the full details of what happened but he knew they dated for eight months and broke up, apparently it was bad, (name)s brothers had to accompany him everywhere for a while. "Let's go." (Name) Whispered with a pleading tone, his heart racing from anxiety and Makoto kissed his teeth "can't wait to see you at the open, it's gonna be great!" Makoto said with a plastered smile, eyeing mitsukuni.

"And I hope you two enjoy whatever you think you have, heads up about (name)--""shut up hanamiya, you psychotic narcissist!" (Name) Finally snapped "this is why no one stays around you because you're the worst and you know you are and god forbid you aren't terrible even just once! I'm going to absolutely rock your shit at that open so bad it's gonna remind your mom she should have aborted you!" He knew he went way to far, mitsukuni dragging him from the restaurant and somewhere quiet. (Name) Was hyperventilating, shaking and a mess while mitsukuni gently wiped those tears.

"He hurt you bad, huh?" His voice soft and sweet and he slowly put USA-chan in his mates arms and was so sweet to him, already having the limo coming to collect them both and he hoped they came fast at the sight of the clouds rolling in. (Name) Struggled to breathe, memories coming back hard "H- I" (name) could barely get the words out, this was a side of (name) mitsukuni had never seen and honestly never had to deal with something like this.

But he was determined to help (name) through this.

When the limo came, mitsukuni got (name) in and snuggled him as the limo took off back to mitsukunis cottage while the Alpha soothed him. (Name) Was quiet when they got back to the cottage, nesting materials already in the alphas room where (name) had calmed down "sorry..."

Mitsukuni didn't like seeing (name) this defeated and frowned "you don't need to apologize, (nickname)" mitsukuni said softly, if anything it was deeply attractive how (name) shut that down. "I-I should probably tell you why... I reacted like that"

"Only if you wanna"

"I feel I need to be honest with you about stuff" mitsukuni was quiet while (name) began explaining "you probably guessed that my brothers are into questionable things, my brother's run Toman..." There wasn't a person who didn't know Toman, they were gaining traction fast after all. "Makoto started dating me to use me as leverage against toman, blackmail them and emotionally abused me..." He had to go to therapy for it, wasn't allowed to walk alone for years after "A-and he tried to force my heat to trigger and when it didn't he broke my arm"

Oh mitsukuni was going to turn Makoto's bones into mist.

"I'm so sorry..."mitsukuni wanted to lock his mate away and keep him safe but he knew that wasn't even remotely on the table. (Name) Started crying again while years of repressed pain flooding out. "I-I thought my brother's scared him off... But I guess not"

"Don't worry (nickname)! I'll protect you!" And not leave the omegas side unless the other needed to pee, he was his beautiful mates faithful watchdog.

(Name) Sniffled and smiled at the others words "wanna continue our date? I feel bad for ruining it"

"You didn't ruin anything! It was that gross creature that ruined it!" Hunni stared with an 'angry' expression and let his omega pull him close for a hug.

-

The two didn't end up going back out, instead cuddling with (name) resting against the alphas chest and the blond even letting (name) hold USA chan for comfort. The two were watching a movie and (name) took in the sweet musk of his mate, brain fuzzy and a sense of peace and serenity falling on the both of them.

(Name) Ended up falling asleep on his mate, mitsukuni happy his mate felt safe before closing his eyes and joining him.

-

(Name) Was nervous for his chess match, he had no doubts he would win but the idea of facing him.... Sent shivers down his back and he had to focus his breathing.

"I got this..."

He had to win

[m0owu]

I’m not going to say which fanfic this is. I just want to talk about a situation that upset me, because I need to let out my emotions.

A large number of people in the SVSSS fandom, at the very least, dislike Yue Qingyuan. But that doesn’t mean he deserves unfair treatment. The fact that he doesn’t explain his reason isn’t because he wants to keep it from others, but because he thinks that staying silent is the better choice. Maybe that’s foolish, but it’s not a reason to treat him badly. He wanted to do what he thought was best. If you don't think so, then let’s blame a child who accidentally killed someone out of ignorance, indirectly?

And then sj's partner made a decision on behalf of sj without even asking him? Isn’t that the same “I know what’s best for you” attitude that yqy is being condemned for? yqy just needs to be shown what’s right. You can compare yqy to a parent who wants the best for their child, but does it in their own way. That doesn’t mean we should cut ties with them. We should show them how we need to be treated so we can feel better. If they still refuse to listen, then it’s okay to walk away—but not without even giving a chance for them to fix things.

When sj wasn’t feeling well, another character (sj's partner) forbade informing yqy about Shen Qingqiu’s condition, even though yqy was the one who caused it, even though yqy cared deeply. I can understand not letting him visit Shen Qingqiu, but why forbid simply informing him? yqy was concerned, sincerely cared, felt guilty—and this other character wouldn’t even let him know, which only increased his guilt. There was no point in hiding it. Just prohibit physical access if you're afraid it’ll worsen Shen Qingqiu’s state.

Then sj says he doesn’t understand yqy, and another side character asks if he wants to understand him. sj replies no. (Right. We believe sj, ignoring his past desire to know the reason, his hidden curiosity. If he actually learned the reason, he would have wanted his past self to know it too.) And the side character says that in that case, there’s no need—some people don’t deserve the effort it takes to reach them. And yet it’s sj who “deserves” it, and yqy who doesn’t? Are we just not going to help people who are deeply ill or in pain, physically or mentally, because it “won’t change anything”?

Toward the end, another character tells yqy that sj may never forgive him and that he doesn’t have to (which is true). But why not at least try? They were close to each other. They still cared after everything. And this other character just says sometimes it’s better to walk away. That some things are broken beyond repair. But why not try to make them even a little better? If this person truly wants to help sj heal, why not address the core wound—one that will remain horrible if ignored? And healing doesn’t always mean “go find new people and abandon the one who hurt you.” yqy will continue to carry unbearable guilt. sj will have an even deeper sense that people can abandon him—worse than it would’ve been if they’d tried to resolve things. People with PTSD, for example, don’t get better just because things around them are “good” now. They’ll still expect the worst.

Another character tells yqy to go make new friends. Then changes their mind and tells him to get a pet. “Not a person, an animal. Find something else to be gentle to.” Instead of showing him how to treat people right, instead of working through human relationships after realizing his mistakes, Yqy —who now has no close friends, no one to talk to emotionally, not just professionally, and who is hated and feared by his entire sect—is told that he “pierced his heart while having the best intentions,” meaning he traumatizes everyone. And now he’s basically being isolated from society. But humans need other humans to have meaningful conversations. It’s a real psychological need.

In the comments, people were saying that yqy finally got what he deserved. Deserved for what? For sincere motives, for trying his best to make things right as quickly as possible, for showing concern for sj? There were a few moments that maybe made yqy “deserve” what he got (like yelling), but to me that was pure OOC every single time. And if the author doesn’t think it’s OOC, then their interpretation of the character is just… wrong.

To help clarify, here’s a parallel situation involving another character:

Someone told the entire Cang Qiong that sj had been a slave and used to go to a brothel just to get some sleep. And instead of helping sj restore his relationships with the peak lords, they said, “You’ve done enough damage. Leave this mountain (and preferably never return, either directly or indirectly).”

Explanations:

Yes, the author has full rights to delete or block my comment and to not want any criticism. I even checked before writing whether she mentioned anything about that. I clearly stated at the beginning that this was a critique, and to read it only if interested. So calling it “unsolicited” criticism when it’s clearly optional to read feels wrong.

I wasn’t demanding that anything in the fanfic be changed. I just thought the author was trying to help the main characters resolve their problems in a healthy way—so why not yqy too?

[rafesteddy]

sorry for answering like this but if anyone followed the link your private account is suggested to follow. I swear I didn’t look at it, I didn’t see your name, and I deleted the ask itself. I just want to protect your privacy. Just for your fyi bb

But oh my god—Imagine Winnie asking Rafe if Jackson can come on their family vacation. And Rafe throws a fit. Not yelling, not explosive—just pissed. Stiff-jawed and tense, pacing the kitchen like he’s about to combust.

And the thing is, he doesn’t even have a good reason. It’s not about the money. They have the money. It’s not about Jackson either—not really. It’s about them. About how this is their last vacation as a family of six before Max leaves for college. Their tradition. Their thing.

But of course, it turns into a real fight. Not dramatic. Just heavy. Quietly breaking Rafe down in that way only family can. And she’s still Winnie. Even when she’s upset she gets it. She sees through the frustration in his voice, sees how bad he is at explaining what he’s feeling. How badly he wants to freeze time and keep it just them a little longer.

That’s when you step in. “Baby, I got this,” you murmur softly to Rafe. You reach for the keys. “C’mon, Win. Let’s go for a drive.”

And Rafe just looks at you completely relieved. What he doesn’t see is the little twinkle in her eye or the curve of her lips she’s fighting off.

He hears what she says right before the door slams behind you though. “Mom, he’s not even listening to me. Why can’t he come? Do you gu—” slam “Coffee or bubble tea?”

Because “Winnie let’s go for a drive” = cute drink and a sweet treat 💕

When you come home later, he’s stretched out on the bed, already waiting. “How’d it go, sweetheart?”

You smile, slipping your heels off, and he’s beckoning you over—because he wouldn’t let you bother taking your own clothes off, especially after that. “She was a little disappointed,” you say honestly. “But we talked it out.”

And then he’s pulling you in as he buries his face in your neck, murmuring against your skin. “You’re a lifesaver, baby. I needed you in there… so fuckin’ good to me. Let me thank you. Let me take care of you.”

[careful-wish]

Your points make a lot of sense. I'm Aussie and the education laws here are different so I'm probably a little off the mark with some things. It makes sense that Owens likely just got them the house, made sure Jonathan, Will, and El were in school, they had the necessities, and that was it. El wears clothes from her family and Hop again and by the looks of it makes her own clothes (and gets the bowl cut fringe/bangs treatment for Joyce good god).

El's legally been Jane Hopper since s2 so even if anyone was looking for her on name alone (Eleven or Janes Ives), they likely wouldn't find her. I'm hoping Joyce explained what happened with Hop and that El is developmentally delayed, and you're right about the situation with the teacher scolding Angela about El choosing Hop as her hero, she probably knew that Hop was gone. Will thought it was a good idea too. El wants so badly to be normal and be treated normally and she isn't really outside of her family and Max.

There really wasn't enough done about the kids being bullied (I think even someone mentioned that the OG four are beaten up after every single science and they lost one year purely for 'political reasons'), and the worst part is if Joyce HAD kicked up a storm then more than likely the bullying would have amped up toward El, and probably started on Will again too, and El's grades would have tanked even more. There wouldn't be anywhere for them to go unless Owens sprang for a private school (and I doubt Jonathan would step foot in a private school anyway)

They just didn't show her getting any extra help though? even Max was getting counselling (even tho she barely said anything), but no one worked with El separately and kept it on the DL?

I still hope she gets more education. She clearly actually loves learning but it does need to be catered to how she learns and processes things. She regresses a little after Hop vanishing, speaking very shakily and with little contractions and no slang. I do think with Hop back he'd go back to the homeschooling thing, or he'd be involved a lot with her homework and extra learning outside of school in the future. Everyone still thinks the dude is dead so he can get away with it lmao

Didn't really hit me until now that Jonathan won't have have had his shit box car for two seasons by the end of the show and damn, that feels weird, he drove that thing everywhere in the first three seasons haha

(I will never forget Argyle with his brand clothing calling Mike out on his shitty knock offs lol)

ok, one thing I don't understand about s4 is sending El to high school. I get it was for Angela and plot and all that but LOGICALLY El has never been to primary/elementary or middle school. Owens definitely pulled some strings to get her in. She consistently gets bad grades. She even says that Joyce said that El is getting better with her spelling and her maths, but we know El is nowhere near high school level. Why didn't Joyce home school her and just have El join a few social groups, like sport or art or something like that, so she could still socialise but she wouldn't be forced to try and perform well in school, especially next to Will who has consistently been a good student for years and was best friends with the two kids in his grade who were the best of the best at academics in their grade (Mike and Dustin, Lucas I'm not sure about). Owens provided them with a lot and continues to help with money to the point Jonathan doesn't need a job at all anymore. Joyce has a telemarketer job which I can't imagine back then paid well, so why didn't she between work just home school El? Hop's way of helping El with schoolwork (when they weren't fighting or yelling at each other) was actually proving effective and she learnt quite a bit from him and TV.

Idk, I just think it's unnecessarily cruel to put El, after everything she's been through, straight into high school. Will was bullied a lot just for who he was. Maybe El herself did ask to go to school so she could feel normal, but school was a stressful, tense, and awful place for her. Will, while having no friends there, was relatively left alone. Jonathan for the first time ever made a good friend. The changing of schools was good for those two, but in the end, Will was the only person who saw how bad it really was for El. The teachers made no effort.

High school is a nightmare enough as it is for most people. Lucas joins the basketball team so he can try and make school good for himself for once, even tho now too, Mike and Dustin are left alone. It just still seems so weird that Joyce and Owens thought it was a good idea to put El straight into high school with only one person around to support her.

[benevolenterrancy]

@little-meowyao a naive and temporary sense of belonging u.u

[learningfromlosing]

You know why I don't ship Melissa and Shauna?

Bc you're allowed to rescind consent when you don't enjoy it anymore. Period.

You know why I don't think any of the arguments about her still being in love with Shauna matter?

Bc shes allowed to not have something in her life if she knows it's bad for her even if she "wants" it.

You know why I don't think Melissa is lying about getting better and putting it behind her?

She healed in creative and different ways bc she was still holding up her end of keeping the secret. She knows what's important to the group, respected that, and she still found ways to help herself too. She found someone to talk through some of things she couldn't by herself with. She found other resources even if she couldn't get a real therapist. She reached out for help in the only ways she could.

You don't need to erase things to be able to live with them in a healthy way. You don't need to talk about everything with everyone else to be able to move past it.

She isn't a different person bc she didn't tell them her birth name. Do I really need to explain why not using your birth name doesn't make your life any less valid?

Not glorifying your trauma doesn't mean you're ignoring it. Not talking about your trauma with everyone doesn't mean you're not actively working though it.

She questions herself constantly. That's what it's like to heal. It's never gone, but you can side step the spiraling if you're mindful enough. "This isn't some kind of survivors guilt or pity marriage, or shit maybe it is."

And faking your death to get away from your violently abusive ex girlfriend doesn't mean you still love her. I would actually argue the opposite.

[kinos-fortress-2]

fuck i got drained...

[mad-hunts]

so... i've been thinking about auriel again because i actually did have an account for her once upon a time (just on another platform) + all i can remember is doing this roleplay on there with barton immediately asking the person whom told him they saw her was whether she was okay because she had went missing with no trace for years after all. and additionally, this was also while shedding tears like there was NO tomorrow, which is 😭 like he isn't a good person, y'all, but he does have his moments where it actually seems like he genuinely cares about people

[prescienceofdawn]

.

[yourubersawcrit]

Hey chat, guess who I main :]

[hermitsdump]

sorry for liking and unliking and liking your post. symptoms so bad today I might go on a phone ban

[moonlightwritingf1]

Just a Picture | LN4

⚘.ᥫ᭡⋆˚✿˖° summary ━━━━━━━ After four days of silence, Y/N was drowning in heartbreak, replaying the fight that started it all—a photo of Lando in a club, looking far too close to another girl. It triggered every insecurity she'd tried to bury, and when she confronted him, things spiraled—accusations, shouting, even a panicked flinch that neither of them could forget. Then he showed up at her apartment, looking just as wrecked as she felt, desperate to explain, desperate not to lose her. 

⚘.ᥫ᭡⋆˚✿˖° pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

⚘.ᥫ᭡⋆˚✿˖° word count ━━━━━━━ 10k

⚘.ᥫ᭡⋆˚✿˖° warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, p in v, multiple orgasms, oral sex (f and m receiving), creampie?, slow sex, lots of 'I love you's

⚘.ᥫ᭡⋆˚✿˖° author's note ━━━━━━━ I guess this can be part 2 to The One He Couldn't Let Go if you squint a bit.

Based on this request.

It was late afternoon. Y/N was in her apartment, the dark clouds outside mirroring the storm brewing in her thoughts. She paced across the polished hardwood floor, arms folded tightly over her chest, her posture radiating tension. The living area—modern décor, a minimalist gray couch, glass coffee table, and tall bookshelves filled with novels—felt both too big and too small all at once.

Her phone lay face-down on the dining table, silent for the past three days. Not a single call from him since that explosive argument. She glanced at it again, half-hoping it would light up, but it remained still. She bit her lower lip, trying not to let the swirl of angst devour her. The image from that damned photo online had replayed in her head non-stop. Just a random snapshot—but enough to trigger months of tension that had been quietly building between them.

A year ago, when she first met Lando, she had never imagined she could be standing in this place—both physically, in her apartment, and emotionally, consumed by heartbreak so intense that it threatened to break her from the inside. And yet, she remembered how it all started. He had breezed into her life, courtesy of a mutual friend, with that mischievous grin and those unexpectedly soft, bright eyes that seemed to look right through her. At first, she’d tried to keep her distance. He was a playboy, or so all the rumors said. She had read the articles, seen the gossip, heard the stories from random acquaintances who claimed they knew him. She doubted he was the type to stay faithful. She doubted he was the type to take relationships seriously, given all that she’d heard about his partying, about the way he used to message random girls on Instagram. It was the exact opposite of everything she wanted or needed.

Yet he had pursued her relentlessly. Flowers would show up at her apartment every week—delicate bouquets of roses, peonies, lilies. Expensive gifts, random text messages in the middle of the day just to say he was thinking of her. He found out about her favorite authors and sent her limited-edition books. He discovered her love for certain designer bags and surprised her with them, even though she told him a hundred times that she didn’t want him to waste money on her. She had tried to play hard to get; she had shut him down over and over, telling him that she wasn’t convinced, that he’d break her heart. She had tried to remind herself that once upon a time he had been in a relationship, still rumored to be cheating, going to clubs, and partying with random women. All the gossip. All the pictures. She didn’t want that kind of heartbreak. She believed he would revert to his old ways at any moment.

But then, five months ago, she finally gave in. Five months that had begun the strangest, most wonderful, and most complicated relationship she had ever experienced. From that moment, everything between them had been intense, nearly suffocating in its passion, overshadowed by her lingering doubts and his determination to prove her wrong. Every kiss felt like a confession of how badly he wanted her to trust him. Every time he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, she glimpsed in his eyes a silent plea that she believed in him. And slowly, she had begun to let her guard down. She let him in further than she had let anyone before.

That is, until four days ago, when her phone blew up with messages and notifications from mutual friends, from acquaintances who had seen it on social media: a photograph of Lando in a club with an unknown girl pressed very close to him. The angle of the camera made it look suggestive, as if he were leaning down into her ear, or maybe even nuzzling her neck. The girl’s arm was around his shoulders, and it looked like she was whispering intimately to him. The moment Y/N saw it, her stomach dropped. She hadn’t known rage so pure, not since childhood memories that she tried to bury. And in that moment, every single doubt she’d ever had about him came roaring back. She confronted him that night in her apartment, the memory of that confrontation still burned into the walls.

–

Four Nights Ago – The Fight

The moment Lando stepped into her living room, Y/N’s hands were shaking from anger. She had texted him: We need to talk. Now. And he’d come over immediately, wearing an expression of anxiety mixed with confusion. He must have known the rumors were swirling online.

“What the hell is that?” she demanded, pointing her phone at him, screen displaying the offending photograph. She didn’t realize she was almost yelling from the get-go. “Care to explain, Lando?”

He swallowed hard. His cheeks reddened. She wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment or guilt or both. “It’s… nothing,” he said, raising his palms defensively. “That picture—God, I didn’t even know someone snapped that. It’s not what it looks like.”

Her words came out in a hot rush, unfiltered. “Oh, it’s not? Because it looks like you’re cozying up to some random girl at a club—just like the old days, right?” She breathed in sharply, unable to stop the venom streaming out. “I knew it. I always knew you’d go back to your old ways sooner or later.”

He stepped closer, frustration written on his face. “I wasn’t cozying up to her. She was a friend of a friend. I was leaning down to hear what she was saying because the music was too loud. That’s it. It’s a stupid camera angle.”

“Camera angle,” she repeated mockingly. “Right. Always an excuse. You act like I don’t know you have this… this history. Messaging random girls. Sleeping around. Even when you were with someone, the rumors said—”

“Rumors!” he interjected, voice cracking with frustration. “They were just rumors! I told you a hundred times, I never cheated on anyone. If I had a reputation for partying, it was because I was young, going to clubs, sure, but I wasn’t hooking up with every girl who came near me. And I’m sure as hell not hooking up with them now!”

Her face twisted with anger she couldn’t contain. “Don’t you dare lie to me. You know how insecure I already feel. You know what I’ve been through, Lando!” Her eyes welled with tears, but she blinked them back, refusing to cry. “You should’ve been more careful. You should have thought about how that picture would look. How it would make me feel.”

He ran a hand through his curls, agitated. “For God’s sake, Y/N, I can’t control every photo or every rumor. I’m an F1 driver. People take pictures. I’m sorry that it happened, but I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Sure. Just like you never did anything wrong all those other times you got plastered with groups of girls, right? God, how am I supposed to believe you, Lando?”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. She could see him holding back his own anger. “Because,” he replied in a voice that trembled with repressed fury, “I’ve been bending over backward for months trying to prove to you that I’m not that guy. Do you think I spend all this time showering you with gifts, messages, and time, just so I can go out and hook up with random girls? That’s not me anymore!”

he shook her head, her voice laced with contempt that came from the deepest pit of her insecurities. “We can never know for sure, can we? God, I can’t stand the idea that I let you in, and you do something like this.”

He took another step toward her, eyes flashing. “Don’t put this all on me. You came into this relationship—if we can call it that—assuming the worst about me. I’m always on trial with you, Y/N. You never truly trust me.”

She let out a bitter laugh. “Well, if you want my trust, then don’t get photographed cuddling with random girls!”

He breathed heavily, exasperation rolling off him. “I told you, it wasn’t cuddling. And I can’t believe you’d think I would cheat on you. After everything we’ve shared.”

For a long moment, they stared at each other, hearts pounding, both of them caught in the throes of powerful, conflicting emotions. Then she lifted her chin, refusing to budge. “Get out,” she said quietly, but her tone was menacing in its finality.

He froze. “Y/N, please. Don’t do this.”

She shook her head. Her vision blurred as tears threatened to spill again. “Get. Out. Now.”

Lando’s expression turned furious and wounded. “Fine,” he spat. “If you won’t even listen to me, what the hell am I supposed to do?” In his frustration, he flung his arm up, wanting to run his hand through his hair, but in that split second, it looked like his hand was coming toward her in a fast, menacing way.

She recoiled instantly, a panicked flinch, arms defensively curling toward her face, eyes wide in fear. A rush of adrenaline spiked through her. It was so fast, so involuntary, as if a primal reflex told her that he was about to hit her.

His entire demeanor changed in an instant. The anger drained from his face, replaced by a haunting sorrow. “Y/N,” he whispered, voice breaking. “You think… you think I would—?”

She just stared at him, still trembling. She hated that her body had interpreted his movement as a threat. “I-I’m sorry,” she stammered, guilt mixing with the cocktail of fury and heartbreak in her chest. “I— I just… you moved so fast.”

He took a shaky step backward, heartbreak contorting his features. “I would never lay a hand on you,” he said, voice trembling. “How could you even think—?”

She pressed her lips together, her cheeks burning with shame. But the anger was still there, too, overshadowing everything. “Just get out,” she repeated.

He stared at her for a few long seconds, pain written on every line of his face. Then, without another word, he turned on his heel, storming out of the apartment. She heard the door slam behind him. It left her standing alone in the silent living room, her heart pounding loud enough that she thought it might burst through her chest. She sank onto the couch, tears finally spilling.

–

The Four Days of Silence

Now she was on day four without a call, text, or anything from Lando. At first, she’d been so angry she told herself she wouldn’t care if he never reached out again. But after the first 24 hours, the doubts crawled in. Had she overreacted? Was that truly just an innocent picture? She battled with herself over and over, replaying the confrontation in her head, fixating on the moment he raised his arm to push his hair back—how she flinched, how his eyes turned to raw agony.

Guilt ate away at her. Yet the betrayal—and the fear that he was still that same playboy—remained. She wasn’t sure she could handle being with someone who always had rumors swirling around. It was making her question everything.

But she also missed him. Terribly. She missed his laugh, that boyish grin in the morning when he’d wake up next to her, the way he’d wrap his arms around her waist from behind while she was doing something mundane like making coffee. She missed how he would gently brush his fingertips down her cheek while watching TV, how he was always so enthusiastic about introducing her to his friends—well, the few times she’d let herself be around his circle. She missed that warmth and attention, how being with him made her feel alive in a way she hadn’t felt in a long while.

Late into the nights, she lay awake in her bed, staring at the city lights, tears wet on her cheeks, imagining him in Monaco or at his family’s home, maybe even with that unknown girl. The worst part was that she realized, in her chest, that she truly loved him. A truth she had tried to ignore because acknowledging it made her feel so vulnerable.

She hated herself for flinching, for letting him see that she thought he could physically harm her. She knew enough about him by now to know he wasn’t violent. That flash of panic had come from a dark place in her mind, shaped by her insecurities. She didn’t know if he’d ever forgive her for that. Or if she could ever forgive him for being so careless in that photo.

Day three passed. Then day four. She was pushing through work, eyes rimmed with dark circles from lack of sleep, snapping at her coworkers who asked too many questions, trying to bury herself in spreadsheets and emails.

–

The Afternoon of the Fourth Day

She had just gotten back to her apartment after another draining day at the office. She kicked off her heels by the front door, passing the large mirror in the entrance hallway. She lingered a moment, studying her reflection—searching for something she could never quite name. She tried to straighten her shoulders, to seem more composed than she felt, but the familiar ache of doubt had already settled in.

She always worried that Lando, with his flirty ways and well-known preference for a certain type, would eventually look at her and realize she wasn’t enough. It hurt that she cared so deeply about this. She hated that she cared. She wanted to be that fierce girl who didn’t need anyone’s validation. But with him, she felt so out of control sometimes—like all the confidence she’d tried to build kept slipping through her fingers the moment he smiled at someone else.

Letting out a shaky breath, she headed to her bedroom, planning to change into something more comfortable, maybe sweatpants and an oversized tee. She rounded the corner into her living room—and froze.

Lando was there, standing by the window, looking out across the glittering skyline of London. He had his luggage next to him, as if he had come straight from the airport or something. Her heart jumped to her throat. Anger, relief, love, and pain swirled inside her so violently that she couldn’t even speak for a moment. 

He turned at the sound of her footsteps, eyes meeting hers. She saw the exhaustion on his face, the shadows under his eyes. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days either. His hair was disheveled, the curls an unruly mess, and he wore a fitted black hoodie and gray joggers. Under normal circumstances, the sight of him might have made her breath catch with desire, but now, there was only tension.

They stared at each other in silence. Her eyes filled with tears again. She loathed that she cried so easily these days. “How did you get in?” she finally managed, her voice cold.

“I still have the key,” he replied quietly. “You didn’t ask for it back.”

She swallowed. Right. She hadn’t. Maybe that was a subconscious sign she wanted him to return. “You can’t just barge in here.”

“I didn’t know how else to see you,” he said, voice trembling with raw honesty. “You wouldn’t answer my calls or texts. I kept sending messages the first two days, you never replied. I got scared you’d blocked me, or that you never wanted to see me again.”

She scoffed, though hearing he’d tried to call made her guilt spike. She had left her phone on silent, or face-down, ignoring the messages—convinced she had to remain strong. “And so you decided to ambush me at home?”

He clenched his jaw, taking a step forward. “I couldn’t stand the silence anymore, Y/N. It’s been killing me.” He paused, searching her face with a mixture of desperation and anger. “I’m sorry for everything. But you have to understand, that picture—it was nothing. And I hate that you believed otherwise. It feels like you don’t trust me at all.”

“Because you’ve given me reasons to doubt,” she snapped, tears threatening to spill once more. “I’ve seen the rumors, the pictures, the girls you used to be with. I can’t— I don’t know how to handle it. It hurts to even think about. I can’t stand the idea of being compared to those bikini-model types you used to party with.”

His eyes widened. “Compared to them? Y/N, I’ve never once compared you to anyone. I—” He broke off, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Look, I know I made mistakes in my past. I slept around. I partied. But that was before. This last year has changed me, especially these five months with you.” He paused, voice trembling, “I’ve never felt this way about anyone.”

Her throat was tight. She exhaled slowly, all the anger and hurt rising again. “Then why did that picture look so—so intimate?”

He rubbed his face. “I was talking to that girl. She was leaning in because the music was loud. I wasn’t even there for long. I’d gone out with some mates, had a few drinks, and left early. I swear to you, I wasn’t flirting or anything close to that.”

She folded her arms protectively, glowering. “And I’m just supposed to believe that?”

He looked at her with a heartbreak so profound that her stomach twisted. “I wish you would,” he whispered. “Because it’s true.”

She stared at the floor, tension coursing through her. The silence pressed down on them. She recalled the image of his arm moving up four nights ago, the absolute terror she felt, that flicker of fear that he might hurt her physically. She forced her eyes up to his. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, voice catching. “For thinking you’d hit me.”

His face contorted with anguish. “That… that moment,” he said, voice shaking, “I can’t even describe how it felt to see you flinch like that. Like you believed I could do something so horrible.”

She sucked in a breath, her lips quivering. “I just—I don’t know what came over me. It was a reflex. But everything else I meant. I can’t stand the way you have these shady pictures circulating. The rumors. And I hate feeling like I’m one in a long line of random women in your life. It eats me alive.”

His eyes were red, and he seemed to hold himself back from crossing the room to comfort her. “You’re not just another woman,” he said, voice brimming with emotion. “I would never see you that way. I love you, damn it. Don’t you get it? You’re everything to me.”

She swallowed, her heart thumping so loud it filled her ears. “You say that,” she answered raggedly, “but it’s so easy to say. What if you get bored, or you find someone else, or you want someone who wears skimpier clothes—someone who has the perfect body or an easier attitude?”

He scoffed softly, a pained look crossing his face. “Skimpier clothes? You think I care about that? Y/N, I love you for you. You can wear a shapeless potato sack, and I’d still think you’re breathtaking.” He licked his lips, stepping closer, but still leaving a couple feet of space, as if cautious not to invade her bubble if she didn’t want it. “I don’t want any other woman. I want you. I hate that all these rumors, these illusions, keep driving a wedge between us.”

She turned away, crossing to the couch. She rested her palms on the back of it, trying to steady her breathing, trying not to let the tears fall. “I can’t… forget. When I see pictures like that, it’s like a knife to the chest.”

He came up behind her, so close she could feel the warmth of his body. Very gently, he placed a hand on her shoulder. She stiffened, but she didn’t pull away. “Y/N, I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I wish I could erase my past. I wish I could protect you from seeing that photo. But I can’t. All I can do is promise you I wasn’t cheating, nor do I ever want to.”

Anger still simmered beneath her skin, but she also felt the longing, the deep ache to reconcile with him. She wanted to lash out, to blame him, but she was so damn tired of fighting herself and him. She turned around slowly, looking up at him. “Why didn’t you call me sooner?” she asked hoarsely, tears pooling in her eyes. “Why didn’t you show up earlier?”

He inhaled sharply. “I tried calling. When you didn’t answer, I was worried you’d blocked me or that you needed space. I also needed to cool down. After how we yelled at each other, I— I was afraid you wouldn’t even look at me.” A trembling laugh escaped him. “I didn’t want to drive you further away. But last night, I realized I couldn’t handle another hour without trying to see you. So I packed my bag and flew here this morning.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, fresh tears running down. “I hate you,” she whispered, though her tone was heartbreakingly vulnerable, betraying how she felt the exact opposite.

He grimaced, eyes moist. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again. “I’ll do anything to make this right.”

For a moment, she couldn’t respond. She just stared at him through the haze of tears. Something inside her cracked wide open—the dam that had been holding in all the emotion. In one swift motion, she lunged forward, wrapping her arms around him, pressing her face into his chest. She felt his heart hammering beneath her cheek.

He hesitated only a split second before he crushed her against him, his arms wrapping around her waist so tightly as if he was afraid she’d slip away at any moment. The tears she’d been holding back poured out, and she felt his body shaking too. They stood there, locked in an embrace that trembled with raw anguish.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled again into her hair, kissing the top of her head. “I’m so sorry.”

“I hate that you made me doubt you,” she whispered, voice muffled by his shirt. “And I hate that I’m so insecure. But most of all, I hate that… I can’t let you go.” She let out a choked sob, closing her eyes. “I love you too. And it hurts so bad because I’m scared you’ll destroy me someday.”

He pressed his lips to her forehead. “I’d rather die than hurt you,” he said, voice cracking with sincerity. “I’d rather die than lose you.”

The tension and heartbreak in the air shifted palpably, turning into a different kind of electricity. They pulled back just enough to look at each other, eyes red-rimmed and puffy. Their faces were inches apart, breath intermingling. Then, wordlessly, as if drawn by a magnetic force, their lips collided in a fierce, desperate kiss.

She tasted salt from her tears as he kissed her, but the urgency in the press of his mouth overwhelmed her senses. Her hands slid up around his neck, fingers tangling in his curls. He held her face between his palms as though she were something delicate—yet the kiss itself was anything but gentle. It was raw, intense, filled with the pent-up longing of four days of agony and an entire relationship’s worth of insecurities.

They broke apart for a brief moment, gasping for air, foreheads touching as they tried to form words. But no words came. Only that frantic hunger to feel close after so many days of pain and confusion. They resumed kissing, deeper this time, tongues and teeth clashing, breath ragged. She moaned softly against his mouth, her body igniting with the need to be consumed by him.

“Bedroom,” he rasped, pulling back just enough to speak. His eyes were dark with longing, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

She grabbed his hand and led him down the short hallway. The moment they entered her bedroom, the tension redoubled. Even the air felt charged. The blinds were half-drawn, letting in the golden glow of the late-afternoon sun. The duvet on her bed was slightly disheveled, and she had thrown some clothes on it earlier that morning. The entire room smelled like her faint vanilla perfume and the leftover anxiety of the last few days.

She turned to face him, breath quivering. He reached for her face, cupping her cheek. She looked up into his eyes, still rimmed with leftover hurt. She reached for his hoodie, and he helped yank it off, tossing it aside. The next second, he was kissing her again, guiding her toward the bed. He peeled off her blouse, his hands shaking with the intensity of the moment, exposing her skin to the cool air and his heated gaze.

His lips moved down her jaw, her neck, gently nipping at the sensitive flesh there, drawing out soft gasps. Her fingers fumbled with the waistband of his joggers, pulling them down. Every movement was frantic, desperate, as if they both knew that making up like this was both a healing and a reaffirmation of what they meant to each other.

She sank onto the bed, and he followed, settling above her. Their mouths found each other again in a searing kiss, tongues dancing as their bodies pressed together. She could feel his heart beating wildly. She let her hands roam over his torso, savoring the warmth of his skin, the muscle that flexed beneath her palms. He groaned into her mouth, his voice husky with need.

“God, I missed you,” he breathed. He lowered his head to kiss down her collarbone, his breath hot against her skin. “I was going crazy not hearing your voice.”

She arched against him, eyes fluttering shut, overwhelmed by how much she had missed him too. Her nails lightly raked his shoulders. “Don’t ever disappear on me again,” she murmured, breath hitching. “Don’t leave me like that.”

He lifted his head, meeting her gaze. The raw emotion in his eyes almost made her dizzy. “Never,�� he promised, and he sealed the vow with a slow, deep kiss.

Their hands explored every inch of exposed skin, reacquainting themselves with each other’s bodies as though it had been years rather than mere days. Slowly, carefully, they stripped away the barriers of clothes. Each article of clothing fell to the floor or was pushed aside on the bed, along with the tensions and fears that had weighed on them. He caressed her curves, pressing gentle kisses to her hip, her waist, then trailing his lips up to her neck. She whimpered softly, allowing herself to be lost in the sensations.

He loomed above her, completely naked, his body trembling with the intensity of the moment. His hands slid down her arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake, before he moved up her body again. His lips found hers in a searing kiss, hot and desperate, as if he were trying to make up for every second of the four days they’d spent apart. She moaned softly into his mouth, her hands tangling in his unruly curls, pulling him closer, as though she could fuse them together and never let him go again.

When he finally broke the kiss, his lips didn’t stray far. He kissed her cheeks, her forehead, her temples, each press of his mouth a silent apology, a promise, a plea. His breath was warm against her skin as he trailed kisses down her jawline, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below her ear. She shivered, a soft whimper escaping her lips as her head fell back against the pillows, her body arching instinctively toward him.

“Lando,” she breathed, her voice trembling with need.

He didn’t respond with words. Instead, he kissed across her collarbone, his hands moving down to her shoulders to steady her. His lips moved lower, leaving a trail of fire across her chest. He lingered there, his tongue darting out to taste her skin, his breath hitching as if he were savoring her. She could feel his hunger, his desperation, and it mirrored her own. When his mouth finally closed around her nipple, she gasped, her fingers tightening in his hair.

He sucked gently at first, teasing her, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud until she was squirming beneath him. Then he sucked harder, drawing a sharp cry from her lips. She could feel the heat pooling low in her stomach, her body responding to him as it always did, as if it were wired to crave him and him alone. His fingers found her other breast, kneading and teasing, and she moaned, her back arching off the bed.

“Lando,” she whispered again, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own ragged breathing.

He lifted his head, his eyes dark with desire, his lips swollen from kissing her. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice rough. “I can’t get enough of you.”

She reached up to touch his face, her thumb brushing over his cheekbone. For a moment, they just stared at each other, the weight of everything that had happened between them hanging in the air. But then he leaned down, capturing her lips in another kiss, and all the tension, all the doubt, melted away, replaced by an all-consuming need.

This time, when he pulled back, his hands moved to her hips, lifting her slightly so he could slide further down the bed. His lips trailed down her stomach, leaving a path of fire in their wake, and she shuddered, her hands clutching at the sheets. He kissed her hips, her thighs, his breath warm against her skin, and then his mouth was on her again, sucking and teasing, his tongue darting out to taste her.

She cried out, her hips bucking involuntarily, and he groaned against her, the sound vibrating through her, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her body. His hands tightened on her hips, holding her still as he continued to worship her with his mouth, his tongue flicking over her sensitive flesh until she was trembling, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

“Lando,” she moaned, her voice breaking. “Please.”

Lando didn’t lift his head, not yet. His hands tightened on her hips as he leaned in, his tongue flicking out to trace the slick, sensitive folds of her pussy. He groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating against her, and she whimpered, her thighs trembling on either side of his head. He could taste her, her arousal, her need, and it drove him wild. He loved her like this, so open, so vulnerable, so completely his. His tongue delved deeper, exploring her, savoring her, and she cried out, her hands fisting in the sheets.

“So fucking sweet,” he murmured against her, his breath hot. “I could taste you forever.” His voice was rough, dripping with desire, and it sent a shiver up her spine. He pulled back slightly, his lips closing around her clit, and he sucked gently, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. She arched off the bed, her moans echoing through the room, and he groaned, the sound muffled against her.

He lifted his head just enough to speak, his lips glistening with her. “You taste like heaven,” he said, his voice low and reverent. “I fucking love your pussy, Y/N. I love how you writhe for me, how you moan for me.” He kissed her again, his tongue slipping inside her, and she gasped, her hips bucking against his face. He held her steady, his hands firm on her hips, as he drank her in, every sound, every taste, every shudder of her body.

He loved this—he lived for this. The way she fell apart for him, the way her breath hitched and her cries grew louder, the way she trembled when he touched her just right. He loved the way she moaned his name, the way she clutched at the sheets, the way she surrendered to him completely. He loved knowing that he could make her feel this good, that he could bring her to the edge and push her over, that he could make her his in every possible way.

His tongue flicked over her clit again, faster this time, more insistent, and her moans turned into desperate cries. “Lando—please—I’m so close,” she gasped, her voice breaking. He didn’t stop, didn’t slow down. He sucked her clit into his mouth, his tongue working her relentlessly, and she came with a sharp cry, her body convulsing, her hands clawing at the sheets. He didn’t let up, drinking in every drop of her release, until she was panting, her body limp and trembling.

He finally lifted his head, his lips wet, his eyes dark with satisfaction. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you come,” he said, his voice rough. He crawled up her body, his hands framing her face as he kissed her, letting her taste herself on his lips. “I love making you feel good,” he murmured against her mouth. “I love hearing you moan, feeling you shake, watching you fall apart for me.”

She reached for him, her hands trembling as she cupped his face. “You’re incredible,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “I love it when you worship me like that, when you make me feel like I’m the only thing that matters.” Her eyes were soft, filled with adoration, and he kissed her again, gently this time, savoring the way she melted into him.

“You are the only thing that matters,” he said, his voice low and earnest. He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering on her cheek. “I love you, Y/N. I love everything about you—your body, your mind, your soul. I love making you feel good, I love hearing you moan, I love watching you come. I love you.”

She smiled, a slow, sweet smile that made his heart ache. “I love you too,” she whispered. She pulled him down, her lips finding his, and they kissed, slow and deep, their bodies pressed together, their hearts beating in sync. For the first time in days, the world felt right again.

He pulled away from her lips reluctantly, his chest heaving, his cock throbbing between them as he hovered above her. “I need to be inside you,” he murmured, his voice low and rough with desire. “I can’t wait anymore.” His hands gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her skin as he guided her closer to the edge of the bed, positioning himself between her legs.

But she shook her head, her eyes filled with need, her lips swollen from his kisses. “Not yet,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I need you in my mouth first. Please, Lando. Let me taste you.”

He groaned, his head falling back as he fought for control. “Fuck, Y/N—I want to be in you. I’ve been waiting for this for days.”

Her hands slid down his chest, her nails lightly scratching his skin as she moved lower, her fingers wrapping around his hard cock. He hissed at the touch, his hips jerking forward instinctively. “I know,” she said, her voice soft but insistent. “But I need this. I need to feel you in my mouth. Let me, please. I’ll make it good for you.”

He looked down at her, his eyes burning with desire and frustration. She was begging him, her voice dripping with need, and he couldn’t deny her. Not when she looked up at him like that—with those pleading eyes. “Fuck,” he muttered, his resolve crumbling. “Just—just for a minute. Then I’m inside you.”

She didn’t waste another second. Lando lay back on the bed, his head resting on the pillows, his chest rising and falling rapidly as she positioned herself between his legs. His cock was already leaking precum, the tip glistening, and she could feel him twitch in her hand as she stroked him slowly. She licked her lips, her mouth watering at the sight of him, at the thought of tasting him, of feeling him on her tongue.

Without hesitation, without teasing, she took him into her mouth, her lips wrapping around his shaft, her tongue swirling around the sensitive head. He groaned loudly, his hands fisting in the sheets as she sucked him deep, her head bobbing up and down in a steady rhythm. One hand rested on his inner thigh, her fingers digging into his skin, while the other stroked the base of his cock in time with her movements.

She looked up at him, her eyes locked on his as she sucked him, her lips stretched around his length. The sight of her—her lips wrapped around his cock, her eyes filled with hunger—was almost too much for him. His hips jerked forward involuntarily, and she moaned around him, the sound vibrating through him, sending jolts of pleasure racing down his spine.

“Look at you,” he breathed, his voice rough with arousal. “Fuck, you’re so sexy like this. You love having my cock in your mouth, don’t you? You’re such a good girl for me, Y/N. Such a fucking slut for my dick.”

Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t stop. She loved when he talked dirty to her, when he called her his slut, his good girl. It made her feel wanted, desired, and it only made her suck him harder, her movements becoming more desperate, more eager. Her hand moved from his inner thigh to his balls, her fingers gently massaging them as she continued to suck him, her lips and tongue working him relentlessly.

She could feel him throbbing in her mouth, could taste the saltiness of his precum on her tongue, and it only made her want him more. She loved the way he felt in her mouth, the way he filled her, the way he made her feel so alive, so connected to him. She loved the way he moaned her name, the way his hands tightened in the sheets as he tried to hold himself back. She loved the way he looked at her, his eyes filled with desire, his breath hitching as she sucked him.

For Lando, it was almost too much. The sight of her—her lips wrapped around his cock, her eyes filled with hunger, her hand stroking him, her fingers massaging his balls—was driving him wild. He loved seeing her like this, so turned on, so eager for him. It made him feel powerful, desired, and it made him want to give her everything she begged for. He loved the way she looked at him, her eyes locked on his as she sucked him, as if she couldn’t get enough of him. He loved the way she moaned around him, the way her body trembled with need. She was his, and he loved every fucking second of it.

But he couldn’t let himself come—not yet. He wanted to be inside her, to feel her tight, wet pussy around him as he spilled himself deep inside her. He gently pushed her away, his hands trembling as he gripped her shoulders. “Enough,” he said, his voice rough with need. “I need to be inside you. Now.”

She pulled back, her lips swollen, her breathing ragged, her eyes filled with longing. “Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling with desire. “Please. I need you.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. His hands moved with purpose, gripping her hips firmly as he manhandled her onto her back again, her body sinking into the mattress. She gasped, her hands instinctively reaching for him as he positioned himself above her, his weight pressing her into the bed. His eyes locked onto hers, intense, brimming with something deeper than desire—something raw, emotional, and unspoken. He hovered for a moment, his breath ragged, his chest heaving, before he shifted, guiding himself toward her entrance.

She felt the tip of him brush against her, hot and insistent, and a shiver of anticipation ran through her. He paused, his hands framing her face as he leaned down, his forehead pressing against hers. She could feel the tremble in his body, the way he was holding himself back, trying to control the primal urge to claim her. His breath mingled with hers, shaky and uneven, as he whispered, “I love you, Y/N. So fucking much.”

And then, slowly, achingly slow, he entered her. She felt every inch of him as he pushed inside, her body stretching to accommodate him, the sensation both overwhelming and electrifying. She gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to steady her breathing. It wasn’t just the physical sensation that made her head spin—it was the way he looked at her, his eyes never leaving hers, his expression a mix of reverence and desperation. It felt like he wasn’t just entering her body; he was reclaiming her heart, her soul, every piece of her that had been fractured by distance and doubt.

For Lando, the moment was equally intense. The warmth of her body enveloped him, tight and welcoming, and he groaned, his head falling forward as he fought to keep his movements slow, controlled. He could feel her trembling beneath him, her breaths coming in short, shallow gasps, and it made him ache with a need that went far beyond physical. He wanted to lose himself in her, to drown in the way she felt around him, but more than that, he wanted her to know how much she meant to him. How much he loved her. How he’d do anything to keep her, to protect her, to make her feel cherished.

He stayed inside her, not moving, his body flush against hers, their breaths mingling as they stared into each other’s eyes. The stillness was charged, electric, as if the world had paused just for them. She could feel him twitching inside her, the way his body seemed to throb with the effort of holding back, and it made her ache with a need that was almost unbearable. “Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling, her hands clutching at his back. “Please… move. I need you.”

But he shook his head, his hands cupping her face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had started to fall. “Not yet,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “I want to take my time with you. I want to show you how much I love you, Y/N. How much you mean to me.” His words were soft, tender, but there was a fire behind them that made her heart race. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a slow, deep kiss, his tongue exploring hers as if he were trying to memorize every inch of her.

He pulled back just enough to whisper against her lips, “I’m not going anywhere. I’m here. I’m yours. Always.” His voice broke on the last word, and she could feel the sincerity in it, the weight of his promise. It was as if he were trying to pour every ounce of his love, his devotion, into that one moment.

She whimpered, her hands sliding up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. “I love you,” she whispered back, her voice trembling with emotion. “I missed you so much. Please, Lando… don’t let go.”

He kissed her again, his movements slow and deliberate, his hands roaming her body with a reverence that made her heart ache. He worshiped her with his touch, his lips, his words, as if every inch of her were sacred. His hands slid down her sides, smoothing over her skin, before he cupped her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples in slow, teasing circles. She arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping her lips as her body responded to him instinctively.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and rough as he leaned down to kiss her neck, her collarbone, the sensitive spot just below her ear. His lips were warm, his breath hot against her skin, and she shivered, her hands tightening in his hair. He took his time, exploring every inch of her with a patience that made her ache. 

“Lando,” she breathed, her voice pleading, her hands tugging at his hair. “Please… I need you. I need you to move.”

But he shook his head again, his hands sliding down to her hips, gripping her firmly as he pulled back slightly, just enough to look into her eyes. “I’m not going to rush this,” he said, his voice steady despite the fire burning in his gaze. “I want to make this last. I want to make you feel how much I love you, Y/N. How much I’ve missed you.”

His words were a balm to her soul, soothing the raw edges of her heart, but they also made her ache with need. She could feel him inside her, hot and thick, twitching with every breath, and it was maddening to have him so close, so still. “Please,” she begged, her voice breaking, her hips lifting slightly in an attempt to get him to move. “Please, Lando… I need you to fuck me. I need you to make me feel good.”

He groaned, his hips jerking forward involuntarily at her words, but he held himself back, his hands tightening on her hips. “I will,” he promised, his voice rough with desire. “But not yet. I want to savor this. I want to savor you.”

She whimpered, her nails digging into his back as she tried to pull him closer, but he stayed still, his eyes locked on hers, his expression filled with a tenderness that made her heart ache. She loved this side of him—the way he could be so soft, so gentle, even in moments of intense passion. It made her feel cherished, adored, and it made her love him even more.

Finally, he began to move, his hips rocking against hers in slow, deliberate thrusts. The sensation was maddening, each movement drawing a soft cry from her lips as she writhed beneath him. He kept his pace slow, his eyes never leaving hers, his hands moving to cup her face as he leaned down to kiss her again. His lips were warm, his tongue exploring hers in a way that made her head spin, and she moaned into his mouth, her hands clutching at his shoulders.

For her, the slow, deliberate movements were both agonizing and intoxicating. Every thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through her, the sensation building slowly, steadily, until she felt like she might explode. She could feel him inside her, hot and thick, filling her completely, and it made her ache with a need that was almost unbearable. She wanted more—needed more—but he held back, his movements controlled, his eyes filled with a tenderness that made her heart ache.

For Lando, the slow pace was equally intense. He could feel her around him, tight and warm, and it took every ounce of his self-control to keep from losing himself in her. He wanted to savor this moment, to make it last, to show her how much she meant to him. He wanted to worship her, to make her feel loved, cherished, adored. And he knew that the only way to do that was to take his time, to draw out every second, to make her feel every ounce of his love.

He kissed her again, his lips moving against hers in a slow, deep rhythm that matched the pace of his thrusts. “I love you,” he whispered against her lips, his voice trembling with emotion. “I love you so much, Y/N. I’m never letting you go.”

She whimpered, her hands sliding up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as she kissed him back with a desperation that mirrored his own. “I love you too,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Please, Lando… don’t stop.”

He didn’t. He kept his pace slow, deliberate, his thrusts deep and steady as he continued to worship her with his body, his touch, his words. He kept kissing her neck, her collarbone, her shoulders, his lips lingering on every inch of her skin as if he were trying to memorize her. His hands roamed her body, exploring every curve, every dip, as if he were trying to commit her to memory.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire as he leaned down to kiss her again. “I can’t get enough of you, Y/N. I never will.”

She moaned, her hands clutching at his back as she arched into his touch, her body responding to him instinctively. The slow, steady rhythm of his thrusts was driving her wild, the sensation building slowly, steadily, until she felt like she might explode. “Lando,” she gasped, her voice trembling with need. “Please… I’m so close.”

He kissed her again, his movements never faltering as he held himself above her, his eyes locked on hers. “Let go, baby,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “I’ve got you. I’ll always have you.”

And with those words, she shattered, her body convulsing as she clung to him, her cries muffled against his chest. He held her through it, his thrusts never faltering as he continued to drive her over the edge, his own release building steadily until he could no longer hold back. With a low groan, he pressed his face into her neck, his body shaking as he spilled himself inside her, his breath hot against her skin.

For a long moment, they stayed like that, their bodies trembling, their breaths mingling as they held onto each other. The room was silent except for the sound of their breathing, the air thick with the weight of everything they had shared, everything they had overcome.

Slowly, he pulled back, looking down at her with an aching tenderness she had never seen so plainly before. He brushed damp hair off her forehead, trailing a thumb across her cheek.

“I love you,” he whispered, voice a low rasp in the hush of the room. “I love you so much. And I’m so sorry for everything.”

She exhaled shakily, caressing the side of his face. “I’m sorry, too,” she murmured. “I got so consumed by anger and jealousy. I should have let you explain calmly. And I… I should never have doubted that you’d raise a hand to me.”

He shook his head, kissing her temple. “You have nothing to apologize for. Your fears come from a real place. I just want to do better for you. I never want you to think I could hurt you.” He swallowed hard. “I’m terrified of losing you.”

She stared up into his eyes, seeing the layers of heartbreak there. “Don’t do anything that makes me doubt you again, Lando. Please,” she whispered, her voice wavering. “I can’t take this kind of fight again.”

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “I promise,” he said. “And if something comes up—pictures, rumors, anything—please talk to me before letting it build up in your head. I’ll tell you everything.”

She nodded, tears threatening once more, but they didn’t spill. “Okay,” she agreed softly.

They settled into a quiet embrace, his arm draped over her waist, her head on his chest. She could hear the steady rhythm of his heart, each beat reassuring her that he was here and that he wasn’t letting go. Outside, the sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in pink and orange hues that filtered into the room. For a time, neither of them spoke, letting the warmth of each other’s bodies and the lingering afterglow of their fierce coupling do the talking.

Eventually, their breathing evened out, and Lando shifted to lie on his side, propping his head on one hand so he could look at her fully. She blushed slightly, tugging the sheets up to cover herself, though he’d already seen every inch. Her hair was a tangled mess, and her lips felt tender from the rough kisses.

He reached out to tuck a stray strand behind her ear. “You’re so beautiful,” he said quietly.

She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks warmed. “Don’t,” she mumbled. “I’m not—”

“You are,” he insisted. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. Your body, your face, your heart… it’s all incredible to me.”

“Stop flattering me,” she murmured, but she couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at her lips. His genuine admiration always made her heart skip a beat.

He gave her a half-smile, though there was still a hint of sadness in his eyes. “We have to talk, you know,” he said softly. “We can’t just… pretend the argument didn’t happen.”

She nodded, the smile fading as she remembered the fiery fight. “I know.”

He took a deep breath, shifting closer so their foreheads nearly touched. “I hate that my past makes you feel insecure. But it’s my past. I can’t change it, no matter how badly I wish I could.” He placed a hand gently on her hip. “I need you to understand that I’m not that guy anymore. Maybe I was reckless before, a little shallow. But I’m not the same person I was a year or two years ago.”

She chewed her lip, eyes drifting to where her hand lay over his on the bed. “I guess a part of me thinks that once a player, always a player,” she admitted. “Like, if you’ve done it once, you’ll do it again. But I know that’s not fair. People can change.”

His fingers squeezed hers lightly. “I don’t want anyone else. I know you might find it hard to believe, but it’s true. I’m not going to ruin this for some random stranger in a club.” He paused, voice growing thick with emotion. “I love you, Y/N. I love your fierceness, your shy smiles, your sarcastic quips, how you refuse to let me pay for everything even though I want to spoil you. I love the way you get all excited about a new book or a new recipe you learned. I love your body, every curve, every inch, how it feels like you were made to fit in my arms.”

She drew in a shaky breath, tears gathering again. “Lando…”

He nodded, blinking back his own moisture. “So trust me, please. Talk to me if you feel suspicious. Don’t bottle it up until it explodes. Because I can’t go another four days like this. It was pure hell.”

She closed her eyes, exhaling. “I’m sorry I shut you out,” she whispered, voice trembling. “And I’ll… I’ll try. I don’t want to go through this either. I just need reassurance. Because my insecurities are… they’re crippling sometimes. Seeing that picture brought back every fear I had.”

He cupped her cheek gently. “I get it. And I’ll do my best to reassure you. Always.”

They shared a tender kiss, a silent pact to communicate better, to lean on each other instead of letting the fear linger. After a few more minutes of hushed conversation, she excused herself to use the bathroom, to freshen up.

Stepping into the attached en-suite, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror: flushed cheeks, swollen lips, hair in wild mess. She splashed cool water on her face, trying to calm the roiling emotions. She felt lighter somehow, as if her chest wasn’t as constricted. He was here, in her home, in her bed, and they’d just poured out so many painful feelings. But they’d also reconnected intimately, forging a new bond in the midst of all the anguish.

Yet a small flicker of doubt still lingered. She wondered if she could truly accept the rumors that might come in the future—pictures of him with fans, random girls in clubs, or women who found him attractive. He was an F1 driver, he was famous, and she couldn’t shield him from the outside world. She swallowed hard, telling herself that if she truly loved him, and if he truly loved her, they would find a way through it.

When she returned, dressed in a fresh tee and shorts, she found him sitting on her bed, having pulled on his boxers. The bedside lamp was on, illuminating the curve of his shoulders, the slight slump as he stared at his phone. He looked up the moment she stepped in.

“Everything okay?” she asked softly, noticing his phone in his hand.

He grimaced. “Max and a couple of the other guys are freaking out because I went off the grid. I told them I needed time to sort this out.”

She nodded, crossing to the bed, settling beside him. “I’m sorry if I caused you trouble.”

He shook his head. “No, don’t apologize for that. They were worried, but now that I told them I’m with you, they’re pretty much leaving me alone.”

She reached for his phone, pressing the lock button so the screen went dark, then set it aside on the nightstand. “You’re here with me now,” she said quietly. “Focus on that.”

He exhaled, nodding. Then his eyes flickered to the faint bruise on her wrist, a small mark she’d gotten from accidentally knocking her hand against a table the day before. She saw him stare with concern. “What’s that?”

She glanced at it. “Oh, that’s nothing. I bumped into something at work. I’m clumsy.”

He lightly brushed his thumb over the bruise, then lifted her hand and kissed the spot gently. The tender gesture made her chest tighten. His gaze moved up to hers, intense. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, “for scaring you the other night. I haven’t gotten that out of my head. The way you flinched…”

A wave of guilt crashed over her. “Lando, I said I’m sorry. It’s not you—it’s my own fear. I just reacted.”

“But the fact that you could even think I’d—” He exhaled unsteadily, closing his eyes. “I promise I’ll never move that way again. I’ll be mindful. I don’t want to trigger that reflex or make you think—”

She slid her arms around him, pulling him into a hug. “No. Don’t change how you move or exist in the world,” she whispered, voice thick with regret. “It was my own trauma or fear or something. But I know you’d never do that to me, logically. My body just panicked.”

He nodded, holding her close. “Okay,” he said softly. “But if you ever feel scared, tell me. I’ll do everything in my power to make you feel safe.”

They stayed like that for a long time, arms wrapped around each other on the bed, the soft glow of the lamp creating a cocoon of intimacy. She felt his heartbeat slow as he relaxed in her arms, his breathing growing calmer. She gently stroked the back of his neck, and he exhaled against her shoulder.

Finally, she drew back slightly, looking into his face. “You haven’t eaten, have you?”

He shook his head, giving her a wry smile. “No. I came straight here from the airport, then… all this happened.”

She offered a small smile in return. “I’ll order us takeout. Thai or pizza?”

He shrugged. “Anything you like. Though I’m kind of craving noodles.”

She nodded, picking up her phone from the nightstand, scrolling through her food delivery apps. Within minutes, she placed an order for a selection of Thai dishes. Then she set her phone aside again.

Lando let out a soft chuckle. “I can’t believe we went from screaming at each other to ordering noodles. My head’s spinning.”

She gave a humorless laugh. “Yeah, it’s been a rollercoaster.” Her features turned somber as she looked at him. “Do you regret coming here?”

He reached for her hand, entwining their fingers. “Not in the slightest. I want to fix things with you more than anything.”

A gentle silence fell over them, broken only by the hum of the city outside. She cuddled closer, resting her head against his shoulder. Despite the leftover ache, a sense of relief washed over her. He was here. They were together, speaking, touching, and trying to heal.

[mephisto-reporting]

Don’t Die on Me

About: You’re hurt—badly—wounded while shielding him from danger. As he rushes to your side, there’s a shift in his demeanor; he seems different, more vulnerable beneath his usual bravado. Pairing: Reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are NOT in a relationship. but there is implied mutual attraction. My inbox is open for prompts and requests :) Content Warning: Angst, injuries, mentions of blood.

SYLUS

The sounds of gunfire had finally faded into silence, leaving only the shallow, ragged pull of your breath and the press of Sylus’s hand against your side, trying to stanch the bleeding. You had been hit during the ambush, shielding him from a blast intended for his head—an instinct you couldn't explain, or perhaps didn’t want to.

Sylus's expression was a mask of controlled fury, his jaw clenched as he knelt beside you, his usual cocky, unyielding demeanor giving way to something sharper, darker, and far more personal. He applied pressure to the wound with a fierce intensity, almost as if he could hold you together through sheer force of will alone. His fingers, usually steady and sure, shook faintly against your skin.

“You’re a damn fool,” he muttered, his tone laced with anger and something else—something deeper. “I didn’t need saving. Have you forgotten that I can heal quickly!?.”

You managed a small, pained smile. “Maybe I did it for the fun of watching you panic for once.”

His hand gripped your chin firmly, tilting your face to meet his intense, searching stare. "You really don’t know when to quit, do you, kitten?” His voice was soft, almost a whisper, but it was laced with something raw, something unsteady.

“I thought… I had it under control.” you mumbled, trying for a smile, though even you knew how weak you sounded.

“Under control?” His laugh was short and sharp, a bitter edge in it. “Don’t be ridiculous!” Sylus hissed through gritted teeth, his usual cool facade crumbling. He never panicked—not him, not the man who’d handed you a gun to his own heart just to see if you’d pull the trigger. But right now, he was faltering, his steps uneven as he pulled you closer. His hand, normally so sure, so controlling, was shaking against your side. “You think I wanted you to jump in front of me like that? What were you thinking?”

You tried to catch your breath, his words slipping past you in a haze. You knew the risks of sticking by Sylus, knew that you’d inevitably end up in danger—but you couldn’t stand the thought of losing him. “Had to protect you,” you whispered, voice barely a thread. “I couldn’t... let anything happen to you.”

For a moment, he simply stared at you, his expression caught somewhere between anger and something far softer, something unspoken. “Protect me..?” he repeated, his voice lower, and you could feel the barely-contained fury laced with worry beneath it. He was trying to keep his grip on his composure, but his eyes betrayed him. His fingers trembled ever so slightly as he traced the edge of your cheek, the words slipping through clenched teeth. “You’re an idiot, Sweetie. A reckless, stubborn, damnably frustrating idiot.”

His expression twisted, the frustration in his eyes unmistakable, but there was something else too—something vulnerable, barely concealed beneath his usual scowl. You’d seen it before in the softer moments, those times when his hand would linger just a moment too long, or his voice would drop to that rare, gentle murmur. But this was different, more unguarded.

“Sylus…” you whispered, but he cut you off, pressing a hand to your wound. You stifled a gasp as his fingers met the raw injury, his jaw tightening in response, an unexpected flash of helplessness slipping through his mask.

“Quiet,” he muttered, his voice almost breaking. “You don’t get to talk right now.” He ripped off a piece of his sleeve, wrapping it tightly around your shoulder, though his touch was uncharacteristically tender. “This isn’t part of the plan, sweetie. You’re supposed to stay in one piece, just like I ordered.” The usual bite in his voice softened, desperation pooling in his dark gaze.

You chuckled weakly, trying to make light of the situation, but the pain pulled a groan from your lips instead. His expression grew even more intense, the hardness in his eyes melting into a quiet sort of anguish.

“Stop laughing. Stop… smiling like that.” His voice was fraying, edges cracking, a wavering panic he seemed unable to fully control. “You… you have no idea how hard it is not to tear this entire place apart for hurting you.”

The statement caught you off guard, and it must’ve shown in your expression because he let out a shaky breath, his eyes searching yours with a desperation that he’d never let you see before. It was strange to see him so unguarded, the man who played god in the N109 Zone suddenly grappling with the possibility of losing you.

The corner of his mouth twisted, and he tried for his usual smirk, but it faltered. “What would I do without you, hmm? My little hunter, so brave and foolish…” His words softened, and he lifted you as if you weighed nothing, holding you securely against him as he continued on, urgency in every step. “You’re mine, kitten,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “And I don’t let go of what’s mine.”

You managed to laugh, the sound weak but genuine. “Then… don’t let go,” you whispered. “Sylus…” Your voice was weak, your head spinning, but you reached up, brushing your fingers along the sharp edge of his jaw. His expression softened, his lips pressing into a thin line as he leaned closer.

“You’re… more trouble than you’re worth, you know that?” he whispered, his voice breaking the slightest bit, but he forced a smirk, trying to hold onto his usual bravado.

“Guess I… picked it up from you,” you murmured, your vision growing hazy, but the warmth of his hand grounding you.

His grip tightened, and his lips brushed your temple, an unspoken promise lingering in the gesture. For once, Sylus seemed stripped of his dominance, his bravado washed away by the raw fear of watching you slip away. His hands shook as he held you, his mask cracking with every ragged breath you took. The man who’d taunted and tested you now held you like you were something precious, something irreplaceable.

“Hold on, Sweetie… just a little longer.” he said fiercely, and in his voice, you heard something you never expected from him—fear. “I won’t let anything or anyone take you from me.”

XAVIER

Xavier’s arm is tight around you, steady even as he fights his own injuries. The blood trails hot down your side, and you can barely see it through the blurred edges of your vision, a dark stain spreading across your suit. Xavier’s face, usually a mask of quiet calm, is set hard with a sharpness that you rarely see. Xavier's hands, usually steady and almost uncaring, were shaking as he tried to press down on the wound at your side. You'd taken the hit for him, jumping between him and that blasted Wanderer with a split-second of hesitation—or none at all. He hadn’t expected it. Neither had you.

Blood soaked through his fingers as he crouched beside you, his face tight with a look you’d never seen. Fear, maybe—though he wouldn’t admit it.

"Why... did you do that?" His voice was low, but it felt like he was questioning the universe itself. His usually calm tone was laced with an edge that made you dizzy or maybe it was the blood loss, hard to tell.

“Instinct…?” you murmured, managing a weak smirk despite the pain slicing through you. “I know, I was a bit reckless.”

“Reckless isn’t... you bleeding out on this floor,” he muttered, pressing harder against the wound, a little too hard, but you didn’t have the strength to complain. “You should have left me to handle it.” His gaze softened when you winced, and he pulled his hand back, immediately brushing away the edge of guilt. Yet the blood still glistened darkly on his fingertips, his gloves, on the floor where you lay.

“It would’ve been worse if it got you,” you mutter, trying to summon even a hint of humor, though the attempt falls flat against the pain.

Xavier doesn’t laugh. Instead, he looks at you, and the deep space void reflected in his eyes almost draws you in. That familiar aloofness fades, and for a brief moment, his concern seeps through, raw and achingly close. He shifts his weight to press you more securely against him, his free hand gently adjusting the strap of your gear as if every second counts in keeping you here, anchored.

“Look,” you managed, reaching up, even if it took everything in you to keep your voice steady, “you’d do the same for me.”

Xavier’s mouth set in a thin line. You’d hit a nerve, that much was clear. Despite the unspoken rule between you two—the sidelong glances, the unsaid things—he wouldn’t entertain the possibility that he would have let you get injured in this manner on his watch.

“You don’t know what I’d do,” he replied, his voice just above a whisper. His words held a weight you hadn’t expected, making you look at him closely even as the edges of your vision began to fade. “And you won’t have to, because I'm getting you out of here.”

He hoisted you up, careful, gentle, though he flinched when you sucked in a breath from the pain. He started forward, one arm cradling you as he moved you through the wreckage of the battle toward the shelter of the shuttle. It was strange, seeing Xavier so unguarded, every step almost too fast as though he feared stopping would break you.

“Stay with me,” he whispers, voice low. You feel his breath, close enough to count heartbeats, to wonder if his pulse is racing like yours. The space between you feels impossibly small, and the silence stretches, vulnerable, bare.

You manage a faint smile, fingers brushing his, a silent reassurance even as the sharp ache of your wounds thrums persistently in your bones. “You know, if I’d known I’d end up leaning on you like this, I’d have come up with something... cleverer to say.”

To your surprise, he huffs a small laugh, his gaze softening. “You always talk,” he murmurs, with a hint of that familiar, boyish charm, though it’s laced with worry now. “Save your strength. I’ll get us out of here.”

You felt yourself drifting, and his voice brought you back.

“Hey,” he said, tightening his hold. “Stay awake. I can’t have you falling asleep on me now—I'm the one who does that, remember?”

His humor was strained, like he was grasping at something familiar to keep himself steady. You let out a soft chuckle, the sound weaker than you meant it to be. “Guess we’re trading roles today.”

There was a moment, somewhere between one step and the next, where he stopped. He looked down at you, his gaze intense. For once, his expression was completely open—his worry and something warmer simmering just beneath.

“I can’t lose you,” he murmured, voice barely audible. “Not here. Not now. Not ever.”

You felt a wave of heat rise within, one that made the pain more bearable, somehow grounding. Before you could respond, he resumed his pace, carrying you as if you were the most precious thing in the galaxy.

The world swayed, darkness creeping at the edges of your vision, but you forced yourself to focus on him, on the boyish charm that hid beneath his cool exterior. “Xavier,” you rasped, “I’m not going anywhere. Not yet.”

“Just keep looking at me,” he replied, his voice steady. “We’ll get through this together. You and me.”

In the quiet of the shuttle, as he set you down and the medics began patching you up, you felt his hand graze your cheek, lingering just a little too long. You dared to meet his gaze, and for once, Xavier’s eyes didn’t look away. They softened, and the smallest hint of a smile touched his lips.

“Next time,” he said, voice warm with unspoken promise, “let me protect you.”

RAFAYEL

The harsh winds of the remote village howled around you as Rafayel’s face loomed over you, more serious than you’d ever seen it. You hadn’t intended for things to get this bad, but the ambush from the Wanderer had been swift and brutal, and you’d thrown yourself between its claws and Rafayel without a second thought. A mistake, maybe—though you could hardly think of it as a mistake, even now, lying on the cold, unforgiving ground with blood soaking your side.

“Damn it, stop being so heavy,” Rafayel muttered, though his voice trembled, barely hiding the edge of panic. You glanced up, expecting his usual smirk, his smug teasing, something bratty, but his face was blank—frustrated, pale, and determined in a way you’d never seen.

“S-sorry to inconvenience you,” you managed through the haze of pain, trying to keep it light. “But I think I lost quite a bit of blood back there.”

Rafayel’s usual smug charm was gone. His carefree expression had twisted into something you couldn’t place—anger, worry, a flicker of panic as he knelt down beside you. He pressed his hands over the wound, and though it was uncharacteristic, there was no teasing, no insults, just an almost frightening intensity. “You… Why did you do that?” he demanded, his voice low and jagged, as though the question alone might tear him apart. “Do you think I’m some helpless damsel? You could have been killed.”

Your breath hitched, and you were grateful that it could just as easily be the pain causing it. Still, you shrugged, or tried to, but your body had other ideas, and you stumbled. Rafayel caught you, his arm firm around your waist as he steadied you. You managed a weak smirk, though the effort cost you. “Guess… I wanted to make myself useful as a bodyguard, for once,” you rasped, feeling the humor fall flat even as you said it.

“Useful?” His eyes, normally filled with a cocky gleam, were sharp with frustration. “Throwing yourself in harm’s way is your idea of useful?” He gave a dry, humorless laugh, his hands applying pressure that made you wince, though he didn’t seem to notice. “You’re dumber than I thought. The one time I actually need you to stay out of my way, and you—” He broke off, swallowing hard, his fingers trembling ever so slightly against you.

“Don’t… act like you care now, Rafayel,” you murmured, half-teasing, though the words came out weaker than you meant.

His face twisted, and you saw a flash of something in his eyes that you hadn’t expected—hurt, genuine and raw, like you’d struck a nerve. “Idiot,” he whispered, and his tone was so low it was almost drowned out by the wind. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“Get… what?” You were slipping a little, your vision swimming, but you caught his gaze, and for the first time, you saw past his bratty facade to something deeper. He took a breath, his jaw set in determination, and then he did something you never expected: he carefully scooped you into his arms, his hold gentle yet fiercely protective.

“Stay awake, all right? I can’t have you passing out on me,” he ordered, though his voice had lost its usual bite. His words were soft, desperate, as he moved through the bleak landscape, carrying you with a carefulness that belied everything he usually projected. For a long moment, you stared at him, the pain numbing under the intensity in his gaze. This wasn’t the bratty, arrogant god who’d dragged you into mess after mess. This was someone else—someone who, behind the charm and teasing, was scared. For you.

"Idiot," he muttered, his words a tangled mess of relief and frustration. “Why would you do that?” He repeated.

And you almost laughed, wincing through the pain, because wasn’t it obvious?

“Because… I care,” you murmured, voice barely a whisper. It was the closest you’d come to admitting the truth—to saying what had long hovered between the two of you, unspoken, stubbornly denied.

"Just shut up for once,” he whispered, his voice strained, almost a plea. “You don’t… you don’t know what it’s like.” His arms tightened around you, as if holding you close could somehow protect you from the damage already done. “You… throwing yourself in front of me like that—do you have any idea how reckless that was? I didn’t need you to… risk yourself.”

“Couldn’t let the prince of the art world get scratched up… on my watch,” you said, trying to maintain your humor.

Rafayel glanced down, his usual piercing eyes softening, his expression raw. “If you’d died, I wouldn’t…” He paused, his gaze slipping away, the words seemingly caught in his throat. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself,” he finished, barely audible.

You managed to brush a finger along his wrist, grounding yourself, anchoring him to you. “You’ll… still have the sea. And everyone to charm.”

For once, he didn’t laugh. Instead, he looked down at you, and his eyes were so intense, so filled with something you’d never seen before. “None of that matters,” he murmured, his voice raw. He shifted, his hand grazing your cheek, lingering there for a moment too long. “Stay awake,” he commanded, a note of urgency threading through his tone. “You can’t just pass out on me. Not like this.”

You blinked up at him, the sunlight filtering through the clouds casting a warm glow around his figure. “Not… gonna pass out,” you whispered, though it felt like a lie even to your own ears. You could see the worry etched across his handsome face, something raw and unfiltered. “You need me for your—”

“Stop it!” he snapped, but there was no bite in his voice, only a desperate plea. “You don’t get to joke around right now. Not when you’re bleeding out.”

“Rafayel…” you began, but he cut you off, a flicker of his old bravado returning.

“Save your strength,” he snapped, though the edge was softened by concern. “I’ll get you out of here, but you have to stay awake. Don’t you dare fall asleep on me!”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you managed to murmur, your vision dimming as the waves of unconsciousness tugged at the edges of your mind. “Not without you.”

“Good,” he replied, and his voice was fierce and unyielding. “Stay alive,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, eyes dark with something he couldn’t bring himself to name. “For me.”

ZAYNE

The world felt hazy around you, pain ebbing in and out of your awareness as Zayne held you steady, his hands pressing firmly yet gently against the wound on your side. Blood smeared across his fingertips, but he kept his touch steady, calculating, his focus a perfect picture of surgical precision.

“Stay with me,” he murmured, his voice level, his eyes fixed on you with a fierce intensity. “I need you to keep talking. Tell me if you’re feeling dizzy or lightheaded, alright?”

You managed a faint smile, ignoring the way your own breaths came shallow and broken. “You’re… really good at this,” you tried to joke, but Zayne only shook his head, lips pressing into a thin line. “You should become a doctor...”

“Don’t push yourself to talk. You’ve taken a nasty hit here.” His voice was calm, almost clinical, but you could see the strain in his jaw, the telltale flicker of worry in his eyes. His hands, however, were as steady as ever, working methodically as he inspected the wound, gauging the damage with the supplies he always seemed to have at hand.

“Think of it this way," he continued softly, his calm tone soothing despite the urgency of the situation. "The wound isn’t too bad—lucky hit. If we keep steady pressure on it, there shouldn’t be significant blood loss. You’ll be fine. But you have to focus on breathing for me, alright?”

He was explaining everything, his voice filling the air like a familiar, grounding hum. His hands, wrapped around the fabric of his jacket pressed to your side, were warm, almost protective. You could feel the faint tremor in his fingertips, but he moved with absolute control, unwilling to show even a hint of panic. His gaze flicked up to yours for a moment, his expression softening despite the tension in his features.

“I warned you about being reckless,” he muttered, his tone more of a gentle chide than anything else. “But it’s not the first time, is it?” The slight quirk of his lips, a half-hearted attempt at a smile, almost made you forget the pain. Almost.

“Couldn’t let you get hurt,” you whispered, fighting to keep your voice steady.

“Hold still,” he ordered softly, his voice low and steady as he worked to stop the bleeding. His fingers were meticulous, his hands steady, despite the fear you could feel radiating from him. He couldn’t afford to let it show, so he did what he knew best: he relied on the calm, clinical precision that had carried him through countless surgeries. "The wound's not fatal, but you’re going to need stitches. I’d say you’ve torn through the muscle here by… at least an inch or two.” He let out a breath through gritted teeth, looking pointedly into your eyes. “I can’t believe you tried to shield me from that Wanderer."

Despite his calm, you could see the fear in his eyes—the same fear that betrayed itself in the tension of his jaw, in the way his hands lingered just a moment too long against your skin, as if he couldn’t bear to let you go.

As he applied pressure to your wound, his tone softened, more to himself than to you. “You’re lucky you didn’t rupture an artery,” he said, hands deftly inspecting the injury with precise, practiced movements. “If this were any worse… I’d be looking at a very different situation right now.” His voice wavered on that last note, but his hands stayed steady, not allowing a single tremor to betray him.

“You’re going to be fine, I’m going to make sure of that.” He glanced down at you, his gaze holding an intensity that went beyond the practiced care of a surgeon. “You’re not allowed to play the hero, you know?. And if you’re trying to impress me… then I’d say you’re not required to be reckless for it.”

“Zayne…” you murmured, feeling the darkness pressing in at the edges of your vision.

“Keep those eyes open,” he whispered, his fingers gently brushing your cheek, grounding you in the warmth of his touch. “Stay with me. I’ll… I’ll get you out of here. But I need you to focus.” His thumb gently stroked your temple, his touch tender yet steady as he leaned close, his forehead resting lightly against yours, just for a second, as if grounding himself, too.

You managed a faint smile. “Didn’t know you were the boss of me, doc.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn’t look up. “Believe it or not, I have plenty of experience bossing you around.” He kept talking, his voice low and clinical, grounding you in the familiar, steady cadence

“You always said I was a terrible listener.” Your voice softened as you felt his hand linger, his thumb grazing your skin in a gesture far more affectionate than necessary.

“This isn’t funny.” He met your gaze then, a look so intense it stole the breath from your lungs. “Breathe,” he instructed, his voice calm and steady, despite the chaos swirling around you.

You could see the fear lurking in his dark eyes, a stark contrast to his composed demeanor. But it didn’t matter; his touch was methodical, reassuring, his fingers steady as they pressed against the injury.

“Zayne… the others—”

“Forget them.” His voice was firm, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of panic as they darted around the shop, assessing the situation even as he tended to you. “I need you to focus on me. You’re the priority right now.”

You could feel the warmth of his hand against your side, but it was not enough to push away the chill creeping into your bones. “But—”

“Enough.” He pressed down harder, and you gasped, but he didn’t relent, his expression shifting to one of fierce determination. “You can’t help anyone if you bleed out here. So please, stay with me.”

The adrenaline coursing through your veins faltered, and all you could think about was how you had protected him—how you had jumped in front of the danger without a second thought. The sight of him, typically unflappable, now uncharacteristically tense, pulled at your heart.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, barely able to form the words.

He shook his head, an intensity burning in his gaze. “Don’t. You’re not allowed to apologize. Not when you’re the one lying here, bleeding out for me.” He brushed a damp strand of hair from your forehead, his touch lingering. “I’m not letting you leave me. You hear me? We still have so much left to do together.”

You could feel the world slipping away, darkness creeping into your vision, but his voice anchored you. “Hey… Don’t let go.” he murmured, using the nickname he reserved for the most intimate moments. “I won’t let anything happen to you, not again.”

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!