#sometimes we mockingly say

[bcksbarnes]

the sun will set for you

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: bucky barnes is wrapped up in your arms, wanting you to be his

word count: 1.3K

“Buck...” you groan as the two of you lay in bed, his hand running down your spine as the two of you roll around in the mattress. Laughs pass both of your lips as you feel him pull you in closer, his fingers slipping down to your thigh pressing into your skin.  

“What...” he groans back mockingly, his nose pressed against the base of your neck as he peppered soft kisses. A shiver runs up your spine as you groan again, shaking your head. You can feel the smile on his face as he presses another kiss to your neck, his metal arm pushing you so that your back is against the mattress looking up at him.  

Neither of you knew when it happened, one day you were friends, the next you were taking turns falling into each other's beds – the nights filled with heavy breathing and the sounds of sweet nothings. The shift was so sudden it could have knocked the earth off its axis.  

But, neither of you wanted to stop. You were drawn to each other like magnets and even when you tried to keep it simple, to play it cool, it never worked the way you wanted it to. You always fell back into the same routine. It’s how you ended up in his bed now.  

“I’m tired.” you say softly, his head tilting up slightly as his eyes catch yours. You feel him press one more kiss to your neck before he picks his head up to be level with yours. He fixes the pillow behind you, fluffing it up before he lays next to you, his fingers resting on the small of your back.  

You watch him carefully, grazing over his face as you take in his features. His eyes are tired, tortured, but when he looks at you there’s no doubt in your mind that this – whatever this is – is real. His stubble has gotten a bit long and there’s a scar on his cheek that he’s never told you the story to. But when you look at Bucky Barnes all you can see is a perfect man.  

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” He asks, his voice is quiet, barely above a whisper.  

“Nothing.” Your voice is hoarse, almost giving yourself away. As much fun as the two of you had and as desperately as you knew this was something neither of you had the guts to say it out loud.  

“Liar.” His voice is playful as he leans in to press a soft kiss to your lips, your hand snaking up to the back of his neck to hold him there, kissing him with the same amount of pressure. The sound of your lips locking and moving fills the room. Your skin burns where his fingers trace patterns on your lower back, and you have to hold yourself from deepening it. You know very well that this could go from 0 to 100 very quickly.  

It takes a moment for him to pull away, his eyes closed as he nudges your nose with his. Your heart is pounding in your chest with everything that you want to say, everything you’re feeling.  

“Tell me.” He insists, his forehead resting against yours.  

“Nothing, Buck.” You also insist. But after a few moments of silence, you continue. “I’m just thinking about us, about this. That’s all.”  

“So not nothing.” His eyes open to catch your gaze, his fingers running up and down your sides now. He was warm, his bare body somehow both incredibly hard and muscly, but also soft, like a pillow.  

“Not nothing.” You admit. “I mean ... I’m just ... sometimes I can’t pinpoint how or why this started. You know?”  

“Maybe because we’re two friends who are extremely horny and needed something to take the edge off.” He says, though the look in the eyes tells you he doesn’t believe that. “Or because we both know there’s something neither of us are saying.”  

Your breath hitches in your throat and you’re confident you know where this conversation is going but something about it feels ... wrong? Feels ... like it’s not real? Maybe because the two of you had danced around the conversation for so long, pretending that this longing, this yearning, was just for fun.  

“Be mine.”  

His voice cuts through the tension like a knife, though it’s so soft you’re not sure at first if you’ve heard him correctly.  

“What?” you whisper, your hand on the back of his neck pulling him in closer, needing to hear him say the words once more.  

“Be mine.” He says it again as if it’s the easiest thing he’s ever said, as if it’s as easy as breathing. Everything that’s been holding the two of you from taking the leap rushes through your mind in that moment. You feel him lean forward and press his lips against yours again. “Please?”  

You hum softly, your hands raking through his long hair, pushing strands out of his face.  

“What if it doesn’t work out?” You whisper between kisses.  

“We’ll figure it out.” He whispers back, his kisses becoming more insistent.  

“What if ...” you mumble against his lips. “You end up hating me?”  

“I could never hate you.” His words are muffled as he trails his lips down to your jaw, trying to show you how much you mean to him.  

“What if - ...” but before you could speak again he presses his hand over your mouth.  

“No more what if’s, princess.” Bucky says, his eyes narrowed as he looks up at you. “Whatever happens will happen. If things don’t work out we’ll figure it out,” he reiterates. “If we fight, we’ll work through it. If I end up hating you ...” he trails off for a moment. “Then something extremely weird is going on and you should take me to the doctor.”  

Your heart is beating out of your chest, a small smile on your lips as his hand is still pressed against your mouth. He smiles up at you, his hand trailing down your jaw and behind your head, entangling in your hair. He tugs on it softly, forcing your head to tilt up a bit. Your name leaves his lips and you’re pretty sure it’s the most heavenly sound on this earth.  

“I’m not going to ask again.” Though his voice is gruff, it’s filled with a lot of emotion, everything that he wants to say.  

“What if ...” you start again, a smirk crawling on your lips. “I’m kidding.” Bucky’s eyebrows, which were furrowed, relaxed as he realizes you were just teasing, playfully tugging at your hair again.  

There’s a lot going on in your head at that moment, you’re trying to piece together all the feelings that you have for him but there is a voice in the back of your head screaming at you to just give him an answer – to tell him.  

“And if I say yes?” you whispers, your finger on the scar where his metal arm meets his flesh, feeling the raised skin beneath your touch. “Then what?”  

Bucky shivers slightly at the touch, his eyes closing softly, his eyelash grazing his cheek. He’s never had someone take care of him the way you do, someone who treated him so delicately like he was the one going to break and not the one capable of doing the breaking. You always looked at him and saw the man he wanted to be, the man he truly wished he could become.  

“Then ...” he whispers. “You’ll be mine.”  

“Simple as that?”  

“Simple as that.”  

“And if I say no?”  

“Please don’t say no.”  

The look on his face is pleading, like he’s never asked this question before in his life and that he never thinks he will again.  

“Bucky ...” you whisper, his eyes closing softly. You can hear his heart thumping in his chest, disappointed by your lack of response. Your hand presses to the side of his cheek, your lips brushing against his but not fully kissing him – not yet. “I’ve always been yours.”  

His eyes shoot open to look at you, searching your features for anything that might tell him that this is just a dream, but when he finds none he leans forward and presses his lips against yours. Hungry. Passionate. He pushes you back down into the mattress again, and the two of you intertwine filling the night with the same amount of gasps and bated breaths that have always happened between the two of you, but knowing now that everything is different. 

[singmyaubade]

Shades Of Cool

toxic!dark!rafe cameron x female!pogue!reader

summary: you are just living your life, completely normal and free. but, what happens when rafe cameron decides that you are his? he's danger.

warnings: smut! 18+ stalking, manipulation, rafe is obsessed with reader, fingering, swearing, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink, praise, oral (male receiving), dark!rafe cameron, choking, jealousy, violence, heavy smut..

a/n: i'm delighted I'm finally starting this, even if it took me so long. i genuinely hope you all enjoy this series. i understand that this a bit short, but the narrative is only getting started, so things will only get wilder! however, it is to be expected—this is a rafe cameron fic.

series

One thing that you hated about Outer Banks was how the heat still radiated at night, causing excessive amounts of water to be drank and a great amount of fans that blew hot air into your face.

It only made everyone irritable and only caused more arguments like now,

"I swear to god JJ, I am about to fucking murder you if you say another word," You hissed, giving him a glare as he mockingly grew scared.

"I agree," Cleo said before falling back into her nap.

"All I'm saying is that we have been moping around here for hours meanwhile we could be partying on the fresh beach and cool water," JJ replied, using his hands to represent the scenery to all of you.

"I'm going to have to agree with Y/N," Pope said, turning his head to JJ, "I'm already in tough shit with my parents for when you knocked over my great-grandmothers vase," Pope glared.

JJ put his hands up in defense, "I told you tequila makes me clumsy,"

"Besides every single Kook is there, including Rafe and if he sees Sarah with us, it will only bring another fight and you are not going back to jail," Kie warned, still closing her eyes while the fan blew the air in her face, blowing her hair.

"When have we ever been scared of Rafe?" JJ asked.

"When he gave me a full smackdown for doing my job," Pope scoffed.

"And when he almost drowned me," Sarah chimed in from across the room where she was laying on John B's legs on the carpet floor.

"And when he shot Sheriff Peterkin in front of us," John B added.

"And when-" Pope began.

"Okay that's enough," He said as you giggled, turning your head back to the fan.

You didn't know much about Rafe Cameron since you had moved to Outer Banks only last year and you had met the "star Pogues" a few months ago.

You had never really seen Rafe's face ever, only heard of him honestly.

But you didn't know if it was a bad thing.

All you had heard about was how evil and villainous he was which caused some places to be off limits for the fact that the boys couldn't handle another beat down with the Kooks and there was a greater matter at hand.

But still, you always were curious about "evil" Rafe Cameron.

"You guys are no fun," JJ pouted, sitting beside you on the couch.

You patted the lower part of his leg, "Poor baby," You sarcastically said to which moved his leg swiftly causing you to laugh.

Suddenly the lights and fans turned off as you all except for JJ groaned, knowing that meant the electricity was off you and you would have to deal with the heat and darkness.

Which meant the only choice was the beach party,

JJ cheered, "I win!"

You crossed your arms as you walked on the warm sand, lots of cheering and loud music around you. You could see the Kooks and the Pogues in their own groups, not daring to interact with eachother.

It was hard to get used to the fact that there were two groups of people based on economic statuses and that it meant that if you were one thing, the other one hated you.

You had never been to a place like that but you just kinda got used to it.

Yet you still could never tell which group was really which sometimes.

You were forced to walk around by yourself as John B and Sarah wandered off to a quiet spot while JJ started drinking with Kie as his babysitter and Cleo and Pope wandered around.

All of it sounded like a lot of third wheeling which made you stay away.

But you didn't mind being alone, you liked listening to the waves and watching the festivities that went along with a party.

And you knew that a beer would help you get more into the party festivities.

You walked over the keg where a man with a shaved head and a matching tank top and shorts poured himself a beer as you curiously looked at him.

You had to admit that he was one of the most attractive men you had seen before.

His lips were a perfect shade of pink and they were smooth like sucking on a cherry. His veins were bulging from his hands and you could see the peach fuzz on his jawline that you could only really see upclose.

You snapped out of your analysis as he looked at you as you waited there awkwardly, forming a smile on your face.

"Sorry to creepily stand here, I'm just trying to get a uh-" You said, pointing to the keg.

His face studied you for a second, almost as if he was trying to figure you out. You could tell by his face that he had never seen you before and he looked as if he was trying to figure out if you were a Kook or Pogue.

He chuckled, "Didn't mean to take so long, I wouldn't have if I had seen your pretty face sooner," He smirked, looking you up and down, causing you to blush.

You felt stupid for blushing over something that a man probably said to every pretty girl he saw but you felt something different about him.

You were taken aback by his boldness, "Do you say that to every women that waits for her turn on the keg?" You teased.

"Only the pretty ones," He replied, causing you to laugh.

"Smooth talker I see," You smiled.

"Always," He joked, "I swear I've never seen you around and usually, you know everyone in Outer Banks," He probed.

"Yeah, I just moved here last year," You answered, "I haven't made my rounds yet,"

"Figured," He said, "I would've definitely noticed you,"

"Pfft," You beamed, "I'm sure you would've walked past me on the beach, there are many beautiful girls here,"

"Nah," He laughed, looking off, "You are different from them,"

"How could you already assume that?" You asked, curiosity biting at you.

"For one, you aren't stuck up and preppy which is most the girls on this island," He grinned as you giggled.

"Ay, they aren't all like that," You replied.

"Most of 'em," He added, "But I don't pay much attention to them,"

"Figures," You said, eyebrow raising.

He saw your eyes move the keg and his cup before he offered his cup forward.

"Might as well take mine, I wouldn't feel proud of myself if I let you pour one yourself," He winked.

Great attempt at being a gentlemen.

"No no, I got it," You said before he shook his head.

"I insist" He said, his thumb grazing yours.

"Thank you," You smiled, "I'm Y/N" You introduced, taking the cup from him while extending your other hand for him to shake.

He shook your hand, "I'm Rafe," He replied with a smile as yours slowly fell.

The Rafe? The Rafe you were basically supposed to never interact with and who was the supposed devil? That Rafe?

"Rafe Cameron?" You asked, standing frozen.

"Guess my reputation precedes me," He joked as you didn't laugh but instead cleared your throat.

You took your hand back quickly, "Oh, i-it's nice to meet you," You cleared your throat, "My friends are waiting so I'm gonna-"

He clearly figured you out, "Pogue, I'm guessing?" He snickered.

Your face wrinkled, "Is that supposed to be a funny thing?"

"Hilarious actually," He answered, only angering you more.

"I don't see what's funny about that?" You crossed your arms with ur drink resting in your hand.

He wiped his jaw, "Must be tough at the bottom of the food chain,"

Your nose flared, "Must be tough being an elite asshole,"

He laughed, "I just think it's an unfortunate cause, I mean it's just unlucky," He smirked.

Asshole.

"Unlucky?" Your lip pursed, " I think what's more unlucky is thinking that your cool for a fucked up economic status that has been perpetuated on an island,"

"I just don't believe your friends belong on Outer Banks," He said, not a hint of hesitance in his voice.

He really believed in this bullshit.

"I mean you would really rather hang out with a group of dirty Pogues?" He snickered, looking off.

"Well I am one of them and they are my friends," You scoffed, "You seem more dirty than us," You insulted.

"Is that so?" Rafe mocked.

"Do you wanna talk about your father's dirty money?" You asked.

"I would watch that pretty mouth," He replied, inching closer.

"Or what?" You hummed, acting braver than you usually would.

"Fuck around and find out sweetheart," He came closer, breath fawning on your face.

The whiskey on his breath kissed your nose but not breaking your eye contact with him as you inched closer, eyes on his lips.

As he tried to close the gap, you threw the drink in his face. "Oohs" and snickers filled around the both of you as you stomped away from him.

He smirked, wiping the alcohol off of his face.

'What an asshole,' You thought,

Little did you know that Rafe only grew to like you more.

You found JJ and Kie sitting by the beach together as she laid her head on his shoulder. You were thinking about interrupting them but tarnish their moment, you choosing instead to call it a night and also you didn't feel like trying to find the rest of the group.

You were glad that you knew yourself enough to drive to the party considering that you got tired fast. You couldn't really see in the parking lot due to how dark it was and away from the lights.

You digged in your back pocket for your phone to pull out of the flashlight as you reached for your keys but dropped them instead in the process.

You audibly groaned as you searched on the floor in the darkness for the keys. You went on your knees with your flashing light, searching on the ground as you heard footsteps behind you, darting your flashlight behind you but seeing nothing.

You had a bad feeling but you thought it was paranoia because you were alone in the parking lot and maybe a little due to the interaction you had earlier with Rafe.

You couldn't stop thinking about how he came off as nice but switched so quickly into an elitist piece of shit.

Sounds like how they described him.

But still, there was a pit in your stomach that felt like butterflies when he grazed your thumb.

You sighed, pushing the thoughts out as you finally grabbed your keys, using the concrete-sanded floor push yourself back up off the ground.

Suddenly, you felt a cloth on your mouth and a hand covering your waist as your muffled screams filled the parking lot, trying to kick your attacker behind you.

You felt yourself drifting into the darkness as you screamed one last time,

And everything went black.

tags: @hysteriahall @avengersassemblee @lighttism @whereismymindnow @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @vi06ma01 @haven247 @vanessa-rafesgirl @blvebanisters @riordanness @aleidag1rly @muzanjackson22

[violetrainbow412-blog]

The way you hold me [B. R.]

Bob Reynolds x fem!reader

wc: 1.8k

request from @littlemsbumblebee: If you take fic requests, could you do one with like late night cuddles with Bob? The readers heating isn’t working but she finds warmth in Bobs arms or something like that… maybe friends to lovers or whatever. I’m in the mood for cute Bob fluff.

masterlist

AN: Thanks for sending me this message! I hope you like it, darling 💌

You'd think the Watchtower, with all its technological prowess, would be exempt from the electrical problems that accompanied heavy rains in New York. You discovered that wasn't the case.

Due to the renovations, Valentina hadn't maintained the private power plant—designed for emergencies like this—so all of you were tied up. You could survive without most things that required electricity, but what affected you the most was the lack of heating.

The city froze every time it rained, and being so close to the clouds from which the rain was coming didn't help at all. To top it all off, your winter clothes were still packed in one of those boxes that would be almost impossible to find in the dim light. The situation was catastrophic.

Your last hope was to go to the kitchen and fumble through the cupboards for something that might warm you up. For God's sake, even a few sips of alcohol sounded like heaven compared to the numbness in your limbs.

You weren't the only one with that idea. As soon as you crossed the threshold, you saw someone else's silhouette in the shadows. It wasn't Bucky; if it had been, his arm would have reflected the faint light that filtered through the windows. Based on his posture, you ruled out John, and based on his height, you ruled out Alexei. There was only one logical choice left.

“Bob, it’s me,” you murmured, trying not to scare him. Still, he jumped instead.

"Hey…"

“Looking for a snack?”

“Yes,” he laughed. “Sometimes I eat out of anxiety. The darkness makes me very nervous.”

“I can’t believe the conditions Valentina has us in…”

At your complaint, he smiled, probably agreeing, and made room for you to find your own supplies. Apparently, the chattering of your teeth didn't go unnoticed, because a minute later your friend approached you.

“Are you cold?”

“So much,” you exclaimed, sincerely. “I couldn’t even find a fucking hoodie, and with the lack of heating, I feel like I’m freezing.”

You reached out to him, as if you needed to prove it. Bob took your hand without hesitation, hissing at the feel of your icy skin against his own, which was, oddly, warm.

"Why didn't you tell me? I would have lent you one of my sweaters."

“I didn’t think of that,” you chuckled.

With your eyes already adjusted to the lack of light, you managed to see a disapproving expression on his face. Then that grimace transformed into a pair of open eyes, as if he'd just remembered something.

“I have a fleece blanket in my room, I'll lend it to you. We don't want you to get sick."

You wanted to refuse his offer, saying a sweater would do, but a sneeze broke the silence and answered for you. Bob laughed, not mockingly, but affectionately. You knew the way to his room, so there was no need for him to guide you… but he took your hand anyway. And you, of course, didn't protest.

“How come you’re so warm?”

“Am I?” he whispered, turning slightly as he continued walking.

The bedroom door closed behind you, and when he let go of your hand, yours immediately missed his. You hugged yourself, hoping to even out the heat, and waited a few minutes until he, with a triumphant expression, pulled out a large piece of cloth.

You expected him to offer it to you simply, but instead, he gently placed it on your shoulders and snuggled it around your chest. Then, both hands moved up your arms, rubbing them up and down, as if trying to transfer the warmth to you more quickly.

He didn't move away. He kept his hands on your arms for a few seconds longer, as if he needed that touch too, as if his warmth wasn't just physical, but a way of being with you when words weren't enough.

Outside, the rain pounded steadily against the windows, and you, wrapped in the blanket, began to relax. But you noticed he didn't do the same. His body remained somewhat tense, as if his mind was elsewhere.

“Does the darkness really make you nervous?” you asked softly, gently, without mockery. “Or is it the rain?”

Bob was slow to respond. Then he shrugged, as if he didn't know where to begin.

“Darkness generally makes me uncomfortable, but I think it’s the rain that’s getting to me today,” he finally said. “It reminds me of when I was a kid. The noises outside, the blowing of the wind… I always thought something was going to break. Sometimes I still wait for it.”

His words reached you with a tenderness that was hard to describe. It wasn't easy for him to talk about it, but he did it with you. And you wanted him to know you understood, even if you couldn't explain everything.

So you didn't say anything else. You just lifted one of your hands from the blanket, slowly, and brought it to his arm. You touched it lightly, with your fingers, as if you were asking something without a voice. And he answered you in the same way: by moving closer.

Bob stood in front of you. He didn't look at you directly, just exhaled slowly, and you took advantage of the space between you to lean against his chest, allowing him to wrap his arms around you. The warmth was immediate. Not just from the blanket, but from him. From the way he held you loosely, as if he knew exactly how much you needed to feel protected.

You spent a few seconds like that, in complete silence, his chin resting on your head and your fingers tentatively tangling with the folds of his shirt. The sound of the rain seemed muffled from inside, as if your arms were creating a small shelter from the world.

Bob leaned in slightly, and with his voice wrapped in that warmth of his that always disarmed you, he whispered:

“Is the blanket helping?”

You nodded against his chest, unwilling to pull away to respond with words, and also trying to hide the silly smile on your face.

"Thank you"

He didn't answer immediately, as if he was choosing his words carefully, and finally said:

“Next time something like this happens… come with me right away. Whatever it is. I'd hate for you to get sick, I really would.”

You snuggled into his arms, feeling everything melt away in the warmth he offered. With a soft smile and a gentle gaze, you looked up to meet his eyes. Your voice was barely a whisper:

“My knight in golden armor… what would I do without you?”

Bob looked away slightly, with his typical modesty, and answered sincerely:

“It’s nothing. Anyone would have done the same for you.”

His shrug made you angry. Because, maybe your friends would have offered you shelter, but they wouldn't have held you the way he was doing. Because you would have turned to someone else for a sweater, but not for a tender hug that made you feel safe. Bob was so wrong, because maybe someone else could do that for you, but you weren't going to let anyone else be as close as he was.

Something was brewing inside you that was difficult to contain, a feeling that had been latent for quite some time: an impulse motivated by the privacy that silence and darkness now provided you.

Carefully, you removed one hand from the blanket and brought it up to rest on the side of his face. He looked at you in surprise, but didn't move away.

“Let me pamper you a little, okay? You deserve it.”

Without waiting any longer, you leaned in close to kiss his face delicately: a soft kiss on the cheek that made Bob close his eyes and smile involuntarily. Your lips slowly traced the line of his jaw, leaving a trail of warmth and unspoken promises, until you placed another kiss: he sighed. Finally, you brushed your lips over the curve of his ear, and Bob felt a shiver run through his skin, a mixture of surprise and excitement. By the time you placed another caress there, he was already completely lost.

The subtle aroma of coffee—which he had probably had before—seemed to float in the air, mixed with Bob's natural fragrance.

When you pulled away and looked up, your eyes met Bob’s. With a playful twinkle in them and a shy smile, he asked:

"Is this a common thing? Do you thank other people this way?"

“No,” you replied, firm but sweet, “for the moment I’ll reserve it for you.”

Bob hesitated for a moment, his breathing suddenly labored, and then he managed to grab your hand, which was still pressed against his skin. In a low, sincere voice, he whispered to you:

“You’re still freezing. I think I should help you a little more, don’t you?”

You looked at him, coziness combined with a certain confusion reflected in your eyes, and before you could respond, it was Bob who took your face in his hands. Then he slowly leaned in to join your lips in a kiss. It was tender and slow, as if his sole purpose was to warm you from the inside out, until you ended up with your back pressed against the wall just a step behind you.

There was no clumsiness in his movements, just a controlled smoothness, as if Bob knew you needed everything to go slowly. That you didn't want to lose the warmth you'd gained, but rather let it spread between you like the blanket on your back.

His lips moved against yours with a sweetness so honest it hurt. There was no rush, no pretense, just that quiet desire to make you feel good, safe, accompanied. His nose brushed yours briefly as he pulled away, as if he didn't want to let you go completely, and you sighed, closing your eyes for a second longer to linger in the echo of him.

When you opened them again, he was looking at you with something that seemed like a mixture of tenderness and wonder. As if he wasn't entirely sure what had just happened, but didn't regret it for a second.

“Did it help?” he asked, barely a whisper through the rain.

You nodded again, biting your lip, smiling helplessly.

“Yes, it did,” you breathed out, a sigh that seemed to envelop the entire moment.

Bob let out a small laugh and rested his forehead against yours.

“I think we should stay here for a while,” he said, “Just in case.”

You didn't argue. Neither of you were ready to break the shelter you'd built together. You let yourself be wrapped in his arms once more, feeling like putty between his fingers, occasionally receiving a few kisses on the skin his lips reached.

Bob was no longer afraid. And you were no longer cold.

taglist: @littlemsbumblebee @qardasngan

[emmyrosee]

“Can’t sleep?”

His voice is crinkled with rasp from lack of use, having just woken up from your lack of presence. You sit, almost possessed, staring blankly in the dark as time drips away mockingly, teasing you for not being able to shut your brain off long enough to doze and get the rest your body desperately craves.

You hum. He hums back.

The entire bed shifts as he sits up next to you, pawing for your hand. You let him lace your fingers together, and his head comes down to rest on your shoulder, you can practically feel the way his eyes struggle to stay open. “You wanna talk about it?”

You don’t say anything. He understands. He always does.

“We can just sit,” he says softly, yawning. “I’m alright with that.”

“Do you wish you never met me?”

“Huh?”

“Sometimes I feel like it be better if no one ever met me. Then this perpetual feeling of dread and fear of disappointing others might not be so unbearable.”

He goes quiet. You wonder if you opened a can of worms you shouldn’t have, a box that should’ve stayed closed, and as you open your mouth to pardon yourself, he chuckles and squeezes your hand.

“Sometimes, I forget a time you weren’t mine,” he says, and you scoff. “I mean it,” he continues. “Like, I lived a life before you. I had a few years where you and I were strangers, people who’d pass each other on the street and think nothing more. But,” he turns his head to kiss your shoulder, “it’s not worth my time to think about. Because my life started being memorable when I met you.”

Your breath hitches and your lip wobbles. His eyes flick up to your face, but he keeps going. “It was foggy before you. Things I should’ve remembered needed a spot in my calendar. Things I never should’ve forgotten about slipped my mind constantly. But then I met you- and things got worth memorizing.

“I know your favorite snacks and how you take your drinks. I know the color of your coffee and tea needs to be exactly the shade you’re looking for. I know your favorite songs live in a playlist called ‘brain ticklers,’ and I know your favorite animal, so every time I see a plush or keychain or something in a store, I’m sure to buy it for you. I know you like condiments on certain things, if it’s on something you don’t think it should be you straight up won’t eat it. I know your different laughs, like when you think something is genuinely funny or you’re just trying to be nice- thanks for bailing me out in front of our friends the other day, by the way. I know your favorite cartoon from when you were a kid, and a movie you can basically quote from memory. Hell, if you woke me up before this and asked me your favorite Sanrio character or Pokemon, I’d tell you within an instant.”

At some point, tears started to slip down your cheeks, and you barely flinch as he brings a thumb up to wipe the sticky track from your warm cheek, “things about you are worth remembering. And I love learning new things about you. So please,” he kisses your cheek before resting his forehead against it, “don’t doubt that I’m grateful to know you. Because I love you. And if staying up at ungodly hours is what you need, I’m happy to do it. Because it’s for you. And you’re worth staying up for. You’re worth all the love I can conjure and way more.”

Your shoulders heave. You crumble into your tears, sniffling and letting out the most upsetting whimpers you’ve ever heard. Your free hand instinctively come up to wipe your eyes, and he sits up straighter and wraps an arm around you, curling you close to his side. “It’s okay, baby… let it out.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” you sob, chest aching in search of air that doesn’t seem to fill your lungs. “I’m so… so tired…”

“That’s okay. You can be tired,” he assures, kissing your head. “We can be tired together. As long as we are together, I’m okay with that.”

“No,” you whimper. “You don’t deserve that. I’m not dragging you down with me.”

“You don’t deserve to bear the burden alone,” he says. “I’ve got your back. I always will.” You don’t say anything, he doesn’t expect you to.

Instead, he sits with you, thumb rubbing over your shoulder and lips occasionally kissing your forehead as the sky slowly becomes a lighter shade of purple, minutes dribbling into the universe as he stays awake with you in the silence.

Maybe the weight of the world doesn’t have to break your shoulders every day. Maybe it is alright to share the burden.

Let the man who knows your condiment preference and your favorite Sanrio character take some of it off of you.

Maybe you are worth knowing.

[killishin]

— ♡ right person at the right time.

PART 03.

pairing: jason todd x reader

category: lots of fluff, angst, he fell first she fell harder kinda trope, sfw, thinking of making this a slow burn but we'll see.

content warning: afab, mention of death (reader's mother), violence here and there, mention of blood, inaccurate medical talk, not proofread

summary: reader's just a normal citizen of Gotham, scrambling to making ends meet. after a fateful encounter, when he saw the reader kick ass and save a life- he can't get them off his mind. and fate just keeps pulling them together forcing him to do something about it.

a/n: i finally got the time to finish this, once exams are over I'll make the necessary edits. enjoy :)

wc: 5.3k

fic masterlist. previous. next

dividers by @cafekitsune

"that is not a wound."

"its a cut."

"not deep enough to come to me!"

"i thought you said we were friends— is that how you treat your friends hm?" red mused, though his modulated voice is supposed to be monotonous and blank, you've learned to really listen. and you could hear the amusement rolling off of him just like the easy sarcasm that trickles from his tongue.

its been more than a month since red hood came stumbling down your balcony, literally, and from then he's been coming too often. well too often for someone like him. you had thought that would have been the end of your interactions with the infamous vigilante— but life has a need to always prove you wrong.

sometimes he comes twice a week, sometimes he doesn't come a whole week— it was never steady. he came whenever he felt like it. about now you're certain that instead of 'help' , that he could basically get from his other vigilante... colleagues, he simply uses his injuries as an excuse. sometimes his wounds aren't even that bad! just a scratch or a graze, something he could so easily fix himself.

but, in the past days you've gotten to know him, he'd rather die than admit he enjoys your company.

"now you wanna admit we're friends huh?" you scoffed as your rolled your eyes and grumbled under your breath as you walked to the bathroom to get the kit. you were in a particularly ruined mood since you were just about to head to sleep when he rudely and loudly jumped into your apartment through your balcony.

he's more relaxed on your couch now, one arm on the arm rest while the other rested on the back of the couch, his legs spread. you paused infront of him then scoffed before glaring, kicking his feet lightly.

"is a wounded man supposed to sit that relaxed? at least pretend it hurts." you sit beside him and wait with an impatient frown as he rolls off his jacket. the cut is on his bicep, which he deliberately flexes when you look at the cut.

"it doesn't hurt, i have a good tolerance for pain, sunshine." he utters the pet name mockingly and your glare deepens, "it just needs medical attention. you're the one who always says to 'take care'."

you're almost baffled at how teasing and sarcastic he's gotten, he was guarded in the beginning, still sarcastic but more short and reserved. though you'll admit, it feels nice that he feels comfortable enough around you now.

the same goes for you too, you were cautious around him. mindful of your words and tone, barely commenting on the daily shit that goes in gotham, scared that you'd somehow offend the vigilante with a wrong opinion.

now you glared outright, you scolded more— but you even smiled more, treated him normal enough... like an old friend. it felt refreshing, this sense of normalcy with you. maybe because you weren't a vigilante which most people were in his life, or maybe because you were still untainted from the worst horrors of gotham— he doesn't know. all he knows is that he intends to hide this little something he's found, he cannot leave it he knows, far too selfish for that. so he'll keep you hidden from the people from his world, keep you safe from the claws of the crimes.

"right." you rolled your eyes before cleaning the wound, being more firmer than you should and he simply smiles under the helmet. his lack of response, not even a flinch irriates you further so you dress the wound tight, trying to be aggressive.

"you do know its morally wrong to torment a patient." he murmured and you gave him a pointed look, acting like you're done with him. "it is about to be 3 in the morning red. i have work." you remind him, hoping he catches the hint to not irk you further.

"you never told me about your job. what do you do?" he skirts right past your thinly veiled threat and you sigh before tucking in his bandage properly.

"neither have you." you said pointedly before sighing, "animations. its an entry level position right now. but i also do personal projects on the side." you reply still as you clean up, moving around the apartment.

he leans ahead, intrigued to get to know more about you finally, "and you like it? your job i mean."

"well... its hectic yeah, sometimes too much to make me wonder if its all worth it." you shrug as you head to the kitchen and opened your fridge, "but i think everyone with a job thinks that at one point. so its normal. animation is something i loved so it evens out the frustration of work."

you put the tub of ice cream on the counter before fetching a spoon. as he watches from the couch he realises he never steps in your apartment further than the living room, only till the couch and then out. at first he was... simply keeping distance, the rational self in him telling him to keep himself as untangled as possible.

but now he wants to delve deep, to see your life, to see when you're happy— or sad, what you do when you have nothing better to do. its a curiosity he convinces himself, just that.

and even though he knows it dangerous to keep crossing the boundaries he set for himself, he can't help but say why not just this once? blind leap of faith, something that has always disappointed him, something he never does yet he still wants to try.

he gets up and walks in your kitchen and you gulp down the ice cream quickly before waving your hands to stop him and he immediately freezes, wondering if he made a mistake.

"red! your boots!" you pointed out with a grimace, that were caked with dust and mud, "i didn't say anything about them before because you're always hurt and in a hurry— but not in the kitchen please." you plead as politely as possible, you hoped you didn't come off as too nitpicky or high maintenance but you just can't stand shoes in your apartment.

for a minute he just stares, and you try to discern what he's feeling from those slits in his helmet. then he barks out a laugh, leaning a hand against the wall and doubling over.

"shit– my bad." he does not sound apologetic at all though, and your brows furrow as you fail to see how its so funny, "what?"

"nothing. you just—" he paused as he stifles another laugh, taking off his boots carefully before walking to the balcony and keeping them there. he walked back in the kitchen and leaned against the counter beside you, "i wouldn't have been offended even if you said that when i first came here."

he saw how bothered you looked to see him walking with his dirty boots in your apartment, like literally appalled and he just wonders how had you kept in that request for so long?

"it felt a bit wrong to ask a bleeding man to take off his shoes first." you shrugged before digging in the tub, licking the ice cream right off the spoon and he had to squeeze his eyes shut to not follow that action.

"if you don't mind me asking-" you began as you paused, pushing a stool towards him before sitting on one yourself, "you might. since this might be encroaching all that secret vigilante thing." you said hesitantly, giving him an unsure smile before looking away as you carefully worded the question.

"so do you know all the vigilantes? like personally?" you questioned and he released a breath because he honestly thought you'd ask about his identity and he'd have to leave, "like i do see the news time to time, hear things but you're the source so....?"

you looked genuinly curious, no ill intent. just someone who's curious about his life like that of a friend's.

he shuffled on his seat, clearing his throat and you feared you asked wrong, "its not necessary to answer of course."

"i know." he reassured quietly before shrugging, "yeah i do. our interests, kicking gotham's criminal's ass and keeping citizen safe aligns so yes i do know them." he explains as vaguely as possible, carefully wording it and you know it.

"so who's better?" you ask and he blinks.

"what? in who?"

"you and nightwing."

now he's the one who's appalled. the simple question makes him spiral to a whole world of overthinking. his ego might not be able to handle the unfavorable answer.

"wha— the hell is that question?" he scoffed and you shrugged, taking another spoon of ice cream, unbothered. "of course im better!"

"are you sure?"

he knows he doesn't need to take off the mask to get the glare through, you know he's glaring by the way you cheekily laugh, "geez what a fragile ego."

"what, you his fangirl or something?" he scowls and you heartily laugh at that, shaking your head.

"im no vigilante's fan, red. but you can't blame me for wondering you know?" you teasingly nudged his leg with your foot, "alright another question."

"since when did this become a one sided 20 questions?" he grumbled as he folded his arms, wishing for once he did not have the helmet on so he could actually glare at that innocently charming face.

"since you decided to be a little wuss." you cheekily retorted before leaning in towards him, taking the sleeve of your tshirt in your fingers, you rubbed the grime off his helmet. you don't know why but you liked to see it spotless.

while you went back to being unbothered, eating your ice cream like a fucking brat, his heart damn near exploded. did you just do that? it felt more on his skin than it was on the metallic helmet. he forgot to even breathe for a second, still processing— and then getting mildly irritated at the fact that somewhere in his heart he yearns for you to do it again. its stupid, he tells himself, someone he's known for a just a month— someone innocent.

again, painting himself as the darkness that would snuff out the light in you.

"don't do that." he said, sharper than intended, letting his own overthinking get him. you freeze, your hand suspended in air before you awkwardly yet quickly drop the spoon in the almost empty bucket and tuck your hair behind your ear.

"ah my bad."you said, and suddenly it was harder to smile. and he realised he did it again, pushed someone away again. its for the better he tells himself, this would have happened anyway.

"im sorry—"

"its fine." he cuts you off before getting up, "i should probably leave— city doesn't save itself now does it?"

you were a bit stunned, he hadn't acted like this yet in the times he's visited. it was unnerving to not know how to act, how to tackle this side of him because you didn't quite like the distance that suddenly found its way between you both. you know he is a vigilante, has enemies— tons of 'em, and there's always a good chance that prolonged association with him could get you wind up in all that. it could get messy, it could get dangerous. you wanted nothing to do with danger. you just wanted to lead a simple life which was already too much to ask from gotham.

"take care." and yet you called out behind him, even though he already disappeared. the idea that you somehow offended this new friend of yours, someone you had steadily grown to like— didn't sit quite well with you. you suppose he doesn't like to be touched, of course. that was a bit creepy maybe.

you sighed as you went back to kitchen, putting away everything. you push red to the back of your mind, convincing yourself with that shitty saying that— everything happens for the best.

its a pitiful attempt at consolation, but life moves on.

you sigh as you open the door to your apartment, taking off your heels before walking in. blind dates really don't work for you anymore, not that it ever did actually. you never click with the other person, and somehow they always turn out to be somewhat of an asshole.

today was yet another failed date, boring one. the man chipped away at your braincells one by one as he literally chattered away about his 'big shot position at that big shot firm'— you don't know what it was, you stopped paying attention twenty minutes in.

sometimes you blame yourself, that maybe your standards are too high, you're being the one who's too reserved or shallow— but then your father's voice rings in your ears, 'never ever in your life settle for someone who doesn't make you feel seen and heard from day one.' your parents really had set the bar high for you.

you went into your room and threw your purse on the bed before taking off your coat, it drizzled a bit. your hair's a bit damp but somehow it makes you look more pretty.

sigh, all that effort down the drain.

oh wait! you remembered you were supposed to call your friend, fill her in about about this disaster. you quickly dialed her number in, tapping your foot as you waited, your eyes mindlessly checking your nails.

"it didn't go well did it?" she groaned lightly into the phone and you huffed out a smile, she was so quick to catch on. not that it was hard to, you ended the date pretty quickly.

"yeah.. im sorry but god he was just— not it." you explained with a scrunch of your nose as you press the phone in between your ear and shoulder while taking off your bracelet.

"there's nothing to apologise for, if he ain't it, he ain't it. there's always more to choose from. endless fishes, pretty." she tries to weasel a joke and your lips quirk up fondly, of course she's trying to make her feel better.

"im not sad so you can drop it. he wasn't an eye candy either that I'd feel bad."

"he was loaded."

"i'd be too one day." you retort with a chuckle pretending to be offended when she snorts. you get to your earrings, unclasping one and you gather it in your hand, about to keep it on your vanity—

CRASH!

you jolted, almost dropping your earring and unfortunately dropping your phone too. you cursed loudly, that phone is really gonna die on you at this point.

suddenly two sharp knocks rattled through your house, and they sounded less woody. they came from the balcony you realised. you hurriedly pick up your phone before running to your living room.

that sounded hurried. he never even knocks! but why was he literally banging on the glass?! its not even past midnight—

"hey are you okay?!"

"uh- i— yeah im—"

your breath catches in your throat as you stop dead in your tracks to see the glass sliding doors of your balcony with a bloody handprint, really selling the horror element right now. red hood was knelt down and you could see how hard he was heaving— his body was literally shaking with each breath he took.

your voice closed up in your throat for a second, all the air vanishing into the black hole that suddenly appeared in your lungs.

blood. blood. blood. blood—

you blink your eyes to tear yourself out of it, taking an inaudible deep breath. small wounds and trickle of blood do not unsettle you, not anymore. but anything beyond a cut, beyond mere drops of blood— it brings back the broken little girl in you.

"i— i'll call back yeah?" you hurriedly whispered before hanging up your phone, throwing it on the couch before rushing to slide open the door.

"red? red— fuck are you—" you bite your tongue as you physicslly stop the stupid question from getting blurted out as you knelt down, your hands immediately on his shoulder as you tilted your head down.

christ— even his helmet has a fucking crack.

"red? red say something please." all you got was his haggered breathing and a lousy gesture to the couch, you heard him mumble something but it sounded more like a grunt.

you pull back and your gaze scrutinize him, well as best as it can in the minimum light provided. he is bruised black and blue, you don't see it over all that armour and jacket, which by the way, is ripped, he is also losing blood. way too much.

blood. blood. blood. blood—

"alright no pressure at all." you whispered, voice tight with anxiety as you hawl him up on his feet, his arm over your shoulder while your hand held his waist.

"ugh— easy!" he scolded in his haggard voice and both of you almost stumble due to his overpowering weight on you.

"im trying!" you hiss back, taking a deep breath as you drag him inside. you were gentler, but really the situation had you freaked out, you were almost blanked out and mostly working on autopilot. "don't you die in my apartment. i can't handle the fucking gcpd and batman on my ass." that was your attempt at some humour. to lessen the burden of your anxiety or his, you weren't really sure at the moment.

he had noticed your attire, even in the moment of haze and fatigue, he noticed the singular earring hanging from your ear, dressed up with make up on rather than the oversized he's used to see. it doesn't take a genius to guess it was for a date. maybe that put him in an even more foul mood.

but then he realises the time, its early to be back home from a dinner date. he visits at ungodly hours but today, due to unsavory altercation, he had to turn up so early and unexpected. so he summarizes, all on his own, the date didn't go quite well.

and despite the pain he is in, it puts a fucking smirk on his face. he even leans more on you, he knows he would need to unpack whatever he's feeling, but thats a tomorrow problem.

you slowly put him down on the sofa and stagger back, panting heavily as you put a hand on your hip. that took out a lot of energy from you and you realised just how inactive you are, which is concerning considering you're a citizen of Gotham. you need to be prepared to run for the hills at the slightest hint for danger.

hearing him cough snaps you out of your reverie and you immediately get about your apartment, closing the draps, turning on the light before dashing to the bathroom. you really, really hope its not something out of your limited experience. you don't even care that he ghosted you for two weeks— you just want him alive, probably intact. you honestly do not have the stomach— or the mental state for something bloodier than a graze right now.

but surprise, surprise— its a wound on the shoulder. stab or bullet— you don't wanna know.

"jesus fucking christ red.." you whisper, your skin going a little pale and green as you look at his blood seeping under his hand that he has kept pressed on the wound. "is that— oh shit—"

"yes it is. now come here with that." he sounded more firm and annoyed than he ever did in the frequent interactions you've had with him, and that is understandable. he sounds like he's on his last breath with all the panting and huffing.

"right. sorry." you immediately walk and stand beside him, running your mind through whatever red told you about it. luckily, red had filled you in about different wounds, since you were currently playing nurse. he had mentioned shoulder wounds, hurts like hell and bleeds a lot but it can be patched rather easily, his words.

he lays himself down and you drag the coffee table closer to sit on it, your hands rummaging through the kit which had expanded. you may have had restocked and bought more— obviously for this certain vigilante.

"okay so uh— clean?" you repeat the steps to yourself as you watch him remove the small cloth from his shoulder— you almost puke from how messy it looks. its one thing taking care of cuts and bruises and its another thing to take a damn bullet out of a bleeding, ugly wound. "then remove the—" your brows raise as realisation dawns on you.

for fucks sake you can't fucking take the bullet out—

"you can. you can." he was facing you, and somehow you could feel the resolute stare through the helmet, "i know it'll be hard— but you can—" seeing him wince makes you gulp down whatever doubts you have down to your gut. let it worsen.

you let the adrenaline take over, push the tremors away that threaten to wreck your body. hide. hide. hide.

"if i kill you accidentally don't you fucking dare haunt me." you murmur to yourself as you look for a pair of tweezers, the jab makes him crack a laugh enough to hurt and he instantly winces again.

you clean the blood off first before grabbing the tweezers, taking your sweet time to drag it out— but then he grabs your wrist and pulls it slowly towards his shoulder. "eyes on here. focus, you can do it sweetheart." he murmured, and for a second he even sounded okay. you almost believed this all to be a facade.

"oh god—" you grimace as your fingers shook around the tweezers, you wished he went to some legal doctor who had actual forceps and all those medical instruments, instead of tweezers, but vigilantes are nuts. you have come to understand and accept that. "i will kill you if you die i swear— im so mad at you—" your quivering grumbles simply amuse him more, knowing its a way to distract you enough to dig in and take the bullet out.

and you did, after all the gagging and hurling a myriad of insults at him— you finally did. you slouched back as if you were the one that endured that pain.

"sweets you still need to stich, ya' know."

"no im not doing that." you snap as you sit up again, "i dont even know how to— do you honestly want to die??" you gape at him in utter exasperation, wanting to smash the remaining of his helmet.

"honestly? it sounds better than hearing all that noise from your mouth." he retorts with a scoff and you scoff back at his audacity, "i fucking helped you— and that's how it is huh? when the hell are you going to get proper care from someone who knows their shit?" you scold, your eyes momentarily shifting to the open wound.

seriously what the hell are you doing with your life?

"for that I'd need to go to someone i trust wouldn't yap away about me to my enemies or worse, tattle to the media 'bout me." he stated as he tried to shift, probably uncomfortable in the small couch where his legs fell off the other side. "and you haven't yet done that. so, you're the better choice here."

your lips simply pull into an annoyed frown, looking him up and down with clear exasperation. "should have left the damn bullet in..." you muttered to yourself, annoyed at the fact that his words got to you again. he may sound rational and logical right now as he wants to, you know the underlying meaning. he has come to trust you a bit— and his emotionally constipated self wouldn't accept that.

the stitching was done.

you looked far more exhausted than the poor guy who had to help you navigate through the steps and endure the pain.

you leaned forward with your arms resting on your knees, head dipped forward as you tried to calm yourself down. you've never been good at processing things, your mind has a habit of shoving everything in a box and let it rot in the depths of your mind.

"you okay?" he asked quietly, poking your arm with his gloved finger to get your attention and you blinked before nodding. "yeah. yeah of course."

you took a deep breath as you began gathering everything, while he simply stared at you. he knew for a normal person, seeing blood— a lot of it, can be overwhelming. he lets the guilt wash over him, lets his mind question his heart.

was he ruining you in his selfishness to see you? how long would you tolerate it till you break? how long till you kick him out of your life?

"red?"

"hm?"

"you'll pay for my new couch right?" though you weren't looking, he could see the tug in your lips that you were trying to hide. and just like that, he let himself be selfish.

"why do i have a feeling you'll buy one of those ugly couches that cost a fortune?"

"great idea, red." you smirked dryly and he scoffed, his eyes travelling down that red dress of yours and he poked the inside of his cheek, eyes narrowing as he debated whether to thrust himself in your personal life or not.

the glint of the earring caught his eye, like a glare straight to his heart.

fuck it.

"so how was the date?" cool, calm, nonchalant.

your brows furrowed for a moment and that was when you registered the weight on your ear, and looked down at yourself with a soft huff, "right. nothing escapes your eye, detective, even when you're dying." you take a tissue and cover your hands with it before taking off the earring.

"it isn't late yet. so i guess it was some boring prick hm?" he teased smugly and you raised a brow at him, turning your body slightly.

"maybe i just like to stay safe and return home before gotham's street turns rabid. it doesn't necessarily have anything to do with my date."

"but it is."

"it wasn't."

"that so?"

the illuminated slits of his helmet stared at you, and you could feel the amusement and challenge oozing off of him. you maintained the stare, but something about his confidence made your skin tingle and warm.

"kay fine! he was just like any other arrogant corporate asshole." you relented as you broke the stare, brows furrowing as you got up, his lips pulling into a triumphant, cheshire smile. again, this was something to be unpacked tomorrow.

"why'd you even go?" you rounded the table as you threw the bloodied cottons and clothes, walking to the bathroom and turned the tap on to scrub your hands clean. you angled your face away so he doesn't see the momentary quiver of your lips at the sight of blood pooling in the basin as water sloughed it off.

"why does anyone go on dates, red?" you quipped with a sigh, "besides it was a blind date. i was just trying my luck." you unknowingly dug your nails too hard while scratching the blood away, "which, like always, sucks."

you wrung your hands dry before patting it dry on the towel, clenching your hands under the cloth to calm the tremors. you cannot possibly let him see that, you won't. your weakness is your own secret, like his identity is his, and the mere possibility that someone knows even a peek about it... it rattles you deeply.

you maintain the facade. thats all you've ever done.

but in a way, him and you were alike, and he recognised the eyes that didn't seem as bright, the subtle signs of putting up a front. he noticed it, the signs transparent to him.

"do you do this?" you questioned, diverting the attention back to him, which he noticed but let it slide. "dates i mean."

"sure." he shrugged, "i mean i do have all the time in the world to prance around gotham with a beauty in my arms." he added, his tone turning sarcastic and you rolled your eyes, the corner of your lips twitching up.

"come on don't be shy. you must have dated a ton of people in your circle. superheroes and vigilantes." you tacked with a grin as you walked in the kitchen, rummaging around cabinets and fridge. you let out an exaggerated dreamy sigh, "i wish i could date them. just once. way better than those asshole i get."

his gaze narrowed while his lips pulled into a thin line. them? who's them? he is one of them too. you could date him too, he thought quite pettily before freezing up. where the fuck is his mind going?

"what the hell are you even doing there?" he called out, he couldn't hide the irate in his voice but you brushed it off. "to feed your dying ass. you might be built like a truck but even you would need something in you after all that blood."

he couldn't see much except your back and hear the sound of knife cutting against the board. he knows he shouldn't, but he can't help his eyes lingering on your back, how the dress fits your body.

"a sandwich will work right?"

"mhm."

to add fuel, the domesticity of this sudden situation has him by the throat. his mind lost, voiceless in his daydream and admiration. he may be a tough guy with walls no one could ever break, even land a scratch— but deep in the pitt lays his heart that is soft and craving. he may never tell a soul, but the thoughts of loving and being loved, no matter how far fetched it sounds, it always tugged at his soul. the idea of sharing a life, the idea of simply caring, of giving— he has a soft spot for the niceties of life that he knows he doesn't deserve.

"red?" you're holding the sandwich infront of him and he snaps out of his haze, looking at the plate on the table and then at you. he simply looked back and forth, and you sighed at the point he was getting at.

"i'll be in my room so you can have the privacy to eat." you murmured before putting down a glass of water with a pair of wet wipes and walking away to your room, closing the door.

for a moment he simply stared at the plate, not sure if he should eat it. things are getting too familiar between them, too easy— too nice. and he has a bad habit of getting attached. he has an even worse habit of getting his heart broken.

he looks back at your door, the quiet shuffling audible to his ears.

but reasons unknown to him, he takes off his helmet.

he doesn't let his lips smile, doesn't let his eyes soften. doesn't let his heart get smothered when he bites into the sandwich. doesn't let his eyes linger on the silver earring. doesn't let his eyes imagine how you'd have looked with both of them on, all pretty and mesmerizing.

he doesn't.

by the time you walk out, he's gone.

the following night comes and you don't wait for him.

morning comes and your eyes are barely working, but your sight isn't that blurry to not see the small red box on your coffee table. you paused and froze, hands slowly taking it and pulling the satin ribbon off.

a pair of dark ruby earrings stared back at you, intricately designed like it was made for the royals. and a tiny note with a quite neat handwriting.

this is an apology for all the inconvenience caused. and a thank you for the sandwich.

red.

p.s you looked beautiful.

and just like that he sweeped the ground right off your feet.

reblogs are appreciation! :D

taglist : @bmyva1entine @itzmeme

[mekakitsune]

mean!jinx x fem!reader - nsfw - minors dni

request from anon: "Hi love, I would like to request Jinx x Reader. The reader is Jinx's girlfriend and they are at the bar and a guy approaches the reader asking if the reader would like to go out with him and Jinx obviously doesn't like it, can this end with her fucking the reader to show everyone that the reader is hers? Please 😮‍💨"

dates in public really werent jinx's thing, or yours for that matter. she would always say something along the lines of "why go out when we have everything we need here?" by here, she meant her "workshop"– where it was cluttered with mechanical parts and the smell of gunpowder hung heavy in the air constantly. it was more than enough, but sometimes, even you needed a break. had you not been so convincing, jinx would have not let you drag her out to the last drop. she didn't like drinking, nor did she like the usuals at the bar. they were loud, arrogant, and just plain gross.

she sat at the end of the bar, some fruity juice concoction in her cup as she swirled her straw around the glass looking less than interested in what was happening around her.

"i want another drink, ill be right back, kay?" you lean into her, and she nods, watching you hop off the stool and stroll (rather stumble) to the other end of the bar where the bartender stood. she watched as you smiled sweetly at the man, leaning against the bar as you recite your order. he nods and moves to make your drink, leaving you to stand waiting. without notice, a man slinks in beside you, with an unsettling smirk on his lips.

"put the lovely ladies drink on my tab, would ya?" he gruffed at the bartender, sending you a wink as he spoke. you smile politely, shaking your head as you speak up– "hey... im alright but thank yo-"

"nonsense, let me treat a pretty lady to a drink, yeah?" he cut you off. he reeked of booze, and was ultimately too close for comfort.

"okay...its a just a drink, but im a-" he cuts you off again.

"see, knew you'd want it. so hows about we getchu that drink and then ditch this place?" he smirks again, placing a hand on your shoulder, one eye brow cocked like he was waiting for you to agree. before you could utter a word, an arm wraps around your waist, and the mans hand drops from your shoulder immediately.

"sorry to interrupt whatever youre trying to do here, but shes taken."

jinxs sneers at the man, looking like she was ready to pounce any second. the man, stupidly, didnt budge– obviously not seeing your girlfriend as much of a threat. her fingers gripped your hip, hard.

"ohh so its like that? y'know, ive always wanted to see some girl on girl action in real time." the man stands, arrogant and overly confident. the smirk on his lips made your stomach twist. without thinking, per her style, jinx lunges at the man, slamming her fist into his nose.

your eyes go wide as the man stumbles back, hand gripping his now bloody nose. "you little bitch..."

the man moves quickly towards her, but a familiar metallic hand finds his shoulder first.

"you two. out. now."

it was sevika, of course she had been there. she had been watching the two of you since you walked in, knowing trouble was bound to come with you guys around, it seemed like it always did.

"i'll fuckin kill you..." the man spat, trying to remove himself from sevikas grip. she looked at you sternly, and you got the message from the expression on her face.

"pssh, you wish." jinx muttered mockingly, clearly not wanting to leave without finishing what she started, or rather, without killing this guy first. you grab her wrist and speak– "lets just go jinx, cmon.." you pull her towards you, and she follows as you drag her towards the door. shouts from the man can be heard from behind you, and jinx stops in her tracks to flip him off. you bite back a laugh as you tug her along into the cool air outside of the bar.

"what a creep..." she spoke low, eyes ahead of her as she walked, avoiding your gaze completely.

"im sorr–" suddenly she whips around to face you, brows furrowed. "i mean seriously? that perv was all over you, and you were gonna let him buy you a drink!? are you stupid?" she cuts you off to rant, making you shut your mouth.

"he could have done something bad, and you were just gonna let him? the hells wrong with you?" she continued, hands moving dramatically.

"i was just gonna empty his pockets when he wasnt looking, jinx... aren't you the one that always says "if you see an opening, take it?"– you quote her. "its clear he had money..."

this seems to make her head rush, anger and possessiveness rushing through her. before you can process it, shes grabbing your arm and dragging you into the alley on your right. with shocking force, she presses you against the wall, her face dangerously close to yours as her eyes bore into yours.

"that doesn't mean go around and act like some sort of slut." she squints, cocking her head to the side.

"are you kidding? fuck you, jinx. i-" she doesnt let you finish as she smashing her lips into yours, hard enough to bruise, surely. you gasp at her suddenness, and her hands find your hips again, pinning you to the wall behind you.

her tongue wins the easy battle for dominance, completely consuming you as if the two of you werent stood in an alley. the only light was a dingy street lamp, casting a warm glow onto the two of you. the kiss was hot, messy as she took control of every movement, hips pressing into yours. she pulls back from the kiss, chest heaving as her hands find your belt.

"what are you doing?" you pant, watching her as her skilled hands mess with your waistband.

"whats it look like, dollface." her tone is low, and you can tell shes serious about taking you right here in the alley.

"cmon...not here...people could see us." you shift your hips as much as you can, but theres little to no room between you and the wall, so your attempt are deemed useless. ignoring you, her fingers pop the button on your pants, and find their way into your underwear.

her lips are on you again, flush with your neck as she sucks marks into the skin.

"let em'. dont care." her words are muffled against your neck. you gasp quietly as her fingers find your slick folds, a low chuckle coming from her.

"see? slut. all worked up, and from what, hm? some creep sweet talkin you?" she rambles, her words making your skin flush. her fingers circle your clit, making you buck into her as she holds you steady with her other hand. the cool metal of her finger bleeds through the layer of fabric riding up your hips. soon enough, shes moving her fingers and sliding them into your cunt, making you whimper. you feel her smirk against your neck, lips leaving a trail of searing marks with the intention of claiming whats hers.

"or is it that you like the thought of being caught, hm?" her fingers pushed a relentless pace, making your knees shake. "y'like me fuckin you in public baby?" her words are making your head spin, along with her fingers inside of you. her breathing picks up again when she hears you whine, cunt tightening around her fingers.

"m'close, please..." you muttered helplessly, surely dripping down her wrist at this point. she presses a kiss to your lips as she pulls her hand away. you watch in awe, chest moving rapidly as her fingers come to her mouth, sucking them clean.

"what the fuck?" you pant, fingers wrapping around her wrist. she simply smiles, before slipping out of your grasp.

"s'one thing to act like you enjoy being flirted with, but im not about to make you cum where anyone could see." she shrugs, her grin sinister as she turns on her heel.

in disbelief, your shaky hands move to fix your pants and belt. she had it coming once you stepped back into the confines of her workshop, that was one thing for certain.

thank u for the yummy rq i hope u enjoy :3

[sports-on-sundays]

Hello hello, I am back with another request! It's with Oscar again but friends to lovers. Hear me out, the most cliche thing ever. Oscar loves her, she loves him but both too dense to realise it. They are out and about and another dude corners her and tries to make out with her, Oscar saves the day (make him protective and violent pls, make him punch the guy (side note: I would pay money to see Oscar actually punch someone, don't ask me why idk🙈)). So then he comforts her, takes her home and she asks him to stay. I will leave the rest of the convo to you🤗. Let there be a first kiss and cuddle I beg I am the biggest sucker for those bcs Oscar seems like the best guy to have your firsts with.

Holy hell that's a long ass request haha. Thank you for reading all that🤣 have fun with it and feel free to change things up a little bit if you want to!

be / OP81

Summary: Oscar x female!best childhood friend!Australian!reader - You and Oscar are finally forced to realize your feelings for each other.

Warnings: panicking, someone forcing himself onto another person, blood, crying, i did change up the request a little bit 🤏, feeling sick

Requested: Yes! And don't worry about the long request, I really liked it, and thanks so much for requesting! Long requests are better sometimes anyway.

Author's Note: Guys I'm starting to think I seriously need my very own Oscar Piastri....

"It wasn't even that funny-"

"It wasn't even that funny!"

Both you and Oscar look up to who it was mockingly imitating Oscar's friendly teasing, and your eyes set themselves upon Lando Norris, smirking obnoxiously.

"What's your problem?" you demand, crossing your arms, most of the laughter from Oscar's joke that he made fives minutes ago (yes, you were still laughing your head off at it) gone.

"What do you mean? I'm just kidding. It's just funny how your boyfriend can make the most dumb joke, and send you both into a ten minute laughing fit-"

"Boyfriend?" you and Oscar seem to ask incredulously in sink.

The smile falls off of Lando's face this time, and is replaced by a look of surprise and confusion. "Waaaait... So you're trying to tell me you guys aren't dating?"

Oscar blinks a few times in confusion. "Y/n and I are just friends. We always have been."

"Yeah," you add quickly, nodding. "I don't know why everyone thinks differently."

Lando's eyebrows raise in amusement. "Maybe because you guys act like you're mad in love...? Like, all the time? Or maybe the fact that you come to every single one of our races? Or maybe it's the way you look at each other with heart eyes, like the other one is the only one in the room? I mean, I don't know. It could be the way you're always giggling and talking and yapping to each other... But, oh, what do I and everybody else know?"

"Good question," Oscar deadpans. "What do you know?"

Lando shrugs, rollings his eyes, and struts away. As soon as he's gone, Oscar turns back to you with a little shrug and says, "Sorry about that. I guess nobody gets that two people can love each other as friends without feeling romantic feelings..."

You nod, shrugging. It makes sense to you, simply because that's how it's always been with you and Oscar, forever. The two of you practically slept in the same crib (not literally!). You always just assumed he's like a brother or something, and it doesn't pay to consider anything else. So you haven't. Too risky, and besides- that's not worth it to waste your time thinking about. You like things just the way they are, no need to change them.

"-Y/n?"

"Hm?!" you look up, snapping out of your pondering.

Oscar smiles at you, his brown eyes soft, like they always are when he looks at you. You smile back, eyes equally as warm as he says, "Did you hear me?" in amusement.

You chuckle, "No, sorry."

He nods, giving your shoulder a little pat as he stands up. "I've got to go now get ready for the race. First of the season. Wish me luck!"

"Luck isn't needed," you say with a little grin. "You've got enough skill alone to win it."

He grins. "I guess. But luck never hurts, does it?"

"Not at all." You stand up with him and give him a quick half-hug, saying gentler, "Drive safe, and bring it home. I'll be cheering you on."

"Like always?"

"Like always."

"Hey, Y/n?"

You look up from your phone, shutting it off. You're sitting alone, long after the 2025 season opening race, the Australian Grand Prix, has ended. You haven't seen Oscar since the race ended, and have just been sitting around, not wanting to go home until you have a chance to talk with him. And there he is, standing there, back in his regular clothes: a black sweatshirt, sweatpants, and sneakers, looking thoroughly sleepy.

You immediately stand up, smiling, saying simply, "It was a great drive."

"Well, I-"

"Hush. You scored points after what happened, and that's enough, for goodness' sake."

He smiles softly, and though his eyes say a lot more, he just nods and says simply, "Yeah, yeah, you're right. As always."

You nod promptly and say teasingly, "I know!"

He just rolls his eyes and says, already in a better mood just by talking to you, "Mum wanted you over tonight for dinner."

You grin, "She did, did she?"

"You know she always does, whenever I'm around, want me to bring you over. She adores you."

"She's the sweetest," you chuckle. "Well, I wouldn't mind one of your mum's home cooked meals."

Oscar nods, grabbing his coat, and saying, "I agree; that would hit the spot right now. C'mon."

You two make it to the car and get in, before you start heading to Oscar's mother's home. The car ride is mostly silent, but neither of you really mind. It's a comfortable, good kind of silence.

Towards the end of it, though, you ask simply, "So, that's the end of the first race week of the season. How're you feeling?"

Oscar shrugs, thinking for a few moments, before saying, "Hmm... I guess I'd have to say tired, but very hopeful."

You smile. "Good. You just need your beauty rest, huh?"

He glances at you with a cute little smile. "Right."

Dinner is nice. Warm, and reminds you of home, and your childhood, and everything good. And it's perfect for a rainy day like today.

Once he's finished eating, though, Oscar stands up, stretching, from the table, and says, "Well, I should be off to bed..."

"Oh, Oscar, you will give poor Y/n a ride home won't you?" Oscar's mother asks.

He looks over at you with a little smile and nods, saying, "Oh, right, of course."

You walk to the door together, but before Oscar opens the front door to leave, you gently grab his arm and say simply, "Osc."

He looks up from unlocking the door, meeting your eyes. "Hm?" he asks gently.

"You don't need to drive me home. I could get a cab or take the bus or whatever. It's all good. You've had a crazy week, as it is, much crazier than mine-"

"I mean, I was thinking maybe it'd be fine if I didn't drive you home, too, but you don't have to get a cab. I'm sure if I asked, my mum would be fine with you just staying the night or something."

You blink in surprise, but smile at the suggestion. "Oh. Well, I'd hate to bud in-"

He smiles. "You're family, Y/n. Don't worry." He takes your hand, tugging you back towards the dining room, calling, "Mum! Would it be fine if Y/n just stayed the night? We've both had a long day!"

"Oh, of course, honey! Tell her she can make herself just all nice and comfy and at home! Y/n's such a sweetheart, anyways. She's always welcome!"

Oscar smiles, looking at you. "You heard that, right?"

You smile back up at him with a little laugh. "Yeah, I heard that."

He nods, saying, "C'mon, let's go to my room."

The two of you head there, both of you knowing the way to Oscar's childhood bedroom from all the years you used to spend in there together. When you walk in, seeing all the dressers in the same place they always were, and all Oscar's old decorations from his karting days, memories seem to flood back, just like that, and both you and Oscar feel it. You crawl onto his bed, just like you always used to do, flopping down against his pillows, making yourself at home.

Oscar smiles and crawls in next to you. Just like he always used to do, too. "Last time we were both here was..."

"...right after you joined McLaren, right?" you smile at the memory.

"I guess so." He smiles down at you.

"I remember distinctly, one time, you had been gone so, so long, and I asked your mum if I could surprise you when you got home..."

Oscar starts laughing, clearly remembering it to. "Ohhh yeah. I threw open the bedroom door and flopped on my bed, even though you were on it. By the time I saw you and yelped, it was too late."

"Yeah, and I wrapped my arms around you and started tickling you," you say giggling.

He rolls his eyes, grinning. "I remember. By the end of it, I was gasping and near tears. God, Y/n, you know I was tired."

"I know. But I made you laugh and smile, didn't I? And I made you feel better, didn't I?"

"I mean, I was just happy to see you," he says, his gaze comfortably resting on yours.

"I was happy to see you. Do you know how much I missed you those months?"

"You miss me if you don't see me for a week, Y/n, still."

"Why do you think I come to every race that I can?"

"Because I pay for you to?"

You roll your eyes at that, crossing your arms, "I mean, yeah, but that's not the sentiment I was going for!"

He laughs, giving your shoulder a little playful tap. "I know, I know."

You sigh deeply, the sweet silence settling between the two of your for a little while, before murmuring, "And I hope you remember after that tickle attack, when your face was red and you were nearly crying from laughing, I gave you the biggest hug of all time..."

Oscar's face warms at that as he leans a bit closer to you. "Yeah... Yeah, I remember. You wanna know why that moment was special to me?"

"Why?"

"Because that was the moment I realized that there are some people in my life that never truly will leave me. Even if I leave them. And you're one of the best of them. That was when I learned what family is."

You nod slowly, thinking about that for a few moments, before saying, "That's... so sweet. I like it."

Oscar smiles. "Me, too. I like it too. I'm so lucky to have a best friend like you."

"And I so lucky to have a best friend like you."

Oscar smiles at that, nodding, satisfied, before letting out a big yawn, reminding you if a sleepy cat, before folding his hands up into fists and rubbing his watery eyes.

And, as if it's contagious, you let your own yawn, a few moments later.

Oscar smiles, this time more sleepily at you, before slipping his arm over your shoulders and pulling you a little closer to himself. You flop your head to lean against his shoulder, and murmur, "Time for us both to get the much-needed rest our bodies are begging us for?"

"Mmm-hm. Yeah. Whatever you said," Oscar murmurs as he drifts off, the hint of a smile still lingering on his mostly relaxed face.

And you both drift off, surrounded by that perfect warmth and tranquility that feels just like home.

A little under a week later, you're sleeping against Oscar in a very similar position, feeling like you're just as at home in China than you are in Australia, simply because of the person you're resting against, when you're awakened by the painful claims, "I ship it, the mechanics ship it, the other teams' drivers ship it, the fans ship it. My God, even my mum ships it! Literally everyone can see you're mad in love except you and her!"

You stretch, your eyes fluttering open, and murmur before you're even sure it's Lando's unwanted yapping torturing your ears, "Landooo shut uppp..."

Oscar gives your shoulder a squeeze, groaning to Lando in his perfectly alert awake state (contrary to yours), "Look at that, Lando, you made her wake up!"

"Oh, yeah, 'cause you'd hate for her to stop sleeping against y-"

"Lando, stop, it's not like that."

"How come every time a girl and a guy are friends, everyone ships them? I think that's society's problem," you comment as you rub your tired eyes.

Lando snorts, saying, "It's not every time. You guys are just obvious. And oblivious. You just need to admit it to each other."

"There's nothing to admit to each other, Lando," Oscar comments as he watches you slowly lean off of him, slipping his arm off your shoulders.

"Yeah, we're, like, brother and sister."

"Well, I wouldn't say that-" Oscar begins quickly.

"I mean, yeah, like-"

"We're more like just really close friends," Oscar finishes confidently.

"Yes, that's true, I agree," you say quickly, looking up at him. "We're family, but not brother and sister."

"Ah, so you're family, but it's not like siblings. What else could you be other than mad in love but just too dense to realize it?" Lando asks.

You just glare, crossing your arms, and Oscar comments, "I don't know, but it's not like that."

"Maybe it's just not like that simply because you both refuse to admit what you really want."

"Lando, I don't need you of all people being my psychologist. Could you just leave it?" you comment, feeling Oscar's eyes watching you.

Lando sighs (overdramatically), shrugs, and says, "Suit yourself. I'm just saying, you guys have got to get together soon, or else you'll drive yourselves and everyone else insane. We can all tell you guys just need to kiss already." And with that, he once again struts away.

As soon as he's gone, you whine, leaning your head into Oscar's shoulder, "I hate Lando!"

"Don't say that. He's just kidding," Oscar says gently.

You sigh. "I know... it's just..."

"Hm?" Oscar prompts gently.

"I don't want people thinking something that's not true."

"Who cares what they think? We both know how we feel about each other, and that's all that matters." But do we? Oscar's brain echoes.

"Yeah, you're right," you murmur, nodding, comforted by his words, not even picking up the way he stares forward, eyebrows knitted together, deep in thought.

You've heard what you think you want to hear, and that's all that matters to you.

The moment you see Oscar after his podium, after he stood on the first step, winning such a solid race as that, you run into his arms, causing him to laugh as he hugs you back, saying, "Hey, Y/n."

"I'm so proud of you!" you say excitedly. "Amazing drive- amazing!"

"Thank you, Y/n. It means a lot. I'm so happy you were here to cheer me on."

You grin up at him. "Me, too, Oscar. Me too."

He celebrated with his team after the race, you staying in your hotel, since Oscar promised you he'd like to bring you home with him to Monaco, and have a more low key celebration, without as many people. Besides, you'd like it that way better anyway. And this way, you can get some extra sleep and try to avoid some of the jet lag from the long flight to Monaco.

Now you stand in Oscar's bathroom back in Monaco, gazing at yourself in the mirror in your white crop top and silver skirt, knowing that when you step out of the bathroom, all you need is for Oscar to tell you it looks nice, and then all your worries will vanish.

And once you do, of course, he stands up from the living couch and says, "You look really pretty. Ready to go?"

You smile softly, sighing in relief, and nod. "Yes. I'm ready to go celebrate with the winner of the 2025 Chinese Grand Prix." You laugh a bit, and add as you head out to the car, "Oscar, you know I'm so incredibly proud of you."

He grins. "I know, I know." You know he loves your lavishing, even if he wouldn't admit it. He's never gotten enough of it; you're one of the people that appreciate him the most, you think, at least. You appreciate him a whole lot, anyways.

Soon you get to your destination, and the night starts off really fun, you and Oscar just sticking with each other, laughing, singing, drinking, and dancing. But after too long, the air becomes stale, the noise becomes too loud, and the drinks turn bitter. You're tired, and Oscar's off somewhere, swept away with his other friends. You sigh deeply, leaning against the wall, running a hand through your hair.

It's then that you feel a hand on your shoulder, and it makes you flinch. It's unfamiliar.

It's not Oscar's hand.

You look up to see a man around your age with tangled overgrown curly brown hair and dark, cold eyes. He's wearing a gold chain around his neck and a football jersey. It's then that he shows you his unflattering smirk and says in a thick French accent, "I'm Jordan."

You just kind of nod, showing a fake smile and crossing your arms, not really in the mood for any antics with any strange guys.

His eyebrows raise as he says, "Do you have a name, or am I going to have to give you one?"

Your lip immediately curls up as you look at him from the corner of your eye, still not tilting your face directly towards him. "You're not smooth. My name is Y/n."

"Pretty name for a pretty girl. A sassy girl, too, at that. I like that."

You bite your lip, rolling your eyes in utter annoyance at this guy 'Jordan.' "Good for you..." you murmur, trying to send him the message that you really don't want to talk with him.

Jordan just hums and steps closer to you. You glance up at him for the first time, really, feeling a bit sick from how close he is to you. You murmur awkwardly, "Could you please step away?"

"No, I don't think I will. I'm enjoying your reaction too much."

"Please, stop."

He roughly grabs your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes. You swallow deeply.

"I really like your skirt..." he purrs, leaning in closer to you, completely ignoring your protests. His hand slips onto your thigh and grips it tightly.

"Stop... I don't care-"

"You don't, don't you? Well, what a shame... I reckon there's not much you can do about that..."

"St-"

He lips meet yours in a nasty, rough kiss. Your head pounds and spins as your knees begin to shake, panic of what's happening sinking in, your thoughts raging with anxious thoughts at the same time as your head being completely empty. You push at his chest, but he pushes his whole body up against yours, pinning you to the wall, further into a shadow.

You gasp, the panic sinking in deeper, and hardly register what happens next.

Oscar's familiar voice in all the chaos says in one of the angriest, coldest tones you've ever heard from his mouth, "Get your fucking nasty hands away from her."

Jordan tears his lips away from your mouth as Oscar grabs him, Jordan turning his head to look behind him, but before he has a chance to react, you watch as a fist comes flying across and hits him square across the face. He stumbles back and as blood begins gushing from his nose. For a moment, his eyes meet yours in shock, as if he expects you to help a dog like him, but it's then that you watch Oscar grab him by the collar and murmur in the darkest of tones to him, "I told you to get your nasty hands away from her, and you didn't. That's my girl, and no one dares to touch her like that. You better not think you can go on like this, and I hope this can be a reminder for you not to." And with that, Oscar throws another punch, hitting the guy in his eye. You slowly slip down the wall, still watching in shock as Oscar finishes him off by handing one more punch to him on his bloody jaw, before letting go of his collar, letting him fall to the floor, finishing with a yell, "The pain you're feeling right now is nothing compared to the pain you deserve!"

You watch as Jordan scampers up and, just like that, without even considering a fight, stumbles off, out of sight.

And then, everything hushed, Oscar turns, and his eyes meet yours. His hair is a little sweaty and messed up, falling over his forehead. For a moment, you see that remaining burning anger, but as soon as he takes you in, that vanishes, and is replace by the familiar warmth he seems to always look at you with.

And the moment your eyes lock, the tears start coming, and you break down.

Oscar is immediately by your side, pulling you into his arms, sitting on the floor next to you and holding you in his lap, gently stroking your hair. After a while, you hiccup, slowly leaning away, your body still shaking, and murmur, mopping up your eyes with your hands, "Os- Oscar... That was scary. I'm scared."

He gently takes your hand. "You don't have to be. I'm here. Are you ready to go home?"

You nod slowly, and Oscar helps you up, leading you out back to his car, his arm around your back protectively the entire time.

Once back in the car, as the events of what just happened replay through your head, you hiccup, more tears threatening to flow. Oscar gently takes your hand, murmuring in the dark of the parked car, "Tell me what I can do for you, and I'll do it. I hope you know I'll do anything for you to feel better."

You sigh shakily and just lean into him. He wraps his arms around you, holding you for a few minutes, before you lean away again and murmur, "Let's just get home..."

Oscar nods. "Good idea." He turns the car on and begins driving, and as soon as he does holds his hand that he's not using to drive out to you. You put your hand in his, letting the warmth from it fill you and comfort you.

As he drives, you suddenly say in the empty silence, "'That's my girl.' That's what you said."

Oscar just nods a little. "I know. I did mean to say that, you know."

You swallow, thinking for a few moments, before murmuring the simple question, "Why?"

"Because you've always been mine and I've always been yours, haven't I?"

You swallow. "I don't know what that means."

"Forget what it means. You're the most important girl- the most important person- to me. You're my girl, and I'm not going to let anyone be messing with you."

That feels right to you, and good to you, to hear that. And you're glad, in a way, that he's so confidently figured that out. It frees you to say back, "Well, yeah, then... I guess that makes you my boy, then..."

Oscar smiles very softly, giving your hand a little squeeze as you arrive at his home. Once you're both inside, before you have a chance to start worrying, Oscar says gently, putting a hand on your shoulder, "I want you to be comfortable. What do you need? I could get you something to eat, run a bath for you, get a change of clothes, all three, whatever else you need-"

"Oh, uh, don't worry about it-"

"Hush," Oscar suddenly interrupts, shaking his head. He moves to stand right in front of you, before gazing down into your eyes, and saying in all sincerity, "Look, I want you to be honest. I want to take care of you if that's what you need. I want you to be comfortable."

You swallow, nodding a bit, before murmuring, "A bath and a change of clothes might be nice... I'm not hungry, though."

Oscar nods, putting his hand on your back, leading you to his room. He opens his closet and says, "You can wear whatever you can find. I'm going to go run that bath for you; I'll call you when it's ready. I'll get a towel for you in the bathroom, too."

You nod, find one of his bigger McLaren T-shirts and a pair of black sweatpants, and head to the bathroom just as Oscar is calling for you.

Oscar smiles at you gently when you walk in and say simply, "Anything else you need?"

You shake your head 'no,' saying, "Thank you."

He nods. "Of course. I'll just be in the living room, you can come there when you're done. Call me if you need anything. And take your time, too."

You smile weakly, nodding. "Alright. Thanks, Osc."

He nods, leaving you to have your bath. You peel off your clothes and sink into the water, feeling its warmth surround you like an embrace. You let out a long sigh of relief as the water touches your sore, tense muscles, soothing them. After the night you've had, it feels good to just be. To just experience something genuinely good and calming, knowing Oscar is just in the next room.

Oscar. The way he stood up for you, was so protective of you, and beyond that, has been taking such good care of you... You know Oscar a good man... He was always a really sweet boy, and he's grown up to be a really very upright and sweet man. It was crazy- crazy- to see him go off on that stranger, and beat him up the way he did.

But somehow, it felt right. It was just proving he's good. That he cares so much about and for you, he won't let anyone hurt you without knowing the consequences of it from him.

How much does he really care about me?

The question almost feels good to ask, because you have a feeling the answer is one you like.

And then the way he so confidently called you his girl.

'That's my girl.'

Just looking back on it, for some reason, it makes your heart skip a beat. It's that chest-tightening nervous affectionate feeling you get often when Oscar does or says little things. Although this time, it's not little, and every new thing he does seems to make your stomach flutter a little more. It's a familiar feeling that you're sure you've gotten hundreds of times before with Oscar, but for some reason, you're only realising it now. Why, you have no idea, and what the strange feelings could mean, you have even less of an idea.

Soon, you finish your bath, and after drying yourself put on Oscar soft, comfortable clothes, no matter how over sized they are on you. Besides, you don't care in the slightest about that as soon as you inhale his familiar, comforting scent when you put them on. You go to the living room and see Oscar laying on the couch on his phone, now in a T-shirt and sweatpants, just relaxing. As soon as you walk in, though, he looks up.

"Osc...? Do you have a brush I could use for my hair?"

He nods, hopping up from the couch, and says, "Yeah, I do. Wait here, I'll be right back. Just get yourself comfy."

He leaves, and you shrug, taking his advice, and curl up on the couch, waiting for him to come back. He takes longer than you expect him to, but soon enough, he walks back in and sits next to you, saying, "Why don't you just relax, and I can brush it for you?"

"Seriously? You don't have to," you say immediately, secretly wanting badly for him to brush your hair for you. You love the feeling of other people playing with your hair- and if it's Oscar, even better.

He smiles at you. "I know, but I want to." And with that, to both of your delight apparently, begins gently brushing through your hair. When he's done, he slowly start running his fingers through it, starting from the bottom and going up to the top. You sigh, leaning back into him, and Oscar just simply loves it. After a while he says, softly amused, "You just seem to melt when my hands are in your hair."

You shrug, smiling a little, and say, "What can I say? It feels really good."

He chuckles that low comforting chuckle that feels just like home. "I can tell." After a few more minutes he says, "I found a hair tie I think you must've left here at one point. Do want me to braid your hair or something?"

You smile, glancing back at him, and say, "You can do that? I don't know if I can trust you."

He just smiles back at you. "You should. I'm good at it. Remember, I grew up with three sisters."

You shrug again before saying, "Well, alright..."

He chuckles softly again, before he gently begins braiding your hair, his fingers gently weaving through your locks, slowly, until he finally finishes and ties it on the end. Once he's finished, you turn around to face him.

He smiles at you.

You smile back, taking his hands in both of yours.

"You're beautiful," he suddenly says, looking right into your eyes. "I don't think I've told you that enough. Because I think it all the time, whenever I look at you."

For some reason, your friend saying that makes you blush. There are a few moments of silence, before you look down at your joined hands and murmur, "Crazy that the hands that beat up that guy are the same hands that just gently braided my hair."

Oscar shrugs, smiling a little. "They have different uses in different moments. And I don't regret what I did for a moment, not any of it. I would do the exact same thing if I had to do it all again. In fact, just thinking about it makes me really angry. But what matters most is that you're okay."

You sigh slowly, nodding, your head a bit dizzy at the thought of it all. "I'm just so thankful for you, throughout it all. You, like, saved the day..." you chuckle wryly.

He shrugs, nodding a bit. "I guess." A little laugh.

More silence.

You stare down once more at your joined hands. "But Oscar..." you begin hesitantly.

"Yes?" he prompts gently.

"...I'm sorry."

"Y/n... for what? You did nothing wrong-!" Oscar begins somewhat incredulously.

"It's just... You were celebrating your win..."

"Oh, Y/n..." Oscar begins, his tone softening. "Come on, now. Look up at me, will you?"

You sigh, doing so.

"It's not your fault, what happened," Oscar says. "It's that idiot's fault, and we both know that. What happened happened, and there was no preventing it. And if you're worried about me, don't be. I had a perfectly good time celebrating in China with my team. This was more that I wanted to do something with you, for you. But look at this right now. Here we are, sitting together, anyway. Isn't that what matters the most anyway; isn't that the point? So why don't we just make the most of this moment, right now, hm?"

You sigh again, nodding slowly, before saying, you heart almost feeling like it's being squeezed, "Okay."

"Hey," Oscar murmurs, his hand touching the bottom of your chin. "You're looking down again. Talk to me." He gently raises your chin.

You swallow, and suddenly, words that you hardly knew you even thought start coming from your mouth, and only now as you hear them in your voice do they even begin to make sense: "I guess it's just that... You're so caring and gentle with me, and protective. And we like each other so much and get along so well and we've known each other for years and... I guess sometimes I wonder about us... You know, our relationship, like, what even is it? I mean, I think we'd both readily admit we most definitely love each other, but I guess... well, I don't know..."

Oscar nods slowly, before whispering, as if it's some long kept secret, "You guess you just wonder in what way we love each other?"

You swallow, nodding. "Well, yes, exactly. Because... well, I don't know."

"Can I tell you how I feel about you?"

You study his face for a few moments- his handsome face- and nod.

"I feel about you the most deep feeling I've ever known, deeper than I ever thought I could experience. The love I have for you is beyond anything I could describe in a physical sense- it's beyond a romantic love or and family love or the strongest kind of named love I could think of. All I know is that when I look at you, I see fulfillment, and happiness. I see everything I've ever needed, plus everything I've ever wanted. I see a priceless jewel- the sort of thing that anyone would honor and protect with their life. I see beauty herself, on the inside and out. I see my best friend, my favorite person, the one I would spend any and every moment with, if I could. I see comfort, I see love. I look at you and know the great lengths I would go for you. I know it's all so cliche, but it is a love beyond words. It is. I just..." he trails off, before leaning in and whispering, "Are you crying?"

You sniff, looking away, your heart pounding. "No..."

He smiles gently, his hand leaving yours to reach up and wipe a tear away off your cheek with his thumb, "Don't cry."

"That's just so... sweet... and... everything I exactly feel, too, put into words..."

"Y/n..." he hums gently with a little chuckle. "I don't want you to cry, though."

"Don't worry," you say with a little hiccupy laugh. "They're good tears."

He smiles a bit, grabbing your hand again and giving it a squeeze. "Okay."

You swallow, before daring to ask, "What would the difference be, if you were my boyfriend instead of my best friend?"

Oscar eyes seem to light slightly at the question, and he says simply, "Nothing at all, except for one thing: we would be able to express that deep love for each other in different ways."

You nod slowly, swallowing.

Oscar leans in closer to you. "How does that sound to you?"

"I... I think it could be just what I need."

Oscar smiles softly. "I mean, I feel like... it would be nice to not just have to use my words to tell you how much I love you. You know, to be able to kiss you, or something, instead."

You find yourself smile a little at the words, nodding as pinkness gets to your cheeks. "Yeah... that doesn't sound so bad."

Oscar smiles, just gazing into your eyes. "Yeah?"

"It's just that... with tonight, with what happened..."

"Oh, I wasn't meaning we had to do anything tonight- just to think about. You know...?"

You nod slowly, before muttering, "But maybe... Just maybe tonight is the night to do it." You pause, before continuing, "You know, with all that happened, maybe if we just decided... tonight, let's just take a little step... it would help me to leave that. You know, it wasn't my fault... and I have someone who really does love me."

Oscar smiles. "And I really do."

You smile back, looking back up into his sweet brown eyes.

He slips his hand out of yours and gently brings it to your cheek, muttering, "Well, is it okay if I kiss you? Just a little kiss?"

You smile wider, feeling your stomach flutter at the sincere question. Nodding, you reply, "Yes, I reckon that is okay."

Oscar nods, his thumb stroking your cheek a bit as he leans in, his other hand gently touching your waist. His hand on your cheek shifts to cup the side of your neck, and he whispers, his warm breath on your ear, "You still okay?"

You nod.

And with that, he leans in, and, pulling you closer to himself, kisses you in the most perfect way. His adoration and love for you flows through the kiss, while still keeping it short and gentle. When he leans away, he whispers, "How was that?" with a little adorable smile.

You just sigh shakily and murmur, "I think you should do it again."

And he does without a second more of hesitation. His lips meet yours as he pulls your body closer to himself, lost in the kiss, lost in his emotions. When he pulls away again, he's pulled you onto his lap, but neither of you seem to care, both too swept up in each other's gazing eyes.

"I didn't realize for how long I needed to do that..." he whispers gently.

You smile a little. "I didn't realize how long I needed that from you."

He smiles back. "We'll call that both of our first kisses, okay?"

You nod. "Does this mean I'm your girlfriend now?"

"I like the sound of that."

You smile and throw your arms around him in an embrace. He pulls you closer to him, leaning back so that you can lay your head on him, and rubs your back, whispering, "I love you so much, Y/n. So, so much. To the moon and the stars and all the way back."

You smile up at him. "I don't know about the moon and the stars for me Oscar, but I'll tell you this: I love you enough to want to spend my life with you. I love you enough to want to grow old with you."

At those words, Oscar's arms tighten around you, and he chuckles, "See how sappy we suddenly get as soon as we decide to just give it up and kiss? My God."

You grin into his chest. "Yeahhh... But I don't mind it."

"Oh, trust me, I don't either." He shifts, moving you with him, making you both comfortable, so that you're laying together, cuddling.

"I really like this."

He hums. "Me too."

"You know we'll never hear the end of it from Lando if he finds out."

You feel the vibration of his laugh in his chest. "I guess we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, let's just relax. I just want to be. Be with you."

"I think that sounds like exactly what I was made for. To be with you."

He smiles, and you shut your eyes, content to listen to his heartbeat and just be.

Just be with him.

[theemporium]

Smut merry daquri with Luke and number 12?

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

12. "No underwear?"

.

It was no surprise to anyone that the social responsibilities and duties were Luke’s least favourite part of being a hockey player.

He understood why he had to do it. He understood why management wanted to parade the players around sometimes, why they had to show face. He didn’t mind it all the time, when there were still links to hockey like coaching junior teams or meeting fans. But the fancy galas and events were a whole other story. 

He was shoved into a suit, slapped on the back and passed around a bunch of rich businessmen and businesswomen he did not know and expected to keep them happy. It wasn’t exactly the area he thrived in, not in the way Jack seemed to. 

He wanted to support the cause, he just didn’t like the superficial conversations and awkward small talk with people who thought they knew hockey better than the players on the ice. 

And yet, that wasn’t even Luke’s biggest issue at the annual Devils Charity Gala. 

No, his biggest issue was the fact he was expected to be sane and normal and so completely fine whilst you were parading around in a dress that looked downright sinful on you. 

“Hey, Moose, you good?” 

Luke blinked, turning his head to look away from where you were chatting away to Curtis and Reanne to look at his brother approaching him. “Yeah, why?” 

“Your face is all red,” Jack mused, hiding his smile behind his drink. “You’re not sick, are you?”

Luke narrowed his eyes. “Shut up.” 

Jack’s grin widened. “Maybe we should get the medics over—”

“Go bother Nico or something,” Luke grumbled as he placed his empty glass on the bar behind him, ignoring his brother’s giggling as he made his way over to you. His hands found your waist easily, his body fitting behind you perfectly. “Hey.” 

You turned back to look at him after Curtis and Reanne wandered off, smiling up at the boy. “Hey back,” you mused as you felt his arms tighten around you. “You good?”

“Mhm,” Luke hummed, his fingers skimming over the fabric of your dress. “You look really pretty.” 

“Yeah, you like the dress?” You questioned, smoothing out the lapels of his blazer. 

“Mhm,” he nodded, his cheeks burning red. “You could’ve given me a warning.”

“Where’s the fun in that? I wanted to see your genuine reaction,” you retorted, something quite like mischief shining in your eyes. “I like surprising you.” 

Luke’s lips twitched upwards, his tone lighthearted and joking. “Got any more surprises?” 

Your smirk widened. “Maybe.”

His interest piqued. “Yeah?” 

Your arms wound around his neck, sweet and innocent enough that if anyone looked over at the two of you, it just seemed like a wholesome moment between the couple. A moment to themselves, whispering sweet nothings as you leaned up close enough for your lips to brush against his jaw as you spoke. 

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Like this dress being the only thing I’m wearing.”

Luke blinked, his voice shaky. “What?”

“You heard me.”

He gulped. “No underwear?”

“No underwear,” you confirmed with a nod.

“Fuck,” Luke muttered under his breath, his hands squeezing your waist. “You…shit, babe, you can’t just say that.” 

“No?” Your smile was anything but innocent as you straightened his tie. 

“We still—” Luke could feel his face heating up. “We can’t leave yet. We still have the dinner.”

You mockingly pouted, patting his chest. “Guess you’ll have to wait.” 

Luke pressed his lips together. “You’re evil.” 

“Save the dirty talk for later, babe,” you snorted before pulling away from him. “C’mon, I promised Reanne we would sit next to her and Curtis for the meal.”

“It’s like you want to put me through hell.”

“Maybe.”

.

[irisintheafterglow]

...said you like my eyes (and you like to make 'em roll)

summary: you marry hoshina soshiro. it's just a business deal...right?

wc: 1.2k

cw/tags: implied fem!reader, explicit language, marriage of convenience, childhood friends to rivals to lovers, pining but he's SO mad about it, tension breaking and a lil steamy towards the end (but nothing explicit), intentional lowercase (i didn't mean for it to be this long but here we are)

note: hello iris nation today i offer you hoshina brain rot because this bowl cut bastard has been nothing but the forefront of my mind for the past week. hope you enjoy LOL

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated <3

"oi." a small bubble mailer is unceremoniously tossed onto your desk and you don't bother looking up at who threw it. "wear that."

"hello to you too, vice-captain. what a lovely day it is!" you remark without pulling your pen from the document you were signing, your voice mockingly sweet. he can't stand you. "oh, i'm doing well," you continue with the imagined conversation, "just doing paperwork and wondering what my wonderful fake husband is up to."

"careful how loud you say that," he warns through gritted teeth, "or you put both of our jobs in jeopardy."

"i'm aware, hoshina." you sigh, finally looking up from your paperwork at the package in front of you. "trust me, i'm not trying to mess this thing up just as much as you are," you reassure him before dropping your voice to a nearly imperceptible volume. "as difficult as you make it, sometimes." you catch the muscle in his jaw clench and smile inwardly at your victory in making him tick.

"just open that and put it on. i have work to do." you frown, gesturing at the stack of papers that appeared on your desk that morning and were nowhere close to being finished.

"and you don't think i don't?"

"open the damn package."

"what do you say first?" you smile at him condescendingly and watch his frown become deeper. rolling his eyes, he pushes the mailer closer to you before muttering a quiet, "please." you reluctantly open the package, dropping the small gold circle inside into your palm. it's a testament to your working and romantic relationship with hoshina that your first reaction is to snort. "what the hell is this?"

"we're married, aren't we?" he scowls, annoyance overtaking his typically-amused face. "might as well look the part."

"how thoughtful of you," you say with no inkling of gratitude, slipping the ring into its proper spot on your left hand. "huh. perfect fit."

"that's a surprise," he mutters and you narrow your eyes, suspicious of what he meant by that. "i mean that i bought it off a discount site, not that i thought the ring wouldn't fit on your finger or something," he quickly corrects, his unhappiness and irritation clear.

"you got me a wedding ring off a discount site?" you bark out a laugh and admire the shining band in the light. "is this even real gold or is it painted plastic?"

"don't know. didn't bother looking," he mumbles and you gape at him and his pure level of indifference. "just wear that so no one gets suspicious about us."

"what about you?" he fishes under the collar of his suit to reveal a similar ring dangling at the end of a small chain. "aw, maybe you can give that one to your real wife one day. maybe she'll be stupid enough to believe it's real." he scoffs, turning to leave.

"i don't need another wife; i already have my hands full with you."

---

"they won't think twice if it's us marrying each other. not when they look at both of our histories," he explained to you on an off-base excursion, away from prying eyes and recording cameras.

"what's in it for you?" you take another sip from your drink, something you forced hoshina to buy for you for making you travel so far off base. it was like you were kids again, sparring with tree branches in the afternoon and spending all your money on sugary drinks. "isn't it bad to be making attachments, especially ones in the defense force itself?" he shrugs, calmer than you'd ever seen him since you were transferred to the third division. you remember the first time he saw you on base, immediately ordering you to run laps for some made-up reason. so much for childhood best friends turning into kaiju-fighting partners, you thought to yourself.

"people will stop asking me to use my benefits on them, for one," he says. "it'll also stop the brass from bothering me about next-of-kin type stuff."

"oh, so you want me to deal with the repercussions if you die? how thoughtful," you deadpan. "and in exchange, i get more benefits too?" he nods, refusing to look at you. come to think of it, you'd only faced him head on when you first arrived on base. shaking your head, you ask hoshina a question that'd been lingering your mind since you first saw him after he left to join the defense force. "why is this the most you've spoken to me since i transferred? what happened to growing up together and joining and-"

"questions like that have no place in this arrangement," he cuts in, a shadow casting over his eyes that you couldn't read. "so don't ask them." you huff through your nose before deciding not to press the subject further.

"strictly transactional, right?" you murmur, the barest hint of sadness detectable in your voice.

"strictly transactional," he affirms.

---

"mmm, now what happened to 'this is strictly transactional,' husband?" you smirk against his lips, his hands desperately roaming anywhere he can reach on your body.

"shut the hell up." after months of avoiding you and willing the ache in his lungs to subside, something in him had begun to bend when he saw what you were wearing to the defense force banquet. whatever it was completely snapped when you brushed your hand against the bicep of some nobody from another division. the interaction made his vision bleed scarlet and it took all his energy to remain cordial as he all but dragged you out of the ballroom.

"ask nicely and maybe i'll think about it," you murmur.

"shut the hell up, please," he rasps, breathless from kissing you in a dark, quiet back hallway of the banquet hall.

"kiss me harder and i will," you counter and he just laughs, pinning you back against the wall. one of his hands runs up and down the side of your thigh, the other holding you close by the back of your neck. "what's gotten into you? not that i'm complaining, but-"

"do you have any idea what you're doing to me?" hoshina can barely breathe, every single one of his senses overtaken by you. your perfume, your skin, your eyes, your lips. he was sinking into an indulgence that he'd never allowed himself to have, and it was intoxicating.

"i think i can make several educated guesses." he rolls his eyes but is barely able to stay away from you and your smart mouth. "but really," you say, gently pushing him away and you swear you hear him groan in frustration. "what's going on, soshiro?" soshiro. he liked it when you said his name.

"i'm done pretending that i don't care about you anymore," he admits, his face burning from adrenaline and embarrassment. "i'm fucking sick of acting like you don't matter to me." you blink at him as his eyes burn molten-red.

"why did you act like i was a burden?" your voice cracks and something in hoshina's chest wrings. "why were you so mean for so long?"

"i was hoping i could scare you away," he replies guiltily after a tense moment. "i was hoping that, if i was mean to you...you would leave the force and you wouldn't get hurt. i just wanted you to be safe. all i ever wanted was for you to be safe."

"and you thought marrying me to get your benefits would keep me safe?"

"i've had better ideas," he concedes and you crack a smile. he mirrors your grin, kissing you sweetly. "can i make it up to you?" his hands travel more dangerously over your exposed skin, sending shudders down your body. "i promise i can...make amends to your liking." you hum, tugging him out of the nearest exit.

"i think that can be arranged."

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[pupyuj]

the other nonie request…

now i miss big dick wony too :(

i need to be manhandle by her

remember this monumental day in diveland??? YEAH... WE FORGOT ABOUT THIS TOO QUICKLY, LET'S BRING IT BACK!!

rich bossy wony who likes to toy with you—her witty, annoying roommate who has quite the reputation as jang wonyoung’s personal… COMO SE DICE… pet! 🤭🤭 no literally bcs she could force you to wear a collar with her initials dangling in the middle for a day and you wouldn’t have a choice but to do it bcs she makes up for it with mind-blowing sex anyway 😵‍💫 she’s almost like a sugar mommy?? except that the only things she wants to spoil you with are lingerie and slutty clothes that she wants you to put on solely so she can rip them off of you 😭 and all you need to do to pay all that back is spread your legs and be a good girl for her :33

she does not gaf about you at all unfortunately! the only thing you’re good for in her eyes is sex and you know what, you’re fine with that bcs you also couldn’t care for her grumpy ass even if you tried! and all this animosity leads to a lot of hate sex 😭 like oh you’re not reciprocating her advances bcs you got shit to do?? nuh uh, that’s not allowed! you got home late and thus made wonyoung wait?? unacceptable! she rarely kisses you already and if you mess up it's all bites and stinging words... but you wouldn't say that you didn't like them of course 😋

probably loves it better if you turn out to have long hair bcs wony can just drag you around that away if she can't get you to wear those cute leashes that she spends her hard-earned money on just for you 🫣 nothing satisfies her ears more than hearing you wince or whine in pain whenever she just casually reaches over and pull your hair, sometimes even mockingly commending you for keeping it so healthy just for her 😣 it was definitely one of her main ways of getting her aggression out... other than fucking you senseless of course! she would see you stumbling about in the apartment drunk as hell at two-thirty in the morning and she wouldn't waste any time yelling profanities and degrading things to your face before dragging you to her bedroom by your hair bcs you couldn't keep your wasted ass mouth shut 😣😣

something better than completely tearing your clothes off of you is ruining them.. but still letting you wear them 😝 wonyoung likes the sight of your pretty little cotton candy pink blouse ripped open and missing a few buttons, your tights moderately ruined and your lingerie just barely pulled down to your knees while she has you bent over her bed taking her cock like the obedient living fleshlight that she molded you to be! 🫢 she enjoys it when you scream and moan her name freely in the air, loves it better when you try to move away from her just get some sense of control in the situation but eventually failing and just letting her use you... and sometimes she might even be successful in getting you to work yourself on her cock, sitting back and watching as you thrust yourself backwards into her..

AND THE MANHANDLING SO TRUEEEE wony might not look like it but she's freakishly strong 😭 most of the time when you're fucking, she really just does everything! even when she puts you in a position where you'd be on top, like cowgirl, she'd be holding your hips tightly and controlling your pace,, watching you fall apart above her brings her more pleasure than shooting her load inside your womb sometimes!

literally pretends that you don't exist on campus but as soon as she closes the door of your apartment she sticks to your side the entire day and you would see it as a thing if she wasn't constantly humiliating you in your ear and leaving reckless marks all over your body while making you cum all fucking night! wonyoung doesn't ever want to admit it but she's so fucking obsessed with you in the most disrespectful way possible 🤭

[larluce]

Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU (SERIES 2)

FIRST PART (SERIES 1) >> PREVIOUS PART >> NEXT PART

Somehow, Arthur and Merlin end up lying in bed, making out. Things float around the room. Curiously enough, the vases with Merlin's flowers remain in their place.

Arthur: (on top of Merlin, pulls away a bit, looks around, suprised, and then looks back at Merlin)

Merlin: (embarrased and nervous) I didn't mean to! I'm sorry! (lowers the things to their places inmediatly) My magic is linked to my emotions and does that sometimes when my emotions are strong. I normally have good control of it! It hasn't done that in years, I swear!

Arthur: In years?

Merlin: Since I was a kid.

Arthur: (smiles smugly) So... you basically love me so much your magic makes things fly when we kiss?

Merlin: (scolds) Oh, don't go getting a big head! (but he can't help but smile too cause he's relieved Arthur is not freaking out about it) But yes. (blushes more)

Arthur: (mockingly) Now you are going to tell me the butterflies in Leon's chambers were also cause by your magic.

Merlin: ...

Arthur: (pretends to be surprised) They were?!

Merlin: (slaps his chest) Shut up!

Arthur: I'm the Prince, Merlin. You can't shut me up-

Merlin: (kisses him)

Arthur: (Kisses back)

Merlin: (rolls them so he is on top of Arthur and separates the kiss) You were saying? 😏

Arthur: Oh, you can shut me up all you want. (kisses him again)

Kissing Merlin is magic in all senses of the word. Like a breath of air after being underwater drowning, like drinking water after being walking for hours in a hot desert. Arthur never felt more alive, and he is sure of it because, for a long time, he has been dying.

When Merlin told him he loved him just before turning into a tree, he couldn't enjoy it properly. First he was dying, then he was too devasted about Merlin's fate to think in Merlin's last words. The following months the knowlegde of Merlin's feelings started to take place in his mind, but he was too focus on finding a way to fix Merlin's state while being dead inside to dwell on it. It was in the very second he realised he was in love with Merlin, has been for a very long time, that those words hunted him and his already eternal pain turned into agony. Because he realised he wasn't really dead inside. He was still dying, never stopped dying since that day. Constantly dying but never reaching death and that was worst than being dead inside.

So Arthur began picturing "could have been's", even if that only brought him more agony afterwards, it also gave him some sort of relief, hope. Kissing Merlin’s mouth with his own being one of the most recurrent imaginations. And, once he traveled back in time, it was all he could dream of. Every time he encounter Merlin, everytime they were close or Merlin smiled at him. He's been dying to hear his "I love you" again and to kiss those lips so, so much. None of his fantasies live up to this woderful reality.

He was dying and now he is alive.

Merlin: (between kisses, almost a whisper) Gods, I love you.

Arthur: (separates the kiss, breathless) Say it again.

Merlin: (still kind of dizzy from the kiss) Uhm?

Arthur: (almost a plead) Say it.

Merlin: Want to inflate your ego so much?

Arthur: Merlin!

Merlin:(softens his expression and smiles, caressing Arthur's face) I love you.

Arthur: (holding himself from crying cause he's finally able to enjoy, he's finally able to say it back) I love you too.

And they keep on kissing. Arthur puts himself on top of Merlin again and, despite his hunger for him, he's gentle and careful. Still wanting to be respectful, his hands touch and caress over the clothes. Merlin, however, is making that task quite difficult, spreading his legs and his hands exploring under Arthur's shirt. Arthur is barely aware of the things in his rooms flying around again and even some jars breaking at some point. The only thing in his mind is Merlin, Merlin, Merlin.

Leon: (shouting from outside) MY LORD!

Merlin and Arthur: (pull away from each other quickly and the things fall)

Leon: (enters, almost breaking the door down, sword in hand) My lord! Are you... (looks Merlin and Arthur on the bed in quite a state and then the state of the room that is basically a mess. Then turns around, embarrased) My-my apologies. I heard noises and though someone was attacking you, Sire. I-I'll come back later-

Merlin: (all red) No! It's fine. I was leaving. (gets off the bed)

Arthur: (gets off the bed too) Merlin, don't forget- (but when he stands up his trousers fall to the floor)

Merlin: (wide eye, brings his hands to his mouth)

Leon: ...

Arthur: (looks down and then looks at Merlin)

Merlin: (thinking, blushing more than ever) 😳 Oh, gods! Did I do that? When did I untie the laces? Or was it my magic? Nooo how embarrassing! 😫😱 (says with a strangled voice and trying very hard to keep a straight face) Don't forget what, my lord?

Arthur: (also blushing, as he puts his trousers back on) The list of chores I gave you before we...eh... before.

Merlin: (confused) What list- (remembers the list of suspects) Oh, right! (looks around the room and picks up the parchment) I'll see right to it, Sire. (leaves, passing Leon quickly)

Arthur: (to Leon) So... since you interrupted us, better make it worth it.

Leon: The king wants to know if you already have the list of suspects, Sire.

Arthur: I have it. Gather the men. We'll arrest them inmediatly. I just have to... (signals his disheveled self) put myself decent.

Leon: Uhmm... do you... (holding himself from laughing, but can't help but grin) want me to call Merlin for that Sire?

Arthur: Very funny. (orders) Out, Leon.

Leon: Yes, Sire. (bows and is about to leave, but turns to comment) Nice decoration, Sire. (leaves, closing the door behind him)

Arthur: (confused) Decoration? (looks around and notices Merlin's flowers have grown from the vases like vines covering the sufarce near them) This corny idiot. (but he is smiling as he says it)

Merlin manages to warn in advance some of the suspects with Lancelot's help, going house to house. But, as Arthur predicted, several still were arrested in the end.

Time skip. Uther, Arthur, Merlin and the knights in the throne room.

Uther: Have all the suspects been arrested?

Arthur: Most of them. A few have gone to ground.

Uther: Issue a proclamation. All the prisoners will be executed unless the perpetrator of this attack is found.

Merlin: (thinking, affected but not suprised) You wanted to kill them either way.

Arthur: (knowing this was coming, with resignation) I'll see to it, Sire. (thinking) Maybe I can make the suspects part of the sacrifice? That way their deaths won't be in vane. Gods, I don't want to. They are innocents, but I did everything I could to save them and helping them escape would be too suspicious.

Morgana: (enters suddenly, screaming desperate) NO! YOU CAN'T! (runs inside)

Arthur: (very surprised since Morgana hasn't left her chambers in days) Morgana?

Morgana: (to Uther) My lord, none of them are at fault of what happened! They didn't cause the fire!

Uther: We can't be sure of that, Morgana.

Morgana: I am! I am sure because it was me!

Arthur and Merlin: (pale, about to have a heart attack)

Uther: What?

Morgana: I caused the fire.

Arthur: (aproaches, putting himself between Morgana and his father) I think what Morgana is trying to say is that she believes she caused the fire by accident. Maybe lighting the candle at night too close to he curtain. Right, Morgana? (gives her an anxious "don't be stupid and play along with me. WTF do you think you are doing!" look)

Morgana: (ignores him) No, it was magic. I did it with magic.

Merlin: (thinking, in panic) I thought I was the only one who did this kind of madness!

Arthur: (holds Morgana by the shoulders) Morgana, I understand that you don't want these people to die and that you feel guilty. But you don't have to make up this nonsense. None of this is your fault.

Morgana: I'm not making anything up! (to Uther) My lord, you have to believe me I-

Arthur: (shouts, urgently) Merlin, take her out. NOW!

Merlin: (as he takes her out) I'll take you to your chambers, my lady. You still need to rest.

Morgana: (struggling) NO! I'M NOT LYING! I'M A- (but she's dragged out of the room)

Arthur: (to Uther, nervous) You surely don't believe she actually has magic, right father? Is clearly that she is overwhelmed and still very distressed. She never liked when you executed people.

Uther: (with an unreadable expression) Indeed, but she never went as far as to confess she has magic just to stop me.

Arthur: Well, is also the first time you threaten to execute these many people, Sire.

Uther: (with barely contained rage) I know exactly what is happening.

Arthur: (sweats)

Uther: She was enchanted!

Arthur: (sighs in relief)

Uther: Forget the proclamation. They ALL will be executed before sunset! (leaves)

Arthur: (thinking) Shit...

Meanwhile, Merlin dragging Morgana around the halls.

Morgana: Let go of me!

Merlin: Morgana, calm down.

Morgana: I won't calm down! These people are going to be killed because of me!

Merlin: Declaring yourself a sorceress won't save them!

Mogana: (shouts) I'M NOT LYING!

Merlin: (shouts back) I KNOW YOU ARE NOT LYING!

Silence. Morgana stops struggling.

Morgana: ... What?

Merlin: (more quietly) I know you are not lying.

Morgana: You...

Merlin: (puts a finger on his lips in a sign of silence and whispers) Can we go somewhere private?

Time skip. In Morgana's chambers.

Morgana: So... you knew? Since when?

Merlin: A while. Your dreams were my first sign. Those are visions that only seers can have.... And only people with magic can be seers.

Morgana: (hurt and angry) You knew all this time what was happening to me... and you didn't tell me?!

Merlin: I wanted to! But I didn't want to freak you out or to force you to accept something maybe you weren't ready to accept or share. I was waiting for you to tell me when you were ready.

Morgana: (sarcastic) Right. So then I would lower my guard and you could stab me in the back!

Merlin: (confused)...what?

Morgana: I saw you in my dream. Giving me poisoned water. (her eyes water but remains angry) I trusted you, you were my friend, and you poisoned me!

Silence. Merlin steps back, like he's been slapped in the face. First his eyes widen in shock, then his expression softens in understanding and, finally, hurt.

Merlin: You said "you were my friend"... Are we not friends now?

Morgana: A friend of mine would never do that to me!

Merlin: You are right and I haven't. And I won't.(thinking) Not in this life. Never in this life. Please, believe me.

Morgana: Then why did I dream that?!

Merlin: I don't know! But I would never hurt you! Morgana- (aproaches, trying to put a comforting hand on her shoulder)

Morgana: (steps back and yells) Stay away from me!

Merlin: (retreats his hand, his eyes watering) Oh... I see. I can't blame you.

Morgana: Blame me? For what?

Merlin: For believing in a vision of a possible future before believing in me.

Why would he? It's true he didn't inmediatly think illy of Morgana when Kilgharrah told him she would be evil and do harm, but he did stop himself from helping her directly because of that. He left her alone and then betrayed her because of his own fear which only led her to become what she became in the end. He is the last person that can judge her. Still, he can't help but sound sad and hurt. Not only because of her words, but because he wasn't prepare to lose her friendship again.

Has... has he lost her again?

No! He won't give up. He'll fight for her this time. Convince her he means no harm. That she can trust her. No matter how much it costs him.

But for now is clear Morgana doesn't want him near, so he'll repect that and let her be.

Morgana: (feeling bad at Merlin's words) Merlin...

Merlin: (blinks to stop the tears in his eyes and masters a polite smile) It's alright, my lady. I understand completely. My apologies for disturbing you. I won't come near you again unless you want me to. (bows and starts leaving)

Morgana: Wait! (stops him by the arm) I'm sorry. You are right. That was unfair of me. I can't hold you for something you haven't committed.

Merlin: I understand, my lady.

Morgana: Don't call me that! (to herself) Gods, now I understand Arthur. (to Merlin) Merlin, I still want to be your friend. I do believe you, I was just scared and I took it out on you. Please, forgive me.

Merlin: (thinking, relief and emotional) She confronted me about her vision and then apologized. She is so much better than I ever was (says, smiling) Of course.

Morgana: (hugs him) I'm so sorry. I was a terrible friend.

Merlin: (hugging her back) It's alright. Morgana, I wasn't lying when I said I understood. (pulls away) I'm also very scared that you dreamt that, even when I know I don't have any intention of poisoning you or harm you in any way. (thinking) It does worry me a lot. Why did she dream that?

Morgana: Maybe... someone will force you to do it?

Merlin: Maybe. But I don't want there to be the slightest possibility. So... I will give you the perfect weapon to defend yourself from me.

Morgana: (horrified at the idea) No! Merlin, there's no need. I believe you would never hurt me, I really do.

Merlin: I know. But the fear will always be there and if you dreamt it, we may as well do something to prevent it.

Morgana: I don't-

Merlin: Please, let me. If not for your sake, then for mine. Please.

Morgana: (sighs) Fine.

Merlin: (holds her hand an enchants) Blóstmá. (his eyes glow and a flower appears in her hand)

Morgana: (stunned) Wh... what? 😧

Merlin: I'm a sorcerer. A warlock really.

Morgana: What's the difference?

Merlin: Sorcerers have to learn spells and enchantments to master magic. I, on the other hand, didn't have to learn anything to be able to do magic. I just have it.

Morgana: (emotional) Like... me?

Merlin: (nods and smiles) That's the weapon I give you. Now a word of you is enough to kill me.

Morgana: You also know I'm a sorceress.

Merlin: You think Uther would believe the word of a servant over yours? He couldn't even believe yours when you told him.

Morgana: (facepalms herself at the memory) Ugh, I was so stupid!

Merlin: (laughs softly) I'm sure Uther didn't believe it. (turns serious again) But he would believe you if you told him about me.

Morgana: I would never turn you in.

Merlin: Just as I would never hurt you. But just in case, now you are safe.

Morgana: (watches the flower in her hand, her eyes watering) I always been taught that magic is evil, that it corrupts your soul.

Merlin: It is not! (picks up the flower) Magic is not evil, nor is good. It just is. (the flower floats in his hand, moving its petals like a butterfly) Is how you decide to use it that matters. And your magic is a gift, capable of wonderful things.

Morgana: I almost burned down my room.

Merlin: Because you were scared. With time you'll learn how to control it. (the flower floats back to Morgana's hand) I will teach you how to control it.

Morgana: (excited) You will?

Merlin: If you let me, of course.

Morgana: (tears of happiness roll down her eyes) I'd love to.

Merlin smiles. Morgana wouldn't be alone this time. He'll make sure of it.

Time skip. In Arthur's chambers, which is not a mess anymore, though the vines of flowers weren't removed.

Arthur: (in his desk, looking defeated)

Merlin: (enters suddenly) I know how to save them!

Arthur: (confused) Who?

Merlin: The suspects! (sits on Arthur's table infront of him) Uther wants to execute them because he can't find the responsible for the fire in Morgana's chambers, right?

Arthur: Yes.

Merlin: So we just have to take the person responsible to the King before sunset. There, problem solved.

Arthur: (sarcastic) Wow... what brilliant idea, Merlin! Why didn't it occurred to me before? Oh, right. Because there is no one responsable!

Merlin: True, because it was... eh... the thunder. But! What if we could make one up?

Arthur: (more confused)...what?

Merlin: Here me out. I know there is an informant in the castle. Probably a spy from Odin, because he was the one who let Myror get in the castle so he could kill you.

Arthur: (very surprised) Wha-How do you know that?

Merlin: Myror kind of let it slip before he tried to slit my throat.

Arthur: WHAT?! 😨

Merlin: (explains quickly) He entered my room and I defeated him using magic, that's why I didn't tell you. So the informant-

Arthur: (almost shouting) You can't tell me you were almost murdered and expect me to-

Merlin: Let it go, I know. We'll talk about my almost assesination attempt later, I promise. Now focus. I know who this informant is. He was the only one who seemed surprised when you woke up alive the next day. And guess who it is?

Arthur: Who?

Merlin: Bentley!

Arthur: (making memory and then his eyes widen with surprised) That's one of Morgana's guards!

Merlin: Which gives him direct access to her chambers.

Arthur: And you think he was behind the fire in Morgana's chambers too?

Merlin: No, but... he could be... easily blamed for it?

Arthur: ...

Merlin: (sighs) Look, I know this is dishonrable and vile. But you have to understand-

Arthur: I'll do it.

Merlin: (surprised) Really? 😧

Arthur: Being informant of Odin alone would be enough for my father to execute him. Adding him one more crime won't change that. He can take the blame.

Merlin: (still perplexed that Arthur agreed to this so easily, but decides not to dwell on it) Oh... Okay.

Arthur: So, do you have any proof? I'm guessing you've been investigating him for a while.

Merlin: (gets some letters out of his pocket) I got these from his room. (gives them to Arthur and he starts reading them) Supposedly they are from a distant relative and they don't say nothing incriminatory. But I know they are from Odin! They must be coded or something. But I haven't been able to decipher them.

Arthur: (thoughtfully as he analyses one letter) Uhm... The messages are very brief. (stretches the parchment) Yet he used a lot of parchment (points the candle in the table) Light the candle.

Merlin: (gets off the table and starts leaving)

Arthur: (stops him) Where are you going?

Merlin: I need the nips to light the candle.

Arthur: With your magic, Merlin!

Merlin: Oh, right! (blushes) Sorry, the habit. (his eyes glow and lights the candle)

Arthur: (puts the letter near the fire and finds the hidden message) It's invisible tint. (looks at Merlin triumphal, smiling) We have him.

So Bentley is bring before the king, accused of both helping in Arthur's assesination attempt and the attack on Morgana. The guard confesses to be informant of Odin but denies being behind the fire. Not even when Arthur shows the proof: fragments of a vase with a weird smell, which Merlin "found" when he helped cleaning Morgana's chambers the day of the attack, that turned out to be a part of incendiary chemical weapon known as Greek Fire. And both the invisible tint and the Greek Fire were greek technices. Gaius supports the theory and adds that the prolonged exposure to the smell of the chemical could have "effects on the brain" which was probably what made Morgana "delirious". Bently still denies being part of the attack, but the King has had enough. He is sentenced to beheading and, since magic was never behind the attack on Morgana, all the suspects are realeased.

Time skip. At night. In Arthur's chambers.

Merlin: (after he finishes changing Arthur's clothes) Thank you. I know it mustn't have been easy for you. Lie to your father like that and make that man take the blame, even if he was already a bad person.

Arthur: ...

Merlin: Arthur?

Arthur: (whispering, to himself) It was actually too easy.

Merlin: (not sure he heard correctly, frowns, confused) Uhm?

Arthur: (holds his hands) Merlin, I have to tell you something. It's nothing bad and it's going to sound crazy once you hear, but you've been honest with me, so I want to be honest with you too.

Merlin: Okay.

Arthur: I... I'm not... I'm from...

Merlin: (worried) What? Arthur, you are shaking. (puts a hand on Arthur's shoulder) Are you okay?

Arthur: (sighs) I'm afraid of sleeping.

Merlin: Oh... is this because of that nightmare?

Arthur: (nods, embarrased) I've been having them for a while. But lately, they are turning worse.

Merlin: What are they about?

Arthur: I... don't remember once I wake up, but the feeling stays there.

Merlin: (knows Arthur is probably lying, but he doesn't push it, respecting his privacy) I don't recall you having nightmares when we were in the farm.

Arthur: Because we slept in the same bed-well, floor there. (holds Merlin by the waist) Your presence always fly the nightmares away.

Merlin: (mocks) Awww, who is being cheesy now? (but blushes at Arthur closeness) Maybe I could... you know... sleep with you tonight.

Arthur: (opens his eyes wide and smirks)

Merlin: (slaps his shoulder) Just to sleep, you pervert!

Arthur: I didn't say anything!

Merlin: And it will be just for tonight. To scare the nightmares away.

Arthur: Of course. Just for tonight.

And from then on, Merlin will never sleep in his chambers ever again.

...

In with this "The Nightmare Begins" ends.

Hope you enjoyed it ^^

Tagging @aceauthorcatqueen , @fallenxjas , @smileytrinity ,@lucifertookmyshoe , @an-entity-i-think , @thecornerofbelu , @griffonskies , @odinjm , @cinnabon-sweetroll-tiramisu , @thelady-mary , @bennedict , @nightninjaboy , @st8-of-grace , @starrieisdelusional , @error-username-not-available , @dogberryrowan , @jamieweasley13 , @tansyuduri , @tercais , @robynnemrys , @evadne01 , @serasvictoria02 , @hairdryerducks , @curiously-lazy , @harriettesthings , @andrealux16 , @wacko-weirdo , @greatdonutenemy , @yougottobekittenme , @anxiousosaurus , @kinkforwings , @someweirdassnamee , @impracticalantlers , @miyriu , @hobipabo , @whitemaskcd , @bogslob , @braziiis , @rubinaitoart , @thebigoblin , @toomanyfanficsbruh , @farmboyprince , @nonsensefunsense

[hom3landr]

Blow Me (One Last Kiss)

18+

Homelander teaches you an important lesson at one of his rallies

CW: Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Dubious Consent, Slight spoilers for S4

You’ve long grown accustomed to the roar of a crowd. It comes free with admission as Homelander’s lover. Sometimes it’s as if the noise itself follows you even into the dark peaceful nights spent dozing in his arms. Your ears still ring with cheers. You don’t mind too much even if you can tell the constant mindless applause has started to grate Homelander’s increasingly sensitive nerves. You know the alternative would be much worse.

You’re especially thankful for the noise as you kneel under the podium with his cock down your throat. Well, you call it a podium but it might as well be a pulpit with the way he preaches to the masses. Your precarious situation is the result of you correcting him in public. His firm grip on the back of your head ensures that your nose remains fully nestled in the nest of hair at the base of his cock as he begins to hush the crowd so he can begin his speech. You’ve heard him practice so many times by this point that it’s almost become gibberish to your ears but you’d never dare tell him that. He takes a moment to look down at you before he starts, a wicked smirk as he takes your wide teary eyes and the way your mouth puffs around his cock.

His fingers nestle in your hair and pull you off him, a line of spit connecting you to the tip. He gives a wink before shoving you back onto him. Despite how many times you’ve done this, you still gag a bit and you flush crimson when the mic manages to pick up the sound in the lull between words. Homelander chuckles.

“Sorry everybody, it looks like we have a little mic feedback.” He laughs good naturedly as the crowd echoes with mild laughter of their own. Your hands fly up to grip his hips as he slowly starts to fuck deep into your throat. His voice is able to mask the wet sloppy sounds of you sucking him off but if someone listened close enough, they’d be able to hear what he’s doing to you.

You’re embarrassed but the depravity has you moaning quietly around his cock as heat pools between your legs. You know he can smell your arousal because even from your awkward angle you can see his cheek twitch smugly. Drool drips down your chin and onto the stage below. You’re grateful that the sides of the podium shield you from the curious looks of the stage crew. They know what’s happening but they have no idea what it looks like when Homelander fucks your face. He loves showing you off like a trophy but there are things that are for him only. (At least if the viewer is meant to stay alive after. You can’t forget when he showed off your skills in front of Todd and his pals before ordering his teammates to beat their brains out to advance his plans.)

He speeds up right as he hits a lull in his speech and you can’t help but whimper as obscene noises fill the arena for a moment.

“There’s that feedback again. I might need to get a new mic here.” His voice is lighthearted but smug. He knew that didn’t sound anything like mic feedback but who’s going to question him. His hand gently scratches at your scalp mockingly. You tease at the throbbing vein on the underside of his cock with your tongue until he can’t help but whine for a moment. That earns you a sharp tug but your satisfaction masks the sting.

He’s careful not to finish until he’s done with his speech and when he does and the tech crew comes out to check the equipment in between sets, he tugs you off him to fix you with a stern look.

“Have you learned your lesson?” He asks you mockingly, his thumb swiping a drop of his come off your bottom lip.

“It depends, are you going to stop being so petty?” You reply in turn, cocking your head cheekily. The effect is slightly dampened by how fucked out you look but Homelander’s eye twitches in annoyance even so.

“Guess not.” He says before tugging you down on his still hard cock once more. After all, he still has so much he needs to say to his adoring public.

It’s alright though. He doesn’t need to know that you don’t really mind.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Luke Castellan is the type to look at you with mischief and somewhat knowing, almost as if he was aware of something that you weren’t yet aware of.

Luke Castellan is the type to walk up silently behind you and wait for you to notice his presence, warning the campers you’re talking to to remain silent so they didn’t ruin the surprise. So when you did notice him, albeit screaming at how he scared the shit out of you, he only laughed as he defended himself from your weak slaps to his biceps.

Luke Castellan is the type of man to steal stuff for you in thanks to him being Hermes’ kid. So he sneaks into cabin with the gifts that he -or with his usual partners in crime the Stolls- had snuck in that reminded him of you. He loves the look upon your face when you did find all the trinkets he has scattered throughout your cabin, seeing the way your eyes softened and your smile only grew at how well he knew you and how he went out of his way to do this for you.

Luke Castellan is the type of man to gift you his hoodies just so he could watch the dejected looks upon others faces when they realised that you were taken, when in reality he has yet to confess his feelings but you in his hoodie made the message clear; you were off limits unless they want to be humiliated in training later. He likes how you look in his clothes but likes it even more that when you do give it back -hesitantly of course- it would have your scent lingering in the fabric. However there would be days where he’d suggest that you’d keep the hoodie entirely, shamelessly wanting to see you in his hoodie for just that little bit longer.

Luke Castellan would most likely be the type to target you when it comes to capture the flag. He would make sure everyone on his team knew that you were his primary opponent, he would make sure to chase you into an empty area under the guise of battle, when in reality you were just going to get backed up against a tree as he smirks in triumph when his team wins and your left sulking and trying to brush him aside as you both return to camp together; completely unscathed. Making everyone in camp suspicious of what happened between the two of you.

Luke Castellan would be the type to get a little jealous when his friends work against him to make him jealous into admitting that he felt something towards you. So Clarisse, Chris, Selina, Charles and sometimes even the Stolls would go out of their way to spend time with you and would drag you away whenever Luke was coming towards you. This does piss Luke off whenever he sees one of his friends pull you towards the other side of the camp, away from him in specific and would even dare to look back at him with a smile before mouthing: ‘say something to them or we will.’

Luke Castellan is the type to be vulnerable towards you, only letting you in when he felt you were close enough for him to pour his heart out to, his feelings towards you don’t come out like his friends hoped but he’d claim to them that he was working on that. However most nights he spent sneaking into your cabin to tell you about his nightmares and the failed quest he went on that mockingly gifted him the scar he bore upon his face.

‘You’re so pretty.’ You muttered softly as you caressed the scar.

‘You’re not scared?’ He’d ask, beautiful deep eyes shinning with unshed tears.

‘How can I ever be scared of someone as beautiful as you Luke, I could look at you forever because I don’t want to miss a single expression your face makes. I want to know your every emotions and know what you’re feeling in certain situations and know how to handle it and comfort you.’ You replied honestly and before you could comment on the sound of his hitched breath, his lips were on yours and your mind went blank in that moment before reciprocating upon realising that this was reality and not the dream you’ve had for a while.

Luke Castellan who seemingly has his arm through over your shoulders at any given moment, refusing to let go as it meant letting you go and now that he has you the way he wanted, Luke didn’t want to go anywhere else unless it was with you in tow. He’s visibly happier as many campers could tell whenever he’s with you, looking at you adoringly whenever you talked passionately of your interests and facts that you’ve learnt recently. He -in Clarisse words- looked like a lovesick puppy with you but he couldn’t help it, he finally got you and he was more then eager to take advantage of getting to be as clingy as possible with you without raising suspicions that everyone knew was the truth.

Luke Castellan is the type to know he’s truly happy with you and strive to have a normal, somewhat domestic relationship with you, which may or may not lead to the two of you being the envy of camp…maybe even being the blueprint of the relationship most wish to have that some will later have in the future. (Percabeth)

[boatboys]

Hello I am asking as someone who is not American and does not have a strong grasp of American regional accents. I know the Fleet accent has been talked about before but since it keeps getting remarked upon so much in all the non-Fleet POV books, I GOTTA know. How... how does Rich say peoples' names?? What does 'Rafael' sound like phonetically when said by the big boy???

The short answer is that he hits the first consonant/syllable--D and T noises very swallowed/softened--and then kind of makes a mouth noise in the general shape of the rest of it lmao. Which in Rafael's case means it ends up kind of like. Similar to "Raf-ale" if he's enunciating, and "Raf(vague vowel sound)" if he's not.

The LONG answer is this collection of musings on accents I picked out from the author chat.

--

roach —

yknow he probably pronounces his whole name rich'r rich'r merl rafael: your name, for example, has four syllables rich, counting: ....no?

Splickedylit, RN, BSN —

the L on Basil's name ends up so swallowed Sol spent the first two visits thinking Rich's boyfriend was named Bays

roach —

oh my god Bays Rye like yeah sure whatever that's a reasonable name for a boat cultist

Splickedylit, RN, BSN —

Rafael meanwhile will pronounce the whole damn thing which gives the fleet guys a distinct feeling of being in trouble because nobody enunciates your whole name that clearly unless you're about to get scolded

roach —

oh man yeah

Splickedylit, RN, BSN —

Rafael, very crisply: Basil Wright? Bays: 8(

roach —

rich keeps hearing the other guys going riTCH and is like. you don't have to go that hard. doesn't it wear your mouth out.

Splickedylit, RN, BSN —

Sol is using his WHOLE mouth like. SO much. does he not get tired. there's so many consonants in there

roach —

i think instead of a fully enunciated tch noise like we do it's probably more of a /dj/ like in jazz?

rollerskatinglizard —

Ridge Mehrl

roach —

yeah these are our boat boys, bays, midge, and ridge. and yes, they smoke weed. ......leam god rich is handicapped in following iambic pentameter or whatever it is he gets done in half the time rich you actually have to say the words on beat all of each word

Splickedylit, RN, BSN —

Rich: this is Liam Rafael, enunciating very clearly: ..............Leem? Rich: nah 's Liam. like, Liam? Rafael: Leem. Rich: Liam THAT'S WHAT HE SAID, RICH FOR PITY'S SAKE

rollerskatinglizard —

Rich finally spells it in total exasperation Rafael, in disbelief: LIAM????

Splickedylit, RN, BSN —

who the fuck is Lee-Um Rafael's name probably comes out like. Raffle.

roach —

raf'ale

Splickedylit, RN, BSN —

Rafael pronouncing his own name is giving three whole fancy syllables Rich will sometimes manage two if he's trying real hard

--

roach —

UNRELATED but i feel like the first time sol hears rich pronounce 'christmas' he has to pause like. crimmis. really??? rich: crim...is. sol: you are so close to having an actual t in there somewhere rich: the t is silent, it's always been silent, you can't tell me it's not sol: CHRISTMAS rich: bullshit

--

Splickedylit, RN, BSN —

........I bet the Fleet ship Versailles is almost ubiquitously pronounced "ver-sails" in the same way that Notre Dame the college is almost universally pronounced "dame" instead of "dahm"

--

roach —

today's silly thought: connor making any kind of issue out of how rich pronounces things and sol being outraged like 'worst guy you know makes a great point' rich: hurn connor: it's HUNNERT sol, seething: hundred rich: yeah that's what i said

--

roach — 10/1/24, 12:39 PM

connor: payerENCE rich: pay rent? connor: no like your momma rich: oh! pance sol: parents connor: no 🙂 rich: no 🙂

[...]

Splickedylit, RN, BSN —

Sol gets a lot of shit about his new york accent but at least he's COMPREHENSIBLE. you country fucks.

roach —

rich: brooklyn connor: broom? boiling? rich: haha bowling lanes?? no like new york sol: brooklyn connor: fuck off rich: bru'n sol: BROOK. LIN. rich, mockingly: brogn

--

roach —

d'rain in spain fas mainyonna plain there, nailed it, next question rafael: say 'around' rich: rown rafael: around rich: ROWN sol: say 'shakespeare' rafael: don't rich: shays-per

[anticapitalistclown]

can I request some lookism characters after an argument with reader? some comfort pleasee?

sure!

*I made a poll long time ago and the most voted characters are Gun, Samuel and Goo (the most stubborn man fr)

Gun, Samuel and Goo x reader, after an argument

Gun

You and Gun always try to avoid conflict, mostly because of your stubborn nature and for the sake of your relationship, yet sometimes arguing can't be avoided. It is in those cases that your boyfriend's way of showing his apology is by acts of service, sometimes by cleaning your apartment or making food for you, he's too stubborn to say a simple "I'm sorry" yet he makes it up by showing it instead.

You were curled on his bed, drained, all the energy you had it was gone, your eyes staring at his empty wall, his decoration sense was so hideous that you could have used that in the argument "stupid Gun" you cursed and hugged his pillow "watch your fucking language" Gun's voice made you jolt, you rolled to face him, and he slowly approached you, laying next to you and grabbing your body to hug him instead of his pillow.

You both rested curled in each other's for a silent while, his hand caressing your hair, admiring your features, your fingers were following the line of his collarbone, even in that silence you both managed to show each other's love by simple touches.

"Gun" you tried to break the silence, yet he didn't let you continue, his lips kissed the tip of your nose "I made some dinner if you're hungry".

Samuel

God for sure gave you the strength to keep up a relationship with this man, Samuel was raised to not show any vulnerability, those who did get beaten up to pulp or just experience a fake act from him, a way of manipulation that sometimes affects you too.

When Samuel and you argue he tends to leave, not out of disrespect, just to cool things and give some space, then he comes back with any sort of present.

You were sitting on his sofa watching whatever was on the TV just to cool you down a bit, your teeth had no mercy on biting your nails, an involuntary gesture that you had since young and only appeared when you were stressed out. Suddenly a hand grabbed yours "stop, this is not good for your fingers" you recognized the tattooed hand and avoided looking at Samuel "are you going to give me the silent treatment?" no response "alright, understood" his hands travelled to your neck and placed an expensive necklace on it "you wanted to spend more time together, right?" you looked at him and nod at his words "get dressed, we're eating out tonight".

Goo

Arguing with Goo was no use, you would never make him understand the point, only getting mockery from him.

You both have been arguing for an hour, honestly it was you just arguing and him laughing or looking at his phone, it was like talking to a wall, and you hated it so much.

"enough!" you shout of anger and trow him the first object that was near you, a soft pillow "do you really think you're going to hurt me with this?" Goo laughed "ouch my nose is broken!" he retorted on the floor mockingly "the softest pillow we got on the house broke my nose!" he laughed and looked at you, Goo expected you to laugh, he always stops the arguing when he makes you laugh, so this time would work again, right?

Goo went silent when he saw you crying "you idiot" you sobbed, and he knew he fucked up. Goo got up from the floor and hugged you, his strong arms making you unable to move and run away from him, you started to slap and punch every part you were able to reach, his arms still around you, not letting you go.

Once you got tired of attacking him you rested on his chest, crying on it "believe me, seeing you cry hurts me more than any punch you trowed at me" he palmed your head, soothing you "I'm sorry".

[bettelaboure]

⊹Pathetic⊹ | Choi Seung-Hyun

sixth part in series "Course in Chemistry"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

⊹ Pairing: Choi Seung-Hyun x Reader

⊹ Warnings: sexual tension, embarrassment, mature language, peer pressure, and high school dynamics involving gossip and judgment

⊹ Summary: Y/N helps Seung-Hyun explore his sexual curiosity through an intimate and consensual encounter that begins with erotic media and leads to mutual physical exploration

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

You heard the slam of a door and the unmistakable clatter of props being knocked over in the theatre's prop room. Muffled pants and moans echoed through the space, prompting you and Jae-mi to exchange puzzled, slightly amused looks.

At first, you both tried to ignore it, but the moaning got louder—uncomfortably so. Curious and slightly annoyed, you stood up and made your way to the prop room. With a swift swing of the door, the scene revealed itself: a completely topless girl sprawled on a table, and a half-naked boy between her legs, his pants pooled around his ankles.

You couldn't help but smirk. There was something ridiculously funny about boys having sex with their pants still around their ankles. Funnier still was the fact that this boy wasn't just anyone. It was Young-bae.

"Shameful," you tutted, leaning casually against the doorframe. The girl, whom you didn’t recognize but guessed was on the Debate Team from the pin on her cardigan, snatched her top from the floor and scrambled to put it back on, her face flaming red.

"And here I was, thinking you were the golden boy, Young-bae." You emphasized the name deliberately, knowing full well Jae-mi would come running at the sound of it.

By the time she joined you, Young-bae had at least managed to get his pants back on.

"Damn," she said, shaking her head with an amused look. "Can’t even keep your dick in your pants during school hours, huh, Young-bae?"

The girl darted from the room, humiliated.

"Please, Na-bi was begging for it," Young-bae scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Can’t say the same for you, Jae-mi. Maybe you should try it sometime. Begging, I mean."

"Maybe you should throw yourself under the bus," Jae-mi shot back, voice sharp.

"Ouch." Young-bae placed a hand over his heart mockingly. "Is that a death threat, Jae-mi? Pretty sure Principal Park would love to hear about that."

"I said throw yourself under. What you do after that is entirely your call." She smiled sweetly, then tilted her head. "And what would Principal Park say about the school’s golden boy screwing a Debate Team girl in the prop room, hm?"

Checkmate.

Young-bae gave her a once-over, bit his lip to suppress a grin, and folded his arms. "Just 'cause you’re mad no one wants to fuck you doesn’t mean you need to ruin everyone else’s fun."

And with that, he walked out.

"What a dickhead!" Jae-mi fumed. "Who does that? Are we newly-devirginized sophomores or something? Ugh." She clicked her tongue and walked back to the papers.

Young-bae always knew how to get under her skin, and whether for fun or sport, he was good at it.

Later that day, you sat on Seung-Hyun's bed, reading through a worksheet he handed you when you arrived. The questions were wordy and tedious, and you found your attention drifting. He was at his desk, finishing up an essay on his computer.

"I've been missing out on so much," he said suddenly.

You looked up from the worksheet. "That’s what everyone says after they masturbate for the first time," you said with a chuckle, tapping your pencil against your leg.

Seung-Hyun laughed and leaned back in his chair.

"Can I ask you something?" His eyes were curious.

"Sure."

"Girls do it too, right?"

You smiled, holding back laughter. "Yes. Girls do it too."

"How, exactly?"

You raised an eyebrow. "You've seen those tapes, right? Where guys use their hands? Girls can do that to themselves too."

He nodded, processing. You appreciated that he wasn’t judgmental. So many guys acted like female pleasure was taboo. It wasn’t.

"What does it feel like? For girls, I mean."

"Sex?" you asked. He nodded.

"Imagine the worst itch in the world. Now imagine finally scratching it."

He laughed. "You’re comparing sex to an itch?"

"Hey, it's true! It's like being filled in a really good way. Like a rush, a tingling sensation all over your body. If the person knows what they’re doing, it’s just... pure pleasure."

"And how do they know?"

You grinned. "It depends. Some like it rough, others slow. Certain spots, certain words. It’s different for everyone."

He nodded thoughtfully and turned back to his essay.

"Why do you want to know?" you asked, genuinely curious.

"I guess I just wonder what it feels like. I think about what it's like to touch someone... how my touch would affect them."

You tilted your head. "Have you ever seen a girl naked? In real life?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "No."

You stood, walked over, and took his hand. "Come here."

You pulled him gently to the foot of the bed.

"What are you doing?"

"Undress me."

His eyes widened, face flushed. "I don’t think I should..."

"I want you to. I want you to see a real woman, not just what you see on screens."

Still hesitant, he stood behind you, hands hovering. Slowly, his fingers brushed your arms, trailing goosebumps behind. With a nervous tug, he pulled your top over your head.

You were in a matching black lingerie set. His breath hitched.

His hands ghosted down your back, fingers grazing your waist, then tugging your skirt to the floor. When his fingers reached the clasp of your bra, he asked again, "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

He unhooked it, letting the fabric slip off. Your nipples pebbled in the cool air. He stepped close, body heat radiating against your skin. He hooked his fingers into your thong and slowly slid it down.

You were fully exposed.

His jeans strained against the arousal pressing into your backside. One hand stroked your ass, the other explored your curves, avoiding the ache between your thighs. He leaned down, lips brushing your neck.

"Your skin is so soft," he whispered.

You gasped when his tongue flicked a spot beneath your ear. His hand moved to your breast, teasing, kneading, circling your nipple until you nearly moaned.

"Is that good?" he asked. You nodded, breathless.

His other hand trailed lower, dangerously close to your heat. He paused.

"Fuck, you’re so beautiful," he murmured. The word made your heart flutter. No one ever called you that.

He palmed both breasts, thumbs flicking over sensitive peaks. Your body molded into his.

One hand slid to your waist, stopping over a stretch mark. His thumb rubbed over it gently.

Then he gripped your thigh, drawing circles where the skin was soft and trembling.

"You like that?" he pinched your nipple.

"Yes," you whispered, spine arching.

"I want to—"

The sudden rev of an engine cut him off.

"Shit, my mom's home."

He backed away as you scrambled to grab your clothes.

"She wasn’t supposed to be back yet," he hissed, frantically helping you dress.

"Do they know I’m your tutor?"

"Yes! But not that we’re in my room."

You were halfway down the stairs when the front door opened. His mother entered, groceries in hand.

"Oh, hello. You must be the girl Seung-Hyun’s tutoring."

You froze. You recognized her. The woman from the jewelry store.

"Um, yeah. Y/N."

"Mal-bok." She smiled. "Didn’t I meet you at the jewelry shop the other day?"

"Erm, yeah." Your voice cracked from embarrassment.

"Did you—"

"Mom!" Seung-Hyun interrupted quickly. "Why don’t you put the groceries away before they fall? I’ll help in a minute."

She chuckled. "Nice meeting you, Y/N."

"You too." You faked a smile.

At the door, you turned to Seung-Hyun. "Your mom owns the jewelry store?"

"Yeah. Mal’s Silver & Gold."

"Oh."

You checked your phone—a flood of texts from Jae-mi.

"I should go. Sorry we got interrupted."

"Me too," he said, eyes full of something soft.

You laughed and swatted his arm playfully. "Don’t get too confident, nerd boy."

"Yes ma’am." He saluted.

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but smile. Choi Seung-Hyun was getting the hang of this.

Another day, when you walked into the kitchen, your stomach dropped.

Lying on the table was a textbook.

A 7th grader’s textbook, to be exact.

The very one you'd told him not to use again.

Yet here it was, spread open like an insult.

“What’s that doing here?” you asked, already annoyed.

Seung-Hyun barely looked up. Something about him felt different today—like he’d been stewing in his own thoughts for hours. Brooding. Tense.

“It’s a textbook,” he replied flatly.

“A 7th grader’s textbook,” you corrected, crossing your arms.

He let out a huff. “And?”

“I told you I didn’t want to use that.”

“I don’t really care what you want,” he snapped, moving to the fridge and yanking out a bottle of water.

You blinked. What the hell? Did someone piss in his cereal this morning?

“I’m sorry—what?”

“I don’t—”

“Mr. Kim pulled me aside after my math class,” he interrupted, twisting the cap off the bottle. “Wanna guess what he handed me?”

The way he looked at you—it was more than just anger. It was disappointment. And that... hurt more.

“I don’t know,” you said cautiously.

He pulled a crumpled sheet of paper from his hoodie pocket and slammed it onto the table. The sound made you jump.

You stepped forward to look. It was your English quiz from yesterday. A big, red F stared back at you, circled and bold. 2/30.

Shit.

“Care to explain?” His brow lifted sharply.

“I don’t like languages?” you offered weakly.

He didn’t buy it. He snatched the paper back with a frustrated sigh.

“I had one job, Y/N. One. I was supposed to tutor you. That was my responsibility. But I guess you don’t even understand what the word means.”

You turned as he walked past and scoffed. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He kicked out a chair but didn’t sit.

“Don’t talk down to me like that,” you bit. “May I remind you—”

“Remind me what?” He stepped toward you, his voice rising. “That I’m a virgin? That I didn’t start jerking off until last week? That the only girl I’ve ever kissed just happens to be you? That?”

He stood inches from you, eyes blazing.

“Tell me how much better you think you are than me. Tell me how this test—this disaster of a score—shows how seriously you’ve taken this. Go on. Tell me.”

You were speechless.

You’d never seen him like this—furious, sharp-edged. And you hated to admit it, but... it was kind of hot.

He chuckled darkly. “Exactly. Because instead of trying, you sat there and drew stupid little bees.”

“They’re not stupid,” you shot back instinctively. “They’re called bumblebees.”

He sighed and stepped back, pressing his fingers to his temple.

“Have you even done any of the work I’ve given you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The worksheets. The links I wrote down. Even the shit I left while I was upstairs—probably listening to you getting railed by your little sex toy or whatever the hell was going on. Did you even touch any of it?”

You hadn’t. And it showed. But it wasn’t out of spite. It just... didn’t interest you. School never had.

“That’s beside the point—”

“No. That is the point. You won’t even look at the textbook. You don’t even try. And that’s your problem. I told you from day one—I’m not some goddamn miracle worker who’s going to raise your grades by magic. You have to meet me halfway. And for a second, I thought you were. I really did. But now?”

He scoffed again and turned away.

“I see who you really are.”

You straightened, fists clenched. “And what’s that, huh?”

He took a breath and turned back to you. His voice was low, deliberate.

“A cliché. Egocentric. Stubborn. A mean girl who waits for her daddy’s money to hit the account so she can waste her life away shopping for clothes she thinks make people accept her. Someone who doesn’t think twice about the future because she doesn’t have one. And worst of all—she’s cruel. Cruel to everyone around her.”

The room went silent.

Did he just—

Oh. Hell. No.

You let out a sharp laugh and pointed a finger in his face. “You don’t even—”

“I saw what you did to Se-mi,” he cut in, gripping your finger and pulling you an inch closer. “I saw how humiliated she looked. I heard her crying in the bathroom.”

A day before, you did what she deserved. Anonymously, you spread her diary around the school, which you found by accident, dropped between the tables in the classroom, pages bent and worn with ink-stained secrets. At first, it was curiosity, just a peek—something harmless. But the words inside clawed at a jealous place you didn't know existed: all her thoughts, all her fears, all her pitiful dreams about Jun-ho, spelled out in flowery, desperate handwriting. You didn’t think. Or maybe you did. Maybe it was intentional the moment you copied a humiliating entry and hung it around school. Maybe, for a moment, it felt good to watch the masks peel off Se-mi’s perfect little world. But what you hadn’t anticipated—what no one tells you—is how guilt doesn’t wait. It settles in fast, bitter and silent, haunting the echo of every laugh in the hallway and sticking to your skin long after the texts stopped buzzing. 

“How do you even know that I—”

“I’m not an idiot. I can do basic math. You ruined that girl’s life. And for what? To get back at Jun-ho? A guy who doesn’t even want you?”

His voice sharpened to a blade.

“You’re pathetic, Y/N. Really fucking pathetic.”

Pathetic.

The word burned. You could feel the heat crawl up your spine, rage boiling under your skin.

“Fuck you!” you shouted, shoving him hard in the chest.

He didn’t budge.

“You don’t know a damn thing about me!”

“I know more than you do in English!” he barked back.

“You’re such a dick!”

“And you’re a superficial bitch! What are you trying to get out of this? Huh?!”

His tone carried that smugness you despised—that I’m smarter than you sharpness that made your blood pressure spike.

You grabbed your bag off the floor. “I don’t need this. I don’t fucking need you.”

“Clearly. You’ve just wasted my time from the start!”

“Great! I can definitely live without your annoying, virgin ass!”

“Yeah? Well, good luck graduating!” he yelled as you stormed toward the door.

You yanked it open without looking back.

“Yeah? And good luck making Se-mi like you—because she never will! No one ever will!”

That hit him. You could see it. His jaw clenched—and then he slammed the door in your face.

Perfect.

Just fucking perfect.

You didn’t need Choi Seung-Hyun. You didn’t.

You could do this on your own.

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