#FOUR SWEEPS FOR MY GIRLS

[yukispike]

Hinotori Nippon (JPN) defeat the Dominican Republic 3-0 and end week one of the Volleyball Nations League season undefeated (4-0). Japan end the week as the the top ranked team with 12 points. Congrats, Hinotori! | 📸: volleyballworld

[abba-enthusiast]

I have my Latin Stilübungen exam tomorrow and the pressure I am creating for myself for absolutely no reason? immensus est

[targaryenluvs]

OH BABY!

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader, young!naive!tribute reader

summary: finnick found you to be as cute as ever. but you aren’t exactly the smartest in the room according to him. luckily, finnicks more than happy to help his sweet baby succeed, and he will not let you forget him.

warnings: AGE GAP (18 - 23) smut, FILTH THIS MAN IS DOWNBAD, possessive, corruption, pervy finnick, violent thoughts/intrusive, exhibitionist? degradation, oral (m & f), p in v, overstimulation, praise, mirror kink? spanking 👀 rough sex? tummy bulge, my first time writing smut be kind 😭

word count: 5k - this is literally the longest fic ive written.

a/n: this is what happens at 6am and i can’t sleep, thoughts are thunk -UPDATE HOLY CRAP THERE IS GONNA BE A NEW MOVIW AND BOOKKKSJSNABS

taglist: @coolchick333 @doublesideeye

“and the female tribute for district four, y/n l/n.” your eye involuntarily twitched at your name being called. the people around you, distanced themselves from you as a path was carved to your own hell.

as you walked to the platform you kept your head down. you were actually hopeful that you’d get through this reaping, your last and then never see the inside of the arena. but of course fate was against you. as you stood in front of the people you couldn’t help the silent tears that fled down your face.

your mothers face was tired and drained, she had a feeling you’d get picked. mothers intuition? your father was pissed, his little girl, his sweetheart, being thrown into an arena to die? and worst of all, there wasn’t anything he could do.

you felt alone, as if no one could help you. and as you said goodbye to the life you knew, you could only pray for safety, and a quick death.

as you were escorted to the train you fiddled with your sweater sleeves. pulling them down, rolling them up, just to focus your mind on something. it was chilly, most likely the air conditioning on the train and sometimes you had to hold down your skirt.

finnick couldn’t take his eyes of you once he saw you on the train. you looked so tiny in the chair and he couldn’t help but smile.

he practically had you all to himself.

“y/n?” your head shot up at your name being called and you were met with finnick odair in all his glory. “finnick? finnick odair?” even calling his name you sounded so unsure, so he smiled and nodded.

“i’m your mentor, and i promise to try my best to get you to win.” he sat down in front of you, spreading his legs and you felt your face warm up. he found you adorable, with a cute white sweater and a short black skirt. you had your hair down with the front parts tied up with a bow. his own personal present.

your shy demeanour reminded him of your young age, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. you were looking everywhere but at him and he loved it.

“do… do you think i can win?” god no. the tributes would eat you up alive, but he’d try his best. “i do.” with just two words of encouragement, you smiled at him for the first time.

finnick wanted you to smile at him forever.

“are you hungry?” the rumbling of your stomach answered his question, as you ducked your head in your hands in embarrassment.

he moved your hands aside, tilting your chin up, "it's okay to be hungry sweetheart, come on." he held his hand out for you and he laughed at your hesitance. "i don't bite, not unless you want me to.” the last part of his sentence came out hushed and you averted your eyesight from him.

there were so many foods laid out before you, and it wasn’t as if you were poor, but god, it all looked nice. the eclairs took your attention away as you reached for one, your finger sweeping cream off the top before placing it in your mouth. it was sickeningly sugary but you had a sweet tooth, you retracted your finger with a pop! and you somehow didn’t hear finnicks groan.

how on earth were you not realising how dirty it seemed? and it was there finnick realised how pure you were, “its so good,” you flashed him a toothy grin, “you'll have some won't you finnick?" you offered it up to him with two hands and how could he resist? the two of you spent the rest of your time on the train eating and talking, finnick utilising his time to get to know you.

you’d spent a day getting settled and were now to get ready for your interview.

after being prepped and readied, you were shuffled into your dressing room where analise, damian and sarah awaited. a range of compliments were thrown your way.

“oh isn’t she adorable?”

“i could pinch her cheeks forever!”

“you are precious!”

they were so nice to you and you loved it, but you barely ever learned how to take compliments so you ended up just nodding your head. “she is gorgeous,” you snapped your head up to the doorway and there stood your mentor, in all his glory. his compliment felt heavier than the rest, like he truly meant it, and you looked down at your hands as you fought off the blush threatening to rise on your cheeks.

in an hour you’d been through a whirlwind of makeup, dresses and jewels. orange, blue, black and all, you loved each one but for some reason after the four of them discussed you’d always be taken out of it.

it wasn’t until you were placed in an off the shoulder, floor length, white dress that you remained in it. and as you looked in the mirror you couldn’t help but stare. your hair was pinned up again, and small flowers were placed throughout. you felt like a princess and finnick agreed. you hadn’t even noticed that your stylists were gone until you heard the door shut.

it was just you and finnick.

“you look incredible.” finnick whispered, he was behind you now. his hand had a mind of its own as it placed a stray hair behind your ear. you turned your head his way, “really?” your voice was so soft and doused in disbelief. if he wasn’t next to you he wouldn’t have heard you. his hand trailed along your neck as he placed your hair behind, he nodded. “i have something for you.”

he pulled out a small seashell, and your eyes lit up, “oh finnick.” you sighed as he placed it in your hands. “it reminded me of you, small, gorgeous.” you looked up at him with doe eyes and he felt like grabbing you and taking you away.

you were breathtaking and you looked at him as if he was god.

“thank you finn, do you mind maybe putting it in my hair?” he took the trinket and placed it above your ear, entangling in with your hair. your heels were on but untied so finnick got onto his knees before patting his knee. he grabbed the straps before tieing them. his fingertips worked quickly and his face was concentrated. he was done and he looked up at you before turning you to the mirror.

finnicks hands were on your shoulder as he leaned in to whisper, “all done, you look perfect sweetheart.” you turned before reaching up on your tiptoes, “thank you finnick!” you kissed him on his nose before turning back and finnick grinned, “aren’t you cute?” he stood behind you, attached like a shadow. your skin felt soft underneath his fingertips and he couldn’t help but wander. down your arms, to your waist, he could feel you tensing up underneath him and he could feel his face trying to fight off his smirk.

“finnick?” you breathed out, “what’re you doing?” your voice was small, and unsure. “tell me to stop.” you should. you should tell him to stop. but all you could think about was finnicks hands and how good they felt.

“it’s time!” damian shouted out as you peeled away from finnick to open the door. damian was all too happy to see you as he clapped his hands together. “ah, my special girl you are truly an angel.” finnick knew that. finnick has already said that. finnick had you in his arms and oh so close and this idiot took you away. his sweet girl.

finnick was wondering where his trident was so that he could impale him through the stomach.

“come on y/n.” he ushered you out the door but you managed to slip another look at finnick and all you saw was pure rage.

the interview went well, in your eyes at least.

caesar was as upbeat as usual and it did mostly centre around your dress and looks but you felt you could try your best to use it to your advantage.

the audience was enamoured and you felt you did your best. “and y/n, tell us, what’s your secret strategy for the games? any tricks up your sleeve?” you patted his knee before pointing at him jokingly, “well caesar, it wouldn’t be a secret if i divulged now would it?” everyone loved your answer and caesar doubled over, “aren’t you cheeky! isn’t our diamond here so playful? but a sweetheart nonetheless!” the crowd agreed loudly.

“now, since you came out i think we’ve all been wondering where that seashell came from. it doesn’t exactly match the theme of your outfit.” you could hear the murmurs from the crowd agreeing with his words.

“am i right in suspecting a certain blonde mentor of yours?” you pursed your lips and a giggle began to form as caesar pumped his fist in the air, “i think we got it! can we expect the two of you together once you win?” you’d never even had a boyfriend and here you were being put together with the finnick odair, you were sure everyone could tell how giddy you were.

you felt as if you had a million eyes on you, your whole body was heating up as you buried your head in your hands. “ah we caught her out! someone’s got a crush! but then again it’s finnick odair so don’t we all?” a bunch of cheers erupted as you beamed.

“well it was a wonderful to meet you, truly! our diamond here, y/n l/n!” screams and shouts directed your way came in full force as you waved at caesar and blew kisses to all. as you walked back you bumped into someone.

“y/n right?” the boy from three, theo.

you nodded and stuck your hand out, “nice to meet you!” he looked down at your hand and back up at you before laughing, “very formal, i like it. i’m theo, your dress is nice but i think the girl wearing it is breathtaking.” you giggled before tucking your hair behind your ear.

finnick stood with the other mentors and held himself back from shoving haymitch out the way to get him to stop rambling on. his grip on his glass was solid, so it wasn’t a surprise when it shattered. “oh my!” effie yelled out as finnick apologised before someone came to clean it up. he stepped around the person before excusing himself to get to you.

you were laughing, hard. what in panem was so funny?

you were wiping tears away from your eyes as finnick joined the two of you, his hand on your back as theo nodded at him, “finnick.” he hated him. why the hell did theo speak as if he knew him personally? his smug face was unbelievably irritating. “finnick! how’d i do?” and the second you spoke he felt the anger dissipate, he adored the way you waited for his response as if it held all the answers.

“you did well.” finnicks answer felt snippy and made you feel as if you’d done something wrong. “we should get going.” he directed you away from the boy as you shouted out, “i’ll see you around!”

the entire elevator ride was, to put it lightly, awkward. it left you feeling confined in what little space you and finnick had. “finn? are you okay?” you placed your hand on his arm and stood in-front of him. you were hoping he’d explain what was wrong but what you didn’t expect was to be pushed against the side of the elevator and finnick kissing you. his hand was on your waist again and he shuffled your dress up, slithering underneath.

you moaned in his mouth, his hands playing and gripping at your ass. in reaction, your fingers thread through his hair and your grip tightened, “finn- not here.” the elevator was glass and you were scared of people seeing. finnick found it hard to care, drunk off your perfume. in a panic, you pulled away from him, your hands cradling his face to make him listen. “i’ve… never,” the whisper hung over the both of you, the tension in the air thick and hot.

instead of being met with judgment, he murmured, “i’ll make it good for you, i promise.” finnick had finally gotten a taste, and he could only crave more. his lips met your neck, his warm tongue painting wet desire into your skin. it was almost too much for little old you, letting out quiet whimpers as he explored you. his sleeves were rolled and you needed to ground yourself, your nails dug into his veiny arms. “finn-” you protested but he could tell you didn’t want to. just a little longer and he could get you to give in. “just let me feel you.”

the elevator stopping brought the two of you back as you fixed your dress and finnick fixed his own hair, running his hands through it. he directed you out of the elevator and nodded in acknowledgment to the people entering. as you walked onto your floor you were met with servants, stylists and others. it seems damian and analise had taken it upon themselves to invite some friends and you were eager to meet them.

whereas finnick wanted to rip your dress off and take you till the morning.

the same dainty hands which were running all over him were shaking others and waving as you all sat down to eat. as everyone feasted away you couldn’t help but play with your own meal. you were flushed and all you wanted was to kiss finnick again. he was sitting next to you and wasn’t hungry for food, he wanted to eat something else.

your dress didn’t hide much of your chest and when you reclined in your seat, crossing your arms and pushing up your breasts?

finnick needed to see more.

the clattering of his fork on the floor drew the attention of some, but they went back to their conversations and bets. “i’ll get it for you.” you pushed back your seat and got down to your knees, flicking up the tables sheet and searched around for it before hitting cold metal. you reached your hand out with the fork to finnick. his cock was throbbing at the image of you on the floor, chest on display and a sweet smile on your face. he bent down and grinned, “you look good on your knees sweetheart.”

his words went straight down between your legs and your mouth fell open at his words.

such vulgar words from such a beautiful man.

his hand came down to close your jaw. you felt, weird. as you sat back on your chair you felt warm? but a good warm? it was tantalising. you wondered if it was normal.

finnick would tell you right?

“finnick.” his head turned your way, “what is it y/n?” you leaned closer and so did he, your hands cupped around his ear, “i feel weird.” his eyebrows shot up as a sign of interest, “oh? what’s wrong honey? where do you feel weird?” you gulped, your throat felt dry and for some reason it felt dirty to talk about.

your eyes drifted downwards and as you looked up finnicks eyes seemed darker. “here?” his touch was soft on your thigh underneath the table as you gasped.

“everything all right dear?” sarah questioned as you nodded. it felt so good, his touch. but it wasn’t exactly where needed, his hand trailed closer and higher, until it was gone. your head snapped up at him as he smirked at you, mocking you.

for the rest of the night he didn’t even pay attention to you. and you had no clue why.

you couldn’t sleep after the day you had and all your mind was thinking of was finnick. finnicks hands, his arms, his mouth, his words.

“i don’t bite, unless you want me to.”

“yes, here.”

“i’ll make it so good for you.”

“just let me feel you.”

“you look good on your knees sweetheart.”

your room was too quiet, making it unchallenging for your thoughts to run wild at the anticipation of finnick odair. you couldn’t bear it, so you left to the busiest room you could think of.

your leg was shaking up and down and your mind was pacing whilst your body couldn’t. the butterflies were practically knocking around in your stomach and you hoped perhaps finnick could help. he’d help you right? but he didn’t before. maybe he was just tired? you were so desperate for help and answers that you’d forgone knocking and walked right in.

only to be met with an extremely wet finnick odair.

by your luck your eyes were probably poking out of your head at the sight of him, you couldn’t help but stare. it was your first time being in the same room as a man so, naked? for the lack of a better word, he still had a very short towel wrapped around his bottom half. was it small? or did he make it look small?

“see something you like sweetie?” god his voice was so saccharine, how the hell did his voice work you up? “i- i wanted to t-talk.” and you were stuttering, great! he walked closer to you and you stepped back, all the way into his wall. “yeah? does my pretty girl wanna talk?” you nodded along dumbly as your breath quickened. “words sweetie, use your words.” you swallowed, “yes.”

his thumb caressed your cheek before brushing along your lips, “you sure you just want to talk?” and there they were, the butterflies. you shook your head, “no? what do you want?” you played with your night dress, “you?” it was a soft murmur and finnick wanted you to beg. he’d been pining after you since the second he saw you, it’s only fair right?

“where do you want me?” his words were hot in your ear, his body was wet and your white night dress was suddenly see through. his hand rested on your ass, “here?” you shook your head, “no?” his thumb brushed over your nipple as your nails pressed into his neck, pulling him into yours. your breath was heavy and he was unrelenting.

his hand moved from your ass to cup your front as you gasped, “here?” you nodding along dumbly, “please finnick, i’ve been wanting you for the whole day, i’ll be good for you i promise.” your words were music to his ears, “yeah? you’re gonna be good f’me?”

“yes, yes, yes.” you whined as you wrapped your arms around his neck. standing on your tiptoes as you bit your lip. “you gonna let me use you yeah? do whatever i want?” you were practically jumping up and down at this point, your tits with you. your straps were pushed down as your dress fell down to the floor. his cock was throbbing at the sight of you, he’d been waiting for this.

“then on your knees honey.” you were quick to obey as he pushed you down to the cold floor, his towel quickly ripped off, courtesy of you.

it was your first time doing anything sexual so any cock was bound to be big in your eyes. finnick loved the sight of you on your knees, innocent as ever. fully nude, hands slotted nicely between your thighs. he wanted to ruin you. he ran his hand along his dick, pumping it before resting the tip on your lips.

as if you were on auto-control, your lips parted to let him through. a salty taste flooded through your mouth as he cooed down at you.

“you’re doing so well for me.”

“pretty baby on her knees, who knew you’d be such a slut?”

your eyes flickered up at him as you moved your head forwards on your own accord. “fuck.” he groaned as you replaced his hands with yours.

he wanted to go easy on you.

but kitten licks at the tip and soft kisses weren’t doing it for him. you opened your mouth again, gaining confidence and feeding off of finnicks praises. his large hand placed on the back of your head, fingers spread out as he thrusted down your throat.

the sounds that filled his room were lewd. squelches and groans as you tried your best to keep going. your cheeks hollowed out as finnick guided you, “relax your throat, try breathe through your nose. if it’s too much just tap my thigh sweetie.”

you retracted, catching your breath as you gazed up at him whilst simultaneously blinking away the tears in your eyes but a few fell free. he couldn’t help but moan. your messy mouth mixed with your saliva and his pre-cum. “you think theo’s this big? you think he could make you choke on his dick?” you shook your head immediately.

his member felt cold without the warmth of your mouth, but he was feeling nice so he let you take a break. “too big for you sweetie?” you shook your head furiously, “naw is my baby tough?” you giggled as you wrapped your lips around him again, your tongue flat against the underside of his dick as he eased himself in. “ah- fuck.”

but he can only hold out for so long as he began to fasten his pace, chasing his high. your fingers dug into his thighs right under his ass, for some reason you seemed to have something to prove as you took him all the way. your moans egged him on as his hips thrust forwards, “so good f’me, my s-sweet girl.” his praises fueled you on as your nose met his naval. salty tears fell down your cheeks and finnick was in his right mind to lick them all up.

god you were better than he’d imagined. and trust him, he’d imagined a lot.

“swallow for me yeah? be a good girl and open wide.” thick cum coated your tongue as you gladly accepted. finnick proudly gazed upon your painted face. watery eyes, sticky face. all for him. you gulped it down before wiping off the remaining waste on your face, eyeing finnick up before licking it off your fingers.

“what happened to the diamond? only a whore for me right?” your fingers were wet as you pulled them out. “uh-huh.” your agreed as he pulled you up. “do you even know what that means?” he teased as you puckered your lips before shaking your head. “thought so, you wanna be good for me?” you nodded, “on the bed baby.”

you sat down on the bed as you waited for finnick to join you. he situated himself between your legs, running his hands along them. “lean back for me. you took me so well, you want me to make you feel good too?” your eyes widened at the idea, “yes please finn.” his hands reached up and rested under your breasts, “i don’t know if you’ve earned it honey.” your lips twisted into a slight frown, your waterline glazing over.

“i was! i did what you asked finn, please.”

he palmed your breast, massaging it softly as you threw your head back, “please. please keep going.” your begging was more than enough for him, his baby asked so nicely no?

“yeah? you like me playing with you?” incoherent babbles fell from your lips as finnicks mouth kissed your breast. his hand trailed down to feel you, and he was met with warm wetness. the moan you let out was ungodly, “finnick please! oh god it feels so- so good.” he couldn’t help admire you, eyes screwed shut, hands clutching the pristine white sheets.

“oh baby, can you be quiet for me? quiet for finn?” a string of ‘uh-huhs’ came from your mouth as finnick slid a finger into you, a tight fit. “oh my god!” you yelped before slamming your hand over your mouth. he was knuckle deep as he worked his finger in before curling it, then another, then another. his free hand was pushing your hips down into the mattress as your hips lifted upwards with every move he made.

“finnick, finnick. you feel so good.” you cried out as he retracted his fingers before curling them upwards. he knew exactly what to do, where to be, what to say. his name fell from your lips like a prayer and your nails raked down his back as he grunted.

now, finnicks fingers were one thing, but his mouth?

his tongue pressed against your clit and you swear you saw god, finnick was probably the god. his tongue flicked over your clit as his fingers entered your cunt again, the pressure in your stomach was building so high you were afraid of the fall.

a wave of pleasure fell over you as finnick talked you through it, “that’s it baby, let go.” he hovered over you as his fingers worked your cunt. your nails had bloodied his back, scratched raw. as you moved your fingers finnick hissed into your ear. “m’ sorry, m’ so so sorry.” your head was spinning and you wanted to rest, but apparently finnick had other ideas as he lowered himself to your core. your mind was hazy as your hand clutched the pillow your head laid on, the other twisted in his hair.

“what’re you doing?” finnicks green eyes pierced through you as he raised his head from in between your thighs. featherlight kisses trailed upwards to your pussy as your thighs twitched and closed around his head, still sensitive as ever. “just want a taste, clean you up.” he mumbled as he tongue breached your entrance and you were back where you were before.

this man was driven youd give him that.

“finn s’ too much, please.” your words were slurred as he delved inside. he couldn’t find it in himself to let up, you were so sweet, he just wanted a taste. so he kept going, his tongue, his hands, his words. if there was one thing you knew about finnick it was that he could talk anyone into anything. so you found yourself squirming underneath his strong arms, forearm pinning you down to the bed as he made your back arch and your toes curl.

“sweet baby, so sweet.” all attempts of getting away, only caused him to get annoyed with you, can’t you just lay down and let him ruin you? at this point it was for his pleasure rather than yours. your thighs were practically squeezing his head and neck but he kept going. you didn’t know where to put your hands, pulling his hair was no good. your hand somehow ended up on your clit, moving in a circular motion as the other palmed your breast.

each time he made you come you rested your head, energy depleted. but again he ended up between your legs and pathetic pleas from you did nothing to make him stop.

“wanna make you feel good.”

“just one more, you can take it sweetheart.”

when your fourth rolled around you were so far gone. “pretty baby, not a single thought up there huh?” you couldn’t even bring yourself to respond, and he didn’t expect you to. he brushed away the stray hairs from your face and kissed you passionately. “you did so well f’me honey. made me proud, you got one more in you for me?” it wasn’t a question, his dick was painfully hard and he only knew of one solution.

you tiredly shook your head, “no more finny.” he grinned, “no? you don’t want my cock?” your breath hitched at his words and you knew you were fucked. “mhm. want it.” you were reduced to one to two words in a sentence.

“yeah you do. on your knees baby.” you tiredly rolled over, situating yourself on your knees and the palms of your hands as finnick kneaded your ass. his hands grazed over the skin before-

smack!

“think you should be able to see yourself baby.” his hand yanked at your hair as you found your reflection glaring back at you. “so pretty, aren’t you?” finnick knew you were horrible at accepting compliments and he was more than happy to use it against you.

smack!

you’d taken too long to answer, but based on finnicks smug expression you could tell he was hoping for it. “you have to answer baby.” finnicks arm came across your waist, pulling you up, flush with his chest as his hands pawed at your chest.

“you wanna be my baby yeah?” you could only manage moans and finnick was not happy. he threw you forwards as you caught yourself with your hands infront of you.

smack!

“fucked you so good you can’t even talk.” he taunted you as he dragged his cock in between your drenched folds. finnicks groans were deep, and so hot. “you know how long i wanted to fuck you baby? in that short skirt on the train? when you licked up that cream? my girls dirty huh?” you didn’t respond and it only fuelled his fire, he’d wanted you for so long and now you had the audacity to ignore him?

he thrusted into you without warning and you screamed out. “want to act like a slut? i’ll treat you like one. fuck!” your walls were squeezing down on him, sucking him in and he was more than happy to oblige. his hips snapped against your ass as you gripped onto the sheets for dear life. his grip on your hips bruised, leaving a fiery impression in their wake. finnick had stamina for days, he was strong and built. you were small and fragile, finnick was glad to be the one to break you in.

he pulled you up to him again as he kissed you frantically, capturing your bottom lip in between his teeth. he was relentless in his pursuit for his high, he marked up any place he could as he continued to drive into you with determination.

“bet you dreamed of this, of me.” his hand gripped your throat, his eyes bore into your own, finnick was inescapable. every touch, every thrust, all him. you were enveloped in his being and he worshipped yours. finnick continued to pound into you harshly, cock gliding easily against your inner walls. he was deep inside but he wanted to be deeper. “yes! yes! harder!” you cried out.

his hand pressed down onto your stomach, “feel that?” his breath was prominent by your ear, “oh god!” you exclaimed, it felt as if you were filled to the brim as he bottomed out in you. thick, hot cum released into you as his and your moans were raising in pitch and his hips began to stutter.

the room was filled with the sound of slapping skin, the promise of silence forgotten. “let go baby, you’re close. let go.” the two of you had eachother and it was more than enough. his groans were deep and animalistic as he spilled himself inside you. your hand reached behind you to caress his neck. thank yous spilled out from you, your whole being was ignited, you never knew you could feel so good.

the two of you lied together, entangled in sheets and a mess of limbs. you couldn’t tell where finnick odair began and y/n l/n started. all you knew was that he was yours, and you were his.

you’d fallen asleep a bit ago, your chest rising and falling steadily. finnicks arm curled around you as you rested on his chest. from the moonlight spilling into his room he could view the bruises tattering your smooth skin. as he traced over them he couldn’t help but grin, he could imagine you limping in the arena.

you sure as hell weren’t forgetting him anytime soon.

[imheretoreadafic]

Bruce's gaze sweeps over the 6 black haired boys at the table. He hasn't slept in 2 days, but he's pretty sure there were only four the last time he checked. Yeah, 4 black haired boys, one black haired girl, a blonde and a red-head... Right? He'd never live it down if he forgot about having two extra sons. He must investigate subtly.

"So... How is school going for everyone?" He asked hesitantly. Damian gives his usual answer about it being below his pay grade, Cass whispers something about her homeschooling, and the smaller boy (goddammit, what the fuck is his name?!) Says something cheerful about a school play while the taller boy with piercings (Jesus, is memory loss a part of being exposed to toxins nightly??) Just groans.

Then, Tim who is sat near the end of the table speaks up, "Can someone pass salt my way?"

"Ope! I've got it!" The small one says with a smile, stretching across the table to hand it to him with tiny hands.

"Im closer, I could have grabbed that for him, ya goof." The bigger one snorts.

Bruce blinks for a few seconds. His children weren't that polite to each other and saying "ope"? ....

"Oooohhh, you're Kent's!" Bruce blurts. Everyone stares at him.

[mywritersmind]

HIDE YOUR NAME NOT YOUR TEAM - LN4

summary : In which a pretty red head catches Lando’s eye one night in mexico, a rude remark and laughable flirting stays on both of their minds. The last thing Lando expects is to see her again in the paddock, while he’s determined to figure her out, she’s determined to hide her name and why she constantly is spotted in orange.

listen up : panic attack, sexual comments, comedy!! lando norris x bosses!daughter.

word count : 5404

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I don’t usually go to these things. But Alexandra convinced me when she said I could borrow her dyson.

“I take it back.” I say as I get my drink, we’re sat at the bar, Charles already gone to find some drivers, “Let’s go back to the hotel! Girls night!” I beg her but she just shakes her head.

“You look too hot for that.” I sigh, I do look hot tonight. I’m in a black mini dress, sheer tights, and knee high boots that are the same shade of burgundy red as my hair.

Just as she says that, Rebecca, Carlos’ girlfriend, comes up to us, “Y/n! You never come out with us!” She hugs me and I smile. I never do but I do like hanging with my girls.

“I had to drag her here!” Alex sips her drink as Rebecca laughs. We’re in Mexico for the grand prix, something I also rarely find myself at.

“Don’t make that face! You deserve a day off.” I sigh, knowing they’re right.

“Alright.” I down the rest of my drink, coughing and turning to the bartender, “Three shots please! Surprise us!”

The girls squeal and as soon as I sit back down, I know it’s gonna be a good night.

I’m multiple drinks in, dancing with my friends, when Carlos and Charles sweep my friends away like it’s nothing.

I scoff, going to walk off the dance floor before a man stops me, “Wanna dance?” I almost laugh when I see who it is. I can tell he sees me thinking about it, “I promise I don’t bite.”

⋆༺

LANDO NORRIS

I noticed her when she was dancing with some guy who was out of his mind wasted. I saw her hair first, a dark cherry red with messy waves.

I don’t know if she’s here with friends but I do know that I want to know more.

She’s staring at me like i’ve just asked her to do a backflip, “Uh… no.” She shakes her head and walks straight past me.

What the fuck?

I haven’t had a girl reject me in a long time, but it’s not unheard of. Still, something about her is telling me to not give up.

“Wait! I’ll buy you a drink!” I hurry after her, she’s flipping her hair over her shoulder and eyeing me, “Please?”

“Please?” She laughs, “You can’t find any other girl besides me?” She hops up onto a bar stool and I lean against the counter, staying close.

“Maybe I don’t want to.” She narrows her eyes at me. “I’m Lando.”

“Yeah, I know.” This surprises me.

“Oh! Well then you know I'm not a creep, so you’ll let me buy you a drink?” She crosses her arms, she seems to be assessing me.

“Fine.” I get her a dirty martini and water for myself. “Thank you.”

“I’ll always be down to buy a pretty girl a drink.” I smile as she sips her drink, “I never caught your name-”

“Mhm…” She looks around the club, obviously not interested in what I have to say.

“Okay, Red.” She doesn’t even flinch at the nickname, “Why are you in Mexico?”

She hums, “Family.” she lets out a long breath.

I frown at her lack of interest, “That’s fun. I’m racing here this weekend.” She doesn’t respond, “Look, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I promise I'm not like whatever shit magazine you read.”

She looks at me after that and I immediately know I fucked up. Except instead of throwing her drink on me, she just laughs, “God, you’re an asshole.” And with that, she walks away.

⋆༺

YOU

Lando Norris hitting on me was not something I expected from that night.

But it immediately became worse once I remembered why I was in Mexico.

“Sweetheart!” My dad hugs me tight. Zak Brown is a lot of things but a shit dad isn’t one of them. He’s in all orange, contrasting my white dress. I smile as he pulls back, “I’m so happy you’re here!”

I have gone to four grand prix’s in my life. It seems a bit odd for someone who’s father is there almost every weekend, but we had a deal. I was a sort of trouble child, more in my teens when I wanted more freedom. I took some years off of school but I realized what I was wasting and got right back into college.

My dad said I couldn’t come to a grand prix until I finished school. I was annoyed at first, who wouldn’t want to spend their weekends partying with rich people and flying on private jets? But I sort of fell in love with my studies in fashion and had no time anyway.

But I recently graduated and am back in my papaya fathers reach.

“How are you doing? Excited to be back?” I nod as I walk up the paddock with him.

“Very! I’ve missed everything, especially my friends.” He smiles and I’m happy I can make him do that in public.

“I’m so proud. Oh!” I see my nightmare in neon and freeze, “Come meet one of our drivers, he’s a bit like you, I think.” My dad looks back at my frozen position and frowns.

“I forgot I have to grab food with Lily! New friend duties, right! Remember how happy you are that i’m making friends!? Bye!” I turn around and run.

I end up meeting up with Lily because as soon as I heard myself say it, I suddenly really wanted to see her. Lily isn’t new to the paddock, but I’ve only met her a couple times. We follow each other on instagram and have DM’d multiple times.

After our taco and gossip session, practice started and I know I should be watching, but I want to explore more. So instead, I walk around the Paddock alone.

I seriously missed this environment. One of my favorite memories from when I was a kid was my dad walking me around the paddock. I love the hustle and bustle of the paparazzi, fans, and drivers.

I also love the quiet in the paddock while the cars are on track. I make it back inside, finally finding a bathroom and after fixing my hair and makeup, I wander more halls.

I don’t want to admit I'm lost, but I definitely am. I’m about to call Lily and Rebecca but realize I am a strong independent woman! That and I'm a tad embarrassed.

I turn yet another corner and see the worst person for this situation. I realize he hasn’t seen me yet but when I go to turn he eyes me, “Red?” He looks genuinely shocked and I'm even more shocked that he remembers me!

I laugh awkwardly, not knowing what to say. He’s in his race suit, sweaty, and way too good looking with it unzipped. He runs his hand through his curls, has he always been this attractive?

Sorry! Dickhead. I don’t like this man. He’s an asshole.

“What the fuck?” Is all he can say.

“Hey!” I smile, “Thanks for buying me that drink the other night…” When I left him at the bar, I did not think about the whole MY FATHER IS HIS BOSS thing.

“What are you doing here?” I hide my paddock pass behind my back, “Seriously. You’re not some stalker are you?”

I roll my eyes, “No but I am lost.” I can’t ask him to point me to the Mclaren garage because then he’ll ask why so I go for the next best thing, “I’m looking for the ferrari garage!” I need to text Alex right now.

“I’m still confused- you said you were in town for family.” Fuck my life.

“Yeah! Well… Alex is like family to me! And she invited me. Alex as in-“

“Charles’ girlfriend. Yeah I know.” He moves his water bottle from one hand to the other, stepping closer. “But, why would I help you if you think I'm an asshole?”

Okay. Good point.

“Because you think I'm pretty?” I smile and I can tell he’s biting back a laugh. “And because you were being pretty cocky!”

He nods, “Fair enough. Come with me.” I didn’t expect him to give in so easily.

“Hey, why were you in here anyways?” He shrugs and keeps walking for a bit before answering.

“Needed a breather.”

I nod, walking with him in silence, he opens the door for me and the sun hits up straight on. “So… how's the whole driving thing going?”

He glances at me, “It's alright. Quali tomorrow.”

“Good luck. Although I kinda hope you don’t get first.” He raises a brow. “I’m a big Piastri fan.”

He looks genuinely hurt, “I didn’t even think you watched.”

I frown, “Why wouldn’t I? I mean, I'm here.”

“Yeah but you… nevermind.”

I stop, turning to him, “You have to tell me now!”

He grins, looking away and continuing to walk, “You just didn’t have a reaction when I hit on you.” I scoff, “I know, I know! Dickish.”

I can’t help but laugh, “Honestly… fair enough. If I looked like you with the whole famous rich thing. I’d be pulling left and right.”

He eyes me, “So you think i’m attractive.” My face drops and I look ahead, “Hey it’s okay we already know I think you’re hot!” God if my dad ever heard this…

“Just shut up.” He does.

Until he doesn’t, “You really a big Oscar fan?”

I’m happy that I got under his skin with that one, “What if I said I liked Verstappen more?”

“I’d leave your lost ass right here.” Lando says it so serious that all I can do is laugh. He looks proud after I look at him again. “Seriously though.”

“Ferrari girl through and through.” He rolls those gorgeous green eyes of his, “McLaren might be second best though. Plus that Colapinto kid…”

He rolls his eyes, “You can’t like Franco more than me.”

“What, you jealous?” He points to turn and when we do, I see the garages in view.

“Gonna give me your name yet? Or am I sticking to Red?”

I pull his same move and avoid the question, “Thanks for showing me back.”

“Is it bad I like it when you’re mean to me?” I groan and walk away, “Bye, Red!���

“Later, Norris.”

⋆༺

“He doesn’t know who you are!?” Lily and Alexandra scream at the same time, we’re sitting in my hotel room when I called an emergency girls meeting. Except Rebecca is with Carlos to celebrate a little after his pole.

I cover my face with my hands, “But why does it matter!?”

“He’s obviously is hot for you.” Alex shrugs as Lily laughs, rolling onto her back.

“Babe, No wonder he’s so interested in you! I mean- besides the fact that you’re hilarious and drop dead gorgeous- he definitely is intrigued.”

I shake my head, “More like plotting to get me back for calling him an asshole.”

“Wait! You called him an asshole!?” Lily laughs even harder, “I love you!”

“Genuine question though… why don’t you go for it?” I stare at Alex as if she has two heads.

“Go for it!? Lando Norris?” She nods, “No way! Besides the fact that my dad is his boss, he’s way too cocky, and he doesn’t even know my name, I still wouldn’t go for him.”

“That’s kinda part of the appeal.” Alex shrugs, “What!? He knows nothing about you but thinks your hot! Seems like enough to me.”

We end up crying laughing, the conversation straying from Lando and to all the on track drama.

⋆༺

I’ve been avoiding the McLaren garage like the plague. I was there this morning but stayed on Oscar’s side. After meeting him, falling in love with him (platonically of course), and seeing that Lando was completely locked into Qualifying, I took my first breath of calmness.

The boys went out and I popped over to talk to Pato. Quali was over way quicker than I expected, After Oscar’s P17 a weird energy was in the garage and as soon as I saw Lando’s car, I was out of there.

What game am I even playing? Maybe it’s a little hot that he doesn’t know who I am… I don’t know why. Plenty of people have bugged me because of who my dad is, but Lando doesn’t need extra grand prix tickets or me to spot him money.

I find myself in a large room, it’s filled with chairs and a couch facing them. I grin immediately, how the hell is this just open?

I obviously am going to take my chance and pretend to be a talented man! The couch is not as comfortable as I expected and I almost fucking jump off of it when someone walks in.

He's breathing heavily and I recognize something’s wrong immediately. He’s pulling off the velcro of his race suit, unzipping it and pacing. “Lando.”

His head shoots up immediately, just staring at me, “Fuck Red, why are you everywhere?” His breath is labored and shaky.

I stand slowly as he slides down the wall, pulling his knees to his chest and leaning his head back. I’m confused because he seemed fine twenty minutes ago. P3 was not bad especially for where they are right now.

I start to say something but he just shakes his head, “I can’t.” He points to his throat and I realize he can’t breathe.

“I like your hair.” I say quickly, he looks so shocked when he looks up at me, “You look really good with it.” He keeps breathing heavily.

“Huh?”

“Although, you should ditch that fuck ass hat.” He tries to laugh but he’s still struggling. I slowly sit in front of him, “Seriously, who told you to wear that?”

“I- I have to.”

I roll my eyes but my hands are shaking. I’m not a stranger to a panic attack and seeing it happen to someone in front of me is a little scary, “Free will? I mean we all know you have it with the amount of times you whip out your middle finger.”

He laughs again, breathy, but his breathing seems to be getting slower.

“You definitely have free will.” he chokes out, “Saw you- today. Flirting with Lewis.” He got me there.

“Okay! Have you seen him? Who wouldn’t!?”

He shakes his head, “He’s way older.”

“Some people might find that hot.” He side eyes me, “Don’t worry I'm still into guys my own age.”

He’s smiling, nodding. We stay silent for a moment, his head resting against his knees as he catches his breath. He finally slides his legs out in front of him and I scoot next to him.

I tap my neck to ask for permission and he understands immediately, nodding. My hand slips to his neck, feeling his pulse.

“I used to have panic attacks a lot last year.” I explain as I feel his heart underneath my touch. He doesn’t say anything, just looking into my eyes. I swallow, “Your heart is going crazy.”

He doesn’t miss a beat, “Yeah I don’t think that’s because of the panic attack.”

I give him a look, “Seriously? Even in distress you’re a flirt.”

He licks his lips, “You’re good at calming people.”

“All I did was talk, not that hard.” My hand is still on his neck. “Are you okay?”

He swallows, looking away just as I drop my hand back to my side, “Mhm. Thank you.” His hand goes to mine as if it’s nothing. I’m shaking. He rests his head against the wall, closing his eyes, and squeezing my hand. “I think I owe you another drink, Red.”

⋆༺

It’s not until after more press and the conference is over, when Lando finds me again.

“Let me buy you dinner.” I raise a brow, “Come on, as a thank you.”

“You already said thank you.” I sip my water as he frowns. He’s out of his race suit and into jeans and a McLaren shirt.

“Just let me take you out.”

“Are you feeling okay?” I reach up and press the back of my hand to his forehead, “Oh no! Seems like you have a case of aiming high.” He mocks me as I cross my arms.

“Red, If you’re that high, I'll take my McLaren rocket ship and meet you.” I laugh at his words.

“A bit late on the whole rocket ship thing.” He sighs.

“We’ll have fun. Please. Why not?” He goes through five emotions in two seconds.

“You’re sinister, evil, and orange.” My eyes stray who who’s also orange and walking quickly up to us, “Shit.” I don’t mean to say it out loud.

Lando turns around quickly, then back to me, “Don’t tell me you’re scared of Zak. I’ll introduce you-”

“No! I’m not! I gotta go!”

“Wha- Red!” I walk away so fast that I don’t see the man rounding the corner.

“Y/n?” Oscar looks at me confused, “Alright?”

“Hi!” I quickly move past him but he follows.

“What’s wrong?”

“Lando is trying to introduce me to Zak Brown.” I say simply as we turn another corner and Oscar frowns.

“Zak Brown as in your dad Zak Brown?” I look at him, nodding. Then he laughs, “He doesn’t know who you are?”

“Nope. Sort of a long story but I'm in too deep now.” I cross my arms and he starts laughing harder.

“I’m completely here for this- Just one question though… how the fuck does he not know who you are? You’ve been in the garage.”

“He’s blind and I'm a mastermind?” I shrug and of course, Lando finds us.

“Red! No!” He groans when he sees Oscar, “Osc, Don’t convert her into a you fan i’m trying so hard to get her to like me!” Oscar laughs harder, covering his mouth and looking at me.

“I don’t need to be converted! I’m already an Oscar fan!” Lando frowns as I shake my head.

“Don’t worry mate, everyone’s an Oscar fan.” He pats Lando on the shoulder before leaving. “See ya…” I can tell he’s about to say my name but he stops himself.

Lando narrows his eyes at me, “He knows your name?” I bite my lip and walk away. “Hey wait! Any thoughts about tonight?”

I glance back at him, “Don’t you have a race to be preparing for?”

He smirks, catching up to me, “Wanna know my pre race ritual?” I push him away from me, “I’ll give you a hint.” He winks and my stomach does a weird flip.

“You’re never gonna stop, are you?” I place my hands on my hips, looking up at the man.

“Tell me to, and I will.” I stay quiet, his eyes meeting mine and the corner of his lip quirking up. Someone calls his name but his eyes stay on me, smiling. He leans down and taps his knuckles against his hand, “Bye, Red.”

⋆༺

Although Lando has been running around my head, I still have other duties besides being flirted with. I’m at dinner with my dad, it’s been a while since it’s been just the two of us. And I will say, I missed it.

He’s busy and obviously distracted but i’m grateful for any time I get with him. We’re in the Paddock but everybody is gone except for a few engineers and workers.

“Tell me about your weekend! I haven’t seen you much in the garage.” He takes a bite out of his salad, looking down at his texts.

“I’ve been around.” I shrug, drinking my lemonade, “It’s good to be back. But I have been sneaking off with my friends a bit…”

He smiles, “I’m glad. Even if you aren’t cheering us on.” I laugh, “You will be watching from the garage tomorrow, though.”

I nod, “Yes yes, I know.”

We get into a conversation about the issues with my apartment and how he thinks I should move back home. I get the feeling that he’s worried about tomorrow and suddenly wonder if he’s like this every weekend.

My dad gets a call which ends our dinner early, “I gotta grab my bag then I'll head to the hotel.” I kiss him on the cheek and make my way to the garage.

There’s a few people hanging back, some looking at screens and someone laying on the floor, looking at Lando’s back wing.

I grab my purse, rummaging around in it to make sure my phone is there. “You sure you’re not stalking me, Red?” That damn voice makes me jump.

He's sitting on the floor next to his own car, his arms and black shirt dirty. Was he… fixing his car?

I raise a brow, “What are you doing?” He takes the rag next to him and wipes off his hands, standing up.

“What are you doing?”

I cross my arms, “Stealing information for ferrari.” He smirks, shaking his head and walking past me to grab his water.

“Instead of having dinner with me? You need to sort your priorities out.”

I flip my hair over my shoulder, “Do you work on your own car often?”

“I can’t do much but I do like to see how it looks.” He shrugs, leaning against the wall and glancing at the people working, “You seriously not gonna tell me who you know at McLaren? You obviously have an in.”

He waves to the people who are packing up and walking out. We are now alone.

I hum, knowing there’s no chance I'm about to tell him who my ‘in’ is. He laughs a bit, “Alright, stay mysterious. Wanna sit in it?” I almost think I didn’t hear him correctly.

“What?” He nods, standing and walking over to his car, “Come on, don’t tell me you’ve already driven one or something.”

I smile, shaking my head and walking towards him, “No. I used to kart but I’m actually shit at it.” He laughs, beckoning me closer. “Won’t you get in trouble for this?”

He brings his finger to his lips, shushing me as I stand in front of him, “Okay put your foot here,” he points, “And hold onto this.” He points again and I do as I'm told.

I hate to admit it, but I am quite clumsy. When I slip a bit, his hands go to catch me instantly. Thank you driver reaction practice.

He lifts me down into the seat, his hands regretfully leaving me. I look up at him, “For once, you look tall.” His smile drops, leaning over me.

“You’re one to talk.” He scoffs and starts pointing at things. I try to listen but his hand is right in front of my face and I’m genuinely surprised how much I don’t know.

“You’re so far down.” I hum, holding my hands out as if I'm driving, “My back already hurts.” He smiles and kneels next to me.

“You look good in here. Seems like a complete hazard though, even if the car isn’t on.” I tilt my head up to look at him. A curl is falling perfectly in his face. “I didn’t wear the hat as much today, what’d you think?”

I smile at the fact that he listened to my bullshit, “How are you, by the way?”

He nods, avoiding my eyes and messing around with something on the car, “Fine.”

“So the whole panic attack thing was just for fun?” He eyes me, biting his lip.

“Thank you again, It was kinda embarrassing but you made me feel better.” I chew the inside of my cheek, smiling softly at his expression. He looks tired, but a big step up from earlier.

I’ve seen Lando a million times. He’s on posters, all over my feed, in my dads photo dumps, billboards, ads… But none of that can compare to the real thing.

He shoots up so fast that I’m about to laugh and ask what he’s doing, but he starts talking to someone. “Lando!” It’s my dad. Alarm bells ring in my ears as my hand goes over my mouth. Okay. He can’t see me, I know that at least. “I thought you’d already left!”

Lando laughs awkwardly, I think he’s standing in front of the car now. “Uh! Wanted to make sure everything’s good with the car. Guess I lost track of time.”

I hear my dad laugh, rummaging around, “Get some sleep, kid.” I think we’re in the clear until I hear sneakers squeaking, “You haven’t seen a girl come in here, have you?”

My heart rate skyrockets as Lando clears his throat, “Nope. But I've been pretty distracted with the car.”

“Alright well… I have someone to introduce you to tomorrow! Get some rest and drink water!” The door shuts and I hear Lando sigh heavily.

I stand up and messily get out of the car, “I thought for sure I was dead!” Lando says, running a hand through his hair and shivering, “Sorry about that.”

“No worries! I don’t want to get you in trouble though so I should go…” He nods, looking a bit disappointed.

“Want me to walk you out?” I can’t help but smile softly at the soft way he says it.

“I know my way, Thanks though.” I grab my bag, thanking god my dad didn’t see it before, “Rest up.” I mock my dad as Lando chuckles.

“With you on my mind, that’ll be difficult.” I pretend like my cheeks aren’t on fire and open the door.

“Dream about me, then.”

⋆༺

The party environment of the Mexican Grand Prix is all I needed today. I’m in a white dress with marigolds embroidered at the bottom, a flower in my hand from one of the people who are painted.

I laugh with Rebecca and Alex as we walk through the paddock, their boyfriends already getting ready for the drivers parade.

I haven’t told them about last night. I mean, what is there to tell? I swipe my lipgloss on, checking my makeup in the reflection of Rebecca’s glasses.

“Is Carlos nervous for today?” I ask her as she smiles at his name.

“I think so, but I’m really hopeful for a good result.” we continue walking, “Hopefully I don’t jinx it.”

“Hey, Y/n.” Alex nudges me, “Someone just arrived.” She winks as we all turn to look at the Paddock entrance behind us.

Lando Norris.

He’s wearing a Quadrant crewneck and a big smile. He signs something for a tiny fan and hurry’s past the photographers.

He almost walks past us, but he does a double take. He looks happy, I’m glad. “Rebecca, Alex.” He doesn’t stop walking as he politely greets them. His eyes meet mine and his expression changes, “Hey, Red.”

I smile softly before he turns and practically runs away, “Yup! He’s in love.”

I swat Rebecca’s arm as she laughs, “Goodbye!”

“No!” Alex laughs, “Come get coffee!”

I shake my head, “I told Pato I would grab breakfast with him, I’ll see you later!”

I smile at the two of them as they wave and we split up, me going to McLaren and them to Ferrari.

⋆༺

Breakfast is good, we watch the drivers go around and laugh at George who is shivering like a leaf. I say goodbye to him as soon as the drivers parade ends.

I need to see my dad before the craziness begins. “Dad!” I smile as he sits on the pit wall.

“Sweetie!” He smiles and waves me over, letting me sit with him.

“Ready for today?” I ask as he looks over data.

He nods, “Definitely!” He crosses his fingers and I smile, looking over the data with him. He knows I have no clue what we’re looking at so he explains it to me.

I lean in to look at the tiny words when my dad gets distracted, “Oh!” I hear him say but i’m trying to decipher this code still, “I have someone for you to meet!” I’ve met a million different people this week so I smile and stick out my hand like usual, “Lando! This is my daughter Y/n.”

I stare at him. His smile drops for a second, then a look of panic washes over him before he takes a breath and shakes my hand.

“Nice to meet you.” I almost whisper it. He’s looking at me and I feel like I'm about to get swallowed whole.

His face contorts again, he looks like he’s finally cracked me, “Pleasure” My dad looks away and Lando takes that second to narrow his eyes, a smirk still on his face.

I drop his hand as my dad looks at us again, “I think Y/n has been avoiding the garage! I would have introduced you days ago!”

Lando’s jaw ticks, “Not a McLaren girl?”

I can’t help but smile, “Ferrari through and through.”

My dad shakes his head, “Don’t mind her odd preferences…” he’s about to say something else but gets pulled away by someone in orange.

Lando just looks at me, my cheeks hot as he examines me. I expect him to be mad, but he just smiles, “Y/n, huh?” I nod shyly, “It’s pretty. It fits you.”

“Okay! Lan you gotta go!” My dad claps a hand on his shoulder, dragging him away.

“Good luck!” I say quickly as he shoots me a devious look. I take a breath I didn’t know I was holding in, and watch him leave.

⋆༺

The race has me on the edge of my seat for all 71 laps. I accidentally gasp way too loud at Lando being pushed off track and maybe start clapping when it’s announced that Max got two penalties.

The whole time I have a feeling that Lando will be on that podium, but definitely not in third.

My manifestation comes true when Charles goes off track and Lando zooms by.

Ten laps to go and I don’t think I've taken a deep breath in twenty. But the moment Lando passes the finish line, the garage claps and I sigh in relief.

I hug my dad but I watch the podium ceremony from the side, smiling as the boys get sprayed with champagne while laughing.

I see Rebecca with tears in her eyes and when I look back to the podium, I see Lando looking at me. He's grinning, holding his bottle of champagne and pouring it into his mouth before winking at me.

If he’s still acting like this after he found out my dad is his boss, then I am unexplainably screwed. And I couldn’t be happier about it.

After the podium, I walk back to the garage, but Lando catches me first, pulling me into a hidden area. He’s soaked in champagne and grinning like an idiot, “Have fun out there?” I ask, crossing my arms.

He nods, “Think i’m cool yet?”

“A bit… maybe when I watch you win.” His smile grows, his chest rising and falling quickly.

“Go out with me.” I laugh at his words, “For real this time! Y/n.” He says my name like a prayer and I never want it to stop.

“I guess I sort of owe you.”

He nods enthusiastically, “Y/n Brown. What a name… I knew you had an in!”

I shake my head, “I’m sorry. But it was fun messing with you.”

He sighs in defeat, “I feel much better that I know who you are. Although I almost passed out when the words ‘daughter’ left Zak’s mouth!” I laugh with him, champagne dripping down his curls still.

“You did really well today.”

He bites his lip, “Think of how much better I'll do knowing you’re screaming my name in the garage.” I swat his arm but he swerves and plants a kiss on my cheek.

My jaw drops as he pulls back, “I’ll pick you up tonight!” he starts walking away, backwards, “I’ll text you!”

“You don’t even have my number!” I yell after him but he just winks and blows me a kiss. Just as I turn back around and roll my eyes, I see my dad in front of me, arms crossed as my eyes go wide.

He sighs, looking like he already has a headache, “What the hell did I miss?”

[dina-winchester]

Drunk Shenanigans ²

Read part one here

Pairing: Dean x you | Established relationship

Summary: Dean’s the one who gets hammered this time.. oops

Warning: cuteness overload, tiny bit of insecurity (cause we know how Dean gets sometimes), fluff, caretaker reader, no use of Y/N

A/N: I wish I could take care of him like this for real… sigh.. anyway, I really hope you like this one! Let me know what you think :)

Dean stumbles back into the motel room, boots scuffing loudly against the tile, keys rattling as he misses the hook on the wall three times before clattering to the floor. You barely manage to catch the door before it slams.

“Whoooa,” he laughs, grinning wide as he turns toward you, arms flopping open like he might sweep the whole room into a hug. “There she is. My girl. My—my…” He squints at you. “…My everything.”

You blink. “Dean, how much did you drink?”

He holds up four fingers. “Not that much.”

“Baby, that’s ten fingers.”

He stares at his hands like they betrayed him. “…Shit.”

You walk over, steadying him as he starts to lean—right into you, all six feet of warm, sleepy, drunken Winchester, your arms wrapping around him instinctively, steadying him. “You smell like a bar floor.”

Dean hums and nuzzles into your neck like a damn cat. “You smell like heaven. Like cinnamon and calm. Like I’d fall asleep inside you if I could.”

You snort softly, threading your fingers into his hair. “Jesus, honey.”

He grins against your skin. “Marry me.”

“Maybe when you stop smelling like cheap whiskey and regret.”

“’S fair,” he mumbles, words slurring now.

You laugh despite yourself, wrapping an arm around him as he sways. “C’mon, let’s get you outta those boots, baby.”

He resists weakly, arms winding tight around you like he thinks he’s strong right now. “Nooo, no, wait—wait—I didn’t tell you. You’re the best thing. The best ever. Like if—if God made pie outta sunshine and sass? That’s you.”

You snort. “Pie?”

“I said what I said.”

You gently guide him toward the bed, and he flops onto it dramatically, limbs sprawled everywhere like a starfish. You kneel and start unlacing his boots, fingers patient, tender.

“Hey,” he says as you try to unlace it. “Y’know you’re too good for me, right?”

You pause, hands still on his boot, and lift your eyes to meet his. He looks so open in that moment. Raw. Breakable.

“Like, you… you’re all smart, and soft, and real nice to look at, and I’m just this—this mess,” he goes on, gesturing vaguely. “Just broken parts in a leather jacket.”

Your heart clenches, sudden and sharp, at how easy it is for him to believe that and you shake your head immediately, voice firm but soft. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.”

“No, it’s not,” you whisper, pulling off his boot and tossing it aside, then moving to the other. “You are loyal and brave and stubborn in all the right ways. You love harder than anyone I’ve ever met. You’re not broken, Dean. You’ve just… been through a lot. But that’s not the same thing.”

He stares at you and you swallow, heart tugging at the way his eyes suddenly look a little glassy.

You crawl up to sit next to him after removing his other boot and cup his cheek, thumb brushing gently over the stubble along his jaw. “You are so much more than what you think.”

He reaches for you, fingers fumbling until he catches your hand and tugs you to lay down onto the bed beside him. “I don’t say it enough. I love you, like… love you. With all my stupid, stubborn, monster-huntin’ heart.”

You smile softly, brushing his hair back from his face. “I know, baby. And I love you, with all of mine.”

He leans in, pressing a clumsy kiss to your cheek, then your jaw, missing your mouth entirely. “Good. Gotta remind you. Don’t let me forget, okay?”

You settle in beside him, pulling the blanket over both of you and curling your fingers through his.

“Never,” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his temple.

He’s asleep within minutes—snoring, one arm slung protectively over your waist, mouth slightly open.

You stroke his hair once more, settling in close.

And you know in the morning, he’s gonna pretend none of this happened.

But you’ll remember. Every messy, lovable, hammered word.

And as you lie there, watching him breathe, you make a silent promise: You’ll always remind him who he is—until he believes it, too.

[miss-vanta-likes-to-write]

Part 2 to Life Line

(I ain't) Sorry

Pairing: cheater!Price x wife!reader

CW: infidelity. angst. idk is price a cuck now? 18+

Middle fingers up, put them hands high. Wave it in his face, tell him, boy bye (sorry). Tell him, boy bye (sorry) boy bye. Middle fingers up, I ain't thinking 'bout you.

It's been six months since the new rules of John Price's marriage had been established. In public, he is still Captain John Price, a fearless leader, highly decorated, and on track to be a major. John Price was thought to have it all. Two gorgeous children, a darling little girl named Iyana aged six and a charming baby boy named Jackie aged four (who everyone says looks like John made him in the same fashion as a sea sponge. That is to say, through asexual reproduction because they look so much alike).

To top it all off, he had a gorgeous and smart wife who worked with a notable contractor that dealt with information gathering, sorting, and code breaking. Said to be highly requested and sought after to work with military operations, both official and private military based.

Yes, Captain John Price to the public eye, had it all. Despite the blood on his hands, the blackness on his soul and actions, the Lord above gave him a loving family. He was always the man of the hour when he walked into a room.

Right now, though, he didn't feel like a man of the hour that he was thought to be. Right now, he watches his daughter pedal her little pink bike around the front driveway. Her hair ribbons are lopsided, giggles echoing on the wind. It almost sounds and feels like a dream. She's got light up fairy wings, a fairy dress, and tiara, all high-quality custome made in an array of colors and gem stones. It's cute. He thinks it is cute, and it makes his little girl happy. What he can't stand, however, are the pink and white rhinestone cowboy boots. They cost a pretty penny, and she wears them everywhere. She wears them with every outfit.

John hates it. Or better yet, he hates where these items come from.

His son, while he has always been easily pleased, has particularly enjoyed his little hobby horse toy. The saddle has his name painted on the side in deep blue letters that stand out against the deep brown wood.

John hates the damn horse toy and also hates the suspected origins. Both of these things are reminders that his marriage is on the rocks and that it's a reflection of his mistakes. Another man buying his children toys. He has little doubt that it is the same man he is forced to work with.

He leans against the support beam of the front porch, cigar to his lips. He was watching his daughter and keeping also keeping an ear out for his son, who slept in the house. The three of them are waiting for the fourth member of the household. A sleek black car pulls up to the house and Iyana abandons her bike to greet the love of John's life.

You.

His darling, sweet, loving wife, who he wouldn't trade for the world. Even if you are being difficult. It doesn't matter though he's sure this tantrum can't go on forever.

Now you wanna say you're sorry. Now you wanna call me cryin'. Now you gotta see me wildin'. Now I'm the one that's lyin'. And I don't feel bad about it. It's exactly what you get. Stop interrupting my grinding. (You interrupt my grinding)

You shut off the car, and the door swings open. Your saccharine voice carries just about your daughter. "My love! I've missed you!" Nimble fingers push sunshades back onto your forehead as you lean down to sweep her up into a hug.

"Do you like my dress? It came in the mail today!" She shouts, "Daddy helped me into it when we got home from school!"

"It's lovely, my love. You look like a pretty fairy princess." Your eyes appraise her dress and accessories appreciatively. When you finally lay your eyes on John, you offer him a polite smile. "John, I'm glad you could get off early to pick the kids up today."

John isn't focused on your words. His eyes are clearly looking you over, desperatewith want. Since the new rules were put in place and boundaries made known, he has made it clear that he misses you. Each time, you reminded him of the rules and that he was allowed to see other people. You watch as his eyes finally land on the space above your cleavage. Right on the dainty gold chain with only one charm on it.

"You didn't wear that to work, did you?" John grumbles as you walk past him.

"John, am I not allowed to wear jewelry now?" You ask, already over this conversation and wear it is about to head to.

"Sweetheart." He still calls you that. The pet name bristles you, but you tolerate it for the sake of your children. "At least grant me the decency of not wearing his bloody branding in public."

"Iyana, go pack your bag for grand mum's and poppop's house." You usher her towards the steps. She dutifully says yeah and how she's packing all of her new little dresses. Finally, alone with him, you turn to face your husband. "Why does it matter, John?"

A deep sigh escapes him, and he's a bit flustered with frustration. You suppose you'd be frustrated, too, if work was hell. And to be clear, it was only hell because of the new long-term assignments he and several different teams were coordinating on. You raise your eyebrows at him, waiting patiently for his answer.

"It matters because it bothers me." He finally gets out, "it causes me to feel upset."

You take note of the carefully chosen words. Efforts of his therapy sessions peaking through. While you still won't go with him, he goes once a week when he isn't deployed. The habit started a month into your new reality. Shortly after, he began to be a more present father to the kids. Family weekends that he plans (which you suspect he does as often as possible to keep you with him), attending parent teacher conferences and evenings, and just generally paying more attention when he is home. It's great for the kids, but it's too little too late for you.

"Okay, John." You dismiss him and make your way to the kitchen with his footsteps following close behind. The conversation is clearly not over for you both.

"Was work fine today? I didn't see you at the all hands meeting on base." He leans against the kitchen island.

"My schedule was packed, so I sent my junior to fill in for me. Another PMC is contacting the company they requested me specifically." You dig around the fridge searching for a snack. His eyes are on you again. They always are these days. Since you reentered the workforce and quickly rose in rank, you've changed. You're more confident, more stern, and have leaned into the feeling of being desirable again by other men and women. Opportunities flowed easier to you. Your former boss had welcomed you back with open arms. Her exact words were something along the lines of "Mrs. Price, it's good to have you back. Now, the numbers can make sense again, and I can prepare to retire!"

John huffs, "Yeah, I saw. Kate was annoyed the entire time with the poor girl. And she was too afraid to work with Simon."

You find a snack and smile. "How is Simon?"

"You should know." He bites back with a bit of force. His blue eyes shift away from you, "You aren't sleeping with my lieutenant, are you?" It's a soft question you almost miss. He almost sounds insecure at the idea of one of his boys looking at you that way. And with the rules that are now in place, there's nothing to stop you but their friendship to him.

"John... Now, why would I do such a thing?" You sneer and then laugh. "There isn't anything going on between me and Simon."

"Then why won't you speak with me on base?" He furrows his brow. "People are literally looking at you two funny." And the 'They're looking at me with concern' is left unsaid.

"Because he is the chosen liason I picked for your team?" The scoff you let out is near comical, "Don't be so vain, John Price. If I was going to sleep with anyone it would be Kyle as he is the only one that apologized for not saying anything sooner about you fucking around behind my back. Maybe Johnny because he's good-looking. Tragic that they both are loyal to you, a skill they picked up from somewhere. "

His face turns red with agitation. His eyes go back to the necklace and the charm around your neck. It's a small, dainty, gold little heart, and when the light catches it, an engraved series of numbers and letters can be seen faintly. "So if not them, then who?"

"You know who. Don't be daft." You shrug your shoulders, "I'm gonna be gone all weekend after we drop the kids off at your parents. So you have the house to yourself."

"I'd much rather prefer we spent time together." He tries and smiles sweetly at you.

"I can't. My friend is dying to spend time with me, and he insists upon it, or he will simply die."

It's a beat of silence for a moment. Before he looks away from you. "Is he the one who sent those gifts to the kids? Which I don't appreciate, by the way."

"No. I'm not seeing him tonigt." You say leaving the kitchen, "Phillip has to go back to the States tonight. Won't be back till three days before you all move out."

"Could you at least tell that fuck to not give my kids gifts. It's rather rude, don't you think?" He glares.

"Phillip didn't give the kids those gifts. He gave me money, and then I got them things they've been asking for."

"And the necklace?" He asks. He almost seems like he doesn't want to know. But he keeps digging the hole deeper.

"From my other boyfriend." You glance over your shoulder at him, "instead of worrying about me and who I'm seeing. You should worry about yourself."

The tension is only cut at the sound of your daughter calling for help. She wants help with closing her backpack up.

That night after you and John played happy family infrint of his parents, the drive back home was tense. A quiet that could be heard from miles away even as the radio played, trying its best to ease both of your nerves. It's subtle, but you notice how his eyes cut to you every so often.

"Sweetheart."

"The kids aren't with us John."

"Don't be difficult please."

Your eyes hurt with how they roll. "What is it John?"

"I want to know when we can give us another try." He asks quietly, "I miss you." He grips the steering wheel tightly, knuckles turning white. "I don't want you running around that fuck Graves, or whoever else your tend to see. You're my wife and I'm your husband. We should at least try to fix our marriage."

You don't say anything and keep your eyes in the passing scenery. This conversation isn't new. It comes up often and when it does you fight like hell to hold your ground. Another deep sigh and you wait in silence for him to continue.

"I love you, always will and never stopped." He says, and the sentiment is there. The way he says it reminds you of days when you were ignorant to his infidelity.

But then your mind conjures up the rage and hurt you experienced when you first saw what was in that folder the private investigator gave you. The embarrassment you felt when you asked Simon, Kyle and Johnny if they knew. They way that none of them could look you in the eyes for weeks. Or the grief that resurface each time your mind wanders over the memory of how he found someone who was similar to you in appearance from before your first child together.

"John, can we not tonight?" You simply avoid his eyes, "We can still get a divorce or you can deal with the way things are. I'm not revisiting any conversations about us or therapy."

"Are you doing this to hurt me back?" He asks. It's the most direct he's ever been with admitting that his actions hurt you. Before it was always a deflection. He wasn't right in the head after missions, he was trying to cope with the miscarriage, anything but outright saying he was a cheater. The tone of his voice cracks a bit with sorrow, but you don't budge.

"No." You state and turn up the radio, ending the conversation.

The car rolls to a stop in the driveway and you hurry out of the car and into the house. You don't want anymore questions or comments from him about the marriage he ruined. You don't want to deal with any nasty emotions that can't be fixed with the wine and sex that is waiting for you. An hour later you're finishing up packing, the house is quiet. The shrill ring of the doorbell pierces the silence of the house. It takes a moment but you hear John walking around downstairs towards the door. There's a bit of a sick thrill that shivers through you at who you know he will find on the otherside of that door. It won't be Phillip, he had already sent his messages that he would call you when he's back in the states.

You zip up your suitcase, check your hair once more in the mirror. When you get down the steps you're mer with John's more than angry glare that seems more hurt than anything. It's ignored as you pass the living room where he is.

You swing open the door, "Hey sweety."

"Hallo Meine Liebe." You're greeted with a hug from a strong embrace, "I'm hoping the guys will leave us be this weekend. They have been irritating since seeing you today and calling your charm necklace a fancy set of dog tags."

In the living room John closes his eyes as he hears you leave. Your laugh trails on the end of your words. And his heart absolutely aches at the idea of you with another man, much less another one he doesn't really like.

"Kökö, your I.D number is on it. Of course they would say that."

a.n: one more part and then I'm done with this mini series. Thank you all for supporting me.

All Night (final)

[eraserbread]

gojo's holding back // megumi's babysitter x dad!jo

gojo's home this morning. you don't know how or why, but he's smiling, watching you take megumi by the hand to drop him off at school. It's just a seven-minute walk towards the city, but you still spend extra time kneeling in front of him at the doorway, buttoning his coat high and pulling gloves over his small, delicate hands.

he's pouting, hating the way his coat sounds when he walks. he always has, and he always complains to you, but you won't budge. in the middle of winter, the least you can do is make sure he's warm on his way to school.

"leaving without telling me first? that's harsh. " gojo's been back in his bedroom all morning, napping with one eye open after a long night at work. when he emerges, he's spikey-haired and sleepy—a reflection of his sweet son.

you smile in his presence, turning around to say your goodbyes. long, lanky legs only have him taking four big steps until he's crowding you two.

he's sweeping megumi up on his hip, hugging him with one arm. "look'a my handsome bundle. you warm, 'gumi?"

"put me down." megumi deadpans, but you can see the way he nuzzles a bit deeper in gojo's shoulder.

you feed gojo a laugh he's throwing at you, tight-lipped smile so familiar as you watch the two of them. "thought you were asleep."

"i was, but that's okay. I never see him off, so i wanted to be awake." his voice is so soft, genuine, and persuasive as he gives you unyielding blue eye contact. you have to look away just to maintain some mystery.

"dad, we're gonna be late." megumi whines, crisp white sneakers kicking in gojo's thigh. "tsumiki said she'd meet me right at 8."

"punctual and only six years old." gojo pinches megumi's nose, breathing out a laugh. "alright, kid. i won't keep you."

when megumi is back on his feet, he pouts and reaches back for your hand to tell you, 'i'm ready to go. ' you squeeze him back.

"i'll be asleep when you're back." he catches you just as you start to pull open the door. "make sure you're quiet for me!"

"'course." you turn back down to megumi, raising your eyebrows as he stands with a less-than-entertained look on his face. "c'mon, baby. i know you're eager to head out."

when you get back to the house after dropping megumi off, gojo isn't asleep like he promised—well, hardly—he's limp-necked, dozing in and out on the couch with the television on.

you don't notice his reflection at first as you shrug off your coat and shoes. all you had to do before your six-hour break was clean up after breakfast and start some of megumi's laundry, then you're free to leave.

you're texting a friend back when you round the back of the couch, phone clicking incessantly with your ringer on. it's hardly noisy, but it stirs the giant from his rest. he twitches.

"megumi get to school safe n sound?"

you stop just before you leave the room, heart pattering in your chest because his deep voice scared the hell out of you. "of course."

"that's my girl."

then, you're blushing like an idiot when he groans and stands up. "w-what?"

"when i adopted him, i was always insecure about his lack of a mother figure. it's why I hired you, and I'm so glad I did... i mean, you're just angelic."

he's definitely trying to tell you something—you're not stupid. you know he likes you—too much, as more than a transactional partnership. he was just too professional to say.

but never too professional to pin you to his couch cushion, hot and breathless against your skin as he kisses your neck. it's so embarrassing, so needy and pitchy when you whine his name, crying for more. he fucking loves this, he could just eat you alive.

"the need for you is just... it's suffocating, i apologize."

"don't." you bite, fist all bunched up in the back of his loose shirt. it's frightening just how many times you've stewed over this situation. how many sleepless nights and traffic lights you've endured with visions of crystal blue eyes. the guilt eats you alive, but it's like he said, the need is suffocating. it's insurmountable, you have to let him in.

you crane your neck for him, willing him to take his fill.

you feel so innocent under his big hands, so ethereal and motherly and downright delicious to satoru, that he has to stop.

he can't let himself have you, yet. you're far too pristine, his mind wouldn't allow it. even now with your sexed hair, blown pupils, and panting lips, he wants to pull you apart.

then, he asks. because he's nosey, yes, but more because of the way you're shivering underneath him right now. "are you a virgin?"

"no! i'm not a virgin." you're already overcome, so hot and overwhelmed under his headlight-gaze.

"because you're flailing like a newborn foal," he smirks, a gentle laugh behind his tone. his plush, pink lip drags through his teeth. fluffy white hair tickles your forehead as he kisses you again.

you conjure up every single piece of resilience in your soul to suppress a needy whine. he's been edging you for weeks now -- pulling you away to stare deep into your eyes or to suck your lips off. but that's always as far as it ever goes, you can tell he's rearing up to stop.

"please..." you're begging, not quite whining. fists digging in the back of his shirt to keep him close. "please, don't... stop this time."

"it's just so inappropriate," he hums, breath so hot and clean over your pouting lips. he's staring at them, tasting your flavor when he darts his tongue.

then, he's sitting up, ruffled shirt, fluffy-haired, and flushed pink. he's so godly, you could cry.

so, you do, palms pressed into your eyes as he stares down at you.

"oh - i'm sorr-

"don't even."

[nemo-writes]

𝗮𝗯𝘀𝗼𝗹𝘂𝘁𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝘀𝗺𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻 I chapter three

(dr. jack abbot x nurse!reader)

⤿ chapter summary: a terrifyingly familiar presence breaches your last safe space, and now a simple and heartfelt gesture becomes a violation. in the aftermath, fear finally makes you reach out for help.

⤿ warning(s): stalking, panic attacks & unhealthy coping mechanisms.

⟡ story masterlist ; previous I next

✦ word count: 2.7k

The day begins the same way the last three have: 05:30, kettle on, one level tablespoon of Assam spooned into the infuser. While the water climbs toward a boil you unlock your phone, already braced for what waits. A fresh number—there is always a fresh number—has delivered its dawn bulletin:

Left at 05:01 yesterday.

Early bird. Porch light flickered twice—loose bulb?

Navy coat looks sharp against the fog, pretty girl. 

They never mention the hospital, never a word about ORs or co-worker names. The watcher keeps to the edges of your private life, and somehow that makes the trespass worse. You capture a screenshot, block the number, and delete the thread. The image joins dozens of others in the hidden laptop folder named Archive—date‑stamped, time‑stamped, waiting for the moment you finally believe the police will do more than shrug.

Four‑minutes steep exactly. Mug warmed. First swallow. Routine: a ladder you climb every morning. Eggs scrambled ninety seconds, plate rinsed, shower seven minutes. Before dressing, you check the tiny motion‑sensor camera you mounted inside the apartment entryway two nights ago; its LED blinks a steady red reassurance. The matching camera on the fire‑escape window does the same. No motion alerts overnight. Still, you test the deadbolt twice and angle the hall chair beneath the knob until you return.

The drive is identical to yesterday’s and the day before—same streets, same mirror checks at every light. No car follows twice, but you look anyway. At 06:50 you badge through the employee entrance. Stepping into hospital feels like sliding into armor: fluorescent lights, antiseptic bite, the hum of vents. The messages have never followed you here.

You adjust your usual gray scrubs and square your clipboard. Pre‑op checklist in your left hand, suture cart in your right, you call out “sponge count zero” with the same crisp authority as always. But small hesitations creep in: rereading the cefazolin vial, tapping the clock twice to verify time‑outs. 

Margot’s eyes track each pause. She eventually corners you by the blanket warmer.

“Nightmares?” she asks, voice low.

“Just the usual insomnia,” you answer, pinching your lower lip. A nervous habit. Your smile feels brittle, but it holds.

Fin notices too; his jokes grow louder, as though volume can fill the quiet shadow clinging to you. Jules slips extra Hershey Kisses into your scrub pocket. Even Dr. Garcia joins in by firing off sarcasm like covering fire whenever an intern looks as if they might ask why your phone stays face‑down on the desk, silent yet weighty.

Slowly but surely, the afternoon bleeds into evening. 

You finish vitals, sign the narcotics log, and at 19:04 bypass the stairwell that leads to the roof—no silhouettes against twilight tonight. Instead you head straight for the lot, head down, keys ready.

The cameras in your apartment greet you with their steady red eyes when you arrive. Door locked, sweep performed—closet, shower, under bed—all clear. Only then do you change into a soft purple T‑shirt and loose pants. You have long since stopped parading around in your underwear. 

The phone buzzes the moment the fabric falls over your head. New number:

Purple again. My favorite.

You freeze. Curtains closed, lights low—and still they see. Screenshot. Block. Delete. You drag the dining chair beneath the doorknob and place the kitchen scissors back on the nightstand, steel glinting like a talisman. Then, a mug of valerian tea, strong enough to taste like soil, goes down in three determined gulps.

Lying in bed, you count the protections: two cameras, one chair brace, scissors within reach, every screenshot archived. Routine is armor. Repetition is a prayer. You breathe in for four, out for eight, the same cadence you teach anxious PACU patients, and tell yourself that as long as the messages stay outside the hospital walls, the armor will hold.

Sleep comes in splinters, broken by phantom creaks and imagined footsteps. At 02:47 you wake up, heart sprinting, and check the camera feed: empty hallway, silent fire escape. Dawn is only a few hours away. Soon the kettle will hiss, the tea will steep for exactly four minutes, and another text will arrive—about a porch light or the time you start your car—but never about scalpels, never about sponge counts.

Despite the hour, you’re halfway through wiping down the already‑clean kitchen counter—busywork to quiet the apartment’s hush—when your phone vibrates. For once the screen doesn’t show an unknown number.

It’s Jack.

Haven’t seen you on the roof in a bit. Everything okay?

The text lands like a gentle hand on your chest. You swallow against the sudden tightness in your throat, thumb hovering. Finally you type back:

I’m alright—just busy. See you tomorrow?

Three dots pulse, then: Works for me. Sunrise tea?

He doesn’t mention anything about the hour or how you should be asleep and not messaging back. You’re grateful. 

Sunrise tea, you confirm, and set the phone facedown.

Pacing the kitchen, you notice how full the fridge is: a dozen nearly‑dated eggs, chicken thighs you’d planned to roast, wilting cilantro, limes, onions, and two unopened cans of black beans. You haven’t cooked a proper meal since the messages started; take‑out cartons and tea have been enough to survive. Now the sight of real food sparks something steadier than dread—a need to do, to give.

An apology, you decide, should be edible.

You wash your hands, set the chicken on the board, and fall into the rhythm your muscles remember: trim fat, score skin, rub with salt, cumin, smoked paprika. Onions sizzle in the cast‑iron, releasing a sweetness that chases the apartment’s stale anxiety. Beans simmer with serrano and garlic; rice toasts before absorbing broth. Cilantro stems thunk under the knife; lime zest perfumes the steam fogging the window. 

When everything’s done you portion a generous serving into a sturdy glass container, your favourite one: rice pilaf on one side, glossy black beans on the other, two pieces of golden‑skinned chicken nestled on top. Into a tiny jar goes some honey‑lime dressing. You label the lid in block letters—Jack—and slide the meal into one of your spare tote bags. 

The apartment smells of cumin and toasted garlic, of normal life. The cameras still blink red, the chair still braces the door, the scissors still gleam, but cooking has threaded warmth through every corner. You finish the last dish, the one’s that’s for you, dry your hands, and stand for a moment in the quiet kitchen, breathing in the proof that you can still create comfort instead of just barricades.

Tomorrow at dawn you’ll climb to the roof, hand Jack the container, and share five minutes of sky. Routine will tighten around you again, one careful knot at a time—but tonight you fall back asleep with the scent of lime and cilantro on your pillow, and relief, thin but real, settles in your chest like steam escaping a cooling pot.

. . .

You arrive at the hospital just past sunrise, thermos in one hand, tote slung over your shoulder, and—for once—a real, living sense of calm beneath your ribs. Not the fragile kind you usually glue together with caffeine and a tight jaw, but something gentler, something earned. You even caught a pocket of golden morning light in the parking lot, the kind that made the hospital look almost soft at the edges. 

Dr. Miller catches sight of you just as you pass the nurse’s station. He’s leaning against the counter, coffee in one hand, chatting with a pair of interns, but pauses when he sees you. His eyebrows lift, and he gives a slow, amused smile. “Well, you look dangerously close to content. Should I be worried?”

You huff a laugh, smoothing your coat as you badge in. “Don’t start rumors, Dr. Miller.”

He points at the canvas tote on your shoulder. “Big plans?”

You nod once. “End of shift.”

He doesn’t ask more, just grins, and you take that grin with you like a good omen. The rest of the day moves at a steady clip: vitals to log, meds to verify, a code yellow that resolves without anyone crying. You let yourself coast on the rhythm of it, not in that desperate, overcompensating way you usually do, but in a way that feels like a return to something—like an exhale. 

You slip into the lounge at 18:45, already imagining the click of the container’s lid, the familiar smell of the garlic and cumin, the soft weight of it in your hands as you climb the stairwell to the roof. You open as the lights inside flickers to life, cold and blue, attention on the glass container exactly where you left it, lid on, untouched. 

Except—no. Something’s wrong.

The lid is snapped shut, perfectly aligned. The container looks full. But it isn’t. You can feel it before you even lift it—something in the tilt, the balance. Your stomach lurches as you peel the lid off  and confirm what you already know. The food is gone. Not spilled. Not disturbed. Not even a forkful left to scrape from the edges. Just... empty. Clean. Wiped down.

A rare mix of anger, rare but hot, pulses against your ribcage, but before you can storm out and demand answers, you feel the paper crumpled under the container. Your breath stops. It’s your note—the one you’d carefully taped to the top that morning: NOT FOR GENERAL CONSUMPTION. HANDS OFF GREMLINS, it reads in your blocky caps. But now that line has been crossed out in thick, decisive strokes. And underneath it, slanted and dark and horrifyingly familiar: 

That was great, thanks pretty girl.

The world tilts. Your lungs forget how to work. You’ve seen that name before—only in texts, never spoken, never written. Anonymous. Cryptic. Repetitive. A whisper against your spine on nights when the lights were off and your phone lit up with unknown numbers. But this—this isn’t a text. This is here. This is your space, your name, your cooking, your boundary, and someone has walked right through it with ink-stained hands and a stomach full of what you made with care.

A hot flush crawls up your neck, floods your ears. You stagger back a step and catch yourself on the counter. The container slips from your hand and hits the lounge table with a muted thud. The silence in the room turns sharp. 

Then, you shove the fridge shut. The door clangs and rattles in its frame. The room feels like it’s shrinking, like the air has gone sour, too full of other people’s breath. You snatch the note and crush it in your hand. Your teeth clench so hard your jaw pops. You don’t remember turning, but you’re already out the door, slamming into the corridor.

Fin is halfway down the hall with a tablet in hand. He startles and drops it when you barrel past. “Boss? Are you okay—?”

You don’t hear him. You don’t answer. The world has narrowed to one screaming thought: Find Gloria. Now. You need the Chief Medical Officer, need her badge, her keys, her authority. She can pull the security feeds. She can call the police. She can make this stop.

You’re moving before you think to move, feet pounding the tile, vision blurring at the edges. You don’t realize you’re shaking until your elbow clips the corner of the nurse’s station and jolts you. Jules tries to intercept you, her mouth forming your name in alarm, but you dodge past. Margot reaches out, grabs your arm, and for a second your momentum dies.

“What happened?” she demands, voice low, sharp, anchoring.

You look at her. You try to speak. Nothing. Just breathless silence. Then, rasping through a throat too tight to breathe, you say, “Need Gloria.”

She gets it instantly. Her eyes go cold. She lets you go. Already calling instructions behind you as you sprint toward the elevators.

Your fingers hurt. You look down and realize the note is still balled in your fist, crushed so tightly your nails have dug half-moons into your skin. The static in your head has turned into a roar. You feel cracked open, like your worst fear has been confirmed and now all your secrets are leaking out of you for the world to see. All this time, you thought if you could just hold on—just stay composed, stay ahead, stay vigilant—you could keep this from touching the parts of your life that mattered. But now it has. Now it’s here. The hospital was supposed to be your safe place, your fortress. But someone breached it.

The elevator doors open. Thankfully, nothing but an empty gurney is inside. You step in without hesitation, eyes fixed forward, spine locked. You don't even blink when the doors slide shut.

You get out the seconds the doors open and round the corner toward Administration so fast the world blurs, shoulders locked, chest heaving, pulse hammering in your ears so loud it drowns out thought. You barely register the sound of a door opening until a figure steps out from the consult room ahead—short but solid, dreadlocks brushing her shoulders, clipboard hugged tight to her chest.

You collide before either of you can brake.

Papers scatter like startled birds. A pen skitters across the tile and bounces under the nearest corner.

“Whoa—hey!” Kiara grabs you, steady hands catching your elbows before you fall. 

“Slow down, honey,” she says, trying for lightness. “What—”

Then she sees your face.

Whatever was holding you together unravels in a blink. Your eyes fill, your mouth opens, but nothing coherent makes it past your lips. The crushed note slips from your hand, landing between you. The marker-scrawled name glares up from the paper like a fresh wound.

Kiara’s clipboard hits the floor beside it.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she breathes.

Her arms come around you before you can bolt or speak or even breathe. And the second she does, the sob rips out of you—gut-deep, involuntary, raw. You bury your face against her soft sweater and shake, fists twisted in the soft cotton, the fabric quickly going damp with tears. Your legs threaten to give. Kiara cradles the back of your head like she would a grief-stricken mother in a quiet room, voice low and steady in your ear.

“I’ve got you. You’re okay. Breathe with me. In, two, three…that’s it. Out, two, three.”

You try. You try to follow her rhythm even as your chest jerks, lungs refusing to cooperate, every breath full of glass. The hallway seems to narrow around you, fluorescent lights too sharp, voices too distant, the floor too unsteady beneath your feet. 

You gasp, trying to speak—Gloria, fridge, note—but your tongue won’t work. The words hit the back of your throat and collapse.

Kiara doesn’t push. She doesn’t ask. Not yet. 

She bends, scoops the note up from the floor, her arm never leaving your shoulders. Her eyes flick over the overwritten scrawl. Her expression goes from gentle to granite.

“Okay,” she says, voice gone iron. “We’re taking this to Gloria. Right now.”

It’s almost scary how easily she connects the dots without a single ounce of context. For now, you can only nod, your body still trembling, your mind clawing for control that just isn’t there anymore. But you’re not alone. Kiara keeps an arm firmly around you as she pulls her phone from her pocket, dials with one hand, presses it to her ear.

“Gloria? Yes, it’s Kiara. I have an urgent security issue. Clear your office.”

A pause. Then a quiet “Thanks.” She ends the call, squeezes your arm, and begins steering you gently toward the elevators.

“She’s waiting. Margot’s on her way too,” Kiara tells you as she guides you through the hallway. 

You nod again, unable to speak, but this time it’s not empty. The words aren’t caught in panic—they’re being held for you, steadied. And for the first time since the messages started, since the stalking began, since the fear turned chronic and tight and unseen—something inside you loosens.

Not gone. But held.

Held by hands stronger than your own.

divider credit

[izanacore]

“bad idea, right?” | manjiro sano x reader

one-shot 𓂃⋆.˚

synopsis: one text, one photo, and y/n’s back where she swore she’d never be—under mikey, in his car, forgetting every reason she left. they always crash back into each other, and this time’s no different.

characters: manjiro “mikey” sano, fem!reader, hinata tachibana, kakucho

warnings: smut (18+), explicit sexual content, college au, public sex (in a car), unprotected sex, rough sex, possessive behavior, degradation, recording during sex, mild exhibitionism, toxic relationship dynamics, marking (biting/hickeys), light humiliation, implied jealousy/territorial behavior, explicit language, explicit sexting, dom/sub undertones

notes: this is how i see manila! mikey behaves. anyways, enjoy the meal. <3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“y/n!! get up!! you can’t seriously skip the year-end party—literally the entire university is there!”

hina’s voice rang out through the dorm like a fire alarm. she stood by y/n’s bed, arms crossed, glaring down at the human lump buried beneath layers of blankets.

“exactly why i’m not going!” y/n’s muffled voice came from under the covers. “everyone’s gonna be there. including that asshole manjiro sano. now leave me to rot in peace.”

it was new year’s eve. people outside were partying, counting down to midnight, kissing strangers. meanwhile, y/n was in her pajamas, refusing to move from the four corners of her room like some grumpy little hermit.

“it’s 7pm and you haven’t moved all day! this is non-negotiable!” hina barked as she ripped the blanket off, only for y/n to groan dramatically and slam a pillow over her face.

“ughhh!!! go awayyy!”

hina sighed. time to bring out her last card.

“i’ll pay for your boba tea. every friday. for a month.”

…silence.

then—zoom. y/n launched herself out of bed and sprinted to the shower like she was being chased by the devil himself.

hina burst out laughing. “works every time.”

fast forward to the party—some absolute legend apparently rented out the whole club, because this place? was insane. neon lights, blaring music, bodies everywhere. a walking health hazard, but make it aesthetic.

“okay… this isn’t bad,” y/n said, arms crossed, trying to look unimpressed. but inside, she was already calculating how many free drinks she could milk before midnight.

hina, catching the bluff, just smirked. “yeah yeah, c’mon.” she dragged her inside.

they waded through a sea of familiar faces—classmates, org-mates, and people who definitely hated group work. y/n had her fair share of attention. after all, she did used to date the manjiro sano. yes, that one. toman’s golden boy. dating him made her untouchable. practically royalty.

…until he pulled the world’s biggest 180 and turned into a flaming dickhead. long live the bastard king.

as they made their way deeper into the club, y/n suddenly stopped in her tracks. and there he was.

manjiro sano.

tongue-deep in some random girl’s mouth, gripping her ass with one hand and holding a beer with the other.

and of course, he felt her staring. because mid-kiss, he opened one eye, locked eyes with y/n, and—smirked. didn’t even stop. just kept kissing the girl like she was the dessert and he skipped dinner.

y/n’s eye twitched. “you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

mikey whispered something to the girl, who nodded and walked off.

he made his way toward y/n, who was mentally preparing to commit a crime.

“fancy seeing you here, sexy,” he greeted, eyes sweeping her up and down like she was tonight’s main course. he took a swig from his drink like he wasn’t being the most annoying man alive.

“i’m leaving,” y/n snapped, rolling her eyes and turning on her heel.

but mikey grabbed her wrist, smiling like the menace he was.

“whoa, you just got here. don’t be rude, princess. at least stay for a drink at my party.”

“your party?” y/n said, deadpan. her glare shot straight to hina, who immediately avoided her gaze.

“oh my god—michi’s here i gotta go!! love you bye!!” hina bolted, abandoning y/n like a traitor in a rom-com.

“hina—!”

“guess it’s just you and me now, princess,” mikey grinned, sliding an arm around her and leaning in for a cheek kiss.

y/n expertly dodged, turning her face. he laughed, sighing like she wounded him, “ouch.”

she yanked his hand off her arm. “goodbye, sano. it was not nice seeing you.” she flashed him the fakest smile known to mankind and strutted off toward the bar.

“what happened to ‘babe’?!” mikey shouted after her, teasing like he wasn’t trying to ruin her entire night.

without missing a beat, y/n flipped him off.

happy new year indeed.

y/n and mikey started dating when they were freshies. he was the leader of toman, a walking campus legend, and getting girls was never an issue for him. but with y/n, it was different. she didn’t fall into his lap like the others—he had to work for it.

and once he got her? mikey didn’t look at anyone else. he was hooked. borderline obsessed.

but things started to fall apart during the second half of junior year. mikey changed. suddenly cold. distant. an absolute asshole with zero explanation. no fight. no cheating scandal. no closure. just… silence.

y/n tried to move on. keyword: tried.

because somehow, they always found their way back to each other—just to fall apart again. it was a toxic cycle at this point. push and pull, break up and make out. but this time, it’s been almost two months since they last talked. no calls. no run-ins. no stupid 2am texts. and y/n wanted to believe it was really over.

but mikey being mikey, nothing ever stayed peaceful for long.

tonight, she was drinking alone at the party, quietly downing her third glass when someone slid into the empty seat beside her.

“what’s a pretty girl like you doing all alone?”

kakucho.

“my plus one ditched me,” y/n chuckled, setting her drink down.

“was it hina? i saw you two come in together.”

“yup. she saw her boy and ran for her life,” she laughed.

“mind if i join you then?” he asked, nodding toward her drink.

“not like we’re strangers, silly,” y/n said, motioning for him to sit.

they drank. talked. joked around. kakucho was easy to talk to—chill, smooth, and definitely hot. but just as y/n was starting to relax, her phone buzzed on the table.

contact name: dni

she didn’t even have to look.

manjiro sano.

rolling her eyes, she ignored it. not tonight.

but then it buzzed again. and again.

and again.

and this time, it wasn’t another text—her phone was ringing. he was calling.

kakucho raised an eyebrow. “uh… i think you should get that. might be urgent?”

“just one sec,” y/n said with a tight smile as she picked up her phone and walked off. no way she was taking this call with music blaring.

she rushed into the restroom and hit answer.

“what the fuck do you want?”

“check your messages,” mikey said.

“wh—”

click. call ended.

y/n stared at her phone like she was ready to throw it against the wall. what now?

she opened the messages.

and immediately, her jaw dropped. cheeks flushed. thighs pressed together.

dni

mikey: got horny just seeing u in that dress

mikey: wanna fuck u, princess :(

mikey: image attachment

a photo. of his bulge.

very clear. very obvious. probably taken in his car. yup. looks like he’s parked somewhere right now.

buzz

mikey: got hard just thinking abt u

mikey: video attachment

y/n blinked. and then blinked again.

because that video? that was him. stroking his cock. slow and filthy.

fuck.

this was the exact reason she could never escape him.

the audacity. the nerve. the goddamn dick.

he was big. cocky. hot as hell.

and completely ruining her life.

still, she found herself texting back.

y/n: where are u? 🙄

mikey: parking lot near the exit 💦

god fucking help her.

she was already walking.

y/n quickly said her goodbyes to kakucho and made her way to the parking lot, walking straight toward mikey’s car. the moment she found it, she yanked the door open without knocking.

his bulge was obvious—hard, needy, and totally on display.

“you’re disgusting,” she muttered as she slid into the passenger seat and slammed the door shut. “and desperate.”

mikey just laughed, low and amused. “thought you were gonna leave me hanging.”

“now that i’m thinking about it, maybe i should’ve.”

“but you’re running to me the second i called. showing up just to get ruined by my dick. so, who’s the desperate one now?”, he said, his voice dripping with smugness.

his hand trailed up her thigh, fingers teasing right by her core—close enough to make her breath hitch. they didn’t say anything after that. tension filled the space, thick and heated. mikey leaned in, lips brushing against her neck while his hand slipped under her dress. two fingers went in with ease.

y/n let out a soft groan, her body responding instantly as she clutched onto his wrist.

“it’s been months since i had you,” mikey whispered against her skin, voice strained. “fuck… i missed you so much.”

she couldn’t say anything. too lost in the way his fingers curled just right inside her. her head tipped back, chest rising and falling as she breathed through the pleasure.

mikey pulled his fingers out and immediately brought them to his lips, sucking them clean while holding eye contact. y/n tried to act unbothered, rolling her eyes—but her flushed face gave her away.

“what?” he smirked.

“the other girls not doing it for you?” she said, voice breathy.

“no one ever fucking compares to you, princess,” mikey replied.

he slid his seat back, then grabbed y/n by the waist and pulled her on top of him. they kissed—messy, heated, intense—tongues clashing while their hips rolled against each other. every grind sent shivers through them both.

“god, i fucking missed you,” mikey moaned into her mouth, hands gripping her ass and guiding her movements against his clothed cock.

he helped her peel off her dress, then unclasped her lace bra. matching lingerie. he always loved when she wore them. one hand cupped her breast, squeezing. the other tugged the bra down just enough for her chest to spill out.

he dipped his head and took her breast into his mouth, sucking, licking, biting.

“mikey…” y/n moaned, fingers curling into his shoulders as he played with her—messy, greedy, like he couldn’t get enough.

mikey chuckled the moment y/n moaned his name. “you missed me too, didn’t you?”

“i’ve had better since you, sano.” she rolled her eyes, but her voice betrayed her—breathless and wrecked.

“baby,” mikey leaned in, lips brushing hers, hands firm on her waist, “you didn’t even think twice about showing up. you knew exactly what i’d to you.”

“don’t flatter yourself.”

he laughed, smug and certain, because he knew—he always knew—she was still his.

“no need to lie to yourself, baby,” he whispered, then kissed her again, deeper this time. while his mouth was on hers, his hands moved fast, pulling down her panties, tossing them aside like they were in the way of something urgent.

his own clothes followed—shirt discarded, pants shoved down just enough to free his cock. he tapped her ass once.

“up, pretty girl.”

she lifted her hips, and mikey slid his cock along her dripping slit, teasing her like he had all the time in the world.

“you know,” he said casually, lining himself up, “every time you leave, you swear it’s the last time.”

he pushed in just an inch, enough to make her gasp and grip his shoulders tight.

“and yet…”

he slammed into her the rest of the way—one brutal thrust that made her cry out and collapse against him.

“here you are.”

he set a relentless pace, fucking into her like he had something to prove. every thrust was hard, deep, and punishing. y/n was clinging to him, nails digging into his skin, body bouncing with every movement.

“fuck—mikey—”

“you like that, princess?” he growled, breath hot in her ear. “me fucking you like i still own you?”

his grip on her tightened. “you were never anyone else’s to begin with. always mine.”

she couldn’t respond—too busy moaning his name, her face buried in his neck, her body giving in completely. mikey’s hands gripped her ass, helping her grind against him, chasing the high he’d missed so damn much.

he threw his head back, groaning as the pleasure crashed into him.

“get in the back.”

y/n scrambled off him without question, making her way to the backseat. she barely had time to sit down before mikey was on her, flipping her over onto all fours.

“mikey—wait—”

he didn’t.

he shoved into her from behind, deep and rough, not giving her a second to adjust.

skin slapping echoed through the car, loud and filthy, impossible to ignore if anyone happened to walk by. the windows were fogged, rocking slightly with every hard thrust mikey gave her. face down, ass up—y/n could barely think. mikey’s grip was tight in her hair, dragging moans out of her with every stroke. she didn’t even care anymore. mikey was fucking her too good. he always did.

no one ever handled her the way manjiro sano did.

“mikey… more—i want more…” she cried out, voice hoarse.

“greedy little princess,” he growled, grabbing her arms together, hitting deeper. “you deserve this. getting fucked like you were made for me.”

his pace never faltered as he leaned over her, lips pressing kisses along her shoulder, then her temple. “love you so much, y/n. fuck. come back to me,” he whispered, still pounding into her like a man possessed.

“be my girlfriend again…”

she nodded, unable to speak—probably too far gone to even register what she was agreeing to. but that was all mikey needed to hear.

and it made him lose whatever control he had left.

“cumming—mikey, oh my god…” she whimpered, her voice breaking apart.

“cum for me, princess,” he grunted, mouth now on her shoulder, biting and licking the skin he’d marked. the sensation sent her reeling, head spinning, eyes fluttering shut.

it was the hottest thing mikey had ever seen—her, on all fours, taking every thrust like she was made for it. his girl. completely ruined by him.

his own climax hit fast. he pulled out last second, reached for his phone, and started recording. a few strokes and he was groaning low, thick ropes of cum spilling all over her ass. he caught it all on video.

he tossed his head back, chest rising with each breath, then stopped the recording and collapsed into the seat. y/n was still down beside him, catching her breath, hair messy, body glistening. mikey stared. he wanted her for himself again.

but for now, he reached forward for some tissues, cleaned her up gently, then pulled her into his lap, pressing a soft kiss to her head.

“so…” he mumbled, his voice calmer now, “are we officially back together?”

y/n didn’t say a word. she didn’t even look at him. she just gave a small nod.

and just like that, she was his again.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

now fully dressed—sort of—y/n and mikey sat in his car, not even pretending they were going back to the party. mikey had no intention of it. one round wasn’t enough. not after months without her.

y/n glanced at him. “why aren’t you driving?”

mikey was staring at his phone, typing. she frowned. “who are you texting?”

he smirked, not even looking up. “nothing your pretty little head needs to worry about.”

he leaned over and kissed her cheek, smooth as ever.

y/n didn’t trust it. she knew mikey—he never cheated, but he always had a new girl a week after every breakup. it was hard not to be suspicious.

but mikey? mikey already sent the message.

to kakucho.

kakucho

mikey: next time you hit on my girl

mikey: video attachment

it was a video he’d taken—his low groans echoing in the background as he came all over y/n’s ass, the camera catching everything in messy, explicit detail.

he locked his phone and finally started the car, grinning to himself.

possessive, smug, satisfied.

manjiro sano got his girl back—and he was never letting her go again—or not.

[puck-luck]

omg your celly is so cute! i’d like to order a cappuccino with cold foam for luke hughes. i just really want something cute or playful with yearning from luke. maybe friends or friends with benefits? i hope this makes sense and i did this right, thank uuu

thank you!! i hope this was enough yearning for you, i'm thinking that luke really does want something more with y/n. i think y/n just doesn't want anything to change between them. we'll see if this blurb continues in the future (i might add a pt.2 in another celly request<3)

“Oooh, Y/N and Luke are going in the closet,” Kayleigh chirps. Rutger sits next to her, arm slung over her shoulders. He sticks out his tongue, grinning widely. Similar chirps echo through the room as you and Luke stand up, rolling your eyes and making a face at all of the onlookers. They’re making a big deal out of this game and the fact that you and Luke are going into the closet for seven minutes. What they don’t know is that you and Luke started hooking up in his first semester at UMich and it has continued through each of his visits back to the state.

“Oooh,” Luke mocks as he closes the door, plunging you both into darkness. He turns around and faces you, grinning widely.

“I can’t believe I have to be in the closet with you,” you bemoan, pinching your lips together and scrunching your nose fondly when Luke rolls his eyes and shakes his head, his whole body sagging. As he stands back to his full height, though, his smile is wider that Rut’s.

“I know,” Luke responds. “It’s such a joke. You and me in the closet? As if anything would ever happen between us.”

You chuckle, biting your lower lip lightly as Luke locks the door behind him. The click sounds and your eyebrows twitch, daring Luke to come closer.

He does. He approaches you with his tongue poking through his bite, giggling breathlessly as he cradles your face and sucks your bottom lip into his mouth. He consumes you whenever he kisses you, always treating it like it’s the last time he’ll get the chance. 

“Is this all we’re going to do in our seven minutes?” you ask between kisses. 

Luke hums, tongue stroking yours sensually. “Consider it foreplay.”

“You confident that you’ll get to home base tonight?”

“You think I won’t?”

Now it’s your turn to hum, tilting your head to the left and reconnecting with Luke when he tilts to his left. “Hmm, I don’t know. Don’t you have to leave soon? Go back to your parents’ house since you don’t live here anymore?”

Luke makes a wounded noise, his hand trailing down from your jaw to cup your tit. “Are you making fun of me?”

You giggle. “I’d never.”

Luke’s kisses turn softer. It’s probably been four or five minutes now, so your time is coming to an end. You’ll have to separate soon, but it’s so hard when Luke’s entire palm is sealed over your breast comfortably. If you had more time, Luke would brush his fingertips beneath the underwire of your bra or reach past the cup to thumb over your nipple. 

“You should meet them,” Luke murmurs. “I think they’d like to meet the girl I’ve been sleeping with for a couple of years now.”

“Careful, Lu,” you warn in your sweetest voice. You twirl a curl around one of your fingers, tugging gently. You brush his lips again. “One of these days, someone will start to think that you like-like me.”

“Wouldn’t that be something,” Luke ponders aloud. He smiles into the kiss and moves his palm from your chest to your behind. He smooths over your ass, digging his fingers into the meat there before letting go. “I feel like someone has been saying that for a while now.”

“Oh, but he only says it when he’s having sex,” you tease. “It really confuses a girl.”

“Well if the girl comes to meet my parents…” Luke trails off. He fills your mouth with one last sweep of his tongue and plants a kiss on your neck. “It’s not really just when we have sex, is it?”

“Maybe sometimes when you’re on the road, but then you usually start jerking off.” You beam up at him, hands removed from his body and clasped behind your back. “But I don’t mind.” You let your eyes roam down his figure before your friends outside open the door and catch you and Luke in a situation. “You should wear looser pants next time we play Seven Minutes in Heaven. Inviting me to meet your parents really gives you a stiffy.”

He grins at you and tries to adjust himself into a position less noticeable. “Better?”

You shake your head, snickering. “It’s just too big, Lukey…”

“Don’t– talk about how big my dick is,” Luke says through gritted teeth. “You’re going to make it worse.”

You brush past him towards the door, cupping his cock through his pants. “Size kink?”

Luke hisses at you, sucking air through his teeth and circling his fingers around your wrist. He pulls your hand away, holding it in front of his chest, far away from his crotch. “Stop it.”

You wiggle your fingers at him and unlock the door with your other hand, twisting the knob and leaving Luke to sort out his big problem.

[pathologicalreid]

for the fear of falling apart | part two

returning to Everett Lynch's case, you try to redefine normalcy with Spencer and JJ, but Grace Lynch has other plans for you

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | epilogue

series masterlist

who? spencer reid x jareau!reader category: angst, hurt/comfort content warnings: gun violence, spoilers/references to: 9x6 "in the blood", 9x14 "200", 9x23 "angels", 9x24 "demons", 13x22 "believer", 14x1 "300", 14x15 "truth or dare". rewrite of 15x1 "under the skin", 15x2 "awakenings". a lot of dialogue is pulled directly from the show. hospitals/medical information. diana's alzheimers. marriage talk. roslyn's suicide. the parentification of jennifer jareau. mommy AND daddy issues. fear of drowning. word count: 7.48k a/n: it's two days late, but it's three times longer than part one. welcome to the abyss of my brain. it's scary in here.

Your name was being called. First, it felt far away, slowly coming closer and closer, lifting you to the surface as if you were being pulled. The sound was muffled until you broke through the barrier, a female voice clearly called your name, prompting your eyes to fly open, and there you were, sitting up on Penelope’s velvet couch, cocooned in a crocheted blanket with what was sure to be a remarkable bedhead.

Lifting your hand and placing it over your racing heart, you looked up at Penelope, the blue streak that you had redone for her last night prominent against her blonde hair. “Hey,” you said, widening your eyes and letting the blanket fall from your shoulders.

She crooked a brow at you suspiciously. For someone who wasn’t a profiler, she did have a knack for reading people, but you supposed it came with the territory. “My darling girl, you are always more than welcome to sleep on my couch, it’s a wonderful couch, I have spent my fair share of nights sleeping on it,” she rambled, sitting down next to you and taking your hands in hers. “You’re hiding,” she told you softly, “What are you hiding from?”

Penelope reached out to you, sweeping a messy strand of hair behind your ear as her big, brown eyes looked at you sympathetically. The gesture and the way she was speaking to you nearly approached being sisterly. At the idea of developing a supplemental sororal relationship with the technical analyst, you pulled away from her. You shook your head, “I’m not hiding,” you told her simply, leaving her with a half-truth as you stood up and began folding the blanket that had kept you warm overnight.

Nodding incredulously, she looked up at you, “If your Luddite boyfriend is blowing up my phone, then something has to be going on.” Her tone was urgent, but she stayed seated, giving you an advantage.

“Nothing’s wrong, Pen,” you reassured her, shaking your head and shrugging simultaneously.

Her face filled with doubt, glancing over at your cellphone as it buzzed on the coffee table, Spencer’s contact flashing on the touchscreen as you ignored the call. “Why didn’t you tell him you were staying with me last night?”

Pressing your lips in a thin white line, you briefly considered coming clean. You envisioned the truth coming out of you in puddles, everything you had been holding close to your chest for the last month pouring out like alphabet soup, but Penelope didn’t deserve that burden. “I just forgot,” you told her, watching the screen go dark.

Spencer was a worrier by the influence of his environment. Adamantly against getting a new phone, he couldn’t see your location at any given moment. His first course of action was usually calling your sister before resorting to Penelope, who not only has your location on her phone but also has access to your location in the bureau database. It wasn’t a fault of his, members of the BAU did have a tendency to disappear in the dead of the night.

She urged you to call him back as her phone started going off, her shoulders slumping forward, a tell-tale sign that the BAU was being pulled in on a case. If you were lucky, you would be able to slip through the cracks, claiming to put all of your focus into the case so that you didn’t need to have an in-depth conversation with your boyfriend. Or your sister, for that matter.

“Where are we headed?” You asked, rolling up your sleeves and crossing your arms in front of your stomach.

Penelope frowned at the tiny screen in front of her, “Baltimore,” she said hesitantly, “Uh, we gotta go. I’ll drive? You can call Spencer on the way,” she suggested before bolting into the bathroom.

You ended up avoiding the call to Spencer yet again, claiming you’d see him at the office anyway, and instead opening yourself up to a barrage of questions.

Was there cheating? Are you pregnant? Were you pregnant? Did he propose? Did you say no? Did you say yes?

The two of you parted as she went to prepare files and you waltzed into the bullpen, clocking the vase of flowers on your desk immediately. They, of course, weren’t just flowers, but a carefully calculated decision made to try and get into your good graces. This was the fifth vase that had been delivered in the last month.

First, there were honeysuckles, a symbol of devoted affection. Red carnations told you that his heart ached for you. A bouquet of daisies because he truly loved you. Last week, white lilies were left on your desk, a symbol of pure love.

Now, a bunch of apple blossoms sat on your desk, telling you that he preferred you before anyone else. How poignant.

Your eyes burned as you looked around the bullpen, hoping he was around so you could return the flowers to him, but the only people you saw were Emily and Rossi, sequestered in her office in the middle of what seemed to be a tense discussion. Choosing to ignore the flowers, you walked over to your desk, tucking your go-bag underneath and starting to power up your computer.

“Hey, Y/N?” Emily called from her office, “Can you head to the file room and pull everything from the Lynch case?” She didn’t even wait for an answer before closing the door again.

Concerned, you turned around and started making your way to the file room. If Everett Lynch was back, that would explain the worried look on Penelope’s face when the case came in. Even more, that would explain why Emily and Rossi were hidden in her office. Every member of the team wanted to see Lynch locked up for what he’s done, but for Dave it was personal.

Opening the file room, you pulled open the drawer of active cases from the past three months, starting to strip the drawer of anything even remotely related to Everett Lynch. The revelation that Grace was his daughter took everyone by surprise, but Spencer still felt responsible for Luke getting knifed. You should talk to him about it, you thought to yourself, if he didn’t talk about it, he’d just continue to internalize it.

“I need to talk to you,” a voice said suddenly from behind you, jolting you away from your train of thought. Spinning on your heel, you looked at Spencer.

Alarmed, you huffed, “You scared me,” you informed him, clutching the files close to your chest as you studied his stature. He looked fine, his hair was a bit of a mess, but he was wearing the red cardigan that you had gotten him for Christmas last year. You didn’t even want to begin to consider the implications of his outfit choice.

He furrowed his brows at you, “I scared you? You disappeared last night without a word, and I scared you?” There wasn’t even a hint of anger in his voice, instead, his words dripped in sweet melancholy, and you couldn’t look away from him.

You thought about your sister, snatched from the nation’s capital in the middle of the night as vengeance for her work with the CIA. Spencer and Penelope, both taken from what should have been a secure FBI building by a cult that bore a decade-long grudge against the BAU. You had frightened him, probably tripping his overactive mind into believing you were destined to meet a similar fate – dying in a warehouse somewhere. Blinking absently, you shook your head at him, “I’m sorry,” you told him, and you meant it.

“You’re punishing me,” he accused, crossing his arms in front of his chest before quickly dropping them, being hypervigilant about his body language.

Skimming your tongue over the backs of your teeth nervously, you hesitantly met his gaze. He seemed to be convinced that you were punishing him for the events that had taken place last month, but you were inclined to believe that you were punishing yourself, he was caught in your crossfire. “It’s not a punishment, Spence,” you whispered, watching how his brown eyes shone under the fluorescent lights.

His shoulders dropped, disappointment plain on his face, “I missed you at the baby shower,�� he confessed.

“Sprinkle,” you corrected.

“Semantics,” he retorted, and it almost brought a smile to your face.

You looked down at the files in your arms, not even realizing that you had been white-knuckling the classified information, “I was there,” you disputed. “I saw you. I brought the gift and put both of our names on it. What more could I have done?”

Rolling his eyes, he gave you a tilted look, “Standing together in the group photo would’ve been nice.”

In response, you straightened up your back, “Ah, you were too busy standing with my sister,” you quipped, bringing the conversation back to the root of the conflict.

“Will you come home tonight? Stay with me?” Your heart clenched at his question.

Hesitantly, you nodded, “I’ll be there,” you assured him, securing the last of the files before sneaking around him, skillfully avoiding the remainder of your team as you made your way to the roundtable room.

“I’m worried about Dave,” you whispered, looking at the other end of the couch at your boyfriend, the two of you dressed in pajamas, your old Georgetown sweatshirt frayed at the cuffs, but it remained your favorite.

The orange print of his Caltech t-shirt was peeling up on the edges, sometimes, at night, you’d pick at the emblem – it drove Spencer crazy, especially when he woke up in a pile of picked vinyl. His mug was carefully resting in his hands as the two of you had a nighttime cup of tea, something you used to do when you had just started dating, and that you decided to try to bring back – chamomile for you, lavender for him. “I talked to him tonight,” he told you, turning to face you, “He’s.. he’ll be fine. He has Krystall.”

And I have you, you thought to yourself, lifting your mug to your lips and taking a sip. Sometimes you felt special for getting this side of Spencer, the ratty college t-shirt and flannel pajama pants that he wore while lounging on the worn leather couch.

“Do you want to go to sleep?” He asked when you didn’t respond, leaning forward and setting his mug on the coffee table.

Shaking your head, you followed suit, setting your mug on a coaster next to his before crawling closer to him on the couch, taking him by surprise. “Not yet,” you whispered, sitting down next to him, relieved when he responded by putting an arm around you. “I’m not mad at you,” you told him, “I just needed time.”

His arm was warm and familiar over your shoulders, having the same effect as a weighted blanket, calming you down with a simple touch. “To think,” he said, “you keep saying that. Are you… do you need more time?”

You closed your eyes, leaning into him, “I don’t think so, but I’m,” you faltered, frowning, “I’m having a hard time talking to my sister.” It wasn’t a secret that there had been some sort of falling out between the Jareau sisters, but the reasoning behind the rift remained a mystery to most people.

“I am too,” he admitted, skimming his fingertips up and down your arm. “I keep recalling everything that happened, and I don’t fully understand how everything got so messed up.

Raising your eyebrows, you remained in the crook of his arm, “People say a lot of things with a gun to their head.”

What you hadn’t considered was that following her admission, your sister would avoid Spencer. When you decided to avoid both of them, you had no idea what you were taking from him. “What would your truth have been?”

“I’m afraid that everything surrounding me is destined to fall apart,” you admitted. “I was brought into my family in an attempt to rescue my parents’ marriage, but it didn’t work.” Your sister slit her wrists open when you were only four years old, but somehow your father had put her death on your shoulders. JJ left home as soon as she could, leaving you at twelve years old with your grief-stricken mother, who had spent the last several decades waiting for the day her daughters would all be reunited.

Spencer was quiet for a while before responding to you, “We should go to bed.”

He was probably right, the team was expected to be in early tomorrow morning. After leaving well past dark, the last thing you wanted to think about was going back in before the sun had a chance to rise. “Wait,” you said, “What’s your truth?”

Briefly, his eyes flickered, looking down the length of your body, “My truth is that I’m tired, we should go to sleep,” he told you, herding you toward your shared bedroom.

“Same time tomorrow?” You asked, walking through the bedroom and into the ensuite, grabbing your toothbrush off the counter.

Nodding, he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your temple, “I’ll be there.”

Maybe you should’ve taken it as a sign that you were unphased by the revelation of a crazy doctor with a fetish for skinning people. The world had strange ways of telling you that you needed to take a step back, for every sign you had been given, you took a step forward. That was how you ended up in the backseat of an SUV with your sister at the wheel and Spencer in the passenger seat.

Everett Lynch had invaded the BAU’s territory, coming in like an infestation in the district, and he was trying to break his daughter Grace out of jail. You heard through the phone that they were scrambling tactics, using the walkie-talkies in the U.S. Attorney building to prevent their own capture.

The car came to a screeching halt, and the three of you piled out, “There’s no time,” your sister said, looking around, “We’ll cover this one,” she informed Spencer, looking back at you as you adjusted the strap of your Kevlar.

“I’ll take the garage on Piedmont and 10th,” Spencer responded dutifully, nodding at the both of you before turning around and running to the parking garage two blocks over.

You and your sister started to make your way into the larger of the two parking garages, both of you pulling your firearms and pointing them down, keeping yourselves aware of your surroundings. There was movement in front of you, two bodies moving toward a white van with federal plates – the Lynch’s. “Everett Lynch,” you called out, “Drop your weapon and put your hands up, now!”

The man in front of you – the so-called Chameleon – scoffed in disbelief, “Take it easy. There’s no reason to gun down a daddy in front of his little girl, right?” You kept your Glock aimed at him, watching intently as he carefully set his gun on the ground. Sirens started going off in your head, a premonition of things to come.

“Alright,” JJ shouted, “Kick it over. Grace, you too. Drop your backpack and let me see your hands. Come on, now!”

Putting her hands up, Grace let her backpack fall to the ground in a heap of fabric, you kept your gun trained on them as JJ lunged to the side, reaching over to pick up Everett’s gun from the ground. “Grace!” You shouted, watching the girl bring her hands down as she reached for something, “Put your hands back up!”

It was a split-second decision, but you watched as Grace lifted that gun in her hands, and you jumped. You knocked your sister over as three shots rang through the air, the first one grazed her arm. The next two lodged themselves in your side as the two of you fell to the ground, your body rolling along the ground as the father-daughter duo loaded themselves in the van before driving off.

JJ grabbed her weapon and shot after them, hoping to blow out one of their tires or at the very least slow them down, but with only one good arm, her aim was off. She scrambled to her feet, “Come on, Y/N,” she huffed, not checking behind her before running out of the parking garage.

You wanted nothing more than to follow her. Being angry wasn’t worth it anymore, you couldn’t freeze out your older sister anymore. You tried to breathe, you tried to call after her, but when you opened your mouth, the only thing that came out was blood.

For your entire life, you had followed her. When asked what you wanted to be when you grew up, you’d tell them you wanted to be like your big sister. You wanted to follow her, but you couldn’t move.

You followed her from East Allegheny to Washington D.C. You had followed her into this very parking garage. Now, all you could think about was following Roslyn, bleeding out on the cold hard floor, alone.

“Y/N, what’s your location?” Spencer’s voice rang through your radio.

You had never been shot before. You had always thought it would be cold to be shot, but instead, your whole body felt like it had been set on fire.

“Y/N, do you copy?”

The wetness of the blood should have made it cold.

“Y/N?”

Your fire was slowly fading, the blaze that had gone up so quickly began to ebb as you stopped feeling anything at all. The tapping of shoes echoed through the parking garage as you lay on the cement.

“No,” that all too familiar voice said, “Y/N is down, she’s been hit. We need an ambulance now,” Spencer called into the radio, he was out of breath as he looked down at you.

He studied your appearance, clocking the entry wounds on your side and moving his fingers in an attempt to staunch the bleeding. An odd, choked noise escaped your throat as the pressure on your side stoked the fire.

Spencer’s fingers trembled even as he maintained pressure on your side, “I know, I’m sorry, I know it hurts.” He took a deep breath, “here, turn- turn your head,” he instructed gently, using his free hand to coax your face to the side. You choked and came to the horrifying realization that he was trying to stop you from aspirating on your own blood. “Get it all out, baby,” he cajoled as blood spurted from your mouth, “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

That would have to be enough. It wasn’t enough for you to hope anymore. You had spent so long with the Anger and Resentment from your Pandora’s Box that you completely failed to notice how Hope had slipped through the cracks, lost in a sea of emotions.

“Do you hear that? That’s the ambulance,” he told you, an unspoken plea in his voice.

But you couldn’t hear the sirens, pretty soon, you couldn’t hear anything at all.

The EMTs had all kinds of things to say, none of them were even remotely comforting. The bullets had entered through the thin opening of your Kevlar, a sort of Achilles heel where you couldn’t be protected. He should have double-checked, he should have paused to adjust the straps before running to the other parking garage.

He watched the doctors shock you in the emergency room, looking on in horror as your heart stopped beating. “Are you her husband?” One of the nurses had asked.

Spencer’s mouth had gone completely dry, “I’m- almost,” he answered, earning a sympathetic look from the nurse as she proceeded to ask him questions about next of kin and extraordinary measures. One of the bullets had pierced your lungs, causing catastrophic bleeding.

The nurse guided him to a surgical waiting room, but no one came out to him with updates, leaving him to sit. Someone brought his go-bag by, letting him change into clothes that weren’t blood-soaked.

He sat in a pile of limbs on the hospital’s couch, picking at the crusted blood that he hadn’t quite managed to wash off, and he wondered if he could ask one of the nurses for a surgical scrub brush, wondering if that would get the last flecks of blood from the ridges of his fingernails.

“Spencer,” JJ called out, rushing through the hallway, Will trailing close behind her.

Her arm was wrapped with gauze, probably stitched up before someone told her what had happened to her little sister. “Hey,” Spencer said, standing up as they approached, wiping his clammy hands on his slacks.

JJ held her hands out, “What have you heard? Anything?”

“It’s gonna be a while,” he said, repeating the only words that he had been told. They had taken you to the OR an hour ago, and all they had to do was wait it out.

The clinical white walls of the hospital were enough to make Spencer stir crazy, when Will offered to get him a cup of coffee, he was almost aggressive in his rejection. The sunlight reflected off the drywall as your surgery continued to test his patience.

Eventually, your mother called JJ back, and your sister walked away in order to explain the situation under the guise of privacy, leaving Spencer alone. “Dr. Reid?” Someone said, maintaining the reverent tones of the hospital that were beginning to make him want to pull his hair out.

“Yes,” he said, standing up in front of the nurse.

The nurse gave him a gentle smile, and he braced himself for the worst. “Ms. Jareau is out of surgery,” she informed him.

You had been in there for nearly six hours. “She…” he faltered, “Can I see her?” He asked, looking past the nurse as if he could see all the way into your recovery room from where he stood.

Nodding, the nurse continued to smile at him, “I can take you to her now if you’d like. She’s still under sedation,” she advised, gesturing for Spencer to follow her through the winding hallways of the hospital.

“Is she going to be okay?” He asked, checking to make sure he had his phone in his pocket so he could text JJ if he needed to.

The nurse’s smile tightened, “We won’t be able to know if she’s sustained any neurological damage until she wakes up.”

He frowned slightly, bracing himself for an answer that he wouldn’t like, “Could she hear me if I talk to her?” He asked, stopping in his tracks as the nurse stopped outside of a room – your room.

“It’s unlikely,” the nurse answered.

That made sense to him, there weren’t any studies that could prove that people could hear external stimuli while comatose. At least, there wasn’t enough for the medical community to reach a consensus. “Thank you,” Spencer said, nodding at the nurse as she turned away, letting him know that the doctor would be by to talk to him soon.

Your skin was pallid, a sickly sheen covering your skin as tubes and wires worked together to monitor you and keep your body going. Spencer set your patient bag in the corner of the room before dragging a chair over to your bedside, cringing at the sound the chair made against the linoleum before taking a seat next to you.

The steady beeping of your heart monitor quickly became the only thing preventing him from falling apart entirely. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, keeping his voice down so that no one else would hear him. “I keep going over it in my head and I don’t know how I didn’t realize you were missing sooner,” he spoke to your silent body, chest rising and falling with even breaths. “I’m so sorry,” he echoed, “You should’ve… you should’ve been my priority. Before Grace. Before Lynch. Before any of it.”

He inhaled shakily, glancing over at your vital monitor, taking comfort in the consistency of the numbers, “I should’ve put you first and now I- I can’t take it back,” he said, eyes burning with emotion. “I know things between the two of us have been kind of weird lately… ever since the pawn shop, I mean. I just,” he paused for a moment, giving himself grace, “I don’t know what to do with it. I don’t know if she meant it and if she did, what does that mean? When you didn’t bring it up after the wedding I didn’t either because I just didn’t know how to talk to you about it.”

Somewhere along the way, the two of you had gotten lost. In the midst of not talking about the pawn shop, you had stopped talking altogether. “Now, all of a sudden, none of it even matters. All that matters is that I need you to wake up because I need to have more time with you,” he sniffled, the first hot tears rolling down his cheeks. “I can’t imagine my life without you in it,” he whispered.

“Please don’t leave me,” he begged, thinking of all of those nights the two of you had stayed up talking about the future. Your dream wedding. Your children’s names. He needed it. More of it. More of you.

Mindful of you, he laid his arms on the armrest of your hospital bed, lowering his head and watching the consistent rise and fall of your chest, listening to the whistling of your nostrils as he waited for the doctor to come.

The doctor seemed confident that you would wake up, it was just a question of when. He sent JJ, who had gone home to change into fresh clothing, an update once the doctor left.

Every once in a while, your nose would twitch or your finger would tap on the hospital bedding, and he would allow himself to get his hopes up. It never lasted long, once the fluke ended, he went back to thinking about the situation realistically. You were still having blood transfused, there was a tube in your chest depositing fluids into a bag at your bedside, and even if you did wake up, there was a long road to recovery with an injury like this.

He was terrified that you’d wake up alone and in excruciating pain, so he refused to move, having any paperwork brought directly to him in your room. Nearly every fifteen minutes, he smoothed out the blanket that rested on top of you, careful when putting his hands near your body, even though you couldn’t tell whether or not your blanket was wrinkled. Spencer thought of it as tucking you in, keeping you safe, but he couldn’t help but wonder if it was too little too late.

You didn’t make it to the beach as often as you’d like. Spencer hated the beach, and you weren’t interested in swimming in the ocean so much as you wanted to go and people-watch. Families on vacation. Marriage proposals.

The first time you had ever gone to the ocean, you were three years old. JJ and Roslyn hadn’t been in years, but it was all new to you. JJ wanted to bring you to the water, and Roslyn hadn’t even wanted to go on the trip. The water hadn’t scared you then, the endless abyss of blue had seemed more inviting than anything you had ever seen before.

Now, you lay on the sand, all of it cold beneath your skin, the rest of the beach seemingly abandoned. Try as you might, you couldn’t move anything. You wanted to lift your arm to brush hair out of your face. You wanted to sit up. You wanted to go home.

You couldn’t even see the water from where you lay, you opened your mouth, hoping to call for help, but were surprised when the only thing that came out of your mouth was a dark, black sludge. It spurted from your mouth as it ran down your cheeks, staining the white sand of the beach beneath you. You were drowning on dry land, and there was nothing you could do.

Nothing but open your eyes.

The ominous white sky of the beach turned into white walls, as you fluttered your eyes open, the ocean made way for you, parting so that you could return to yourself. Laid in a hospital bed, trying to remember how to breathe, and meeting Spencer’s stare.

“Hi love,” he whispered, gently placing one hand on top of yours, drawing circles on the back of your hand with the pad of his thumb, careful not to knock your pulse oximeter off.

Your brows pinched together as you looked over at him, he looked tired, waiting for you to say something. Your chest felt tight as you looked at him, hundreds of thoughts bubbling to the surface, but only one bubble popped, “I had a nightmare.”

Spencer nodded slowly, messy curls falling over his forehead, “It’s okay, angel. You’re awake now. It can’t hurt you.”

It can’t hurt you. It can’t hurt you. It can’t hurt you.

You watched as Spencer reached over and pushed the call button on your bed. Each moment you spent awake became increasingly painful, signified by the slow rise of your heart rate, the pain only exacerbated when your breathing quickened. Alarm grew, “Shh, hey,” Spencer consoled you, reaching his hand out and smoothing your hair back, looking to the door and hoping someone would come in and help you.

They did, pushing pain medications through your IV and watching your heart rate stabilize before giving you something to help you calm down. Spencer probably knew what they all were, making mental notes to keep track of everything as he kept his hand in yours. Your pain level dwindled from a nine to a six, leveling out in the middle ground.

You settled back into the pillows, cringing as a nurse moved your bed so that you were sitting up slightly, nodding softly at the things that she told you about rest. She checked your vitals, before leaving the two of you alone, silence swirling around the two of you as you constructed a bubble to keep yourselves warm.

“I should’ve found you sooner,” he whispered, looking over at you, a distressed look in his eyes.

Moving at a turtle’s pace, you shook your head, “You saved my life.”

It’s okay. I’ve got you, he had told you in the parking garage, and he did. He still had you, even now. If they had let him, Spencer might’ve waited for you outside the operating room, just to be in the vicinity of you.

“Don’t go anywhere,” you murmured, eyes opening and closing slowly. Your eyelids felt sticky like there was still tape residue on them from your operation, but you didn’t dare move. You didn’t dare agitate any wound on your body. “Is JJ okay?” You asked, your voice tight. Checking in on your sister took all of your strength.

Spencer kept his hand in yours, moving his free hand to wipe at tears that had spilled over your lower lashline. “She’s fine, just a graze,” he reassured you, “I’ll call her when you go back to sleep.”

You swallowed thickly, wondering if you were allowed to have any water, “I missed you,” you breathed, fighting to keep your eyes open. “I wanna talk to you,” you sniffled.

“You should sleep, my sweet girl,” he answered, not wanting you to get into a hefty conversation in your condition. “We have all the time in the world to talk when you wake up.”

Except you didn’t. You had thought there was time for you to be angry, but then you had been shot. As much as you hated the idea of being someone who had a near-death experience and suddenly let bygones be bygones, alienating those close to you seemed exhausting. You took a deep breath, thankful for the nasal cannula on your face, “I’ve been so distant,” you admitted.

Spencer hesitated, not sure if you needed to get into this while so vulnerable, “I don’t know if she meant it,” he breathed.

“I don’t need to know,” you told him, surprising yourself as much as him with your admission. “JJ is… She’s one of the most important people in my life, but so are you. Maybe even more so.”

He frowned, “You can’t possibly mean that.”

You closed your eyes for a few seconds before opening them again, “JJ’s my sister, we share the same family, but I chose you, Spence. I will continue to do so,” you told him, deciding against adding until the day that I die. Watching him as he looked at you with tear-filled eyes, “Oh,” you sighed, “please don’t cry. I never meant to hurt you.”

Waving off your concern, he wiped at his eyes before taking one of your hands in both of his, “I love you so much, but I don’t want you to forget your anger.”

“Huh?” You hummed groggily.

“You’ve been mad for months,” he whispered, the strokes of his thumb on the back of your hand putting you to sleep. “It doesn’t need to fade away in the blink of an eye.”

You let your eyes slip shut once again, “I’ll still give you a hard time.”

He laughed slightly at that, “Good.”

“Spence?” You breathed.

“Yeah, baby?”

Humming, you settled back into the bed, “I don’t think I’ll be able to make our tea date tonight.”

When you woke up again, a familiar blonde was sitting at the foot of your bed, hunched in a plastic hospital chair while Spencer remained at your bedside, hands still intertwined, but sweaty now. “Jennifer,” he said, getting the attention of your sister.

She jumped up from the chair and sat on the edge of your bed, in your periphery, you saw Spencer retreat, ambling into the hallway to talk to Emily. Letting him go, you turned your attention to your sister, “Hey, Jayg,” you greeted, words coming easier now than they did before, the swelling of your throat had gone down.

Her finely chiseled eyebrows pinched together on her face, “I thought you were right behind me,” she admitted miserably, looking at your torso.

“It’s alright now, though,” you tried to reassure her. You had lost half of your blood volume, much of it on the parking garage floor, but you were here now, that had to mean something.

She shook her head in abject self-disappointment, “I should have protected you,” she insisted, scrunching up her nose as she fought back tears.

You were too tired to fight emotions, water falling from your tear ducts as the two of you tried to mend what had previously been torn apart. “You don’t need to protect me,” you insisted. The decision to take the hit had been entirely your own, driven by a need to protect her.

“I always have though,” she reminded you, “When Roz died, dad left, and mom checked out, I took care of you.”

When you were a child, you thought that having your pre-teen sister do everything for you was the way things worked. It didn’t last long, things unraveled from there, but you always had JJ. “I’m all grown up now,” you reminded her. You didn’t need her protection in your early thirties in the same way you needed them as a child.

JJ took a shaky breath, cupping your cheek with her hand affectionately, the way a mother would to their child, “You’re always going to be my little sister.”

You looked at her, seven years your senior, and you sighed, “Do you know why I did it?” You asked her, studying the sad look in her eyes.

She smoothed your hair back, grabbed a cup of water from your bedside, and brought the straw to your lips, “Why, Ducky?”

The childhood nickname chimed in your ears, one of the only things that you retained from your eldest sister. You smiled at her, “Your boys.” The answer came easily to you, “You have Will and your tiny people, and I just thought… I couldn’t let you leave them.”

“But I almost lost you,” she countered, it wasn’t aggressive, it was almost like she was trying to make you see the value in your own life. The people in your life didn’t make you valuable, you had value as an individual.

Shrugging, you looked at her sympathetically, “Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’, “You’re stuck with me.”

She gave you a sisterly, knowing look, “Your heart stopped. Twice.”

You concurred, “Yeah, because you’re just that stuck with me.” You insisted, watching as Spencer answered a phone call in the hallway. “Did you call them?” You asked her, giving her a quick glance as you craned your neck to keep an eye on your boyfriend.

“Mom’s on a flight in tomorrow morning, but dad hasn’t responded to my voicemail,” she informed you, she didn’t look surprised, and you didn’t feel it.

Where your father was concerned, some things were better left unsaid, but you wouldn’t necessarily mind if he never responded to your sister’s calls. There was no reason to drag him and his new wife from their cushy life in Florida. Spencer reentered the room as JJ’s phone started ringing – Will – and the two of them traded off, amicably splitting time with you.

Greeting him with a content smile on your face, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your hairline, “I have to go,” he told you reluctantly.

You tried not to let any disappointment show on your face, “Why? What’s wrong?” You asked, studying his face for any sign of what his phone call had been about.

“That was Brookfield on the phone,” Spencer said, checking all of the monitors that surrounded you.

The grim look on his face made sense to you. Moving his mother into Brookfield had been the right choice for everyone, but her condition was never going to get better. Last time he had gone to visit, Diana hadn’t even recognized him, and you spent the rest of the day holding him, letting him know it was alright. “You have to go,” you echoed his earlier sentiment, nodding reassuringly.

He hesitated to leave you, sitting on the edge of your bed that had been previously occupied by your sister, “But you- you’re…”

You shook your head in dismissal, “Sometimes everything happens all at once, but you have to go.” If Brookfield was telling him to get down there, then he needed to go.

The next several hours passed slowly, Emily gave you an update on the case – the reader’s digest version, avoiding any gnarly details in an attempt to protect you. Will brought you and JJ dinner, eating the meal with them and your nephews, you were grateful to not have to eat the hospital cafeteria food. Slowly, the day came to an end, you sent JJ home when visiting hours ended, letting her know that you didn’t need to be protected while you were in a hospital.

You fell asleep not long after one of your nurses lowered the volume on your vital monitor, the dark peace of the hospital lulling you into a sense of safety. There hadn’t been word from Spencer, and you worried about him and his mother.

A tapping sound dragged you from what was thankfully a dreamless sleep, you recognized the sound of the footsteps, those shoes made a similar sound on the hardwood floor of your apartment, “You’re noisy when you wear your fancy shoes,” you mumbled drowsily, opening your tired eyes and tilting your head in the direction of the sound.

“Hey,” Spencer whispered, “Go back to sleep,” he told you gently, slowly making his way around your hospital bed and to the fold-out chair next to your bed.

You hummed, following him with your eyes as they adjusted in the dark, “No, you woke me up. Now you have to talk to me,” you told him, reaching over to switch on a lamp, cringing at the way the light burned your eyes.

Unprompted, he inspected your vital monitor before reaching out to adjust your nasal cannula, “Where’s JJ?” He asked, cupping your cheek affectionately before taking his seat.

Reaching out for your cup of water, you smiled to yourself when Spencer moved it closer to you, “I made her go home. Our mom will be here in the morning, and she’ll need all the rest she can get.” There was also the fact that Michael had been freaked out by seeing you in a hospital, so he needed some extra love from his parents tonight. “Wait,” you said, “How did you get in here? Visiting hours are over.”

“I might have told a small lie about you needing security,” he admitted sheepishly, but beneath it, he was smug. You didn’t fault him on it, you probably wanted him here just as much as he wanted to be here, if not more.

Smiling in the dim lamplight, you inclined your head toward him, “Did you misrepresent the bureau?”

He rolled his eyes, “I’d do it again if it meant I get to spend the night with you.” Helping you put your water cup back on your tray, Spencer took your hand in his, “How are you doing?”

You were exhausted, not in the sense that you wanted to sleep, although that probably couldn’t hurt, but in the sense that your entire body ached. There was a pinch in your side that wouldn’t ease up, and you didn’t feel comfortable with asking for more pain medication. Part of you was afraid that in the process of being shot, you developed a fear of drowning. You almost died today. Huge strides had been made in an attempt to repair your relationship with Spencer and with your sister. None of these thoughts escaped your lips, you just looked at him sympathetically, “How’s your mom?”

All he gave you was a tight smile, squeezing your hand tightly, “She’s ah… she’s alright,” he told you, your chest tightening at the emotion in his voice. “They’re calling it an awakening,” he continued, sounding unsure of himself.

“Terminal lucidity,” you breathed, a term you had only read about briefly when Diana was first diagnosed. The two of you had made many cross-country calls, trading information while Spencer stayed with her in Las Vegas.

He nodded, “Yeah… they don’t know how long it…”

How long she had left. How long she would remain lucid. “Are you okay?”

“No,” he answered quickly, too quickly for your liking.

You wiggled your fingers in his hand, getting his attention, “I want you to go back tomorrow,” you ordered him. It wasn’t something you were willing to budge on, insisting that he go back to Brookfield tomorrow to spend more time with his mother.

“She asked about you,” he admitted, leaning back in the chair, keeping your hands intertwined, “She wondered why we never got married. I told her it was never the right time. Do you know what she said to that?”

Watching intently as he shared the story with you, you shook your head, “What did she say?”

He chuckled lightly, “She said that might’ve been the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard me say.”

You smiled as he recounted the story for you, mimicking the hand gestures that you were sure his mother had used. “Obviously she’s never seen your Dirty Harry impression,” you reminded him, trying not to giggle at the memory.

“The right time will never come if we keep waiting around for it,” he told you, reciting the words of wisdom that his mother had imparted upon him.

Your breathing hitched in the dark of the night, “Spence?”

He nodded, “Yeah, baby?”

“Are you going to ask me to marry you?” You asked him hesitantly, wondering if that was what he was getting at.

Spencer shook his head, “Not tonight, angel.” He looked around the hospital room, cards and balloons and flowers had made their way in through the afternoon and evening. Penelope had even brought your apple blossoms from your desk. His flower language seemed so inconsequential now. “Go to sleep,” he whispered, “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“Will you tell me a story?” You whispered, settling yourself back into the flat hospital pillows, resigning yourself to the end of the marriage conversation.

He hummed, dimming the lamplight, “Which one?” There were a few stories that he had memorized specifically for you. When work or life or nightmares got to be too much, he would recall them for you.

“Can we do Portrait of a Lady again?” You raised your eyebrows, smiling impishly.

He rolled his eyes sardonically, “Your love for Henry James should be studied in a lab.”

You waved him off, “Okay, and? It’s story time.”

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[godjo]

✮ — altar girl.

hasn’t it been written that wherever the fire of evil blazes, a god will be there to douse it? but who saves the damned if a god kindled the fire?

tags — true form!sukuna x concubine/f!reader. 3k wc. explicit smut. dubcon at first (trust me in this one pls). exhibitionism. thigh riding. doggy style. manhandling. rough sex. womb fucking. humongous cock!sukuna (hello???). multiple orgasms. mindbreak. drool. cunnilingus bordering on tongue-fucking. orgasm denial once. he carries you. creampie. lots of cum. fuckton of religious symbolism. physical violence against the reader but not from sukuna. sukuna calls you brat like one time. minors, ageless, and blank blogs dni.

from hunter — not to be dramatic or whatever but i do feel like this fic took a huge chunk off of my sanity … the things i do for sukuna omg … if this flops i will officially retire from tumblr /j + also it's 3 am for me so i didn't proofread the last bits and i prolly got lazy ... ha ha ... ✮

gods exist. 

the annals of history tell us so.

they exist in a way that no mortal can comprehend, for a god is more than a face. they leave their imprints not with their feet but with the rise and fall of dynasties, the ruination of empires, and the death of kings. they materialize as the birth of a deluge and they rise as the reason for war. it is not the body that proves their existence but the carnage they leave behind. 

they have manifested before human eyes through myriad guises, and once again incarnated in the flesh of ryomen sukuna. 

many have met their untimely demise at his hands; he walks the earth with their tormented souls at his feet. from village to village, their numbers increased until a procession of weeping thickened behind him. hundreds of graves mark the land since his advent, and yet the heavens remain deaf to the hysterical prayers for justice. only he can hear the prayers; only he laughs at them. 

they say he is a devil. you say he is a god. because only a god can saturate the earth with blood and emerge unpunished from such transgression. hasn’t it been written that wherever the fire of evil blazes, a god will be there to douse it? but who saves the damned if a god kindled the fire? 

ryomen sukuna, in a form of some twisted mockery, decides to act the part. and so like every famished god, he demands a sacrifice to satisfy his voracious appetite. you would think that a house of gold would placate his hunger for blood, but riches mean nothing to him. his appetite needs flesh and it is flesh he got. 

“have i been too lenient that you’d dare fight amongst yourselves when i’m not around?” his voice reverberates inside the room. low, guttural, and pregnant with malice. it is enough to scorch everyone’s lungs with tension. 

you want to run away from this nightmare. go back to the peaceful bliss of mundanity when sukuna is only a piece of horrifying tale used to frighten children and not an absolute being seated cross-legged mere inches away. you try transporting your mind back to the days before his pillaging, before your village succumbed to his authority. yet his pervasive presence obstructs all your pathetic attempts at nostalgia. 

“look at what you did to the poor girl.” two of his four hands sweep you from your position to his lap, parading you to the rest of tearful eyes looking at him with entreaty. 

and it stings— their eyes. you’re in the claw of a savage hound from hell, ready to be devoured, with only your hadajuban as protection. even in this pitiful state, they offer no sympathy. their tears are for themselves alone despite their cruelty being the reason for your shared plight.

selfish bitches. 

“was it jealousy that caused this infighting? have i not divided my attention to all of you equally?” sukuna continuously taunts, lacing his voice with poisonous prudence. he fools no one and that’s what urges him forward. everyone knows that his seemingly laidback attitude is plain derision. nonetheless, he tastes the lingering hope in each of your faces before dragging his teeth along such pathetic daydreams.

“y… you have, my lord,” one of the women answers, her voice betraying a noticeable stutter. “if you would permit me to speak, i can offer his lordship an explanation for what transpired in the courtyard.”

sukuna emits a languid sigh as he rests his cheek upon his fist. he runs a rough hand down your arm, triggering vibration in the pit of your stomach. his hand is as huge as your face, his fingers long enough to snap your neck with ease. despite the surge of terror, you fight the urge to retch.

after a moment of battling your dread, it’s repulsion that filled you afterwards. repulsion rising from the woman’s explanation for your wretched state. the rest of the women nod their heads along with her account of how you tripped on a slippery stone multiple times, causing your current injuries, as if you’re a toddler who cannot orient her legs properly. 

they will save themselves with falsehood. 

sukuna yawns after the woman’s narration. his set of eyes seeking you after in the silence. 

“this matter is of your stupidity, then? you’ve wasted my time, brat.” he dips his cadence in amusement and disgust. 

anger flares within you, filling your nose and ears with the bitter scent of hatred, yet its heat descended down your throat, dampening your ability to defend yourself. what is one against many? there are twenty concubines in this room and nineteen of them just sold you to your demise for unintentionally raising this trifle to the lord of the land.

all of this— all of this merely because they have immersed themselves in playing a game in which you’ve been excluded since your arrival. after all, you’re just another competition for sukuna’s attention. 

“have mercy, my lord,” you whisper, on the verge of losing your sentience. “i… i mean no disrespect. it’s… it’s stupid of me—”

sukuna drawls, “speak no more of your nonsense. i have heard enough.” 

distressed apologies race past your mouth, along with entreaties that he spares your life. but you should’ve known that a god won’t turn his back on the sacrifice of blood. 

thus, when his enormous body finally moves to encase your fragility, you close your eyes and with jittering teeth have accepted your fate. you wait for the final release of death, a snap or his fist through your heart, but none came. instead, at your feet lay your torn garments, casting your nakedness before the other concubines in a humiliating display. the crisp air blows against your nipples, causing them to pucker tight. the same air turns your blood gelid, your bones immovable. 

“now, let’s see what all the fuss is about.” from behind, sukuna gropes your breasts, swirling the tips of your nipples with his fingers. “i’ll kill anyone who looks away.” the warning is vehement, ripe with threat, that even mere insects won’t dare defy it. 

is this the ultimate act of worship? to be stripped of all your layers? to be eaten?

his lips latch onto the bareness of your neck, sharp teeth dragging across the skin. the silence is thick, saved for the sound of your uneven breathing and the rustling of fabric as the concubines shift uncomfortably on their seats. sukuna’s wet and unusually long tongue starts licking the base of your shoulder to the back of your ear, before placing his thick and robust thigh between your quivering legs. 

your exposed cunt sticks to his skin, pussy folds flapping open. with practiced ease, as if manipulating the strings of a marionette, he subtly guided your movements. he has your pulsing clit riding the ridges of his thigh as if gushing all over will save you from inevitable demise. 

“m… mhm!” no longer entirely in control of your own form, you turn and sway in a helpless dance to his hands’ command. a gasp tinged with surprise and undeniable pleasure, escapes your lips and echoes softly in the confines of the room. you feel the searing heat of the concubines’ gazes drilling into you, a tangible weight of disapproval and something more primal — a flicker of envious fascination.

“for a condemned woman, aren’t you loving this too much?” sukuna takes the reins to your body. with speed that has your heavy tits bouncing, he secures your waist and drags your slick pussy faster and more recklessly. 

pleasure, sharp and electric at first, surges through your core, blossoming outwards like a firework. your cunt clenches and unclenches involuntarily, a delicious tremor wracking your body. the world narrows, sound and sight fading at the edges as every nerve ending sings with a single, glorious purpose. slowly, the intensity ebbs to leave a pleasant afterglow that paints your limbs with a newfound weight.

you’re but a tiny speck compared to sukuna’s imposing body; a feeble creature under the jurisdiction of a god. 

possessive hands have found you in your fleeting refuge, scooping your lower body up like you weigh nothing. with the tip of his finger he traces the curve of your spine, pressing enough weight to flatten your stomach against the tatami mat. 

“even your back is filled with lacerations,” he points out brusquely.

sukuna’s hefty cock drops to the base of your spine, its puffed up cocktip lazily pulsing to leak his thick liquids of pre-ejaculate. it must’ve been a whole arm laying heavy against your spine, warm with a gluttonous desire to ram itself through the sloppy confines of your pussy. 

and you lay there, waiting for his teeth and his claws and his animalistic hunger to devour. he presses his chest to your back, filling your ears with promises that he’s going to feed on you, eat you down to the marrow of your bones— and you’ll love it. 

“look at them,” sukuna hisses as he tugs at your forehead, “i want you to look at them while i fuck you.”

with your flesh you’ve received him like some kind of communion from root to tip. he hammers your cunt with his cock, until the heat of his savage lust reaches the pit of your belly. you feel his warmth soiling your cervix and uterus with every vigorous thrust. 

“oh! m… mhm!”  completely overtaken by sukuna, your thighs can only twitch as he destroys your insides. 

“you’re soaking wet,” he groans in your ear, deliberately adjusting his pace so he can coat his thick girth all over with your creamy hole, “and so fucking tight.” 

sukuna grunts like a wounded animal each time his cocktip kisses the smooth spot of your womb. a sheen of sweat glazes his body, tattoos aglow in the lanterns, from manically fucking your cunt. he bares his fangs whenever you tighten around his shaft enfolded with prominent and proud veins. 

the once vibrant forms of the concubines, their faces alight with prurient interest, dissolve into a sea of indistinct shapes as fog descends upon your sight. you’ve been reduced to a babbling and drooling mess, unable to grasp the reality that you’re being mounted and fucked to madness before several witnesses.

sukuna extends his hand, searching for your abandoned clit during his primal need to turn your pussy to pulp. 

“there it is,” he breathes against your clammy cheek, satisfied at his discovery. 

“n… no! not there…!” you pant as the last thread of reason frays and snaps. 

a tempestuous force of pleasure sweeps through you, leaving behind a tremor that has shaken you to the core. around you, a kaleidoscope of colors and sensations spins until a guttural moan runs from your lips, delivered by the exquisite torment of rapture. your nails scrape desperately across the tatami mat, clinging at the remnants of spilled sanity. 

sukuna cackles at your desperation to find a moment’s reprieve. the roughened end of his fingers dip into your yielding flesh as he forcefully slams your pussy back to his cock.  

“you’re not going anywhere,” he pronounces frenziedly, his eyes blowing wide. sukuna’s desperation for release intensifies to the point where he’s blatantly manhandling you, brutalizing your cunt and his cock during the process of reaching zenith. flesh meets flesh, fervid thrusts after fervid thrusts, until he feels that familiar coil in his own stomach. 

sukuna plugs your abused cunt with inconceivable amounts of cum. his cock pulses wildly, shooting globules straight to your womb it’s almost physically possible to feel his viscous cum filling every crevice of your uterus. when he’s finally pulled out, ropy cum still links his raw cocktip to your pulsing pussy hole. despite such a mind-numbing culmination, sukuna’s cock refuses to yield. it springs up proudly, aching for another taste.  

“what a sight,” sukuna issues with cavernous and demonic utterance, pertaining to your body lying inert upon the tatami mat. he sweeps the sodden hair from his brow with a lordly air, his pride evident in the contemptuous curve of his lips. 

look at the state he’s reduced you to. his thick ejaculation pools around your lower body because your little pussy can’t hold all of him. with an indifferent shrug, sukuna lowers his formidable body to your level. and only when the malevolent glint in his eyes becomes apparent does the gravity of the situation dawn upon you.

he starts fucking your cunt with his tongue.

you grit your teeth in response as sukuna places your knees upon his shoulders, burying the slimy width of his tongue in your heated pussy. it’s no mere licking— he’s practically shoved his tongue up your gummy walls, toying with the warmth of his cum pooled in your poor cunt while simultaneously licking your puffed up clit. 

“o… oh! c… can’t— please, please!” drool seeps between your gritted cuspids after your hysterical plea.

pearlescent tears warm the corner of your eyes. your sensitivity from his rigorous fucking has not yet abated, but another swell of release approaches at a hand’s reach. down to your heart, the bundles of nerves and veins constrict painfully because it’s too much. you have nowhere else to put the pleasure— the imminent pinnacle will utterly ruin you.

i’m losing my mind

i’m losing my mind

i’m losing my mind—

when ecstasy is but a heartbeat away, sukuna withdraws, denying you the finality your body craves. as if saved from drowning, you suck in and grace your lungs with air only to be propelled back to the brink of delirium when he lifts you up from the floor like a breeze. 

with carnal ferocity, he seizes the meaty flesh of your haunches with two of his limbs, while the others secure your torso. there and there, sukuna slots his insatiable cock in your dribbling cunt; an act that he’s accomplished without effort because you’re so wet, he’s slid right in. 

everyone has witnessed sukuna’s cock abusing your tingling pussy; all can see how he bounces your tingling cunt along his stiff length without strain. 

“yes… squeeze my cock like the obedient girl you are,” he sibilates on your face, followed by a harsh chuckle. “you can’t hear me now, can you?”

the voice is a distant echo, barely perceptible to your waning senses. your body, devoid of strength, limps completely in sukuna’s embrace. he buries his face in the crooks of your damped neck, groaning and babbling as he ruts into your swollen pussy. 

“how come you’re still so fucking tight?”

hasn’t he prepared you for his sheer girth? hasn’t he stimulated your pussy enough to hug his cock smoothly and effortlessly? you’ve already coated his balls shiny with all the slick your cunt has produced, but sukuna’s chest tightens because you’re milking him with a viselike grip. 

yes, it is human that he’s even affected by this carnal desire. what more can he do? he feels faint with exultation merely by fucking you. 

sukuna pumps your pussy to the hilt with slow yet profound thrusts. he bares his teeth down the blade of your shoulder as the maelstrom of release engulfs him completely. battered by waves of ecstasy, he grunts with your flesh between his teeth, the rough sound reverberating deep from his belly.

you must’ve reached the peak with him— you absolutely cannot tell. the only thing that your puddled mind can grasp is the swirl of his potent cum in the pit of your womb and the endless pulse of your cunt as you struggle to accommodate his release. 

petrified and silent, the remaining concubines are as fixed in place as if struck by an immobilizing spell. yet they watch— they watch intently while sukuna’s cock throbs with white strings of cum dripping from your cunt hole down to his balls and thighs. a hefty amount pools beneath him, oozing from where the both of you are connected. 

the envy that consumed them is a silent, suffocating thing, a palpable presence thick enough to choke. this envy deepens as they witness the delicacy with which sukuna has placed your dormant body on his own tatami mat. they grit their teeth secretly, throwing every known curse your way. may your womb not bear the fruits of sukuna’s seed, they vehemently pray. 

for ryomen sukuna, it’s nothing but a moment’s weakness, a foreign string of unknown emotion that you’ve managed to evoke from him. and even though he’s beyond human grace, he’s wasted your body to his own satisfaction, it’s only right to touch you with his claws retracted.

“performance is over, my dearests,” sukuna announces while a smirk tugs at his lips. facing his concubines, he dons his fundoshi haphazardly that it barely covers what it means to hide. 

“w… what will become of her, my lord?” one dares to ask. 

a fleeting, imperious gaze from sukuna sweeps over you before ushering the women from the opulent chamber. “you shouldn’t worry yourselves about such trivial matters. she will meet her own reckoning by my hands.”

a wave of malicious satisfaction ripples through the group as they exchange covert nods. you’re already a dead woman. with poisonous glee, they bow before ryomen sukuna with their faces shaped in unbridled mirth. 

“make sure that my wives are accompanied home safely,” sukuna orders the nearest guards. he tastes their fear hanging heavy in the air just by being in his presence. oh, humans. 

as the group began to retreat, they cast over their shoulders a flurry of flirtatious farewells to the imposing sukuna. however, before they could vanish entirely from sight, his deep voice cut through their progress.

“guards, before i forgot…” sukuna displays a grotesque smile filled with malice. “kill them all. i want nineteen heads on my feet tomorrow.”

they say he is a devil. 

you say he is a god. 

and despite all the names, sukuna has found himself a place of worship, with you as his altar. 

[k2ntoss]

I need more baby daddy Jason. Maybe sitting at the park watching him with ur kids and hearing the other moms ogling over him

yall dangerously feeding my brain rot and it's giving me a baby fever i do not wish to feed !!!!!!!!!!! but whoever says baby daddy jason you have my heart rn bc i adore that man!!!!!!!!!!!

by the end of the week it was already time for your kids to go out and have a pretty day at the park, jason had been really busy lately so you took the stroller and placed your babygirl on it before calling your boy, living copy of jason when he was a kid and you couldn't want it any other way because both of your babies had those pretty emerald eyes you so adored.

the way to the park was easy, those two kids had a way to be pretty little angels when it came to go out to the park and you loved that because jason would usually catch up with you sometimes when the work was too much and today was one of those days. your little boy was six and your little girl four, which made it a bit hard to have him playing around and keeping an eye on your babygirl but as soon as jason joined you it was time for the girl to also leave your arms.

jason has been an amazing dad, always making sure his kids and girl were just fine, that they had everything they could ever need and want and it was easy to see in the way the little girl giggles loudly when he sweeps her out of your arms and walks to the playground while you sit, keeping an eye on your son and it's easy to hear the small group of moms muttering and giggling close to where you're sitting.

"do you think he's single? maybe divorced... he just came and picked up the girl from her arms" one of the women says and you roll your eyes because you know how damn well jason looks and how easy it is for him to trigger a baby fever in anyone but the small pang of possessiveness and jealousy that stirs in your chest is there.

"he didn't kissed her, i bet she is the kids' mom but they're not together... i should try and get his number," oh, over your damn dead body anyone would even dare to try and getting jason's number but you know better so you sit, looking at your family with a fond smile because now your two kids are held by jason.

you look at him and you can tell he's been working out more recently because he seems fitter, a little less of that dad body he had gotten since your second child was born and you loved how he looked, broad and muscly but there was a little tummy that only made you drool even more for the father of your kids.

you had to endure the comments and ogling from that group of moms for at least half an hour until you decided you had enough. walking over the place where jason was playing with the kids you stood close, looking at him with a smile when he lifted his head to glance at you and the glint on his eyes made you heart flutter, he picked up the kids on his arms and strode towards you with the widest smile ever amd without saying anything else he leaned in to press a tender kiss on your lips.

"hey there, ma," he whispered still close to your face "i missed you..." the words never fail to make your whole body shudder as you stand in front of the love of your life because that's what jason was, flaws and everything he was everything you could ever want.

"missed you too, jaybird... mind if we take the kids for ice cream?" you ask with a soft tone and it's easy for him to notice what's going on when you don't even pull away but stand even closer while looking up at him like a lovestruck teen again.

that's when jason gently places your girl in the stroller and wraps his free arm around your waist before he peppers a few kisses on your neck earning a chuckle from you and a soft 'yuck' from your boy's lips.

"daddy! stop kissing mommy! let's go for ice cream" and the childish protest makes jason smirk, knowing now he had yet to deal with a whole bunch of spoiled babies instead of just you but he wouldn't have it any other way and like that, with his arm still around your waist jason makes the way to get ice cream and you can satisfiedly feel the disappointment in the group of moms that were shamelessly planing to hit on jason.

[xneens]

wasted summer - one

series masterlist

watching jj like someone else hurts, thankfully, you finds comfort in rafe’s arms … and his bed.

Music boomed in your ears, the party in full swing as you made your way upstairs, away from the guys smoking weed and girls dancing to Kanye West. Using a guest room on the third floor, you opened the window and crawled out onto the roof. With a drink in hand, you watched partygoers jump into the Cameron's pool, observing the party from afar.

Taking a sip of the cheap vodka JJ had gotten, you glanced at the blond, a frown on your lips as you saw him sweep Kiara off her feet, jumping into the pool with her. Kiara likes JJ, that much you know is true after she had drunkenly confessed during a girl's night out. Bitterness grew inside you as you watched him respond to her subtle flirting, praying desperately he didn't return her feelings but your own.

You look away, downing the rest of the cup before throwing it off the roof in hopes of it hitting someone. Hopefully either one of them, but they were still playing in the pool. Together.

"Littering on my property? Harsh." a voice behind you murmurs as he crawls out the window, sitting beside you on the roof. Rafe grins at you, bringing the blunt to his lips.

You roll your eyes, keeping them on him instead of the heartwrenching scene below you. "Like you haven't littered at my house before. Payback."

"So vengeful ever since you started hanging out with those Pogues." Rafe chuckles, offering you a hit off his blunt. You decline it with a wave of your hand and he shrugs, taking another hit off of it.

Glancing back at JJ and Kiara, you can't help the pang in your heart as you watch them play in the pool, splashing each other with large smiles on their faces. Sighing, you look back at Rafe, suddenly wishing you'd brought a bottle of Titos with you.

Rafe arches a brow, a smirk dancing on his lips. "What're you doing up here, anyways? Shouldn't you be hanging out with the Scooby gang?"

Not wanting to be in his eyesight, you lay down on the roof, staring at the night sky, the lights from the party polluting the starry sky. "I needed a break."

"From those dirty Pogues?"

You smack his arm, causing the blond to burst out laughing. "Stop bullying my friends."

"Bullying works," replied Rafe, shifting to mirror your position. He groans softly as he lays back on the roof. "Remember Agatha Haynes? She no longer smokes fifty cigarettes a day after you called her Hagatha."

A snort escapes your lips before you can stop it. You shake your head. "God, I was a bitch."

"You still are." Rafe dodges another smack, a teasing grin slapped across his face. "Still the spoiled, snobby, selfish girl you were. You're just better at hiding it now."

"Oh, and the hits just keep coming." You groan out dramatically, smiling back at him. "I'll have you know that I am very empathetic and care about other people's feelings.”

The blond shakes his head, taking a hit from his blunt. "Is that why you're hiding out from your gang of mutts? Because you care about them so much you don't want them to know you're suffering in silence?"

"I wish you'd suffer in silence."

"Woah, don't violate the thirteenth-year truce," Rafe replies, drawing out a reluctant smile from you.

Rafe was ... Rafe. Born with a golden spoon in his mouth, acted like every rich kid from Figure 8, only worse, and knew how to get his way. The only fight the blond had lost was to a coked-out tourist to who Rafe ironically sold the coke.

Most people didn't see that he could be nice when he wanted to. You always held it above everyone that Rafe Cameron had a soft spot for you, even if it only came from being his little sister's best friend. Still, it was nice to be one of the few people not to be on the receiving side of his hostility, a side Sarah was constantly on.

It was a weird friendship built on a truce made by four and six-year-olds. During your fourth birthday party, Rafe had gifted you with a promise to never be the cause of your tears and you promised to never cut holes in his tighty whities again.

After a few minutes of silence, Rafe turns his head to look at you, exhaling out smoke. "Seriously, though, why are you hiding?"

"Not hiding, taking a break." You correct him, refusing to meet his eyes. He wasn't completely wrong, you were hiding from your friends, specifically two of them.

"That's such bullshit." scoffs the man next to you, rolling his eyes at your words. "Tell me."

You groan, covering your face with your hands in hopes of hiding your embarrassment from him. "No. It's nothing."

"Tell me."

"Stop being nosy."

Rafe snickers, putting his blunt out before grabbing your hands and pulling them away from your face gently. Eyes filled with serenity, a sight only you and Wheezie ever got to see. "Tell me, you know I won't tell anyone."

Your playful pout makes his grin widen. "You'll make fun of me."

"Me? After our truce?" asks Rafe, throwing his head back in laughter. "Never."

After contemplating whether to lie to his face, you sigh, rubbing your temples. It couldn't hurt to tell him, it's not as if he ever told anyone stuff you've told him before. "Kiara likes JJ. And ... I think he likes her back."

An awkward moment of silence hangs in the air before Rafe inhales sharply. "Oh. I didn't realize you wanted to fuck the help."

"Rafe." your tone made him throw his hands up in surrender. Staring back up at the sky, you scrunched your nose. "I kind of like him. It just sucks a little seeing them so touchy with each other and flirting in my face. If they become official, then I'll literally be the only person in the friend group without anyone. I'll be a seventh wheel and that's so fucking pathetic."

"You're getting ahead of yourself," says Rafe, scoffing. "My sister found someone who puts up with her shit, you'll have an easier chance finding a boyfriend. If you don't like anyone, I'll volunteer."

You can't help but roll your eyes at his not-so-comforting words. "Thanks. You really know how to make a girl feel better."

The blond chortled, sitting up. "I'm serious. Anyone who isn't blind can see you're clearly much better than those idiots you hang around. The girls you hung out with were annoying as hell but at least they were better than those group of Pogues."

"How very Kook of you to say," you mutter back, not taking Rafe's words earnestly. Shifting, you sit up, eyes flickering back to the pool, immediately spotting Sarah and John B., Pope and Cleo, and JJ and Kiara still playing with each other. "I don't know, they probably don't care I'm not with them right now."

You could feel Rafe's eyes burning a hole in your face, his lack of insults to throw at your friends making you uncomfortable. Anything was better than silence when it came to Rafe. Silence meant he was thinking and you almost always never liked what he was thinking of.

He stands up before holding his hand out, gesturing for you to take it. "Come on, let's get you something to drink. It'll cheer you up."

You immediately take his hand, standing up. "Don't need to convince me."

"None of that cheap shit you've been drinking. My dad has some expensive whiskey he keeps in his study." Rafe adds, climbing back through the window with you right behind him. He doesn't let go of your hand, even after you climb back inside.

Rafe leads you through the swarm of people in the hall, heading towards the second floor for his dad's office. He pushes a guy away from the door, unlocking it and holding it open for you to enter. You step across the threshold, glancing around Ward's office as Rafe shuts the door behind him.

You'd been in Ward's office a handful of times, most times with Sarah and one time with Ward himself when you had skinned your knee riding a bike and he bandaged it up. Being inside the warm-lit room with Rafe felt strange and slightly tense.

Plopping down on the big leather couch, you watch Rafe walk towards the desk, raiding his father's desk drawer until he finds the big bottle of GlenDronach. He grabs two glasses, sitting down beside you as he pours the amber liquid.

You scrunch your nose at the smell. "God, I can smell the hangover."

Rafe smirks, pouring too much into both of the glasses, capping the bottle back up. "Nah, if anything this will help you sleep. It goes down smooth."

You take the glass from Rafe, wincing at the strong musk of the whiskey before downing half the bottle like a shot, immediately coughing after swallowing it down. Rafe's brows furrowed as he watched you slam the half-filled glass down on the coffee table, exasperated. "That did not go down smooth."

"It's sipping whiskey, you don't drink it like a shot of vodka." the blond clarifies, judgment and confusion in his tone. "Who the hell takes a shot of whiskey?"

Glaring at him, you cough out the burning in your throat. "Get me a Sprite, motherfucker."

An amused smirk dances on his lips as he stands up and opens Ward's mini fridge, pulling out a cold can of Sprite. He opens it before handing it to you, sitting back down. "I just witnessed a crime."

You gurgle half the can, soothing your burning throat before glaring at him. "I don't like the taste of alcohol, I just drink it to get drunk. Besides, people who actually enjoy the taste are psychopaths."

"You never miss the chance to tell me I am," Rafe replies, grinning as he takes a more moderate sip of his whiskey. He makes an approving expression, swirling the liquid around the glass.

"You can have mine. I hate it." You push the glass in front of Rafe, leaning back on the couch. Rafe sipped his glass of single malt whiskey while you drank a can of Sprite. "Worse thing I've swallowed. And there's competition."

Rafe makes a face at that, shaking his head. "Please, no details of how the help was in your mouth."

Smacking his arm caused a drop of his whiskey to spill over the side. "Stop calling my friends the help, you snarky asshole."

The blond gives you a look, setting his glass back down on the table. "Maybank helped me carry my golf clubs at the club last week. I can't think of a better title for him. It's in the name."

You roll your eyes, downing the rest of your drink. Rafe could carry his own golf clubs so you knew he sought out JJ's help specifically to taunt and mock him. "If I get the lifeguard job, are you gonna start calling me the help?"

His eyes softened slightly, head tilting towards yours. "No, of course not. You're far better than anyone else, even if you decide to get an unnecessary job.”

"Even better than you?" you arch a brow, watching his lips quirk up in a genuine smile.

"Always," replies Rafe.

Heat pools in your stomach, the whiskey's delayed effect. You glance away from Rafe's sharp eyes. Clearing your throat, you shift on the couch, making yourself more comfortable. "It's not unnecessary, by the way. The job. It looks good on my transcripts."

"Hm, still going to Charleston?"

You shrug, staring at the insurmountably large portrait of Denmark Tanney in Ward's office. "I don't know. My parents want me to, and I'll get into it but I don't wanna be so close to home, you know?"

Rafe's brows furrowed, a frown tugging on his lips. "Where are you thinking?"

"Either New Orleans or London," you answer, pulling a laugh out of Rafe. "Yeah, a wide range of possibilities for me."

"You don't wanna go to Charleston?" questioned Rafe, his eyes never leaving yours. A look of displeasure passes his face. "It's not that close, seven hours."

You make a face, shaking your head. "Seven hours is too close for me.”

The blond scoffed, leaning forward to sip his whiskey.

A smirk tugged at your lips as you observed him. Teasingly, you ask. "What, you gonna miss me when I leave?"

"I thought it was obvious," Rafe replied, downing the rest of his glass. He shifts on the couch, placing his arms on top of it, giving you a sardonic grin. "I think Charleston is far enough."

Rolling your eyes for the millionth time that night, you lay your head back, sighing. "You can come visit me anytime. Just don't bring anyone. Especially not Topper or Kelce."

"Ah, I wouldn't wanna walk in on you and your victims." jokes Rafe, patting your thigh softly. "Wouldn't be the first."

You laugh, winking at him. "Maybe you'll be my next victim."

Rafe raises a brow, leaning back slightly as he stares at you. "Don't tease me, I have no self-control when it comes to you."

"Yes, I think that was clear when you sent Tom Schnitzel to the ER for trying to drug me," you reply, inhaling sharply at the memory. You were positive you still had Tom's blood stained onto the white top from that night. "Thanks for that, by the way. I don't think I properly thanked you for that."

Rafe waves it away with a hand, standing. "Don't worry about it. I needed to get it out that night, anyway. Come on, I have something to show you."

Curious, you follow Rafe out of the office, walking down the hall to his room. He opens the door, motioning for you to enter. Immediately, you plop down on his bed, laying out on the soft mattress as he closes the door behind him. You watch him walk towards his dresser, turning around with a small jewelry box, a bow sitting on the top.

"What's that for?" you ask, taking the box from Rafe, and inspecting it.

He sits on the edge of the bed, eyes watching you fiddle with the box. "Your birthday present."

"It's not for another month."

Rafe shrugs, grinning. "Consider it your early birthday present, then. Come on, open it."

Tilting your head, you lift the top from it, the diamond tennis bracelet sparkling as soon as the light hits it. You gasped softly, taking the bracelet from its mold, watching in fascination as the diamonds danced in the light.

"Holy shit, Rafe," you mutter, inspecting the bracelet. "What the fuck? How much was it?"

The blond chuckled, taking the bracelet and unlocking the hook. He gestured for you to put your wrist out. "Real diamonds. None of that lab-grown bullshit. Don't worry, the cost didn't even dent my account."

You give him a look, allowing him to put the bracelet on your wrist and shake it as soon as it's on. "I told you before that I don't want expensive gifts from my friends. Just my parents."

"I'd like to think I'm more than one of your obnoxious friends," replies Rafe, causing you to give him a look. He snickered, throwing his hands up in surrender. "Last time, I swear."

"Highly doubt that." you turn your attention back to the bracelet, smirking at how it looked against your skin. "Thank you, though. It's really pretty."

Rafe stares at you, blue eyes watching you admire his present. "Yeah, beautiful."

You glance up at him, cheeks flushed from the whiskey and drinks prior. Heat pools in your stomach as your eyes meet his. Clearing your throat, you tuck your hair behind your ear. "Best present I got this year."

He smirks, laying his head down on a pillow, watching as you mirror his movement. "Yeah? Do I get to be your favorite until I piss you off?"

"Of course. I give it five minutes." you tease, grinning when Rafe smacks you with a pillow softly. You dodge his second hit, rolling closer to him, your arm pressed against his. "I was kidding! You'll be my favorite forever."

"That's more like it," Rafe says, a satisfied grin slapped across his face.

You groan softly, rolling onto your side to face the blond, eyes closing. The party was still going on downstairs, the loud thumping of the music heard two stories up. Your mind briefly flickered to what was happening with JJ and Kiara until Rafe's fingers ghosted over your side.

"I swear to god if you're gonna tickle me, Cameron," you grumble, eyes still closed, feeling his fingers roam around until they hit your stomach.

Rafe chuckles quietly, fingers stroking the ribcage tattoo you had gotten with Sarah. "When did you get this?"

"A week ago." you giggle as he runs his fingers up, touching your neck. Your eyes snapped open and you immediately slap his hand away, your brand new bracelet swinging slightly from the movement. "Rafe. You know how ticklish I am."

"Sorry," he smirks, tone unapologetic. His hand drifts to your hips, fingers playing with your cutoff shorts. "Wouldn't want a repeat of the Jenga incident."

Your nose scrunches at that, remembering the night you spent at the ER. "It was an accident."

"Still sticking to that story?"

"You moved your head."

"You threw a glass at my head." Rafe corrected, a smile tugging the corner of his lips up.

Scowling at him, you shake your head. "No, I threw it at the wall behind you. You moved your head at the last second and had to get five stitches."

"If you weren't so fucking competitive ..." Rafe teases, trailing off.

You bite your tongue, letting the subject go with great difficulty, but managing to not bite back. Closing your eyes again, you let your muscles alleviate. "Hm. Whatever."

You both lay in silence for a few minutes, the alcohol in your system and Rafe's soft bed allowing you to relax despite the loud music creeping through the walls. Despite feeling his eyes on you, you felt your body intense, the bed cradling you.

Rafe's hand drifts slowly up your hip, fingertips softly brushing against the sliver of bare stomach before slipping slightly under the hem of your top. Your eyes flutter up at the movement, watching as his thumb draws circles on your skin.

Goosebumps arise, and you suddenly realize how close he is, not even a foot away. His eyes flickered to your lips, his tongue peeking out to wetten his own. Your breath gets caught in your throat, his face somehow closer now.

Maybe it was the alcohol you've consumed trying to forget your own despair or an excuse to get your mind off JJ and Kiara, but you watched as Rafe brought his lips to yours, not pulling back when the taste of whiskey invades your mouth.

A hand caressing your cheek, Rafe rolled over on top of you, his elbows holding up his weight as he kissed you. His tongue sought entry to your mouth, biting your bottom lip. You gasped slightly at the feel, allowing him to deepen the kiss. You melt into his touch, your lips parting slightly as Rafe's tongue sweeps in.

Rafe breaks the kiss, trailing his lips down your neck, leaving a string of soft kisses along your collarbone. Tilting your head back, you give him better access, running your hands through his hair, a soft content sigh escaping your lips.

He nips at your collarbones before sucking a mark into your skin, just right above your breast causing you to mewl at the touch, your hands drifting to his shoulders, freshly manicured nails digging into his skin. You meet his eyes, his ocean blues now darkened like the water during a storm.

Something comes over your body, seeing Rafe in a new light. Suddenly needy and impatient, your hands tugged at the hem of Rafe's black polo, pleading silently for him to take it off. Taking your hint, he sits up, taking it off in one swift move, tossing it on the floor.

You'd never admit it, not even to Rafe–especially to Rafe, but you'd always loved his abs. The definition of the, so toned, tanned, and delectable. He may have been your friend, but you weren't blind to his looks, and definitely how his abs looked when he flexed them.

As your fingers traced the defined line down his stomach, Rafe's hands slid under your top until the tips of his fingers met the fabric of your bikini top. Needing more, a lot more, you sit up, ridding yourself of the offensive clothing. You heard Rafe groan, pushing you back onto the bed, eyes roaming the sight of the hot pink bikini top you still wore, the top so little it was hardly covering your nipples.

"So fucking beautiful," he murmured, reaching out and pulling off the top quickly, the thin string breaking at the force, your tits spilling out. You gasped, nipples hardening in the cold air. Rafe groaned at the sight, hands cupping your breasts, his breath hitting your nipples. "Fucking incredible."

You arched your back, moaning softly as his tongue wettens a nipple before taking it into his mouth. His teeth nibble it, sucking and teasing the hard bud while his fingers play with the other, rolling it between his fingers. Rafe pinches it gently, looking up at you with a smirk when you mewl.

Running your hands over Rafe's back, you feel the warmth and firmness of his muscles, wetness pooling at the thought of kissing every single inch of his torso. Before he could take the other nipple into his mouth, you pull his lips back to yours, wrapping an arm around his neck as a hand runs down his back, nails scratching his spine.

Rafe's hand moves down your sides, fingers playing with the button of your shorts. Pulling back from the kiss, he unbuttoned your shorts, slowly–and agonizingly–sliding them off. The cutoffs pile onto his shirt on the floor.

You know Rafe's experienced, so are you, but you swore he almost looked nervous as he stared down at you, his hands slightly shaky as he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your matching pink thong. Those join the discarded clothing on his bedroom floor.

He looks like a man starved as his eyes focus on your bare cunt, hungry and almost animalistic as he leans closer to your glistening pussy, nose nearly touching the clit. "You're already so wet."

Instinctively, you spread your legs wider, hands grasping the sheets as his finger leisurely dips into your wet pussy, your lips parting slightly. His thumb touches your clit, rubbing it gently. You groan, hips bucking at the feel, needing more. "Fuck."

Rafe smirks, pushing a finger into your cunt, watching as your face contorted in pleasure. He adds a second before you could come down from the small high. "Look at you, so needy and desperate."

Before you could think of a retort, he leans down to replace his thumb with his tongue, licking and sucking at your clit as his fingers continue to thrust inside you, gaining speed. The sight of Rafe's head between your legs, his tongue flicking your clit was so erotic, the vision enough for you to get wetter. You throw your head back, your fingers tangling in Rafe's hair as you pull his head closer to your dripping pussy, a moan filling the room.

His fingers hit that spot inside you, causing a surprise whimper from your lips to escape. Rafe pauses, glancing up at you, pride in his eyes before he doubles his efforts, his fingers curling to reach that spot. He sucks your clit, nibbling it when you tug his hair.

"Rafe," you moan, arching your back. You push his head deeper between your thighs, pussy clenching around his fingers, so close to falling off. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"That's right, say my fucking name when you cum on my fingers," Rafe grunted, his fingers plunging in and out of your soaking wet cunt. He licks your clit, staring up as you come closer.

A dripping mess, you buck your hips up as Rafe continues his relentless actions on your pussy, moans of pleasure filling the room. His free hand moves up your torso, cupping your breast before rolling your nipples between his fingers.

You lose it when he pinches it harshly, moaning loudly as you come undone, pussy clenching around his fingers, throbbing. You whimper out his name, your hand gripping his hair. "Fuck!"

Rafe laps it all up, replacing his fingers with his tongue, hands holding your legs open as you attempt to close them, your clit sensitive. He runs his tongue along your pussy, lapping up your juices, groaning at the taste, unable to pull himself away.

He licks his lips, staring possessively at your cunt before looking up at you with a proud smile. "You taste so fucking good."

He then proves it to you, lips meeting yours in a kiss. You taste yourself on him as you kiss him back, lips moving against each other. As you come down from the high, you roll him over, straddling his torso. You move your lips to his neck, marking it until you kiss down his chest. Meeting his eyes, you run your tongue down his abs, kissing every individual one.

You move to straddle his legs, quickly unbuttoning his pants, much opposite of his agonizingly slow approach. Rafe lifts his hips, helping you take off his jeans, sitting up to pull you in for another kiss. Giggling, you push him back onto the bed, your fingers sliding underneath the band of his boxers.

You bite your lip as you take out his cock, your hand wrapping around it immediately. The size of it made your mouth water, licking your lips in anticipation as you stroked it slowly causing Rafe to groan. With an approving hum, you lick the tip, meeting Rafe's hungry gaze.

Smirking, you run your tongue along the length of it, pulling back when Rafe bucks his hips up, glaring at you for teasing him. Chuckling, you decide to end the shortlived torture, taking his cock into your mouth, your warm, wet lips wrapping around his cock.

He groans, fingers pulling at your hair, guiding your movements, and urging you to take more of him. The sight of your soft, pink lips wrapped around his cock was something he'd never forget. "That's it, baby. Suck my dick like a good slut."

You felt your pussy clench at his words, growing wetter as you suck him off, eagerly bobbing your head up and down his dick. Pre-cum drips onto your tongue and you savor the taste, moaning around his cock, Rafe grunting at the feel of the vibrations.

Not wanting him to cum down your throat, you stop, slapping his cock on your tongue, smiling innocently when he narrows his eyes at you. He looked so hot staring down at you, chest heaving as he panted lightly, his knuckles white as he tried to restrain himself. His cock bobbed up as if begging for attention.

Shifting, you move up his body until your pussy is inches from Rafe's cock. You tap your clit with his cock, whimpering quietly, your clit still sensitive. Rafe's hands drift to your hips and you smack them away, giving him a smile as you rub your cunt against his dick, wanting to tease him just a little bit more.

He grits out your name, hands by his sides as he clenches them into a fist. "Stop teasing.”

"Or what?" you arch a brow, smirking as you let the head of his cock slip into your wet cunt. Temporarily speechless, Rafe lets out a guttural groan as you sink down unhurriedly, watching as your pussy wraps around his cock until he bottoms out. The size of his cock stretches you out, your walls fluttering around him as you rock slowly. "Holy shit."

"Jesus Christ." Rafe growls, his hands cupping your tits as you begin to bounce on his dick. He squeezes them, watching as your pussy swallows his cock like a vice. "So tight. Made just for me."

You moan at his words, leaning back and placing your hands on his thigh, giving him a view men would kill for. You ride his cock, throwing your head back at the feel of his cock stretching you out. Rafe reaches down, slapping your ass as you ride him, and you mewl at the gentle pain. "Rafe."

Rafe's thumb touches your clit, rubbing it as he watches you ride his cock, his lips parted slightly like he is seeing one of the seven wonders of the world. His eyes dart between his cock sliding in and out of your cunt and your face contorts with pleasure, moaning every time you slide down his cock.

"Fucking gorgeous." Rafe whispers, thrusting up into you, his pupils dilated when you whimper loudly. He sits up, his hands gripping your waist, moving his face in front of your bouncing tits, taking a nipple into his mouth, swirling it with his tongue. "So much better than I imagined, baby."

You place your hands on his shoulders, pussy clenching around his cock. You moan into his ear, kissing his neck as he thrusts up into you, your legs trembling as you draw closer to cumming. "Rafe, I'm gonna cum."

The words cause him to double his efforts, gripping your waist so tight it would leave bruises, his cock filling you up as he fucks you fast. His lips drag across your neck, leaving a mark as his cock brushes against your cervix. "Cum for me. Cum all over my cock like a fucking slut."

You cry out as you come, your cunt tightening around his cock. You bite Rafe's shoulder, muffling your ungodly loud moan. "Fuck, fuck!”

He pulls you back in for a kiss, spilling his seed into your awaiting pussy. Rafe slows to a stop, groaning against your lips, his cock nuzzled deep inside you. Rolling you on your back, he doesn't separate from you, keeping his dick warm as he kisses you languidly. Taking a breath, he breaks the kiss, staring down at you, a small smile gracing his lips. "You alright, sweetheart?"

Tired and content, you return his smile, pussy throbbing around his softening cock. You nod, eyes heavy. "Yeah, you?"

Rafe chuckles quietly. "Yeah, me too."

As your eyes drift close, you feel Rafe press a kiss to your forehead.

[nevernonline]

✧.* how to lose the girl; xmh

synopsis: minghao was feeling tired of shallow relationships. his friends, noticing his frustration, challenge him to pursue a girl and then push her away within ten days. intrigued by the idea, he reluctantly accepts the bet as a fun challenge.

part of my ninety minute movies one shot series. ♡︎

paring/s: afab reader x non-idol hao.

genre/s: humor (sort of lmao), low-key fuckboy hao

warning/s: alcohol consumption, some bad jokes, nothing too bad or seggsy

word count: 10.3k

content: all the vibes of how to lose a guy in ten days but nawt. enjoy xo!

Day 1 - The Bet

In the lively heart of the city, Minghao, was out flaunting his charming looks and a playful grin, typically on his much too expensive and lavish work lunches which gave him and the rest of his colleges an excuse to pick up a bunch of beautiful women to take home every night, a lot of them falling hard for him no matter how poorly he left them hanging the morning after. But lately, he noticed how he always found himself drowning in a sea of shallow connections, and it was starting to wear on him.

Sensing his distress, his friends hatched an interesting plan to inject some excitement into his love life: they dared him to make a girl fall for him and then push her away in just ten days! “No way in fucking hell could he pull this off, he’ll get bored by day four.” jeered one friend, gleefully rubbing his hands together. With a mix of reluctance and curiosity bubbling inside him, Minghao accepted, eager to see how fast he could make a girl sprint for the exit.

Across town, y/n was navigating her own challenges. She was as her friends described a fierce, independent powerhouse who was on a mission to conquer the advertising world and prove to her office overrun by male colleagues that she meant business. Relationships? She just viewed them for what they were distractions in her quest for success—something she simply couldn’t afford. With her sights set on her career, she was about to discover just how unpredictable life and love could be when the most unexpected challenges came knocking. 

Day 2 - The Meeting

Minghao first spotted Y/n at a coffee shop, her eyes glued to her laptop as she furiously typed, rather loudly should he add. He decided she would be the perfect target. Something about her tight lipped focused face, her hair perfectly slicked into a ponytail, not a hair out of place, something about her felt more like a challenge than a perfect sweep for his bet. 

He approached her with his trademark smile, confident and carefree. “Is this seat taken?” he asked, gesturing toward the empty chair across from her. y/n looked up, a mix of annoyance and intrigue in her gaze. 

“Actually, yes,I don’t care to do my work around a fuck boy flirting with me, my office has enough of those. Have a good day.” she replied bluntly, not ready to be derailed from her work.

Minghao, undeterred by her obvious dismissal, sat down anyway. “I’m Minghao,” he introduced himself. “And I think you owe me a chance to change your mind.”

She raised an eyebrow, still looking down at her computer, typing a bit less loud now, almost as if she was intrigued and didn’t want him to know but the scowl on her face said she was still skeptical. “Oh, really? And how do you plan to do that?”

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he leaned in closer. “Let’s just say I have a few tricks up my sleeve,” he replied playfully. “But first, you’ll have to let me take you on a perfect first date.”

Y/n almost chuckled at his audacity, but there was an undeniable spark of intrigue in her gaze. Little did she know, mingling with Minghao was about to shake up her life. 

“Fine. If that will get you to leave me alone while I work, I’ll agree.” 

“I’m not leaving here until I get your contact information,” Minghao laughed. 

Rolling her eyes, Y/n dug through her wallet, searching for a business card. “Here,” she said, finally pulling one out and extending it towards him.

But Minghao just held his hand up in a stop-motion gesture, shaking his head. “No, not a business card. I need to know you’ll actually show up, so let me have your personal phone number instead.”

Y/n stared at him, incredulity mixing with a lingering smile. “Oh, so bold. And what makes you think I will?”

“Because,” he leaned closer, his expression earnest now, “I have a feeling that once you get to know me, you won’t want to miss out. Plus, if I leave with a business card, how will I ever convince you to let me take you on that perfect date?”

Her skepticism flickered for a second under the brightness of his confidence, but she still hesitated. “You really think you can convince me?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, his tone teasing yet sincere. “And if I fail, I promise I’ll leave you alone forever. Deal?”

For a moment, Y/n pondered the spontaneity of his request, weighing the pros and cons. Finally, a grin broke free on her lips as she typed her number into his phone, the anticipation of the unknown sparking excitement within her. “Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she said, handing back the phone with a hint of warning in her tone.

Minghao's eyes lit up with genuine delight as he saved her contact. “You won’t regret this,” he promised, his voice softening a touch.

As he returned the phone to her, Y/n couldn’t help but feel a flutter of uncertainty mixed with exhilaration. Perhaps there was something to this spontaneous gamble after all. Little did they know, that simple decision would pave the way for an unforgettable connection and adventures neither had anticipated.

Day 3 - The Chase

Over the days that followed, Minghao played his part, showering her with attention that ranged from over-the-top romantic gestures to quirky surprises. He brought her favorite pastries to the office, sent her memes that made her laugh, and even bombarded her with cheesy pick-up lines. Each time, Y/n found herself torn between annoyance and amusement.

At first, she had tried to brush him off, responding to his texts with one-word replies or simply ignoring his more audacious attempts to brighten her day. However, Minghao persisted, his cheerful determination almost unwavering. One afternoon, she returned from a long meeting to find her desk decorated with colorful sticky notes adorned with doodles and handwritten compliments. “You’re the best part of my day,” one note claimed, and despite her initial irritation, a small smile tugged at her lips.

Minghao was relentless, his charm starting to break down her walls. She had to admit there was something about him—he was refreshingly carefree, unlike the uptight guys she usually dated. While others might have tried to impress her with their accomplishments or flashy gifts, Minghao found ways to make her laugh, embracing a lightheartedness that was both refreshing and frightening. But Y/n was determined to keep him at arm's length; she had a career to focus on.

Still, the more time they spent chatting, the more she found herself looking forward to his texts. Each meme and quirky voice note felt less like an intrusion and more like a highlight of her day. One evening, after a particularly grueling week, she found herself daydreaming about a potential picnic under the stars, something Minghao had suggested a few days prior.

“No, no,” she chastised herself, shaking her head as she turned her attention to her laptop. “Stay focused.” 

Yet, every time she tried to immerse herself in her work, her mind would inevitably wander back to him. The way he laughed, the warmth in his gaze, even the way he playfully challenged her every now and then—there was an undeniable pull that made it hard to ignore him.

On a particularly busy Friday, while sipping her coffee and reviewing a presentation, she felt her phone vibrate on the desk. A message appeared: “Hey, just thought you might want to know that your favorite pastry is waiting at the corner café. No obligations. Just a little pick-me-up to start your weekend. 😊”

Y/n's heart softened, a flutter of appreciation sweeping through her. “Okay, this is getting ridiculous,” she muttered to herself, trying to suppress the smile creeping onto her face. Maybe she could allow herself a moment of distraction.

She quickly glanced at the time and the empty office around her, nobody here really worked on the weekends aside from herself so she decided to take a break just this once. With a random jolt of excitement, she stood up, brushed aside her work-related thoughts, and headed to the café. She spotted him sitting comfortably at a small table, a bright smile illuminating his face. Before she could even say a word, he raised a pastry in greeting, “I didn’t know if you liked it warm or cold, so I got one of each, just to be safe!”

Her laughter bubbled out despite herself. “You really didn’t have to do this.”

“But I did, you mentioned to me the other day you never have fun on the weekends anymore because you're busy working, ” Minghao countered, setting the pastries down and leaning back in his chair. “Life's too short not to indulge in the little things. Besides, you're worth it.”

His words stirred something in her, something she had kept buried under layers of practicality. A mix of anxiety and excitement danced in her chest as they shared bits of pastry and stories, laughter weaving between them effortlessly. And for the first time in what felt like ages, Y/n considered that perhaps life wasn’t just about hard work and career goals—it could also be about spontaneous moments and unexpected connections.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting warm hues of orange and pink across the café, Y/n let herself enjoy the moment, her defenses slowly crumbling, piece by piece. “Want to go for a drink? Unless you have plans or something?” 

“You’re asking me out? Wow, Y/n, I’m pleasantly surprised. I’d actually enjoy that. Big boss lady is paying, right?” Minghao pressed, a cheeky grin spreading across his face.

Y/n rolled her eyes, but a laugh escaped her lips. “Very funny. I should have known you’d want to make this about money,” she teased, her heart racing slightly at the thought of stepping into the realm of casual dating.

“I’m kidding. But you know I’d never let you cover the whole tab, right?” he replied, his voice playful yet sincere. “How about we split it? One thing I’ve learned is that relationships, friendships or otherwise, are all about balance.” 

“That sounds fair but please let me get it actually I feel a little bad about you always paying anyway. Plus, I asked you. That's how it works right?,” she agreed, her spirit lifted by his lightheartedness. “Where do you want to go?” 

“I know this cozy little bar just around the corner. They have some cool drinks and the vibes are good,” he suggested, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “Plus, I’ve heard they serve a mean nacho platter.”

“Nachos and drinks sound perfect. Wow- I hate that I actually got excited by a fucking macho platter, but okay.” she replied, feeling a surge of excitement and momentary embarrassment over some fucking chips with cheese. She was surprised at how nervous yet invigorated she felt. 

As they walked to the bar, the warm evening air enveloped them like a casual embrace. With every step beside him, Y/n felt the weight of her daily grind lift. “So, what’s your go-to cocktail?” she asked, surprisingly eager to keep the chatter flowing.

“I’d say I’m a classic and simple beer or wine dude, but I’m always game for something a bit off the beaten path. You?” 

“Dirty martini,” she answered, a proud smile crossing her face. “Simple but sophisticated.” 

“Ah, the big boss lady indeed. But the real question is gin or vodka?” He winked, and for a moment, she felt herself blush, something she hadn’t experienced in ages. 

“Vodka, but shut you fucking mouth and don’t tell any martini enthusiasts. Extra dry, extra dirty.” 

“Not extra wet and extra dirty?” 

Y/n nearly choked on her own spit, watching his face crinkle into a big smile before they erupted into laughter. 

They snagged a small table tucked away in a corner, perfect for engaging in their own little world. 

After placing their orders, conversations flowed as smoothly as the drinks. Minghao effortlessly switched between sharing amusing anecdotes about his life and asking Y/n about hers, genuinely interested in her career aspirations and what fueled her passions. With every laugh they exchanged and each shared story, Y/n found herself relaxing more, drawn into his effortless charm. 

“Alright, I need the truth,” Minghao said, leaning in as if about to share a juicy secret. “What’s your biggest guilty pleasure?” 

Y/n took a moment, contemplating her answer before finally admitting, “Reality TV. It’s a little bit shameful, I know, but there’s something about the drama that I can’t resist.” 

Minghao laughed heartily, the sound filling her with warmth. “No shame in that. I actually can’t lie and say I don’t enjoy watching Love Island. I’m more of a cooking show fan, to be honest. Nothing quite like watching people fail spectacularly while I sit there eating takeout as if I can cook this shit myself.”

“Okay, we’re definitely going to have a night where I introduce you to some of the best reality stars of all time, where you will sit and not fucking complain. And since I can cook, I will go hell's kitchen style on the stove. ” she declared, a playful challenge glimmering in her eyes. 

“Hey, look I’m game, but only if you let me judge your cooking like I’m the god himself Ramsay.” he exclaimed, his excitement unmistakable. “Just let me know when. I’ll bring the snacks and the commentary.”

As the evening progressed, they shared stories about childhood memories, dreams, and the quirks that made them who they were. With each revelation, Y/n felt a deeper connection forming, an understanding that perhaps taking a little time away from work wouldn’t derail her ambitions after all. 

Maybe it was time to let a little chaos in, she thought, as their conversation twisted and turned down unexpected paths, igniting sparks of joy she hadn’t anticipated, making her question everything she thought she knew about herself and about love.

Minghao got the vibe that his little plan for making Y/n fall for him could potentially end up with him feeling the same way, but not yet. He pushed that feeling deep down inside his gut, almost like he could hide it from everyone, including himself. His heart raced with excitement, but mingled with a twinge of anxiety. He didn’t want to rush things or scare her off with his burgeoning feelings. Just because she was opening up didn’t mean she was ready for more, and he wanted to tread carefully even if it was just to fuck around for a bet with his friends. 

“So, Y/n, since you’re not working tomorrow, want to come hang out at my place for a bit? Have a nightcap? Maybe watch a movie or something?” Minghao questioned, his voice casual, but the flicker of anticipation in his eyes betrayed him.

Y/n hesitated for a moment, the prospect of going to his place stirring a mix of excitement and nerves within her. She knew this was a step beyond their playful banter, a leap into a territory where she would need to confront what she was feeling. But the words “why not?” danced on the tip of her tongue. 

“Sure, I’d love that,” she replied, a hint of eagerness surprising even herself. “But fair warning, if we’re watching a movie, it has to be a good one. Nothing corny please.”

“Oh come on, you seem like you’d love a good rom-com, I can tell.” Minghao laughed, and she found herself laughing along, the playful banter feeling natural and comforting.

As they bickered back and forth about their movie preferences, Y/n felt a flutter of excitement at the thought of spending more time with him. Maybe this was the chaos she needed in her life—this lighthearted connection that sparked something new and exhilarating.

“I know just the film to break your resistance,” Minghao declared, raising an eyebrow mischievously. “Prepare yourself for a classic, then. I think you’ll love it, it’s one of my favorites.” 

“Alright, I’ll take your word for it. But if it’s as terrible as I imagine, you owe me.” Y/n countered playfully, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. 

“Deal.” he shot back with a cheeky grin, and the two clinked their glasses together in agreement, the camaraderie between them solidifying.

As they finished their drinks and shared a few more laughs, Y/n couldn’t shake off the feeling that this was just the beginning—like an entrance into a world she had pushed away for too long, forever maybe.. And Minghao, with his undeniable charm and knack for fun, was animating a side of her she had almost forgotten existed.

After wrapping up the evening at the bar, they stepped back into the cool night air. The streets were softly illuminated, the stars twinkling overhead, creating an atmosphere that was very special. As they walked side by side toward Minghao's apartment, the distance felt comfortable, but somehow charged with an undercurrent of anticipation.

“Y/n,” Minghao said, breaking the gentle silence, “I know we’ve only just started hanging out, but I just want to make sure you feel okay about this. I mean, about coming over.” He glanced at her, his expression earnest. “No pressure at all—I just genuinely enjoy your company.I’m not trying to be a player or whatever you assumed I was when we first met.”

His sincerity made her heart flutter. “I’m glad you said that, but it was fuck boy and you maybe have proved yourself beyond that title. I enjoy this too, and I think it’ll be fun to hang out more and get to know you. Just…uh, promise you wont judge me too harshly if I end up hogging the blanket during the movie or talking with popcorn in my mouth or something.” 

“Fair warning accepted,” he replied, a teasing gleam in his eye. “I might have to initiate a blanket-sharing strategy, I think we can make it work.” 

They both laughed, the playful energy crackling between them as they approached his building. Maybe she could allow herself to embrace this unexpected chaos, to explore a connection without overthinking it for once. And who knows? Perhaps Minghao wouldn’t just be a passing ship but a delightful step into a new chapter of her life. 

As they stepped into his cozy apartment, Y/n tucked that thought away for later, intent on simply enjoying the moment—and the thrill of where it might lead them.

Minghao took her coat off her shoulders, hanging it on the small black hooks by his front door. Sliding his own off gently placing them side by side. Instructing her where to place her shoes and bag on the marble entry table donning photos of his friends and family. 

“Your apartment is really cute, I can tell you like living here. It has a warm feel to it.” 

“Yeah, I do,” Minghao smiled taking in a whiff of his tobacco scented room spray, and grabbing y/n’s hand to lead her into his living room, taking a brief stop at his bar cart and grabbing a bottle of wine, while handing her two glasses to carry in her empty hand. 

The aroma of the wine filled the space as he poured their glasses, the deep crimson liquid swirling beautifully.

Minghao grinned, taking a sip of his own before handing one of the glasses over to her. Their fingers brushed for a moment, sending a spark of electricity that made her smile shyly. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll grab the remote.”

Y/n settled onto the couch, sinking into the overly plush cushions. She took a moment to look around, noting the way the soft lighting cast a warm glow over the walls adorned with art—pieces that seemed to reflect Minghao’s adventurous spirit, each one telling a story.

When he returned, remote in hand, he plopped down beside her, his warmth radiating through her as he casually leaned back, scrolling through his streaming options. “Alright, let’s see what we have here. Brace yourself for my fucking unmatched taste in cinema,” he teased, glancing at her with a twinkle in his eye.

“Give me all that you got, I’m ready,” she replied with playful confidence, leaning into the moment.

With a few flicks of the remote, they settled on a classic action-comedy. The opening credits rolled as they adjusted their seats, finding a naturally comfortable closeness. The shared space between them began to feel charged with anticipation. 

As the film began, they laughed together at the antics on screen, occasionally glancing at each other, enjoying the laughter as a bridge between their hearts. Every shared chuckle seemed to layer on the connection that was forming, an unspoken understanding lacing the air around them.

“Minghao, I, uh have got to admit, this isn’t what I expected tonight,” Y/n said during a quiet moment, her eyes sparkling. “But I’m really glad it worked out and that I met you.”

“Yeah? Really? Me too,” he replied, his gaze softening as he turned to her. “I’ve wanted to hang out like this for a while. I wasn’t sure if you’d feel the same, but I’m glad we did. I’m glad I forced you to give me your phone number that day.” 

Y/n felt a warmth spread through her chest at his honesty. She had been guarded for so long, and here was Minghao, effortlessly peeling away at her layers with every shared moment.

As the movie progressed, he reached for the popcorn bowl perched on the coffee table, offering it to her. Their fingers brushed again, igniting an electric thrill that danced between them. The film faded into the background as Y/n found herself getting lost in the depths of his gaze.

“Okay, I’ll admit,” she began, leaning in slightly, “your blanket-sharing strategy may be your ultimate plan to seduce me. I see you.”

Minghao chuckled, taking her playful jab in stride. “Guilty as charged. What can I say? Who could resist a cozy blanket and beautiful company?” He pulled the soft throw from behind the couch, draping it over their laps.

As he settled back beside her, their shoulders nudged together under the blanket, his hand wrapped around her thigh and Y/n felt her heart race. There was an undeniable chemistry in the air, palpable like the fragrance of the wine swirling around them. 

Without thinking too much about it, she rested her head on his shoulder, throwing her hair back to reveal her neck—not as a move, just a way to make herself more comfortable. As she leaned in, she caught the subtle scent of Minghao’s cologne, warm and inviting, and felt the gentle rise and fall of his shoulder beneath her cheek. It was a small gesture, yet it felt so natural, almost like an instinctive draw to his warmth.

Minghao looked down at her with a side eye, surprised at how effortlessly they had crossed this invisible line. He couldn’t help but notice how soft her skin looked under the low light and the way her eyes widened with joy as she laughed at the antics on the screen. Her laughter was contagious, reverberating through him and making his heart race a little faster, a little louder in the calm of the room.

Suddenly, Minghao felt an unfamiliar pang of anxiety creep into his chest. The bet had seemed innocent—a way to explore the chemistry simmering between them—but now it felt like a threaded line tugging at him in different directions. Maybe the bet was a bad idea after all, because now he felt himself falling for someone without knowing what could come next, just like that. It was as if he had opened a door to an inevitable chaos while still trying to remain in control.

Yet every time she shifted slightly against him, every laugh that slipped from her lips, deepened the connection he felt. He had initially thought he’d be the one charming her, the one doing the chasing, but here they were, and Y/n’s mere presence had knocked him off his feet. It startled him, this flicker of vulnerability—that maybe he wasn’t just playing a game; he was investing real emotions.

“You okay?” Y/n murmured, tilting her head up to meet his gaze, her brow slightly furrowed as she noticed the contemplative look on his face.

He quickly masked his thoughts with an easygoing smile. “Yeah, just caught up in the movie,” he replied, trying to divert her attention. “The action scenes are really intense, right?”

Though she seemed to accept his diversion with a playful nod, he could see the hint of curiosity lingering in her eyes, a flash that told him she sensed something in the air between them. A moment of silence stretched between them like a tightly pulled string, neither of them willing to break it. Instead, they allowed the movie to fill the space, as he leaned down and planted a soft kiss against her lips. Something subtle and quick that was just perfect for the moment and wouldn’t derail the nice night they were sharing, he wasn’t ready for that yet. 

As the film progressed, Y/n shifted again, curling her body towards him slightly as a particularly funny scene played out, her laughter bubbling forth. It was that unfiltered joy he found intoxicating—a refreshing reminder that life could be this light, this fun, and maybe even a little crazy.

Day 4 - The Competition

During a group outing with friends, Minghao decided to reveal the second phase of his plan: he started being annoyingly competitive. “Let’s have a game night.” he declared, his voice ringing with enthusiasm as he rallied everyone around him. "I challenge you all to a series of ridiculous contests, from karaoke battles to board games. Losers buy the drinks." There was a mixture of excitement and groans from the group, but Minghao was unfazed. He thrived in this atmosphere, eager to galvanize Y/n into joining him in the chaos.

Y/n, who he knew hated losing, found herself reluctantly swept up in the energy of the night. A glimmer of excitement sparked in her eyes, even as she partnered with Minghao, who pretended to be completely uninterested in the competition. She could see the mischievous glint behind his facade, his playfulness luring her in.

As they tackled their first karaoke challenge, Minghao grabbed the microphone. He belted out an off-key rendition of her favorite song, doing little to hide his comedic flair. “You're fucking terrible at this.” Y/n teased him, trying to contain the laughter that bubbled up at the sight of his unfiltered enthusiasm.

“Maybe I’m just trying to get you to help me improve,” Minghao shot back, his smile never wavering. He pointed the microphone at her cheekily, inviting her to join in. The playful energy between them was palpable, the laughter of their friends helped her gain confidence.

Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t quell the smile creeping onto her lips. “You know I fucking suck at singing, right?” she joked, hopping up on stage beside him. In a moment of spontaneity, she grabbed the microphone and took the lead, pouring her heart into the next part of the song, using her off-key notes as a comedic backdrop. Her confidence radiated, and soon the others joined in, clapping and singing along.

The laughter and energy of the room felt electric, and for a moment, the competition melted away, leaving only joy. The night continued with a series of board games and ridiculous challenges, each one causing Minghao to lean in closer to Y/n as they plotted ways to win. 

 “What’s your game plan?” he whispered to her, though the intensity of his smile hinted he was thoroughly enjoying the game itself more than he let on. The way his eyes sparkled made her heart race a little, stirring a thrill she hadn’t anticipated and in that moment all she wanted to do was wipe the smirk off his face with her lips.

“Honestly? I think our only plan is to distract the other teams with our charm,” Y/n replied, gesturing theatrically. “We’re clearly the most entertaining, so I kind of like it. It's a sweep.”

Minghao laughed, and the sound resonated in her chest. “Perfect strategy.” He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against hers as they whispered strategies into the fray of friendly competition raging around them.

As the night wore on, the playful banter and friendly sabotage culminated in a final showdown—an impromptu trivia contest that had everyone shouting questions at one another. “This one’s a gimme. Come on.” Minghao said, grinning ear to ear as he looked at Y/n. “I’ll let you take this one.”

She raised an eyebrow, half-surprised by his sudden willingness to let her answer. “Uh-huh, so this is your secret strategy—make me do all the work?” she said, nudging him playfully.

“Only the smart person's work,” Minghao shot back, laughter dancing in his voice as he leaned into her side. “And besides, I can’t afford another karaoke performance like that—I’m salvaging my reputation here.”

She smirked, appreciating the electric vibe still lingering in the air. “Fine, but you better promise to make up for it after this.”

Their competitive banter continued as the final questions rolled in. Y/n felt surprisingly exhilarated, and she realized that within the madness of the game night—amidst the silly antics and the thrill of competition—something deeper was taking root in her heart. Minghao, in all his competitive glory, was not just a friend; he was somebody who brought out a side in her she hadn’t even known existed.

Day 5 - The Realization

As time progressed, y/n found herself letting her guard down, enjoying Minghao’s company more than she intended. They shared late-night conversations, honest stories of their pasts, and hilarious anecdotes that made her laugh until she cried. But just as quickly as those feelings bloomed, fear crept in. Could she afford to get attached?

Both of them shied away from being honest with their feelings as a matter of protection from their pain in the past. 

Minghao especially realized how complicated the situation was. Could he really move forward with her without telling her the truth of why he asked her out in the first place? However, if he tells her the truth, he could lose her altogether. Each day that he hesitated felt like a weight pressing down on his chest, an unspoken tension hanging between them like the heavy clouds before a storm.

He recalled the tender moments they shared—the laughter, the stolen glances, the way her smile lit him up even when he felt like the weight of the world was on him. But lurking beneath those cherished memories was a foundation built on secrets and half-truths. He grappled with the fear that if he revealed the underlying reason for his affection, she might see him as just another guy in her life trying to throw her off her path, rather than someone who genuinely cared.

The truth was like a double-edged sword; it could liberate him or shatter the fragile bond they had formed. In those quiet moments, he could feel his heart wrestling with his mind—one part needing authenticity, while another begged for the safety of keeping his own secret. Was there a path that could lead them both to what they wanted rather than hurting them both?

He knew that eventually, he would have to choose a direction, but every path was filled with uncertainty. Perhaps, for now, he would focus on the little things—the warmth of her hand in his, the gentle way they navigated tough conversations. Yet, deep inside, he wondered how long they could remain strangers to their own truths. The clock was ticking, and each moment felt like an opportunity slipping away. 

Day 6 - The Plan Backfires

In an effort to push Y/n away to avoid hurting her, Minghao started purposely sending mixed signals. He ignored her texts, acted uninterested in their plans, and even pretended to be busy whenever she attempted to schedule time together. But to his surprise, Y/n didn’t waver. She matched his energy with playful banter and unwavering support, showing up outside his office with his favorite coffee just when he needed it—the same way he had done for her.

Each time she appeared, a smile lighting up her face, it reminded him of how deeply she understood him, and he knew his plan was backfiring. She took his teasing in stride, firing back with witty comebacks that reminded him of the vibrant connection they shared. He felt the walls he was trying to build between them start to crumble, intrigued and frustrated by the strength of her positive attitude. 

Why was he pushing her away when all she seemed to want was him? He could see the concern behind her laughter, the way her brow furrowed slightly when she caught him lost in thought, and it tore at his heart. Was this really the right way to protect her, or was he simply running from something that could be good for both of them?

On one particularly tough day, as he stared out the window, he caught a glimpse of her leaning against the wall, coffee in hand, waiting for him to take a moment to breathe. The sunlight caught her hair, giving her a glow that made her look like an angel in real life, and his chest tightened. She wasn't the kind of person to give up easily, and maybe that’s something he was drawn to. 

Instead of the irritation he anticipated feeling, Minghao began to appreciate her staying power. In that moment, he felt both grateful and terrified—grateful that she cared enough to stick around, and terrified that the longer he held back, the more he risked losing a part of himself he had forgotten even existed.

With each passing day, the facade he’d constructed started to feel less like protection and more like a prison. He saw how much she believed in him, not just as a friend, but as someone capable of finding happiness again. But as the walls crumbled beneath her unwavering kindness, he grappled with the realization that if he didn’t confront the truth soon, he might not just push her away, he might just lose her. Minghao knew he would have to decide soon to continue the charade or to find the courage to let her in. 

Day 7 - The Confession

One night, while they were taking a walk, the air was heavy with tension, and Minghao couldn’t take it anymore. “Why do you keep coming back? I’m clearly trying to push you away,” he blurted out, the words spilling out in a rush, tinged with frustration and desperation.

Y/n stopped, turning to face him, her expression suddenly serious for once. “Because, Minghao, I see something in you. I didn’t set out to fall for you, but I can’t help it. You starting to pull away is confusing me. What changed overnight that you can barely even look at me anymore?” Her tone was both challenging and vulnerable, a blend that cut through the discomfort hanging between them.

“It’s because—” Minghao swallowed hard, his heart racing as he looked into her eyes, feeling the weight of the truth pressing against his chest. He focused on her furrowed expression, “This was a bet, and I—”

“A bet?” Y/n’s voice rose, sharp almost like a knife diving into his chest. The surprised look on her face shifted rapidly from confusion to hurt, and it churned something deep within him. He was struck again by the disbelief in her eyes.

The silence between them was thick and suffocating. Minghao took a breath, searching for the right words, but they were lost on him. “I didn’t mean for it to happen this way,” he pressed on, his voice softer now. “We started out as a joke—something to distract myself. It was my friend's idea that I foolishly agreed to. And then… then you became real to me.” He paused, trying to convey the whirlwind of emotions swirling within him.

Y/n crossed her arms, visibly hurt, but her gaze didn't waver. “You mean to tell me that all this time, all those moments we had—that they were just part of some fucking game with your buddies?” Her voice trembled slightly.

“No. It may have started that way, but it turned into something much deeper,” he pleaded, desperate to convey his truth. “I didn’t plan to fall for you. I didn’t plan on feeling this way at all. But once I did, I didn’t know how to handle it. I thought pushing you away would protect you from the truth.”

Y/n shook her head, her expression a blend of frustration and heartbreak. “You think pushing me away protects me? Minghao, it only pushes me into uncertainty. If you had just told me from the start, I could have chosen to stay or walk away. But now, you’ve  just made everything ten times fucking worse.” 

Feeling increasingly guilty he stepped closer, trying to bridge the distance he had created. “I’m so sorry, Y/n. I should have been honest with you. I never wanted to hurt you. The fear of losing you, it…” he trailed off, unsure how to articulate his feelings.

Y/n took a deep breath, her demeanor softening just a fraction. “You need to make a choice, Minghao. Either let me in, all the way, or please let me go. I.. uh, can’t handle this right now. I’ll try to give you a call in a few days or maybe see you around.”

The weight of her words settled heavily in the air, and Minghao realized that it was time to confront not only the truth of their beginning but also the reality of what was blossoming between them. He had been running from the idea of vulnerability for so long, but now faced with Y/n’s determination, he found just enough strength within himself to start breaking down the walls he had built. As he watched her walk away from him not turning back around like he wished she would have, for once, Minghao felt the stirrings of hope amidst his fear.

Day 8 - A Challenge

With Minghao’s words hanging in the air, Y/n found herself re-evaluating her feelings. She had initially wanted to leave him there on the street as a part of her past, but the connection they shared was stronger than she had anticipated. Maybe, just maybe, she didn’t want it to end after all, but she wasn’t willing to let him get away with tricking her so easily.

She decided on her own plan—something to throw him off his game truly in her own style just to get back at him, but only all in good fun. It was time to show Minghao that she wasn’t someone to be underestimated.

Y/n had gotten in contact with one of Minghao's friends, a guy named Jisoo whom she had met during their karaoke competition. After a quick chat filled with enthusiasm and laughter, she proposed the idea of entering a “Battle of the Bands”-style karaoke show hosted by her workplace for charity. Jisoo was immediately on board and even rallied a few more of their friends to join in. But Y/n made one thing clear: they absolutely couldn’t let Minghao in on the secret. This was her chance to catch him off guard.

In the following weeks, his friends practiced relentlessly. Y/n wasn't just aiming to win at work; she wanted to create an unforgettable evening, one that would leave Minghao in pure shock. They practiced their songs, and even designed matching outfits for the event—a whimsically themed performance that would be impossible to forget.

Finally, the night of the charity show arrived. The venue was filled with colorful lights and the buzz of excitement as coworkers and friends gathered, taking their seats for what promised to be a lively night. Y/n donned a not necessarily work appropriate dress that reflected the playful spirit of her prank and maybe to catch someone's eyes.  She could already see Minghao mingling with some of his friends, his laughter filling the air, and she felt a mixture of nerves and anticipation flutter in her stomach.

As the show kicked off, the energy in the room was contagious. The first few acts were entertaining, but Y/n could barely focus. She was waiting for her moment to take the stage and introduce Minghao and the others who were waiting to humiliate their friend gathered backstage, the excitement was palpable. They could hear Minghao in the crowd, cheering loudly for the groups, and Y/n smiled to herself, knowing what was coming next.

When it was their turn to perform, Y/n’s heart raced. She walked onto the stage, focusing on the bright lights and the sea of faces staring back at her. She could spot Minghao in the crowd before she introduced him, watching his slightly puzzled but amused look on his face as he recognized members of his circle.

“How’s everyone doing tonight?” Y/n shouted into the microphone, and the crowd erupted in cheers, clinking their glasses and waving them in the air as the spotlight warmed her skin. 

“I have a special surprise for you all this evening!” The anticipation in the room built up in waves as she paused for effect. “You won’t believe what I’ve been up to. If you haven’t already heard, I recently met someone!” 

The crowd roared in excitement, whoops and claps echoing around the venue. 

“Shocking, right? You might have seen him around the office. Can we get a spotlight on him?” 

The beam of light swept through the crowd until it landed on Minghao, who looked around, momentarily startled. 

“Everyone, meet Minghao!” Y/n continued, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “We actually met at the coffee shop below the office. I was drowning in my mid-week project when he approached my table and asked me out on a date. I’ll admit, I was pretty hesitant at first. But he worked his charm on me.” 

She smiled warmly, letting reminiscence wash over her. “We ended up going out a few times after that, but just a few nights ago, he let me in on a little secret—it was all a bet set up by these guys right here!” 

Y/n dramatically pointed behind her at a group of men clad in glittery outfits, their faces a mix of embarrassment and amusement as they realized they’d been called out. Laughter erupted once again, and Minghao could only shake his head, a smirk on his lips as the crowd carried on, fully entertained by the unfolding story.

The laughter from the crowd soared, and Y/n could see Minghao’s face shifting from amusement to slight embarrassment when a man behind him yelled up to the stage. “A bet? Seriously?” he called out.

“Yes. You heard that right.” Y/n responded, leaning into the microphone as she theatrically rolled her eyes, embracing the absurdity of it all. “Turns out, my romantic escapades were all part of some grand scheme these guys made up.” 

The men behind her chuckled sheepishly, with one of them, a tall guy with a dazzling smile, shouting playfully, “In our defense, we thought it was a great idea. Including Minghao.”

“Oh, it definitely was,” Y/n replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Thanks for the great dates,you guys. I had no idea I was part of a reality show, I watch them enough you’d think I’d catch on.” She paused for comedic effect, letting the laughter settle before leaning closer to the audience, her tone more serious. “You know, honestly, Minghao surprised me in ways I never expected.”

She glanced over at Minghao, whose cheeks were slightly flushed under the spotlight but wore a sincere smile. “I was a bit hesitant at first, sure. But then we really connected. And who would have guessed that the guy who interrupted my focused day with a charming smile would become someone so special?”

Cheers erupted from the crowd again, and Y/n took a deep breath, enticing them with what was coming next. 

“And, since we’re being honest here,” she continued, teasingly leaning into her role as the narrator of this unfolding tale, “I feel like we need to make Minghao work just a little for his redemption. No?” The audience murmured in excitement.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’ve arranged a little surprise for him tonight,” Y/n said, gesturing to the side of the stage. “Minghao, my friend, you've got just one more challenge ahead of you.”

Out of nowhere, a karaoke microphone was handed to Minghao from his left side and the crowd erupted into cheers and laughter again. Minghao held it awkwardly, glancing at Y/n with a mix of uncertainty and delight. 

“What am I supposed to do with this?” he asked, genuinely confused but slightly intrigued. 

“You’re going to sing! Duh. Don’t be dumb,” Y/n declared, a mischievous smile dancing on her lips. “The audience deserves to see what they’re in for. Plus, it’s only fair after that little trick you pulled. You’re going to serenade us all.” 

Minghao let out a laugh, his initial shock transforming into acceptance. The crowd erupted once again, chanting, “Minghao! Minghao!” 

Feeling the energy in the room, Minghao stepped forward, climbing up the stairs with a new light in his eyes. “Alright then, I guess I have no choice but to give the audience what they want!” He took a deep breath and gazed at Y/n one last time before launching into a fun, upbeat song that brought everyone to their feet.

As he sang, Y/n couldn’t help but feel a rush of  affection. Despite the insane circumstances that brought them together, there was something genuine unfolding between them, amplified by the shared laughter and excitement of the evening. 

With each note, Minghao seemed to shed any lingering nerves, pouring his heart out into the music. The audience was enthralled, dancing and singing along, swept up in the joy of the moment. Y/n found herself cheering louder than anyone else, her laughter mingling with his infectious energy.

And maybe, just maybe, she thought as she watched him shine on stage, this night was the perfect reminder that sometimes the best stories come from the unexpected. It wasn’t just about the twists and turns of their initial meeting; it was about the connections forged when they embraced things together. As Minghao finished with a flourish, the crowd erupted into applause, and Y/n couldn't help but wonder how many more surprises awaited them on this journey.

Day 9 - A Change of Heart

Determined to make a last-ditch effort to win her back, Minghao doubled down on his resolve. He sent her a series of texts brimming with encouragement, recounting the fun they’d had the night before. “I never imagined I’d be up on stage like that, but it was totally worth it,” he wrote, his fingers flying across the screen. “You have this incredible way of bringing out the best and most ridiculous in people. I genuinely had a good time, especially seeing those fuckers in glitter pants.” 

He poured his heart into his messages, sharing how her laughter had ignited a spark within him, and how getting to know her was quickly becoming the highlight of his life. “You made me feel brave, even while I was totally making a fool of myself,” he typed with a grin, imagining her laughter echoing in his ears. “And honestly, I wouldn’t change a thing about it. You’re amazing, Y/n.”

As the hours passed without a response, doubts started to creep into his mind. Had he gone too far with the whole bet thing? Would she take his lighthearted texts as desperation? But he couldn’t shake the feeling of knowing there was something real between them.. So, he gathered his courage and decided to call. 

When Y/n picked up the phone, her voice sounded bright but cautious. “Hey, Minghao. What’s up?”

“Y/n, Hi I don’t know if you saw my texts, you’re probably busy, but I just wanted to check in after last night,” he replied, his heart racing. “I hope you’re still not too mad at me for the bet thing. I promise I didn’t mean for it to be a setup. I actually really enjoyed being with you."

There was a momentary silence, and he held his breath, waiting for her response. “I’m not mad,” she finally said, her tone softening. “I thought it was an interesting twist, honestly. You had me laughing for hours after I got over it a little bit and after talking to your friends. But I just… didn’t want to feel like I was part of some game.”

“I totally understand,” he said quickly, wanting to assure her. “I’m really sorry for how it started. But I want you to know that my feelings for you are genuine. I liked who I was with you last night and every night really , and I want to get to know you better—like, for real, not as a bet.” 

Y/n paused again, and he could almost hear her contemplating his words. “You mean that?” 

“Absolutely,” Minghao responded, feeling more confident. “I know we started under unusual circumstances, but every moment I’ve spent with you has felt real. You bring out a side of me I didn’t really know I had, and I really love who I am when I’m with you. So, what do you say? Can we start over?” 

He could hear her take a deep breath from the other end, and his heart raced in anticipation. “Okay, let’s do that,” she finally said, her voice brightening. “But let’s be clear the only bets this time will be on actual games, not people's feelings”

Minghao laughed, relief washing over him. “Deal. Just me trying to impress you from now on.” 

“You already have, that was your promise from the start and you followed through.”

As they chatted and made plans for their next outing—a casual coffee date, just like they first met no strings attached—Minghao felt a renewed sense of hope. He was determined to show her that he was sincere, that the bet was just a silly beginning to what he hoped would be a beautiful journey together.

After they hung up, Minghao couldn’t help but smile to himself. It wasn’t just about winning her back; it was about starting anew, embracing the possibility of a real thing. And as excitement bubbled in his chest, he began to plan how he could make their next date unforgettable. After all, if Y/n could turn a wild bet into a night filled with laughter, he was ready to dive in and see where this newfound adventure would take them both.

Day 10 - The Second First Date.

As the days crept closer to their date, Minghao found himself overrun with excitement and nerves. He wanted everything to be perfect. Standing in front of his closet, he debated over his wardrobe, tossing shirts onto the bed haphazardly. He could feel the pressure mounting the stakes felt higher this time—not just because he was going to see Y/n again, but because he wanted her to see him as more than just that guy than a guy who bet on her feelings.

Eventually, he settled on a casual but stylish outfit, one that he felt confident in. Being genuine was the goal, after all, and he didn’t want to put on a facade. Just before he headed out the door, he glanced in the mirror, giving himself a final pep talk. “You’ve got this. Just be yourself.”

At the coffee shop, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, mingling with the chatter of customers. Minghao arrived early, pacing a bit with anticipation. He chose the same cozy corner table her first noticed her at, where they’d have some privacy but still be part of the lively atmosphere. 

When Y/n walked in, his heart skipped a beat. She looked effortlessly beautiful, her hair cascading over her shoulders and a warm smile lighting up her face. She spotted him, her eyes sparkling with familiarity, and his nervousness began to fade away as she approached.

“Hi, nice to meet you, you’re Minghao right?” she greeted, her voice filled with warmth.

“Hey, yeah. I’m glad you made it,” Minghao replied, standing to greet her. They exchanged a brief hug, and it felt surprisingly comfortable.

As they settled into their seats with steaming cups of coffee in hand, the conversation flowed naturally, as if they’d never left off. They chatted about everything their favorite shows, upcoming plans, and the ridiculous things they’d seen online lately. Laughter punctuated their discussion, the kind that made the world around them feel distant.

At one point, Y/n playfully leaned back in her chair, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “So, tell me—what’s your strategy for impressing me today? More dance moves? Karaoke?”

Minghao laughed, feeling lighter than he had in days. “Let’s save the dancing for another time. I’m still trying to recover from the last performance,” he said with a smirk. “But I promise I have a few tricks up my sleeve—nothing too embarrassing.”

“Just promise me no more betting, I’m out of chips for now.” she said, stern but unable to hide her smile.

“Cross my heart,” he promised dramatically, placing a hand over his chest. “From here on out, it’s just me and you having honest and genuine fun.”

Their coffees had transformed into connection, a beautiful blend of camaraderie and flirtation. As they moved towards dessert, Minghao felt a spark growing between them. 

With a playful glint in his eye, he decided to take a leap. “So, if we’re doing this—like, seeing where it goes, how about I take you on a mini-adventure next time? Something a little less…traditional?” 

Y/n raised an eyebrow, “And what exactly does that entail? You are not talking about hiking, or something like that right? I would kill you.” 

“A  little scavenger hunt around the city?” he suggested, warming to the idea. “We could visit all the spots we love, and maybe even some new places. Get ice cream, take pictures, and just enjoy the day.”

Her face lit up with enthusiasm. “That sounds amazing. I love it.”

Seeing her excitement filled him with joy; this felt right. With their coffee date unfolding so smoothly, he was beginning to understand that this was not just about rekindling a spark but about building something new. 

As they wrapped up, Minghao walked her to her car, and the atmosphere felt electric. Before saying goodbye, he couldn’t resist leaning in slightly. “If I promise to make each outing better than the last, will you promise to keep coming back?”

Y/n looked at him, her expression softening. “I think I can manage that, if you also kiss me” she replied, her smile brightening the evening.

With a renewed sense of hope, Minghao pulled her in from her waist kissing her multiple times before backing up slightly and letting her get into the driver's seat, she rolled down the window and wagged her finger at him for one more kiss, and then he  watched her drive away, heart brimming with anticipation. He was ready to dive into this adventure, ready to explore whatever lay ahead with Y/n by his side. Their story was only just beginning, and for the first time in a long while, he felt like everything was falling into place. 

Epilogue

The days that followed were an exciting blur of planning and anticipation. Minghao found himself digging into his old notebooks, jotting down ideas for the scavenger hunt, trying to think of all the little things that made their city special. He wanted to weave in personal touches that would make the day unforgettable for Y/n—places that could bring back memories of their first date or spots he knew would make her full of  joy when he revealed them.

With each idea, he found he was not just planning an outing but also crafting an experience centered around her, and this realization filled him with a sense of purpose. He’d always believed that little moments could mean everything, and now he was eager to show Y/n just how much he cherished their new relationship.

When the day of the scavenger hunt arrived, Minghao woke up with a mix of nerves and excitement. He’d set everything in motion, and now all he needed to do was let the day unfold naturally. He picked a comfortable outfit—something relaxed but still appealing—and made his way to the meeting spot they had agreed on: a park that was alive with the sounds of laughter, children playing, and the distant strumming of a guitarist.

As he waited, he felt a buzz of anticipation in the air around him. The moment he spotted Y/n walking towards him, his heart soared. She looked radiant, her hair dancing in the breeze, and her smile lit up the entire park. 

“Hey, you.” she greeted, a lilt in her voice that made him grin wider.

“Ready for a little adventure?” he asked, trying to mask the excitement bubbling beneath his calm exterior.

“Absolutely. Just tell me what we’re doing,” she replied, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“First off, we have to get our scavenger hunt gear,” he said, pulling out a small tote bag he had packed. Inside were colored pencils,a camera for taking photos at each stop, a notebook for jotting down clues, and a list of locations they'd be visiting.

“What’s all this?” she laughed, peering inside with delight.

“Just some supplies to help us document our adventure” Minghao said cheerily. “The first stop is that little coffee stand we found last week, where they have the pastries.”

With a shared laugh and playful banter, they made their way through the park, stopping for pictures at every significant spot—an old oak tree where they took selfies, a fountain that they threw pennies in while making a wish, and a mural that had caught Minghao’s eye during their last outing. The connection between them deepened as they shared stories, memories, and more feelings than ever. As they reached the coffee stand, Minghao took a moment to watch her as she chose her pastry. She had a way of illuminating the boring everyday things, and he felt grateful every time she shot him a smile. After they got their treats, he pulled out the next clue.

“Okay, next up,” he said with excitement, glancing down at the list he had created. “We have to find the spot where they sell the best ice cream in town. But there’s a catch—you have to lead the way.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Me? Alright.. This should be interesting.”

With her leading the way, they began to navigate the streets, stopping to chat with street performers and peeking into quirky shops. As they reached the ice cream parlor, the enticing scent of waffle cones met them, and they quickly placed their orders. 

“That is definitely a win,” Minghao said, savoring the first bite of his matcha chocolate chip. He looked over to see Y/n’s eyes light up with delight as she tasted her basic but cute vanilla with sprinkles.

As they sat outside, sharing stories about their favorite childhood flavors, Minghao felt a warmth spreading in his chest. Each moment they shared layered on a sense of intimacy, deepening their bond.

The rest of the day continued in this delightful fashion, each stop on the scavenger hunt bringing them closer together, transforming their connection into something rooted in genuine affection. The final clue led them to an overlook, a perfect sunset view of the city sprawled out before them.

As they stood side by side, overlooking the vibrant hues of orange and pink washed across the sky, Minghao turned to her, feeling the weight of the moment. 

“I’m really glad I took this leap,” he said, his voice sincere. “Today has been incredible. You make everything better, including me.”

Y/n looked at him, her expression softening. “I feel the same way. This day has been one of the best I’ve had in a long time. Really, thank you.”

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, he could feel the pull toward her. He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and leaned in, capturing her lips in a gentle yet tender kiss. It was a clear promise of what was to come—not just in this moment, but in all the moments yet to unfold.

Standing there, as the last light of day faded into twilight, Minghao felt a newfound certainty settle within him. This was just the beginning of a beautiful adventure with Y/n, and he was ready to explore every twist and turn that life had to offer together.

Minghao had set out to lose a girl in ten days but instead found something he never expected: a genuine connection. As he and y/n embarked on their new adventure as one and they both realized that sometimes love sneaks up on you when you least expect it, and sometimes, the risks of opening your heart are worth every moment.