#if she's not with a girl. they know she knows it and that's an unspoken strength of their relationship too in some ways. because even if it

[elryuse]

WANT YOU BACK

WINTER X MALE READER

Tags : Possessive EX GF Winter, Pregnancy, Cheating, Teasing, Creampie, Quickie

Winter choked back a sob, the smoky jazz club blurring into a canvas of swirling lights and pounding bass. Across the crowded dance floor, Y/n's laughter echoed, a sound that once brought sunshine into her days and now felt like a cruel taunt. He was happy. Genuinely, radiantly happy with his new girlfriend, Karina – a vision of effortless beauty draped on his arm.

Regret gnawed at Winter's insides, a ravenous beast that had been growing stronger with every passing day. A year ago, Y/n had been her world. The kindest, most patient boyfriend a girl could ask for. But Winter, fueled by a twisted yearning for excitement and the allure of a "bad boy" fantasy, had thrown it all away. Now, the sight of his happiness with someone else ignited a firestorm of jealousy and a terrifying realization: what if she'd lost him forever?

Panic clawed at her. She couldn't lose Y/n. Not entirely. A twisted plan, fueled by possessiveness and a warped sense of entitlement, began to take shape in her mind. She would get him back, even if it meant manipulation and control.

Excusing herself from her date, Winter weaved through the throng of dancing bodies, her eyes fixated on Y/n. As she approached, she noticed a flicker of surprise followed by a cautious warmth in his eyes.

"Winter??" he greeted, his voice laced with a hint of apprehension. Karina, sensing the tension, shot her a withering look.

"C-can I talk for a minute… alone?" Winter purred, her voice dripping with forced vulnerability.

Y/n hesitated, his gaze flitting between Winter and Karina. Karina rolled her eyes and reluctantly excused herself. Winter led Y/n to a secluded corner, excitement bubbling beneath the surface.

"I-i shouldn't have done what I did Y/n, " she began, her voice trembling slightly. A performance worthy of an Oscar. "You were the best thing that ever happened to my life, A-and I threw it all away."

Y/n, ever the believer in second chances, looked at her with a mixture of empathy and residual hurt. "W-winter," he started, his voice gentle. "Karina and I—"

"I know," she cut him off, tears welling up in her eyes. "But maybe… just maybe.." she trailed off, letting the unspoken suggestion hang heavy in the air.

Y/n sighed, torn between his loyalty to Karina and his lingering emotions for Winter. "Winter, we can't just—"

Winter leaned in, her voice a seductive whisper. "Just one night, Y/n. Let me show you what I've been missing. What you've been missing."

Her words, laced with a desperate yearning, struck a chord in Y/n. Memories flooded back - stolen kisses, whispered secrets, the warmth of her hand in his. He couldn't deny the lingering feelings, the pull of a familiarity that resonated deep within him.

In the dimly lit corner, away from the prying eyes of the club, they fell into each other's arms. The kiss ignited a spark within them, a wildfire fueled by pent-up emotions and unspoken desires. It was a desperate kiss, raw and hungry, like two drowning souls clinging to a lifeline. "I knew you wanted it..". Winter whispers, Her voice desperate of affection.

Winter's touch was a stark contrast to the carefree affection Karina so readily bestowed upon Y/n. Her fingers dug into his back, a possessive hold that sent shivers down his spine. His hand tangled in her hair, pulling her closer as their lips met in a frenzied dance. "Fuck Me Y/n.. Fuck me..". Winter begged, as she began to undress.

"W-winter s-slow down". The air crackled with electricity. Winter's eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, flickered with a possessiveness that made Y/n's breath hitch. There was a hunger in her gaze, a desperate need for control that sent a shiver down his spine. This wasn't the sweet affection they once shared; it was a darkness that both terrified and enticed him. "Cum... Cum inside me... Stay with me like this.. Please..". Winter begged, as finally Y/n released strings of his cum deep inside her womb.

As they stumbled back, breathless and flushed, a sense of foreboding settled over Y/n. There was a possessiveness in Winter's behavior that hadn't been there before. He knew this stolen night was no reconciliation, but a twisted game he was being drawn into against his better judgment.

Winter's eyes gleamed with a predatory glint. "This feels like coming home," she whispered, her voice husky with desire before she kissed him once again.

But in the pit of Y/n's stomach, a chilling premonition bloomed. He wasn't sure he was coming home, but rather entering a dark labyrinth, lured back by a love that had turned possessive and manipulative.

Winter cradled the positive pregnancy test in her hand, her emotions a tangled mess. Relief warred with a horrifying sense of manipulation. This wasn't the happy reunion she'd envisioned. This was a twisted trap sprung on Y/n.

The stolen night in the club had been fuelled by desperation, not love. It had served its purpose, though. Winter had him back, tethered to her by an invisible chain: the baby growing within her.

The next morning, she played the heartbroken victim. Tears streamed down her face as she confessed to Y/n about the test. "We can't pretend this didn't happen," she cried, knowing full well he wouldn't abandon a child.

Y/n, ever the good guy, fell into the trap. He felt responsible, obligated. But every visit to Winter's apartment felt like a descent into a suffocating prison. Her possessiveness escalated with each passing day.

"You can't see Karina anymore," Winter declared one evening, her voice laced with a chilling finality. Y/n protested, reminding her of Karina's innocence in all this. "This is between us, Y/n," Winter hissed, a manic glint in her eyes. "You're mine now."

He tried to explain the situation to Karina, but guilt choked his words. In the end, the confused silence and strained distance became too much for her to bear. She broke up with him, heartbroken and bewildered.

Winter celebrated this "victory" with a chilling smile. Y/n was now truly hers, isolated and trapped. She used the pregnancy as a weapon, a constant reminder of his supposed transgression. "Every scan, every milestone," she'd say, her voice dripping with faux sweetness, "a reminder of what we had."

Yet, with each passing week, the facade of happiness wore thin. Winter felt a growing resentment towards the child, a constant reminder of her deceit. But most of all, she resented Y/n. His forced presence, his hollow attempts at conversation, only amplified the emptiness within her.

One night, as Y/n sat awkwardly on the couch, Winter launched into a tirade. "You don't love me! You never did!" she screamed, tears streaming down her face. "Y-you just feel sorry for me!"

Y/n, worn down by the constant emotional abuse, snapped. "I do care about you, Winter," he said, his voice tired. "But I can't love someone who holds me hostage with threats and guilt."

His words hung in the air, heavy and final. Winter recoiled, a flicker of fear replacing the anger in her eyes. She might have trapped him physically, but emotionally, she'd pushed him to the edge.

The flicker of fear in Winter's eyes was fleeting, replaced by a cold glint that sent shivers down Y/n's spine. He'd seen that look before, in the dimly lit corner of the club – the predator assessing its prey.

"Hostage?" she scoffed, her voice dripping with a terrifying calmness. "I gave you a chance, Y/n. A chance to be a family. Maybe you don't love me, but you'll learn."

Her next words were a chilling whisper. "Besides, where would you go? Do you really think Karina would take you back after this?"

Y/n's stomach churned. She was right. Shame choked him, muting any further protest. Winter sensed his resignation and a victorious smile curled her lips. This was where the game truly began.

The following weeks were a whirlwind of doctor's appointments, baby preparations, and a suffocating sense of control. Winter micromanaged everything, making Y/n feel like a visitor in his own life. His attempts at connecting with the child felt staged, a constant performance under Winter's watchful eye.

Yet, a strange sense of normalcy settled in. Winter stopped mentioning Karina entirely, reveling in the fact that Y/n was trapped. Slowly, she started subtly chipping away at his support system. A "forgotten" work call from Y/n that turned into a week-long business trip. A "sudden illness" that kept his friends from visiting.

Y/n, worn down by the constant emotional manipulation and guilt trips, barely noticed the isolation. He became a ghost in his own life, existing only to fulfill his "duties" as a father and a reluctant partner.

Years passed. Winter birthed two more children, each arrival a twisted celebration of her victory. Y/n remained a shell of his former self, a ghost trapped in a gilded cage of her own making. Winter, however, thrived. Her possessiveness had morphed into a twisted sense of ownership. Y/n belonged to her now, a trophy on her emotional shelf.

One cold evening, as the older children played in the living room, Winter snuggled close to Y/n on the couch. "See?" she purred, her voice laced with satisfaction. "We have a family now. Just like what you always wanted."

Y/n's eyes, devoid of their former warmth, met hers. There was no love in them, no regret, no longing. The years of manipulation had hollowed him out. He was simply a shadow, a reminder of the love she'd destroyed and the life they could have had.

A cold smile settled on Winter's face. In her twisted mind, this was their happy ending. Her ultimate victory. She had Y/n, and that was all that mattered. The love she'd craved, the genuine connection, was a forgotten casualty in her war for control. Winter had built her prison, bricked with manipulation and guilt, and in the process, had become as trapped as the man she held captive.

#aespa winter #winter #kim minjeong #minjeong x reader #aespa minjeong #possessive #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x male reader #beautiful #sexy content #yandere #update #kpop smut #aespa smut #winter smut #apreciation post

[hd-junglebook]

Can I Help You

Part 2 / Word Count 3509

Masterlist

Summary: after days of avoiding Luke, y/n has to man up and see Luke in person after she ran away. But of course, things won't go as smoothly when her ex-boyfriend shows up.

Previous - Next

The music pulsed through the night air, the heavy bass reverberating in their chests as y/n and Clarke approached the big white house. Clusters of partygoers sprawled across the front lawn and spilled over onto the stairway, their laughter and chatter mixing with the thumping soundtrack blaring from inside.

The chill in the air nipped at exposed skin, but the revelers seemed impervious, warmed by the electric thrill of the night and perhaps a few red solo cups.

y/n's heels clicked rhythmically against the sidewalk, a sharp staccato cutting through the dull roar of the party. She tugged at the hem of her dress, suddenly feeling self-conscious amidst the sea of scantily clad sorority girls. Clarke, sensing her friend's hesitation, looped her arm through y/n's and gave a reassuring squeeze.

"You've got this, babe. He's going to eat his heart out when he sees you," Clarke declared, her voice raised to carry over the din.

y/n exhaled shakily, her breath misting in the cool air. She wanted to believe her friend, wanted to trust in the liquid courage buzzing through her veins, but the butterflies in her stomach refused to settle.

They climbed the steps to the front door, dodging red cups and overly enthusiastic dancers, y/n scanned the crowd for a glimpse of him. Her heart stuttered in her chest when she finally spotted him across the room, his tall frame unmistakable even in the dim party lighting.

He looked up then, his eyes locking with hers, and the rest of the room fell away. In that suspended moment, she forgot all about her nerves, forgot why she had run away before. All that mattered was the way he was looking at her now, his gaze smoldering with intensity and unspoken promises.

Clarke's elbow jabbed sharply into her ribs, startling her back to reality. "Go get him, tiger," she urged with a knowing grin, giving y/n a gentle shove in his direction.

As Luke's gaze continued to bore into her, y/n felt a sudden surge of panic. She grabbed Clarke's hand and deftly maneuvered them through the throng of partygoers, weaving between the gyrating bodies until they reached a more crowded corner of the house.

The music was even louder here, the bass thumping in their chests, but at least they were out of Luke's line of sight.

 Clarke turned to face y/n, her long wavy blonde hair blanketing her face. Her leather skirt hugged her curves as she planted her hands on her hips, fixing y/n with an incredulous stare. "You mean to tell me the boy you think is hot says he wants you and your first instinct is to run away?" Clarke asked, her voice laced with disbelief.

y/n fidgeted with the hem of her black dress, the fabric clinging to her like a second skin. The bow in her hair bobbed as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, looking unsure of her answer. After a moment, she reluctantly nodded her head.

Clarke's eyes widened, her perfectly arched brows nearly reaching her hairline. "Girl, what are you thinking? Luke is practically begging to get with you, and you're over here playing hide-and-seek!"

y/n sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I know, I know. It's just..." She trailed off, trying to find the right words. "What if he ends up just like Mark? Even worse, what if Mark finds out?"

Clarke softened, reaching out to squeeze y/n's hand. "Oh, honey. Have you seen the way that boy looks at you? Don't let your fears hold you back from something that could be amazing."

y/n chewed on her bottom lip, considering Clarke's words. She knew her friend was right. Now that he had finally made a move, she was running scared.

Straightening her shoulders, y/n took a deep breath. The bow in her hair quivered with her newfound resolve. "You're right. I won’t let my insecurities ruin this. I'm going to go talk to him. And we’re gonna drink and I won’t run away!"

Clarke grinned, her red lips curving into a proud smile. "That's my girl! Go get your man!" She gave y/n a playful swat on the rear as she turned to head back into the fray. y/n took one last steadying breath before squaring her shoulders and marching towards Luke.

…

As y/n approached Luke from behind, she couldn't help but admire the way his curls shone under the bright kitchen lights. They looked so soft, and she had to resist the urge to reach out and run her fingers through them.

She was close enough now to catch a whiff of his cologne, a heady scent that made her pulse quicken. She breathed in deeply, letting the aroma wash over her, a potent mixture of spice and musk that was uniquely Luke.

Lost in the moment, y/n didn't realize just how close she had gotten until Luke suddenly turned around, his eyes locking with hers. For a heartbeat, the world seemed to stand still. The chatter and laughter of the partygoers faded into the background, and all y/n could focus on was the intensity of Luke's gaze.

His eyes seemed to pierce right through her, sending a shiver down her spine. There was a hint of surprise in his expression, perhaps at her sudden appearance, but it quickly gave way to something else entirely. Something heated and hungry that made y/n's breath catch in her throat.

"Hey," Luke said, his voice low and husky. "I was wondering where you disappeared to."

y/n swallowed hard, trying to find her voice. "I just needed a minute," she replied, hoping he couldn't hear the tremor in her words.

Luke's lips quirked up in a half-smile, and he took a step closer. "Well, I'm glad you're back. I was starting to think you were avoiding me."

y/n's heart hammered in her chest as she shook her head. "No, not avoiding. Just..." She trailed off, unsure of how to explain the riot of emotions swirling inside her.

Luke's smile softened, and he reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. His fingers brushed against her skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. "Just what, y/n?" he asked gently.

y/n drew in a shaky breath, steeling herself. It was now or never. "Just trying to work up the courage to do this."

And with that, she closed the remaining distance between them, rising up on her toes to press her lips against his. For a moment, Luke went still, and y/n feared she had made a terrible mistake. But then his arms came around her, pulling her flush against his body as he deepened the kiss.

The rest of the world fell away as y/n lost herself in the sensation of Luke's lips moving against hers, his hands roaming over her back, her sides, her hips. She tangled her fingers in his curls, reveling in their softness, just as she had imagined.

When they finally broke apart, both of them breathless and flushed, Luke rested his forehead against hers. "Wow," he murmured, his eyes shining with wonder.

y/n couldn't help but giggle, a giddy sort of joy bubbling up inside her. "Wow indeed," she agreed, before pulling him down for another kiss. As y/n melted into Luke's embrace, savoring the taste of his lips and the warmth of his body pressed against hers, she caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye. Her heart stuttered in her chest as she recognized the familiar figure striding through the doorway.

Mark.

y/n froze, her body going rigid in Luke's arms. He pulled back, his brow furrowed in concern as he noticed the sudden change in her demeanor. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.

But y/n couldn't respond, her eyes locked on Mark as he made a beeline for Clarke. She watched, her stomach twisting in knots, as he leaned in close to her friend, his expression serious as he questioned her about something y/n couldn't hear over the pounding music.

"I... I need a second," y/n stammered, tearing her gaze away from Mark and Clarke. She stepped out of Luke's embrace, her skin feeling suddenly cold without his touch.

Luke's face fell, a mixture of confusion and hurt flickering across his handsome features. "What? Why? Did I do something wrong?"

y/n shook her head, already backing away. "No, it's not you. I just... I have to go."

She turned to leave, but Luke's hand shot out, grabbing her arm. His grip was gentle but firm, his fingers pressing into her skin. "Wait, y/n. Please. Don't run away again."

y/n's heart clenched at the desperation in his voice, but she couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze. "Luke, I'm sorry. I can't do this right now."

"Can't do what?" Luke demanded, his tone sharpening with frustration. "Can't talk to me? Can't be honest with me? You keep sending me all these mixed signals, y/n. One minute you're kissing me like your life depends on it, the next you're running away like I've got the plague."

y/n flinched at the accusation in his words, but she couldn't deny the truth of them. She had been running hot and cold with Luke for weeks now, ever since they'd started skating together. Ever since she'd begun tutoring him in math, staying up late to help him grasp concepts that seemed to slip through his fingers like water.

She'd thought she could keep him at arm's length, that she could ignore the way her heart raced every time he looked at her with those piercing honey eyes. But then he'd kissed her tonight, and everything had changed.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I have to leave."

She tried to pull away, but Luke's grip on her arm tightened. His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking beneath the stubble that shadowed his angular cheekbones. "So that's it? You're just going to run away again? Leave me hanging like you always do?"

The bitterness in his tone made y/n's chest ache, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. "Luke, please. Don't make this harder than it has to be."

"Harder than it has to be?" Luke scoffed, his eyes flashing with hurt and anger. "You're the one making it hard, y/n. You're the one who keeps pushing me away, even though I know you feel something for me. I can see it in the way you look at me, the way you melt into me when we kiss."

He took a step closer, his free hand coming up to cup her cheek. His touch was feather-light, but it burned like a brand against her skin. "Why won't you let me in, y/n? Why won't you give us a chance?"

y/n swallowed hard, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. She wanted to tell him everything, to confess all the secrets she'd been keeping locked away in her heart. But the words stuck in her throat, choking her.

"I'm sorry," she said again, her voice cracking. "I have to go."

And with that, she wrenched her arm free of Luke's grasp and fled, pushing through the crowd of partygoers as the tears began to fall. She could feel Luke's eyes boring into her back as she ran, but she didn't dare look back.

She couldn't bear to see the heartbreak on his face, knowing that she was the one who had put it there. She approached Clarke and Mark, their voices grew louder, cutting through the pulsing music and chatter of the party. She could see the tension in Mark's shoulders, the way his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he loomed over Clarke.

"Who is that guy, Clarke? I know you're lying to me. Tell me who he is!" Mark's voice was sharp, his words clipped with barely contained rage.

Clarke, to her credit, looked utterly unfazed. She stood her ground, her arms crossed over her chest as she stared up at Mark with a look of disdain. "When is the right time to leave your ex-girlfriend alone? She doesn't want you, you're crazy."

Mark's face reddened, his nostrils flaring. "I'm not crazy! I just want to know who that guy is. y/n is mine, and I'm not going to let some random dude swoop in and steal her away from me."

y/n's stomach churned at the possessiveness in Mark's voice. She'd broken up with him months ago, but he still seemed to think he had some kind of claim on her. It was one of the reasons she'd been so hesitant to let herself get close to Luke, even though her heart yearned for him.

She stepped forward, putting herself between Mark and Clarke. "Mark, stop. Please. You're making a scene."

Mark's gaze snapped to her, his eyes wild. "y/n! There you are. I've been looking all over for you."

He reached for her, but y/n stepped back, shaking her head. "Mark, we've been over this. We're not together anymore. You need to leave me alone."

Mark's face twisted, a mixture of hurt and anger flickering across his features. "Is this because of him? That guy you were with earlier?"

y/n's heart stuttered in her chest. "Luke has nothing to do with this. We broke up because you were possessive and controlling, and I couldn't take it anymore."

Mark scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Oh, please. You loved it when I took charge. When I made all the decisions for us. You needed me to take care of you."

y/n's hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms. "I didn't need you to do anything for me, Mark. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

Mark's eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a sneer. "Really? Is that why you're running around with some new guy, letting him put his hands all over you? You're just a slut who can't be alone." The words hit y/n like a slap, and she recoiled as if she'd been struck. Beside her, Clarke let out a gasp of outrage.

"How dare you talk to her like that! You're a pathetic excuse for a man, Mark. No wonder she dumped your sorry ass."

Mark's face reddened even further, and for a moment, y/n thought he might actually strike Clarke. But then he seemed to deflate, his shoulders slumping as he took a step back.

"Fine. Whatever. You two deserve each other." He spat the words like venom, his eyes darting between y/n and Clarke. With that, he turned on his heel and stalked away, shoving through the crowd of partygoers. y/n watched him go, her heart racing in her chest.

She felt like she couldn't breathe, like the walls of the room were closing in on her. "y/n? Are you okay?" Clarke's voice was gentle, her hand coming to rest on y/n's shoulder.

…

Luke stood there for a moment, stunned and heartbroken. He couldn't understand why she kept running away from him, why she wouldn't let him in. He thought they had something special, but now he was starting to doubt everything.

As he turned to leave, his shoulders slumped in defeat, he found himself face to face with a tall, broad-shouldered guy he didn't recognize. The guy had a scowl on his face and a glint of something dangerous in his eyes.

"Hey, you," the guy said, his voice low and menacing. "You're the one who was with y/n earlier, right?"

Luke bristled at the accusation in the guy's tone. "Yeah, what's it to you?"

The guy stepped closer, invading Luke's personal space. "I'm Mark, y/n's boyfriend. And I want to know what the hell you think you're doing with my girl."

Luke's eyes widened in surprise, his heart clenching painfully in his chest. y/n had a boyfriend? Why hadn't she told him? Had everything between them been a lie?

Anger set in, hot and fierce. How dare this guy claim y/n as his own, like she was some kind of possession? And how dare y/n lead him on, make him think they had something real, when she was just using him to get back at her boyfriend?

Luke's jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He wanted to punch Mark in his smug face, to make him feel even a fraction of the pain that was tearing through his own heart. But instead, he forced himself to take a step back, to put some distance between them. "No, that's not my girl," he said, his voice cold and flat. "I don't know her."

The words tasted like ash in his mouth, but he forced them out anyway. He wouldn't let Mark see how much this was killing him, wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing he'd gotten under his skin.

Mark's eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a sneer. "Good. Because if I ever catch you sniffing around her again, I'll make you regret it."

Luke just shook his head, a humorless laugh escaping his lips. "Trust me, you don't have to worry about that. I'm done with her."

…

y/n hadn't gone far when she heard the confrontation between Mark and Luke. She'd been hiding in a quiet corner of the house, trying to gather her thoughts and calm her racing heart, when their voices had carried over the din of the party.

At first, she couldn't make out what they were saying. But then she heard Luke's voice, cold and harsh, saying "No, that's not my girl. I don't know her."

The words hit her like a physical blow, stealing the breath from her lungs. She felt like she'd been punched in the gut, like the ground had opened up beneath her feet and swallowed her whole.

How could Luke say that, after everything they'd been through? After the way he'd kissed her, held her, looked at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered?

Anger surged through her, hot and fierce. She pushed herself off the wall and stormed towards the two men, her vision tunneling until all she could see was Mark's smug face.

Without a second thought, she hurled herself at him, swinging her fists with wild abandon. She wasn't thinking, wasn't planning, just acting on pure instinct and rage.

Mark stumbled back, his eyes widening in surprise as y/n's blows rained down on him. He tried to fend her off, but she was relentless, her anger giving her a strength she didn't know she possessed.

Luke jumped back in shock, his mouth falling open as he watched y/n attack Mark. For a moment, he was frozen, unsure of what to do.

But then Clarke appeared out of nowhere, pushing herself between y/n and Mark. "Stop it, both of you!" she yelled, her hands held out in front of her like a shield. Mark snarled, shoving Clarke aside with a rough push. She stumbled, nearly falling, but managed to catch herself at the last moment.

That was all it took for Luke to snap out of his daze. He lunged forward, grabbing y/n around the waist and hauling her away from Mark. She struggled against him, still swinging her fists, but he held her tight, his arms like steel bands around her.

"Let me go!" she screamed, her voice raw and ragged. "I'm going to kill him!"

But Luke just held her tighter, his breath hot against her ear as he spoke. "y/n, stop. He's not worth it."

y/n sagged against him, all the fight draining out of her in a rush. She felt like a puppet whose strings had been cut, like she might collapse if Luke wasn't holding her up.

"Why did you say that?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why did you tell him you didn't know me?"

Luke was silent for a long moment, and y/n felt her heart sink. But then he spoke, his voice soft and sad. "Because I thought you had a boyfriend. I thought you were just using me to get back at him."

y/n's eyes widened, and she twisted in Luke's arms to look up at him. "What? No! Mark's not my boyfriend. We broke up months ago."

Luke's brow furrowed in confusion. "But he said-"

"He's lying," y/n interrupted, her voice fierce. "He's a manipulative, controlling asshole who can't stand the thought of me moving on."

She reached up, cupping Luke's face in her hands. "Luke, I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I was just... scared. Scared of getting hurt again, scared of letting someone in."

Luke's eyes softened, and he leaned into her touch. "I know. I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have assumed the worst."

y/n shook her head, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "No, you shouldn't have. But I shouldn't have run away, either.” Luke smiled back, his eyes crinkling at the corners before y/n continued. "Maybe we can start over? Try this whole communication thing again?"

...

#fluff #angst #masterlist #new writers on tumblr #new fic #luke hughes #Luke Hughes series #jh86 #lh43 #nj devils #hockey #new jersey #new jersey devils #luke hughes smut #luke hughes fic #luke hughes fanfiction #luke hughes fluff #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes x you #luke hughes x sister!reader #luke hughes oneshot #luke hughes fanfic #luke hughes blurb #x reader #njd #luke hughes x oc #hughes brothers

[your-bestamericangirl]

Midnight Love || ch. 4 - april

Paige Bueckers x Uconnwbb!reader

previous: 3. - white ferrari || next: n/a || masterlist

now playing: hornylovesickness by girl in red

The asphalt beneath her fingertips was rough and warm, heated by the midday sun. She sat on the curb, her back against a lamppost, staring down at the offending object that had torn a gash in her mood—a shattered keychain with a small mirror dangling from its remains. The mirror, now cracked and clouded, reflected back at her the words "You're beautiful," a truly welcoming statement regarding her predicament.

As she sat there, the noise of the city buzzed around her—a symphony of car engines, distant chatter, and the occasional honk of a horn. Passersby cast a sympathetic glance her way, their expressions a mix of curiosity and pity, but she paid them no mind.

(Y/n)'s gaze fell upon her phone, its dimming screen a flickering beacon of her waning hope.  Clutching it with a mix of frustration and resignation, she scrolled through her contacts, knowing deep down that her teammates would gladly come to her aid if she reached out. Yet, the irony was not lost on her—she didn't have their numbers. As for KK, a dependable friend but unable to drive, she was out of the equation.

As the last flickers of battery life on her phone threatened to fade into darkness, (Y/n) found herself wrestling with an idea she had stubbornly resisted for far too long. Finally, with a resigned sigh, she yielded to the persistent nagging in her mind and dialled the number she still knew by heart, despite the passage of time.

The distant hum of traffic melded with the rhythmic thud of her own heartbeat, her hand perilously close to crushing her phone. Time slipped away, leaving (Y/n) with no room for hesitation as her call for help was promptly answered on the first ring.

“Hello?”

A faint buzz filled her ear, the silence on both ends stretching with each passing moment after the initial greeting. Caught off guard, Mayari's breath hitched, the reason for her call momentarily escaping her.

“(Y/n)?”

The sound of Paige's voice snapped her back to reality, jolting her out of her daze. "Yeah, sorry. Hey, Paige," she managed to reply, her voice tinged with a mixture of relief and apprehension. The rush of emotions threatened to overwhelm her, leaving her struggling to maintain her composure.

“You’re good, don’t worry…” Paige's reassurance sounded distant, the weight of their unspoken history hanging heavy in the air. (Y/n) couldn't shake the feeling of uncertainty that lingered, the fear of rejection clawing at her from the shadows of her mind.

“So, what’s up?” Paige's voice broke the silence, but the question hung in the air, laden with unspoken tension. (Y/n) hesitated the weight of her request heavy on her shoulders. "Can you help me out?" she finally blurted out, the words tumbling from her lips before she could stop them.

The shift in her voice swiftly caught Paige's attention.

“Yeah, always. Where are you? What do you need?”

(Y/n) sighed, grateful that Paige was willing to help. 

“Okay so, I’m on the corner of Royce. Like by Barnes and Noble-”

“I’ll be there in five.”

As the call ended, (Y/n) couldn't shake off the weight of Paige's swift agreement. It wasn't merely the fact that she had called Paige, but rather the ease with which Paige had offered help, oblivious to the nature of the situation. A mix of relief and apprehension flooded (Y/n)'s senses, leaving her torn between gratitude for Paige's willingness and uncertainty about their relationship.

Closing her eyes, (Y/n) tried to untangle the web of emotions swirling within her. Two years apart had reshaped their lives in countless ways, yet the core of their connection remained elusive. The familiarity of Paige's voice stirred memories and emotions long buried, prompting a flood of questions about where they stood now.

She couldn't help but wonder if Paige felt the same accumulation of emotions, or if she was merely offering assistance out of habit.

The thought lingered, casting a shadow over (Y/n)'s gratitude while dragging the corners of her lips into a small frown. Beneath the surface, a nagging fear whispered of the possibility that Paige's swift response was driven by duty rather than genuine concern. The realization left (Y/n) feeling more alone than ever, grappling with the uncertainty of where she stood within Paige's solar system.

(Y/n)'s gaze shifted to the worn pavement beneath her feet as she awaited Paige's arrival. The minutes stretched on, each second feeling like an eternity as she grappled with the whirlwind of emotions swirling within her. Finally, the sound of approaching footsteps broke the silence, and (Y/n) looked up to see Paige striding toward her.

"So, who did you piss off this time?" Paige's teasing remark cut through the silence, drawing a puff from (Y/n). Despite everything, there was a comfort in the familiarity of their banter.

Her eyes met Paige's familiar gaze, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

As she sat on the curb, taking the blond in from head to toe, (Y/n) concluded: Paige would never be a stranger in her eyes. 

Her golden hair glowed in the sunlight, casting a halo of warmth around her. Every curve of her smile, every glint in her eyes, was etched into Mayari's memory.

Paige’s expectant, but questioning expression brought (Y/n) back down to the reality of why they both were here in the first place.

After she cleared her throat, (Y/n) rolled her eyes at Paige’s greeting. “Very funny, Bueckers.”

“C’mon, valid question” Paige defended. She brought herself down to inspect the slash in (Y/n)’s tire, situating herself beside a piece of her past. 

A soft “whatever” escaped her lips in her mumbling of disagreement. She found herself studying Paige’s profile, admiring the subtle slope of her nose.

“Do you not remember what I taught you?”

As Paige knelt beside the tire, she couldn't help but be drawn to the effortless way she moved, the confidence in her actions a stark contrast to the uncertainty that clouded (Y/n)'s mind.

"Of course, I remember," (Y/n) replied, her voice tinged with annoyance. "I just didn't think I'd have to put those skills to use today."

Paige shot her a teasing grin, her fingers deftly working to remove the offending keychain from the tire. "I hate to say that I’m disappointed, (L/n)."

(Y/n) couldn't suppress a small grumble at Paige's teasing, the tension that had been lingering between them easing ever so slightly. Despite the circumstances, there was a comfort in the familiarity of their banter, something (Y/n) hadn’t realized she’d been missing.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, P,” (Y/n) sighed.

At the nickname, Paige visibly flinched, her heart skipping a beat. It had been a while since she heard something as close to a term of endearment from (Y/n)’s lips. The comment left her shellshocked, a mixture of surprise and longing flooding her senses.

“Just do what I called you for,” she continued, oblivious to the effect her words had on Paige. 

Paige quickly composed herself, masking her momentary vulnerability with a playful smirk. "Anything for you, Your Highness," she replied, her tone light but tinged with a hint of something more.

After an hour of determined effort, (Paige) they had successfully managed to mend the torn tire, hands bearing the grease and grime of the task. As they stepped back to admire their handiwork, a sense of accomplishment washed over them, small smiles blooming on their faces at the sight of the finished task.

"Looks good," Paige remarked, breaking the silence that had settled between them. (Y/n) nodded in agreement, a genuine sense of gratitude softening her features.

“Thanks,” (Y/n) said, her voice filled with appreciation as she directed her gaze toward Paige.

Paige returned her smile with a nod. “Any time.”

But before (Y/n) could express further gratitude, Paige swiftly unhooked the car keys from her belt loop and hopped into the driver’s seat. Confusion flickered across her features as she followed Paige to the door, only to find it locked. She jiggled the handle in frustration, her eyebrows furrowing in irritation.

“Open the door, Bueckers” (Y/n) demanded, her tone laced with annoyance.

Paige pretended not to hear, her attention seemingly fixed on the task of starting the engine. (Y/n) crossed her arms, her frustration mounting as she watched Paige feign obliviousness. With a huff, she tapped on the window, her irritation palpable.

“Paige, seriously?” her voice held a note of exasperation as she waited for Paige to relent.

(Y/n)'s frustration simmered beneath the surface as Paige continued to feign ignorance, her patience wearing thin with each passing second. With a deep sigh, she resigned herself to the situation and made her way around to the passenger side of the car, sliding into the seat beside Paige.

"What are you doing?" (Y/n) asked, her tone tinged with annoyance as she shot a pointed look at Paige.

Paige's lips curved into a mischievous grin as she turned to face the shorter girl, a playful glint dancing in her eyes. "Just taking a little detour," she replied, her voice laced with amusement.

“What kind of detour?” (Y/n) asked, skeptical at Paige’s tone.

“You’ll see, you owe me now.”

The scene unfolded with a sense of tranquil ease as Paige guided the car onto the road, the smooth purr of the engine providing a soothing soundtrack to their journey. Each passing car adds a gentle rhythm to the ambiance, further enhancing the serenity that envelops them.

In a seamless motion, (Y/n) reaches out to connect her phone to the car's audio system. The soft click of the connection is almost musical in itself, heralding the arrival of their chosen melodies. As the first notes fill the cabin, the music wraps around them like a warm embrace, it's familiar tunes weaving a tapestry of comfort and nostalgia.

As the landscape outside blurred into a mesmerizing kaleidoscope of colours, (Y/n) leaned back in her seat, surrendering to the peaceful rhythm of the road. The gentle sway of the car lulls her into a state of blissful relaxation, each passing mile easing the weight of the world from her shoulders.

Lost in the soothing embrace of the music, (Y/n)'s mind drifts back to the moments they shared while changing the tire. The memories dance through her thoughts like wisps of smoke, each one carrying the echo of their time together.

The words of encouragement that Paige had spoken were trapped within her brain, unwilling to be forgotten. 

“Atta girl.” She praised, just as (Y/n) had successfully jacked up the car. Her voice had caught Mayari off guard, cheeks flushing in response to the comment.

Just as she begins to lose herself in the nostalgia, Paige's voice pierces through the music, pulling (Y/n) back to the present moment. The warmth in Paige's tone is like a gentle caress, grounding her in the here and now.

"You still have the same taste in music," Paige remarks, amusement dancing in her eyes as she glances over at (Y/n).

She felt a surge of warmth at Paige's words, a sense of connection blossoming between them. Despite everything that has changed, there is still something familiar and comforting about their shared experiences.

"Yeah, some things never change," (Y/n) replies with a soft smile, her gaze briefly meeting Paige's before returning to the road ahead.

As the last notes of their conversation faded into the air, the sudden rhythm of a familiar song filled the car, catching both teammates by surprise.

“It goes Halle Berry or hallelujah

Pick your poison, tell me what you’re doing

Everybody gon’ respect the shooter, but the one in front of the gun lives forever.”

Paige's fingers taped lightly against the steering wheel, following the beat of the drums, while her lips moved silently, forming the words to the song. The percussion sparked a rush of memories, transporting them back to a different time, a time filled with laughter and shared moments.

(Y/n)'s eyes light up as she recognizes the tune, a slightly nostalgic grin spreading across her face. She watched Paige's subtle movements, how her fingers danced to the rhythm, and how her lips moved in sync with the lyrics.

The bassline kicks in, pulsating through the speakers, sending vibrations through the car that resonate in their chests.

With a smile, she begins to recite the lyrics softly, her voice blending with the music as they drive down the familiar streets. The lyrics roll off her tongue, each word carrying memories of moments shared with Paige.

“Money trees is the perfect place for shade and that’s just how i feel”

Paige's eyes flicker to (Y/n), a surprised yet delighted expression crossing her face as she realizes they are both singing the same song. Without missing a beat, she joins in, her voice threading with (Y/n)'s as they enter the chorus together.

Their voices fill the car, rising and falling with the music, creating a symphony of sound that seems to surround them. The lyrics reverberate off the walls, enveloping them in a cocoon of sound. 

For a while, there was nothing but the music, the beat of the song mingling with the hum of the engine, creating a symphony of sound that seemed to echo through the streets.

Where had the time disappeared to? At this moment, it felt like just yesterday that (Y/n) and Paige were blasting this song with the windows down for the whole world to see. However, she forced these thoughts out of her mind. She wouldn’t miss this rare moment she was sharing with Paige to reminisce about a past that wouldn’t be.

And as the song faded into silence once more, their voices trailing off into laughter, they exchanged a knowing look, a silent acknowledgment of the memories they had just revisited together.

With a sigh, (Y/n) directs her gaze back to the road ahead. “Never gets old,” she speaks, her words flowing out in ragged puffs, carried away by the gentle breeze slipping through the open window.

“It’s been way too long,” Paige agrees, her voice barely audible, almost lost in the soft hum of the car and the distant sounds of the city. There's a weight to her words, a hint of nostalgia that lingers in the air between them.

The two girls fall back into a comfortable silence, the only sound the occasional soft hum that escapes from one of them, blending seamlessly with the music filling the car. Memories of the past flicker through their minds, tugging at the corners of their consciousness, but they push them aside, focusing on the present moment.

As they round a corner, the glow of two golden arches catches their eye, signalling the approach of a familiar destination. (Y/n) raises her eyebrows with a laugh, drawing a playful side-eye from Paige. She waves her off with a shake of her head, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. (Y/n) hadn't expected their reunion to involve a quick McDonald's run, but somehow, it felt oddly fitting.

However, before (Y/n) can dwell on the unexpected turn of events, her stomach chooses that moment to loudly announce its presence, a rumble of hunger breaking the silence. She chuckles, shooting a glance at Paige. At least this impromptu trip would benefit both of them.

Paige rolls down the driver's side window as they pull up to the speaker, the cool breeze carrying the scent of fries and burgers into the car. (Y/n) leans back in her seat, taking in the familiar surroundings with a sense of contentment. Despite the twists and turns of life, some things never change.

now playing: april by beach bunny

"You’re joking," Paige gaped, earning a whine of protest from the girl in her passenger seat.

Windows down, music blasting, the two girls sat in the last row of the McDonald's parking lot. The sun’s fleeting rays cast their final goodbyes as they slowly made their descent over the horizon.

In return, (Y/n)’s brows furrowed, her words coming out in a grumble. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

The blond’s expression was truly troubled at the notion, her eyes scrutinizing the girl with her mouth full of her most recent bite of McFlurry. Paige had taken full personal offence to the comment.

“You've never had fries with ice-cream?” Paige’s incredulity was evident in her voice as she leaned back against the seat, her mind struggling to comprehend (Y/n) revelation.

(Y/n) shrugged, a small smirk playing at the corner of her lips. “Nope, never even crossed my mind.”

Paige shook her head in disbelief, a playful grin slowly spreading across her face. “Well, I’m ‘bout to do you a favour,” she declared, reaching over to grab a handful of fries and dipping them into her McFlurry.

She held the makeshift utensil out to (Y/n), a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Try it. Trust me, you'll thank me later.”

With a mixture of curiosity and skepticism, she accepted the offering, taking a tentative bite of the McFlurry-coated fry that the blond held out. The combination of sweet and salty flavours danced on her taste buds, eliciting a surprised expression from her that Paige couldn’t help but admire.

Though, as soon as she glanced at Paige, whose face held the smug expression of ‘I told you so’ (Y/n) soon schooled her features into a meer facade of contentment. 

“Okay, that's actually pretty good,” she admitted her words leaving no further room for discussion.

Paige grinned triumphantly, her point proven. “You owe me now, Princess,” she teased, taking another bite of her own McFlurry-coated fry.

“Yeah,” (Y/n) rolled her eyes, though a curve in her lips indicated otherwise at her annoyance. Though, even if she didn’t owe Paige, she would drop whatever to be at her beck and call without hesitation, “whatever.”

As the car jolted slightly over a bump, (Y/n) was brought back to the present moment, realizing they were already driving away from the payment window. A momentary confusion crosses her features as she glances around, wondering why Paige hadn't mentioned that she had completed their order. (Y/n)'s brow furrows in mild perplexity as she processes the situation, her mind swiftly shifting from memory to the present task at hand.

“Good to have you back,” Paige smirked, obviously amused at (Y/n)’s zoned-out phase.

Though she didn’t answer, her mind was too occupied with piecing together that not only had Paige paid for her order, but also that she hadn’t been able to order something. The realization had triggered the corners of (Y/n)’s lips to drag down into a small pout.

At the sudden change in mood, Paige’s expression turned to confusion (and worry but she wouldn’t let (Y/n) know that), “You good?”

(Y/n) looked up to find Paige’s gaze already honing in on her, her head cocking to the side.

“Yeah…” she trailed, formulating the sentence in her head, “you know, kinda wanted to order some stuff too…”

Paige glanced at (Y/n), a knowing glint in her eye as she grinned. “Yeah, you were being too slow so I just ordered for you,” she explained casually, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

(Y/n) felt a sense of relief wash over her at Paige's easy explanation, her confusion giving way to satisfaction. “Oh, okay,” she replied, a hint of delight colouring her tone.

(A moment later, (Y/n) had discovered that Paige still remembered what her favourite order was.)

"So... do I still owe you or?" (Y/n) asked, her mind drifting back to the purpose of their trip and the fact that Paige had been the one to pay.

At the question, Paige gave her a look, her eyes sweeping to the side to lock onto (Y/n)’s eyes as if to say ‘Are you dumb?’.

“Duh.”

“Damn, okay!”

Their banter continued as they merged onto the freeway, the rhythm of the road easing the tension between them. The familiar sights and sounds of the city rushed past them as they settled into the comfort of each other's company, the lingering tension from their earlier exchange fading into the background.

Paige hummed along to the radio, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music. (Y/n) watched her out of the corner of her eye, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips as she took in the sight of Paige lost in the music.

But as they approached a steep hill, (Y/n) couldn't help but slip into her usual role of making sure Paige’s driving wouldn’t kill them both. 

"Uh, make sure you don’t ride the breaks," she chimed in, her tone laced with a hint of concern.

Paige's knuckles whitened as she fought the urge to snap back, but the tension in the air was palpable. Finally, unable to contain herself any longer, Paige muttered under her breath, "God, one hour in and you're already so controlling."

(Y/n)'s eyebrows shot up in surprise at the unexpected comment. "Woah. Sorry, what?" she asked, turning to face Paige with a mixture of confusion and irritation.

Paige's grip on the steering wheel tightened as she felt (Y/n)'s gaze on her. She pressed harder on the gas pedal, the tension in the car growing palpable. The rush of wind through the slightly open windows added to the feeling of acceleration, the city blurring past them in a dizzying haze.

The streetlights flickered overhead, casting intermittent shadows across the dashboard as the car sped along the deserted freeway. The distant hum of traffic filled the air, a constant reminder of the world outside their enclosed space.

"It's nothing," Paige muttered, her tone clipped as she avoided (Y/n)'s eyes, a faint furrow forming on her brow.

"No, tell me," (Y/n) insisted, her voice firm but tinged with frustration.

Paige's jaw clenched as she struggled to find the right words, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. "God, it’s not a big deal, stop being so sensitive," she finally snapped, her tone sharper than intended.

(Y/n)'s eyes widened in disbelief at Paige's words, a flash of hurt flickering across her features before she quickly masked it with a forced smile. She knew all too well the sting of being called "sensitive" – it was a label she'd been saddled with her entire life.

"Fuck, no. You know I didn’t mean it like that," Paige said suddenly, her voice softer now, tinged with remorse.

"Are you sure?" (Y/n)’s voice rose with incredulity, her eyes narrowing as she awaited Paige's response.

Paige glanced at (Y/n) briefly, her jaw tightening with frustration, her guilt gone in a flash. "You've always been like this," she retorted, her tone tinged with accusation.

The accusation hit (Y/n) like a slap in the face, leaving her momentarily speechless. She could feel her anger boiling beneath the surface, threatening to spill over at any moment.

"Like what?" (Y/n) finally responded her voice barely above a whisper, her hands gripping the edge of her seat tightly.

Her heart pounded in her chest as Paige's comment hung in the air, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, trying to process the accusation without letting her emotions get the best of her.

Paige's grip tightened on the steering wheel, her knuckles turning white as she grappled with (Y/n)'s question. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing thoughts.

"You always want everything to be perfect," she finally admitted, her voice tinged with frustration.

(Y/n)i's stomach churned at the statement, a surge of anger or guilt rising within her.

"Perfection?" she repeated, her voice laced with incredulity. "Since when is wanting things to go smoothly a bad thing?"

With a heavy sigh, she sank back into her seat, the tension in the car suffocating. The silence that followed was deafening, each passing moment filled with unspoken apologies and unresolved pain.

Paige's shoulders sagged as the weight of her words settled in the air, the tension in the car almost palpable. Her gaze flickered to (Y/n), a flicker of vulnerability flashing in her eyes before she looked away.

"I couldn't— fuck. I can't always be perfect for you," Paige muttered softly, her voice barely above a whisper. It was a confession tinged with regret, a glimpse into the insecurities that lurked beneath her confident facade.

(Y/n)'s heart clenched at Paige's words, a pang of guilt washing over her. She hadn't realized the extent of the pressure she had unknowingly placed on Paige, the weight of her expectations bearing down on them both.

"I never asked you to be perfect," (Y/n) replied softly, her voice tinged with sadness, “I just wanted you to be there.”

The silence was deafening. The air stood still, piercing with the occasional hum of the moving car. 

The familiar sights of the city passed by in a blur, each streetlight casting long shadows across the car's interior. (Y/n)'s gaze drifted out the window, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. She focused on the passing scenery, trying to distract herself from the tension that lingered between them.

The soft hum of the engine filled the car, a constant companion to their silent conversation. The rhythmic thud of tires against asphalt reverberated through the vehicle, adding to the weight of the unspoken words hanging in the air.

Paige's knuckles whitened as she gripped the steering wheel, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. The soft glow of the dashboard illuminated her profile, casting shadows across her features. She could sense (Y/n)'s eyes on her, the weight of their recent argument hanging heavily in the air.

With a shaky breath, Paige finally broke the silence, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry," she murmured, the words laden with.

(Y/n)'s heart clenched at the apology, but she kept her gaze fixed on the passing scenery, unwilling to let her guard down just yet. 

"I know," (Y/n) replied softly, her voice barely audible over the hum of the engine. "It's okay."

Paige glanced to the side briefly, a flicker of gratitude flashing in her eyes before she turned her attention back to the road. They drove on in silence, the tension between them slowly easing with each passing mile.

The car sped up, the rush of wind against the windows drowning out the sound of their breathing. (Y/n)'s hair danced in the breeze, strands whipping across her face as they hurtled down the empty streets.

As they pulled up to Paige's dorm, her heart sank at the thought of saying goodbye. 

"Are we okay?" Paige asked quietly, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

(Y/n) nodded, her gaze fixed on the ground. "Yeah, we're gonna be," she replied, her voice steady despite the turmoil swarming inside her.

Paige reached out to touch her friend's teammate's hand, but stopped herself at the last moment, the distance between them feeling insurmountable. "You know you can call me anytime, right?" she said softly, her eyes pleading for understanding.

(Y/n) forced a small smile, her heart aching at the sight of Paige's vulnerability. "Same goes for you," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Promise you'll call?" Paige asked, her voice barely audible over the sound of the car idling.

"Pinky promise," (Y/n) replied, a small spark of hope igniting within her. Despite everything, she knew that they would find their way back to each other eventually.

With one final glance, Paige stepped out of the car, leaving her alone with her thoughts. As she watched Paige disappear into the darkness, (Y/n) couldn't help but feel a sense of loss wash over her. 

The sight of Paige leaving her behind had been a sight long forgotten, but familiar enough. 

Hopefully, this time would be the last.

Unexpected Reunion: (Y/n) and Paige Spotted Together at Local McDonald's Drive-Through

In an unexpected turn of events, basketball stars (Y/n) and Paige were spotted together at a local McDonald's drive-through, much to the delight of fans and fast food enthusiasts alike.

A McDonald's worker, who asked to remain anonymous, shared with our reporter their excitement at serving the two athletes at the drive-through where they worked. "I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw (Y/n) and Paige together! I'm a huge fan of both of them, so it was a dream come true," the worker exclaimed.

However, the sighting raised eyebrows due to (Y/n)'s contractual obligations with Jollibee, making it somewhat scandalous for her to be seen at another fast food establishment. Despite this, many people took to social media to express their joy at seeing the two athletes reunited after a long time apart.

"It's so heartwarming to see (Y/n) and Paige together again. They have such a special bond, and it's clear that their friendship transcends any contractual obligations," one fan tweeted.

As speculation swirls around the nature of their reunion and the implications for (Y/n)i's sponsorship deals, one thing is certain: the sight of the two athletes together has brought smiles to the faces of many.

a/n: SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT anyways you could probably tell that i had a hard time writing this chapter... anyways next chapter we're gonna get into the first game of the season yay!!

Thank you for all the comments they make me smile love youuu

taglist: @kenzie-luvzz , @juphey , @h34rtsformilli , @pinkandlilacroses , @i-bribri-i , @thatonemarvelfan03 , @girlokwhatever , @ihrtthotdads , @kc88888888 , @nfleditsrjustbetteridk , @imsobabygiirl , @vi0lentb3rry , @sejus-wife , @katemlk , @littlelesbianinternujung, @ktaerssoi, @evangelinexo , @c999sh , @yazmunson , @choibeomkai , @ekisokay @queenmendes , @euphoric-rush

lmk if you wanna be added <3

#paige bueckers x reader #uconn wbb #paige bueckers #wlw #paige bueckers headcannon #uconn huskies #wlw fic #x reader #nika muhl

[xoxo-sarah]

Could you write something where you are new and in almost all of robins classes, but the more you get to know each other, the more you hang out. She starts to think maybe your friendship is more than what she thought it was, like shes feeling something she knows that you shouldnt feel for a friend

Torture

↝a/n: thank you for requesting. 🩷 This is kinda cute (but rushed)

↝pairing: Robin Buckley x fem!reader

↝warning: not proofread

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Robin Buckley, or any character from Stranger Things. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 4.24.24

In a bustling hallway of Hawkins High, you nervously navigate your first day, feeling lost among the sea of unfamiliar faces. Until a sweet voice calls out.

"You look lost. Need a hand?"

Looking up, you didn't know what to say at first. She was the first person to talk to you, even with all the kids around you. No one paid you the time of day, too caught up in their own highschool drama.

The girl offers a smile, pointing towards the paper with your classes. You nervously chuckle, handing the paper over. She quickly glanced at it, before dragging you to the first class, which you so happened to have together.

She was nice and funny. It was easy to get along with her. When she wasn't talking about the newest thing or telling you about the school and people in it, she was listening to you and your story of how you ended up in Hawkins. She listened. Something not many teenagers do.

It didn't take long for you two to become close. You walked together in the halls, did homework together, went over to each other's houses, called after school, kept each other updated on the drama that happened in the classes you don't have together. It was amazing to have someone to talk to after moving to a new town.

It was torture for Robin.

Don't get her wrong, she adored you. Maybe even a little too much.

She started off seeing you as a friend. You were nice and funny. But apparently that's her type. She started noticing how you put your hair behind your ear as you smiled, the creases next to your lips as you smile- how your eyes crinkle as well. She loved the color red on you. She wanted to spend every moment with you.

It was unhealthy, she thought. It wouldn't cause anything but trouble. But she wasn't one to just end something. Especially when it meant so much to not only her, but you. Was she just supposed to drop you one day? Leave you alone in the sea of sharks? She wasn't that type of person, so she'd have to endure the unspoken rejection.

"That doesn't make sense." Robin watched your eyebrows furrow, not noticing her lips lightly pull into an amused grin. You were adorable when confused. "Biology is a bitch."

"couldn't agree more." She shut her book, pulling her bag from beside your bed and started putting everything in it.

"what're you doing? I thought we had more to study?" There you were, making it hard for her to just see you as a friend. With your pretty eyes, lips, cheeks.

"I have errands to run. Sorry." She stood, moving to put her backpack on.

"are you going to walk? I drove you here."

Robin stumbled over her words. She forgot about that, even with her standing in your room. There's no way she was going to stay there , inhaling your smell that was on everything. It was torture. "It's not that far of a walk."

You stood, smiling as you walked over to your desk chair, putting your jacket on. "Don't be silly. I need fresh air anyway."

"No."

You paused with one arm in your jacket. "What?"

She sighed, looking up at your ceiling. "I just...I just need some time away from you." Ouch. She could've worded that better. Didn't stop it from being true.

"oh-yeah...yeah of course." Your jacket fell from your arm, landing back in the seat of the chair. "It is a long walk though. I can get my mom to take you home."

Robin sighed, "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Care so much."

You walked over to your bed and slumped down on it, looking at her confused. "Because you're my friend? I'm supposed to care."

She nodded slowly, biting her lip. "Why do you have to? You make it so much harder than it has to be."

"I'm confused, Robin."

"I shouldn't feel this way about you."

It was quiet for a moment, until you broke it with a whisper. "What way?"

Llike I like you." Robin managed to spit out, instantly regretting it as your face dropped.

"Robin..."

She was quick to make her way to your door, grabbing the handle. "I'm just going to go-"

"You don't have to. We can talk this out-please don't go."

"I made things awkward."

"No you didn't."

She felt a hand on her elbow, too scared to turn around. You were right there, with her secret just aired out. Were you going to laugh at her? Spread it around school? She knew you weren't the type, but you can't be too sure.

"I like you too, Robin."

"Really?" She hated how fast she asked, but didn't care when she met your eyes. You offered her a sweet smile, eyes crinkling and all.

"Yeah, I didn't know if it was romantic feelings or not. But after Tonight, I kind of got my answer. I really, really like you."

"In that case," he backpack slid to the floor, her arms going around you. "I don't have errands."

"Good," you grabbed her hand, turning and dragging her back towards your bed and the open book that laid on your covers. "I still need to help with biology."

"Why must you torture me?"

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

#xoxo-sarah 🩷 #robin buckley fanfic #robin buckley #robin buckley fluff #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x fem!reader #robin x reader #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x female reader #robin buckley x y/n #robin buckley angst #robin buckley imagine #robin buckley fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x you #stranger things fluff #stranger things angst #📼

[my-moo-moo]

battle of the concubines

Concubine Asteria had been groomed from a young age to become the Queen of the nation. She was the eldest daughter of the former King’s advisor and she had spent her youth studying court politics and orbiting around the then Crown Prince. It worked. Her extraordinary beauty managed to attract the Crown Prince’s attention and her kindness and etiquette had won over the civilians’ hearts.

All had changed when the Crown Prince had acceded to the throne and brought the princess of their greatest rival nation into their court as a token of peace. Concubine Delphine was a ditzy spoiled princess who didn’t know any of their customs and could barely speak their language, but somehow that became her charm that pulled the King more into her favor. She was the new shiny toy, while the ever loyal Asteria, who was used to the King’s undivided attention, faded into the background. Every night that the King was not in her bed, Asteria questioned whether her spot on the throne was imminent as everyone had once assumed. 

To say she was seething with jealousy would put it lightly. It was grossly unfair that she dedicated her entire life to the King for a foreign princess to come into her territory to take it away from her. She knew that many in the nation did not want the enemy’s princess as their queen, but none of that stopped the King’s infatuation. 

Hope returned again when Asteria fell pregnant with the King’s child. The King, overjoyed by the news of becoming a father, returned to her side again to fuss over her wellbeing. She had two good months of feeling like everything had returned to normal, before Delphine announced that she was pregnant as well. She should’ve expected the attention whore wouldn’t let her experience her first pregnancy in peace.

It’s an unspoken rule that the concubine who births the first male heir to the throne would be crowned the Queen, the legal wife of the King. The whole nation was now waiting to see which concubine was going to come out on top. 

Asteria was further along in her pregnancy, and thus she had confidence that she was going to birth the first child for the King. Yet there still was nagging worry that there was a 50-50 chance that the baby would be a princess. The results were up to God. All she could do now is to visit the temple religiously without missing a day to pray for the baby nestled in her womb to be a boy. 

Her nerves came into full hilt when her due date had finally arrived and the baby was showing no signs of coming. The doctor had assured her that the babe in her belly was healthy and it was normal to not go into labour right on the due date. 

“But do you think it looks like I’m carrying a boy?” Asteria prodded the palace doctor, modeling her bare belly in different angles. It’s been an unclear consensus whether or not the shape of her belly had meant she was carrying a boy or girl. She’s been keeping track of Delphine’s pregnancy everyday and comparing it against her own. It had become her pride that she had been carrying more forward than her, a known indicator of a male fetus, and she wasn’t afraid to flaunt her bump and make it known. Behind the scenes though, she held onto the snide comments that it was only because her torso was shorter and she was further along in her pregnancy. 

Before the palace doctor could come up with his answer, the doors to her chamber flew open. “Concubine Delphine went into early labour!” the servant announced to the doctor. Asteria almost fell to her knees before the doctor guided her to sit down. She hunches over her large overdue belly and sobs, “This can’t be! I’m supposed to give birth months before her!”

“Don’t be too upset. There was nothing you could do about it. Whatever happens today, you’ll always be the Queen in my heart.”

She felt hands patting her back soothingly, but she only wailed harder. Despite the words, Asteria felt like this was her fault. Her spot on the throne was being torn out of her hands and her stupid body won’t go into labour like it’s made to. And she couldn't forget Delphine, that conniving bitch. "She likes to act all innocent and demure, but I swear to the heavens she did this on purpose," she seethed.

"What? Why would Concubine Delphine make herself go into labour early when it could endanger her child's life?" Asteria looked away. She didn't have a definitive answer, but she couldn't dispel the nagging suspicion in her brain. “Speaking of which, I must go assist the birth now. There could be complications with the babe being so early.”

All of a sudden, a revelation washed over her. She grasped the doctor’s coat in her fists, pulling him back. “Don’t go. You must put me into labour. You are the most knowledgeable doctor in the nation. There has to be something you can do!”

The palace doctor pursed his lips, contemplating his decision carefully since his next actions might just change the fate of the nation. “It won’t be easy, but I can try.” and it certainly will be painful.”

“I’ll try anything, anything at all.”

The palace doctor promptly sent his assistant to assess the situation with Delphine in the bedroom next door, while he prepared to help Asteria. 

His first course of action was to serve her an awfully bitter herbal concoction of evening primrose oil and red raspberry leaves that was supposed to induce her uterine contractions. Asteria downed it without complaint as the assistant rushed into their room sharing that Delphine had been unknowingly in labour for hours now and was already 4 centimeters dilated. 

The doctor ordered his assistant to do everything he can to stall Delphine’s labour. The dire situation really set in. The herbal medicine could take a while to set in, but they didn’t have that kind of time. In comparison, Asteria’s cervix had started effacement, but barely even dilated yet. With a grave expression plastering his face, the doctor suggested they do something more invasive.

“I can handle it,” she assured the doctor. “A woman worthy of being Queen would be able to handle it,” she added, more to herself. 

That’s how the concubine found herself laying down with her legs apart by stirrups and the doctor’s finger digging deep into her. He slipped a cold metal instrument right into her cervix and carefully began prying it apart, coaxing her cervix to dilate by force. It wasn’t painful, more uncomfortable and strangely spine-tingling with the doctor breathing right into her pussy and his finger stroking deep in her inner walls. In her short lifetime, she has only ever let the King defile her, but this innocent matter wasn’t anything when the King was unfaithful to her without a blink of an eye.

Things start kicking into action when she begins to feel tightening around her stomach. But any sense of accomplishment is quickly shot down when the assistant informs them that Delphine is already 6 cm dilated. “They’ve been feeding her magnesium and elevating her hips up! But it's just not working! ” he tried to explain. “She’s having contractions for hours now, and she’s growing tired… maybe we should let her—” 

“No! Elevate her hips even more, don’t let the baby crown!” The doctor shouted, head still between her legs.  Asteria felt a sharp jab, and followed by a gush of fluids flowing out of her. “I got you started with dilating and now I broke your water prematurely to intensify your contractions. Your body should take over now.”

The doctor was certainly correct. Not only has her body’s natural hormones kicked in, but the effects of the herbal medicine she had chugged earlier. She could barely utter a word out in between each wave of contractions that wreck her belly, sometimes not even a moment to breathe. She wasn’t even afforded the comfort of laying on her bed, instead the doctor had her squatting by the mattress, letting gravity pull her heavy baby down to position. Even when her thighs trembled, someone would pull her back upright from under her arms. 

She went from 1 to 10 centimeters dilated in a mere couple of hours, catching up to the day’s worth of labour that Delphine went through. She could already feel the immense pressure of her baby’s head lodged tight in her pelvis. And judging by the increasing pitches of her screams, she could tell she was close as well. It was going to be a close race to the finish line. Each of her screams were only motivating her to push harder. 

“Please get this baby out of me!,” shrieked Daphne. 

“That weak bitch… doesn’t even have… an overgrown baby to push out,” Asteria gritted between her teeth before a battle cry erupted from her throat. The widest part of the baby's skull was now splitting her open farther than ever before. There’s no stopping here now, she needed to get this baby out of her at this instant if not for her position, but to finally get some relief. Her doctor was urging her to slow down or else she would tear, but she told him to shut up and start pushing down on top of her stomach. 

Between her own screams, she heard the voice of the medic next door, “You’re almost there, your highness… Just one last push!” 

“I’m! Closer!” Asteria belted out. An unyielding force pushed down on her womb, and at the same time, she fuelled all her hatred for the foreign princess into one last push. The pressure in her pelvis finally lets go as her baby shoots out of her like a cannon.

She is heaving with heavy breaths in the aftermath, when she hears the announcement. “Congratulations Concubine Asteria, it’s a… girl.”

There’s a deafening silence that followed that was interrupted by another wailing cry in the distance. A heavy newborn was placed on her chest while blood was flowing out from her like a river, but neither was what Asteria was focused upon. Time seemed to stall as she waited for the news to come back to her.

“Concubine Daphne has given birth to a princess.”

Asteria let go of the breath she didn’t know she was holding. At least she had another chance at the throne. She laughed to herself maniacally when she came to the conclusion that  she technically ended up winning this time. She not only became the mother of the eldest princess, but her baby was chubby, healthy and full term.

It was hours after his first daughters were born when the King finally made his visit to the concubines’ wing. All the attendants could feel the disappointment in the King’s solemn silence as he made the rounds. He grimaced when he saw Concubine Asteria’s battered form and asked the doctor to stitch her back up extra tight. And he hadn’t wanted to hold the tiny premature princess from Concubine Daphne at all. With one cursory glance of pity, he instead asked for the wet nurses to give her around the clock attention. 

It was clear that he wasn’t going to crown anyone anytime soon… until he at least gets his healthy son. As for his concubines, it seems like neither of them are ready to give up on their spot on the throne.

#pregnancy fic #pregnancy kink #labour kink #birth kink #my fic

[jennycalendar]

yeah i think i am going to have to push back real hard on this notion of the show not being fully aware of how scummy xander's crush on buffy is, because the fact that we are CONSTANTLY shown how he is screwing over willow with his myopic buffy obsession delineates exactly how we are supposed to see him! he spends all of this time in season one going "woe is me, i'm the victim, buffy has no idea i exist" while literally creating the exact same situation for willow. he accuses buffy of being jealous of him when in actuality we see him get jealous of any boy willow's into and trying to ruin things for her the minute she's not haplessly pining over him!

idk i just have often seen this rhetoric of xander being terrible specifically BECAUSE the narrative excuses his behavior, and i think it is more complicated than that? xander is being terrible in ways that are consistent and apparent and intentional, but because the show is steeped in misogyny, there is not an awareness re: how to actually write the arc that he needs to make him not terrible (one about him figuring out how to redefine his relationship to masculinity) and the attempts to make him grow are halfhearted and poorly conceived/constructed. we get the skeleton of a storyline that is never brought to completion.

#celia watches btvs #xander harris #like idk i am watching s1 and it seems VERY INTENTIONAL #that we are constantly shown xander ignoring the girls!!!! ignoring willow!!! #we are not supposed to side with xander here we are supposed to side with WILLOW OVER ALL ELSE #and i think the powerful joy of s1 is that while it is suggested that buffy remains unaware of xander's crush on her #(we could debate how aware she is. but i digress) #buffy very clearly would never date xander because she knows willow likes him #and this is much of the reason why willow is very consistently NEVER upset at buffy for xander's crush on her #there is such an unspoken solidarity there between buffy and will! and i love that!

[wlwsuperheroine]

I love you riri williams you encapsulates the two most important part of my personhood: science and lesbianism

#i know her work is more about engineering but she does do a lot of research #I love how I don’t ever see her shipped with man trulu the unspoken lesbian #I WANT MORE WOC GIRL GENIUSES!!! #riri williams #ironheart #marvel #marvel comics

[designernishiki]

You asked for a fic rec so I’ll toss this one at ya: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46767358?view_full_work=true Stick through the formatting for the characterization, tone, and really the whole vibe of this fic. I haven’t been able to get the bathroom call between Daigo and Majima out of my head for weeks since I read it with how naturally it all flows. My own little Daigo characterization booklet to review when I feel like I need a refresher on him.

so I may have stayed up until 6am reading this (would’ve slept earlier but I couldn’t stop reading it) and hgggahaghhhhaggahshhhhhhhh that was one of the most well-characterized fics I’ve ever read what the fuck. like the differences in how each character speaks (both tone-wise and in differing levels of authenticity) and how they speak to specific others (the daigo and majima dyanmic specifically- how they actually take into account how long they’ve been working really closely- SO good), the mental anguish and chaos vs the overwhelming emptiness of being daigo dojima but no longer The 6th Chairman Daigo Dojima……….I could keep going but I think you get it.

tbh I’d been wanting to write something exploring a similar set of dynamics/situation (post-kiryu’s fake death, interactions with haruka, daigo, and/or majima specifically, reflecting on his shortcomings while acknowledging the heavy Grief left behind) but now I’m like. well I still could but this was so well written in regards to daigo and haruka that, as far as something between those two goes, I don’t feel the need to.

thanks for the recommendation! my brain is broken now (affectionate)

#rambling #fics #fic rec #there’s a little bit of minedai in there via flashback but I don’t know if im gonna put this in my minedai tag cause it’s really #not tecccchnically a minedai fic. it’s just. a daigo-centric fic/study more than anything #my favorite more lighthearted moment in this story is daigo talking to haruka in Okinawa after like 3 years and hearing about her #‘situationship’ with yuta and how it’s just more convenient to tell people they’re a legit couple and daigo’s immediate response on impulse #is just. ‘that must be nice. I mean that you can do that. if it were two guys or two girls or something you wouldn’t be able to do that.’ #or something like that and simultaneously sweating because he has no fucking idea why he’s saying that and can’t find a way to abort #my only critique is that I was hoping he’d come out to her (probably on the scene after that where it’s just them sitting on the deck) #and it wouldn’t even have to be a Big Thing it’s just. it felt like it was leading up to that (whether coming out on purpose or on accident) #but ah well #don’t get me wrong I think she could probably figure it out on her own based on the fact that daigo’s never had a girlfriend to her #knowledge and is in his 40s + that weird little gay tangent he went on earlier out of the blue #if anyone could pick it up though context clues and hints it’d be haruka and akiyama The Investigators. and oh no. looks like that’s #exactly who he’s stuck with #id love to see an update cause of this oh mannnn #(if anyone could pick it up it’d be those two + also majima but I kinda figured at this point majima would almost certainly already know #they seem like they have a mutual (possibly unspoken) recognition of one another on that front. based a little on what daigo says about #‘when kiryu says jump you say how high’ and majima floundering a little before admitting ‘you know I can’t resist those big #brown puppydog eyes…’ like i know that’s not too on the nose but it’s enough of a casual acknowledgement to Me that it feels… idk it just #feels like they Know. it just makes sense. and I hope they do cause it’d feel a little less lonely and terrifying to be gay in that world if #that were the case. yet another thing making it feel like majima’s a way more viable parent figure to him than kiryu fr fr…… #anyway I could keep going forever so I should probably stop #I’ve never considered how daigo would interact with akiyama and now they’ve got me intrigued. I really hope they update this with something #daigo #I really think a chunk of this fanbase (particularly The Queers) understand daigo as a character better than rgg studio does. and cares more

[luckywolfsbane]

"Oracles mean prophecies. Prophecies need heroes. Knights are usually the first to get shoved at the hole, but if none of us fit, it falls to some poor kid who never signed up for it. A path forward is great when it's not paved with innocent bones."

-Lyris Valorios (Ethereal Flames, chapter 2)

#the islandian chronicles #lyris valorios #canon quote #lyris sweetie did you forget you're a literal teenager? yes? thought so #i absolutely adore this line #it's so full of irony for the impending situation #like they're already in the throws of a prophecy and Lyris is about to become the hero shoved in place #and she's fine with it because right now she believes she signed up for that #but she very much didn't because a child -- which she was when she became a knight and is now just a teenager -- can't sign up for that #she shouldn't even be a knight in the first place #that's the unspoken bit #there's a literal Lumian law against knights under age 18 #but she was commissioned at age 12 because the king said so #and she just doesn't know #my poor girl

[elryuse]

EX (G)-IRLFRIEND

SOOJIN X MALE READER

Tags : EX GF Soojin, A bit of Angst, Happy Ending, Some Smut?

The familiar jingle of (G)I-DLE's "LATATA" pulled Y/n's head from his laptop screen. It wasn't the song itself that startled him, but the woman standing at the coffee shop door, a sheepish grin plastered on her face. It was Soojin.

Memories flooded back, bittersweet and potent - late-night talks after rehearsals, shared secrets whispered under the covers, the warmth of her hand in his. Soojin, the sunshine to his brooding storms, the one who understood his quiet moments as well as his bursts of laughter. It had all ended so abruptly, ripped apart by accusations and scandal. Soojin, the girl he knew to be the softest soul, was branded a bully by the media.

He refused to believe it. He tried reaching out, offering support, but she'd pushed him away, a fortress of hurt and betrayal. In the end, the strain became too much, the silence deafening. They had to call it quits, the weight of the unresolved mess hanging heavy between them.

Soojin navigated the crowded café, her once fiery red hair now a calming dark brown. Her eyes held a vulnerability he hadn't seen before, a stark contrast to the fearless idol he once knew.

"Y/n?" she tentatively asked, her voice husky with nervousness.

He stood up, caught between a flood of emotions. "S-soojin."

Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken questions and buried feelings. Soojin took a hesitant step forward, closing the distance. "I know this is sudden, but...can we talk?"

He couldn't say no. He ushered her to an empty table, his heart hammering a chaotic rhythm against his ribs.

"This feels surreal," she confessed, fiddling with a stray strand of hair. "Seeing you again after all this time…"

"It does," he agreed, his voice raspy. "What... what brings you here?"

Soojin took a deep breath, her gaze flickering away for a moment. "Everything you heard… about me… it was a lie."

The words hit him like a physical blow. Years of suppressed doubt and anger flared up. "A lie?"

"A carefully orchestrated one," she continued, her voice gaining strength. "The company, the girls… they fabricated the whole bullying story."

His mind reeled. All this time, the person he knew was the victim?

"W-why?" he whispered, anger bubbling beneath the surface.

"They wanted a scapegoat," Soojin explained, her eyes brimming with hurt. "Someone to take the fall for their mismanagement. They promised they'd back me up, but…" she trailed off, a bitter laugh escaping her lips.

He wanted to believe her. The Soojin he knew wouldn't bully anyone. But after years of hurt, a part of him needed more. "How can I know you're telling the truth?"

Her eyes welled up. "Because the only person I told the truth to was you." She reached across the table, her hand trembling slightly as it hovered over his. "Y/n, please. Believe me."

The touch, a ghost of their past, sent a jolt through him. Looking into her tear-filled eyes, a familiar ache bloomed in his chest. Doubt still lingered, but so did a flicker of the old trust.

He sighed, squeezing her hand gently. "Alright, Soojin. Tell me everything."

For the next hour, Soojin poured out her story. The manipulation by the company, the betrayal by her supposed friends, the public humiliation – it was a narrative of shattered dreams and broken trust. Y/n listened intently, anger building in his gut alongside a deep empathy.

As she spoke, the room seemed to fade away. It was just the two of them, their past resurfacing like a forgotten melody. The café's bustling sounds muted, replaced by the tremor in her voice and the raw honesty in her eyes.

When she finished, a heavy silence settled between them. The weight of the years, the unspoken words, all hung in the air. Soojin looked down at their intertwined hands, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks.

"I miss you, Y/n," she confessed in a soft voice.

His heart lurched. Did she mean it? All these years, had she felt the same way?

Before he could respond, she leaned forward, her lips meeting his in a hesitant kiss. It was a touch of apology and yearning, a plea for a connection that wasn't severed. Hesitation lingered in Y/n, but the nostalgia in her touch, the familiar warmth of her kiss, proved too much to resist.

He deepened the kiss, his hand finding its way to her hair, the dark strands smooth against his touch. It was a desperate kiss, fueled by years of yearning and a newfound understanding. The kiss burned with an intensity that surprised them both. Years of pent-up emotions, hurt, and longing exploded in that single touch. Soojin pulled away first, breathless and cheeks flushed.

"Y/n," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I know this is crazy after all this time…"

"No," he murmured, his own voice thick with desire. "It doesn't feel crazy."

There, in the dimly lit café, surrounded by the aroma of brewing coffee and bustling patrons, their past and present collided. Soojin's hand snaked up his arm, sending shivers down his spine.

"Can we go somewhere... more private?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He barely needed to think. Without a word, he paid for their lukewarm coffees, ignoring the cashier's curious stare. As they stepped out into the cool evening air, Soojin slipped her hand into his, a tentative gesture that spoke volumes.

They didn't speak, not initially. They walked hand-in-hand, the silence a comfortable shroud around their rekindled connection. Soojin led him to a secluded alleyway, its entrance masked by overflowing vines.

The dim moonlight filtered through, casting long shadows on the brick walls. In this hidden space, Soojin turned to him, her eyes searching his face.

"I know…" she started, her voice husky. "This might be a mistake, but I…"

He silenced her with a finger to her lips, his touch sending a jolt through her. "I get it," he said, his gaze locked on hers. "We can take things slow. But…"

He trailed off, leaning closer. The scent of her familiar perfume, a mix of lavender and vanilla, filled his senses. "Right now," he whispered, his voice husky, "all I can think about is holding you again."

With that, he pulled her into a tight embrace. Relief, desire, and a bittersweet nostalgia swirled within him as he held her close. Soojin melted into his arms, clinging to him like a lifeline.

The kiss this time was different. It was fierce, filled with a raw hunger that spoke of years of unspoken feelings. Their hands explored each other's bodies with a desperate need, reacquainting themselves with the familiar curves and textures.

Soojin reached for the buttons on his shirt, her touch sending shivers down his spine. Unbidden, memories of their passionate nights flooded back – stolen moments in her dorm room, late-night adventures, and the feeling of belonging he'd felt wrapped in her arms.

He helped her out of her light jacket, his fingertips lingering on her exposed skin. As she unbuttoned his shirt, the air crackled with unspoken desires. They stumbled backward, landing against the rough brick wall.

Her touch was like a wildfire on his skin. She explored his chest, her whispers sending shivers down his spine. It was a desperate dance, a frantic rediscovery of a connection they both thought lost.

The alleyway became their sanctuary, a space where time seemed to stand still. They explored each other with an urgency born from years of separation, each touch a whisper of the past and a promise of a future they weren't sure existed.

As dawn painted the cityscape a pale pink, they lay breathless in each other's arms, the warmth of their bodies a stark contrast to the cool night air. Soojin nuzzled closer, a contented sigh escaping her lips.

"This feels like coming home," she whispered, her voice thick with sleep.

Y/n held her tighter, the weight of the unresolved past momentarily forgotten. He didn't know what the future held, whether this was just a fleeting moment of comfort or the spark of something more. But in the quiet embrace of the new day, all he knew was that he wanted to hold onto this newfound connection, even if it was only temporary.

#soojin #gidle soojin #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x male reader #beautiful #sexy content #apreciation post #update #kpop smut #angst #happy ending #kpop fluff #cuddles

[aliferous-ly]

not to bnha on main but I'm thinking about fuyumi

#i havent seen all of s..6? we're on s6 right? whatever #nor have i read the manga #but i know enough spoilers to be in LOVE with my girl #and i have a fic rattling around in my brain that i dont have enough context for #so spoilers bnha manga if u care abt that #but learning that fuyumi and touya are twins Changed Me because its about the FUCKING SIBLING TRAUMA (2.0) #its about twin's quirks being switched in the womb its about being born next to your best friend and your worst enemy #its about fuyumi wanting her family to be functional instead of the fucking dumpster fire it is #because she already lost touya she cant lose natsuo and shouto too #endeavors like 'trying his best' or whatever but i dont think she.. cares all that much about him. #her being cordial is like glacial politeness. the casual wielding of words. #plus she has such an interesting character set up??? #her twin brother is being brutally trained and shes a child and cannot do anything about it #her mother takes her under her wing and tries to teach her the unspoken rules of women in this household #fuyumi hears her twin soul scream bloody murder and cannot lift a finger. she must learn how to sew #then her next brother is born and she thinks of all the ways she cant protect him. but his quirk appears.. similar to hers #shes so desperately relieved. her twin receives new scars every day. #shouto is born. her and her mother stare at each other silently in the home because they know what this will mean. #fuyumi is 12 years old when her mother is sent away. her baby brother throws up because of her father pushing him too hard #fuyumi is now the woman of the house. she is 12. she is a child #touya is gone. hes dead. her twin brother died (because of her father. they all knew touyas weakness) #fuyumi is the eldest. she has to be the glue sticking them together. she makes meals for her scarred brothers. #she is silent. she is scorned for her lack of anger. #who has space for anger when you must become a mother at 12? #fuyumi is an incredible character and if the writer (horikoshi?) wasnt so SHIT at writng female character arcs maybe he would have realized #😭😭😭 #ollie rambles #me being true to my tag #FUCK i love fuyumi #sibling relationships always take me tf out but these tragic ones are perfect

[niuxita21]

TFW the Girl You Love Tells You “Thanks But No Thanks. You’re Still My Best Friend, Tho!” - A novel by Ana

#madre solo hay dos #ana servín #shitty screencap posts (TM) #me: I will only be able to make a couple of posts about this episode bc it hurt so much and I can't keep rewatching this scene #also me: *spams the tl with ten million posts* #but LISTEN #I am ASTOUNDED at how well this bit captured that sort of weary disappointment lesbians are all too familiar with #when the girl they're in love with is like 'you're my best friend!' (unspoken second part of that sentence: 'and nothing more') #I'm gonna try to articulate why but like #from what we know of canon I don't think ana has ever in her life had feelings for another woman who friendzoned her #and yet here she is getting her heart broken by another woman for the first time and it's just SO RELATABLE #to those of us who HAVE been there before you know? #because I don't think she would have the same microexpression if mariana had been a dude #there's something there that screams 'yeah haven't heard THAT one before' and it's just... *chef's kiss* #(me? analyzing ana's microexpressions as a coping mechanism? it's more likely than you'd think!) #also this is just a friendly psa (although I don't think anyone is reading my tag vomit which definitely is for the best) #but my blog is a mariana hate-free blog and I'll start caping for her if I have to :) #I'm just here to have fun (and get my heart shredded by a silly mexican comedy apparently life is wild sometimes)

[crescendollscollective]

It's weird. I like fictional cult leader types, but Angie makes me uncomfortable. It's likely because of her writing and how it's culturally offensive, but I feel self conscious because everyone else seems to be able to put that aside and enjoy the character but I've never been able to, and I've tried to multiple times. I don't know, I'm just seeing her a lot because it's the character's birthday and I feel like it just sucks I can't see or experience the character in a positive way like so many others can.

#♦️; notes #🦇; iru #rambling #I think I'd rather she #just wasn't a cult leader type. It feels... forced? wrong? It feels wrong because she's the only darker skinned girl in the v3 class #and that's what they did with her. The fact she's exoticized and uses “atua” which is a real religious figure... #I know others can look past it but something about just. that being a prominent part of her character... #it irks me I guess. #Something about also being a minority and seeing media show my culture in an exoticized manner probably plays into it. #I think a heavy rewrite would be required for me to be comfortable with Angie but would that be a different character at that point? Idk. #Like latino people. our native people were accused of human sacrifice and blood rituals. #and now on my home island they're all dead. their descendants blood mixed with that of the colonizer. #Maybe Angie's character brings some of those usually unspoken issues to the surface and that's why I don't feel comfortable with her. #Maybe she reminds me of the stereotypes put on my culture and many others. And of course as a white latino I feel some guilt despite #never having a role in anything from the past. #A lot to think about and now is not the time. I should be doing my ASL. #tw colonialism

[gurorori]

okay very srs vent / trauma dump ahead i seriously advise No1 reads this..

tw for the same described in last rb i am sorry

i apologise for usin this acc for ventin a lot heh i prommy i try 2 keep it silly.. but its more convenient here than on instagram. 🙏

#i know it is an extremely heavy topic but really when i think ab it. it also stays so unspoken abt cuz of this culture of not talkin ab it #its kinda like a he who shall not b named thing #n i of course feel an insane amnt of guilt n shame even tryin 2 bring it up #jts even more terrifyin for someone with did. i didn always know we had this baggage #but certain memories wer shared with me by one of our trauma holders in a flashback & it. it like everythin suddenly made sense #its like. puzzle pieces comin together like Oh so this why we have this. this is why we have survival instincts on top of survival instincts #this is why we r deadly scared of everyone in this household. this is why im so anxious with the. all too feasible idea of ofhers besides #Him bein attracted to us too #idk memories r a blur but suddenly there is a reason dat i realise Why we wer growin up with primal fear n grief instilled when #it comes to family & .. closeness #sure i have my own notions abt it as well havin the exomemories thst i do but. they also mske so much more sense once i learned our #lived experiences #we still live under the same roof with him #its been.. 16-ish years. it started arnd when we wer 4-5 purely judgin off our trauma holders age. shes a little girl. surprisingly quiet #im glad she is warmin up to people (friends & partner) nowadays altho she hasn been arnd for months now.. #i worry but i think her bein away for now is for da best #but yeah. i feel awful jus knowin shes the one who took most of dat & the one still carryin the memories #i remember jus. feelin a deep void for weeks after i got the flashback. its an indescribable feelin my chest honesly hurts as im typin this #but i am glad 2 b sharin this burden as well.. #its weird cuz it started n then ended n its been years of weird uncertainty where its not like we r actively bein abused (by him) but #there wer Moments #gawd jus last year. i remember wkain up2 him on top of me #n iys this weird kind of thing where ya feel yr body violently shake n jolt awake like a literal fight or flight respojse wakin ya up #the only reason he left is cuz i screamedwso loud i woke others up #then later he acted like he was drunk n apologised #i.. did nawt forget #i also will never forget the. actual childhood memories but god they ffeel entirely too disgustin to even put in text #they feel like they r fiction made to specifically awaken most fierce disgust ya can feel #but they r not. how?? #i reached max tags...

[phoenixkaptain]

I really want to explore Tim “rich kid” Drake spending time with his friends and them just slowly realizing that Robin is even weirder than they thought.

Like, Arrowette complains about some press event or something that her mom wants her to go to and Robin just starts listing off advice and unspoken rules and tells her to absolutely avoid the shrimp cocktails unless she wants an early out, in which case the correct amount to eat is one and a half shrimp with only a bit of cocktail sauce, which will be enough to change her complexion and convince people she doesn’t feel well and allow her to escape to the restroom, then she just needs to slip out one of the windows-

Or Wonder Girl commenting on, like, a science fair project or something and he just goes “Science fairs are the worst. Everyone wants to buy your services to make them something, not understanding that you’re richer than they are and that an insult to you could lead to you buying their parents’ companies if they don’t shut up. They’re lucky I have an even temper…” WG: “…wat.”

Superboy is like “man, Superman’s trying to convince me to clean my room. What should I do?” and Tim just stares blankly at him because nobody has ever told him to clean his room before and he’s never cleaned his room before and he had no idea Clark was so cruel and-

Impulse: “Hey, Rob, pass me a can opener.”

Robin, staring into the drawer, fifteen can openers right in front of his eyes: “We don’t have one.”

I just want Tim to inexplicably not know some things because he’s never had to know them. I want him to explicably know things because he had to know them. I want the things he does know and the things he doesn’t to be totally backwards to everyone, who are all wondering why Robin knows how to hotwire a car but does not know how to work a vacuum cleaner.

#tim drake #young justice #robin #batman #arrowette #cissie king jones #wonder girl #cassie sandsmark #superboy #impulse #bart allen #the inane ramblings of a madman #i just really want them to be baffled by his knowledge #robin knows how to do a third century waltz #robin does not know what 2-in-1 shampoo conditioner is #i’m talking early timmers #baby tim who just came out of his boarding school #bourgeoisie tim if you will #in marxist context #i think it’d be funny

[ghoulphile]

sticky fingers | c.h./the ghoul

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 4.5k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; mildly dubious consent, dirty talk, degradation kink, fingering, squirting, rough sex, size kink, standing doggystyle, overstimulation, teasing, choking, dacryphilia, cooper howard is his own warning (he nasty y'all), canon compliant - takes place around ep 7, a grab bag mix of the show and the games ➥ summary | “Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal.” ➥ notes | i love my men like i love my beef jerky 🫠 i wrote this over 16 fevered hours after finishing the finale. hope you enjoy~ minor edits 4/22/24 | x posted to ao3 | feedback is always appreciated ❤️ feel free to send in thots, questions, requests!

It begins, as most things in the Southwest Commonwealth do, with a fight for survival.

City life is tough to be sure, but here on the outskirts of pocket civilizations where there’s nothing but long stretches of desolate wasteland - arid, sunbaked earth and scorched shrubbery - for miles around?

Well, if the ferals, fiends, and super mutants don’t get you in the night, then the desert itself will. During the day the sun burns overhead so nuclear hot, heat glimmers on the horizon in dancing waves.

Unforgiving, relentless as blink-and-you-miss-it mirages are swallowed by ever shifting sands.

It’s easy to get lost.

Even easier to boil alive in your armor if you’re unprepared.

Far too many travelers from the Eastern Commonwealths have met their demise here, where shade is sparse, and water even moreso. The rain - if it does blow in over the mountains - brings rad sickness.

If you’re lucky enough to still be alive, the only reprieve from the heat is in the stooped bones of bombed buildings and ramshackle shacks... where you're just as likely to catch a knife in the back from a chem fried addict as you are relief.

Because here, in the Wastes, danger lurks in sand and shadow alike.

You don’t trek out into the flats half-cocked: a fact all locals know. And if you do decide to? Well, you learn one way or another.

No, only the truly ignorant - or the desperate - dare to tempt man and nature.

Consequently, as you dust off the crumbs from the last half of a Fancy Lads Snack Cake and suck a melted smear of icing from your thumb, you're of the latter half.

You tried holding off for as long as you could. But once the shakes started, you knew you couldn’t put off eating lest you pass out and wake up in a slaver camp.

Well, shit, you think as you rattle a dented canister of purified water. This fucking sucks.

Almost going cross-eyed, your tongue hovers under the rim as you watch the last lazy drop fall free. You catch it with a grimace, smacking your lips. The water tastes metal warm in your sour mouth, barely enough to wet your whistle - let alone your thirst.

You began rationing the last of your supplies days ago, and it’s been a battle against light-headedness ever since. Pretty soon you won’t have the strength to defend yourself, scavving be damned.

Come on. Think - gotta think. What can I scrap for caps?

Not only is Filly more than half a day away, Ma June isn’t one for charity cases. The fact she offered twenty extra caps last time for some burnt books and bent bobby pins was as close as you were ever going to get to a Wasteland miracle.

Sunken cheeks and pleading eyes can only get you so far; everyone’s gotta eat.

"Fuck..." The palms of your hands grind into your eye sockets until you see stars. "FUCK!"

There are two unspoken laws in this otherwise lawless land: steal or starve, live or die. A grim reminder that surrounds you in old bleached bones, empty bullet casings, and scraps of cloth fluttering in the breeze.

Someone always has to be top dog. If you’re lucky, they might be willing to share their spoils.

It’s as you’re considering what pieces of yourself you’re willing to barter that you see them. On the horizon, coming from the west, are two dark blobs.

Stark against the flat plains - a shining beacon of salvation - is a man in a ratty duster and cowboy hat. The saddlebag tossed over his shoulder bounces with his steps while a dog trots beside him, its sable coat rippling with muscle.

Pay dirt.

Making sure to keep low and distant, you stalk them. Watching, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

When the sun dips low, the sky a swath of pale pink and gold, they make camp at a blown-out Drumlin Diner. Off in the distance, thunder rumbles and sickly clouds gather.

Dark and roiling, acid green; a Radstorm brewing.

Electricity cracks at your skin, stands your hair on end. You scrub your hands over your arms, huddling into yourself for warmth. Meanwhile, the stranger seems to luxuriate in the budding promise of rad rain.

He lounges under an awning, his back pressed against a defunct Nuka Cola fridge. He gazes in the direction of the oncoming weather while mindlessly running his fingers through the dog’s fur as it curls up against his legs.

Occasionally, its ears twitch, and its eyes crack open.

Whenever it glances in your direction, you hold your breath and squeeze your eyes shut but it never gives any other indication that it notices your presence.

A small mercy you’re thankful for.

While you’re a pretty good shot, your body is weak with hunger. Besides, you have quick hands and light feet. There’s no doubt you can stealth your way in and out before he realizes his pack is lighter than he left it.

You’ll only take what you need - not interested in causing any more trouble than is necessary. Some food, maybe something to drink if he can spare it, and something to pawn. Just enough supplies to get you sorted in Filly.

Anyway, he certainly isn’t hurting for it by the look of things.

Any guilt you felt was short-lived when he settled down after dropping his pack inside, walking out with an inhaler of Jet in one hand and a can of Cram in the other.

Watched, greedy, as he cracked it open and picked at the tin of meat with lazy fingers. Salivated as he sucked them clean in between deep pulls of chem.

Soon, you decide, licking your lips as he chews, swallows. Soon.

However when push comes to shove, the stranger proves far more keen than you give him credit for.

The world spins like a hit of Daytripper, a kaleidoscope of color as your skull bounces off the wall with a loud crack. Air rushes from your lungs as something huge - hot and heavy - slams into you from behind.

Pins you against the wall with ease as your ears ring.

Something rattles loose; your teeth too large and your tongue too thick. Warm metal floods your mouth as the side of your face throbs in time with the rabbit fast stutter of your heartbeat.

Pain sparks and your stomach rolls.

"Wha's?" you slur, thoughts dripping like wax. "Wh-at's..."

Meanwhile, a gloved hand lassos around your throat like a collar. Brute fingers squeeze the tender flesh of your jugular until you hear your pulse in your ears. Senses struggling - sluggish to adjust in the encroaching night - as tiny cavities eat at your vision, little pockets of darkness.

“Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal," a gruff voice mocks. “Betcha thought you was real slick, huh? Tch. You ask me, you’re dumber than shit, Darlin'.”

Trying to regain your bearings, you shake your head only to groan. “I don’t - ‘m not -” It’s difficult to concentrate, a throbbing tempo taking up residence in your temples. The words come slow. “Wha’d you mean?”

He whistles, long and low-pitched, "D’ya have any idea who you're fucking with?"

“N-No…”

“How’s about I show you, then?”

Warm breath puffs over the shell of your ear, a tongue sliding out to trace along the lobe. You jolt, squirming in discomfort as he crowds closer.

“Tasty lil thing like you, wrapped up all nice and pretty just for me." He chuckles. "Why, it must be Christmas.”

What the hell is he talking about?

It’s hard to breathe with his heavy weight suffocating you; the scent of gunpowder and bitter smoke clogging your nostrils with every labored inhale. His lips - ragged - scrape over the nape of your neck.

The grip on your throat squeezes once, twice; leather sticks to your sweaty skin.

You squint your sore eyes, taking in the faint flickers of firelight that spill through the open doorway. The desert chill of night has settled in, creeping through the busted out windows to dig beneath your padded armor.

Thunder rumbles directly overhead as lightning follows in flashes of acid green. It’s only a matter of time before sheets of rain come pouring down; the air sticky with humidity, trembling with energy.

The Radstorm has finally arrived.

You’ll undoubtedly get sick if you leave the shelter of the diner - might even die from it if you can’t afford or find any RadAway. But as the stranger’s chest digs into your shoulders, and the dog curls up in the corner - uncaring of your plight as its nose tucks into the whip-thin tail - you think you’ll take your chances.

Tilting back to glance at him from over your shoulder through damp eyes, you say, “Look--”

Only his hand moves, viper quick, as it slides from the front of your neck to the nape. Strong fingers clamp down like a vice, like scuffing an unruly dog.

He grinds your face into the wall, rough metal shredding your cheek.

You cry out, a soft, pained little thing that echoes through the empty diner.

“Now why’d you gotta go an' make me do that?”

A phantom glimpse told you all you needed to know; broad jaw, thin lips, a hollow nasal ridge, creeping radiation burns and cracked skin. Ghoul.

“Let’s try this again, Sugar.”

His free hand - sans glove - creeps over the curve of your hip to splay along the swell of your belly, fingers tucking up under the hem of your shirt. You shiver at the stroke of roughened skin.

“Don’t take another peep or I might jus' have ta pluck out those pretty eyes of yours.”

Dread pools low in your gut, a leaden ball.

Everything in you screams: RUN, RUN, RUN.

Alarms blare but you freeze. Stare straight ahead at the featureless wall, eyes wide and unseeing. Through the foggy mire of your thoughts - half formed and shapeless - you have enough presence to understand the precarious nature of your position. 

Heart hammering, you plead for mercy, “Please, I’m - I’m sorry.”

"Aw, ain't that real sweet?" He remains impassive, unmoved. "The little thief does got some manners after all."

Without warning, the sharp toe of his cowboy boot kicks apart your feet. In the ensuing empty space between your thighs, his leg slots into place. Spurs dig into the tender meat of your ankle, little kisses of pain, as his hips rut forward against your ass.

You choke on your spit, pulse jumping in your throat.

"H-Hey, that's..." You attempt to shove at any part of him you can reach to no avail. Built and broad with compact muscle, it's like trying to move a brick wall. "I said I was sorry, okay!"

He ignores you, burying his face into the space behind your ear. A deep inhale sounds next to your head, the expansion of his chest against your back so firm you're not sure you won't fuse together.

The whiskey rough groan he releases does wicked things, makes your mind wander to places it shouldn't. Full of grit and gravel as his cock twitches against your backside, a burning line of heat.

A shiver ricochets down your spine.

He grunts, says, "Mm, you smell good enough ta eat."

The cap of his knee nudges up against your clit with a sudden jolt, shocks of pleasure electrifying your body. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and a sob threatens to scrape its way up from the depths of your throat.

You swallow, mouth desert dry. "Come on, let's just forget all about this, yeah?" you reason. "No harm done. I'll even give you whatever I've got left so - so..."

He makes a noise in the back of his throat, the vibration rattling through your chest. "So?" he prompts, plucking at the waistband of your trousers.

"So let me go?"

"Now why would I go an' do an asinine thing like that?" he replies. "If you think you can buy your freedom, think again, Sweetheart."

Rain pings off the metal roof, the smell of pungent ozone and rusting metal wafting in through busted windows and open doors.

“'Sides,” he pauses to turn your attention outside, “I’d hate ta have you yakin’ before the fun’s even started.”

There’s no way to misconstrue his meaning when he punctuates the statement with a teasing rut of his hips. Those rugged fingers tug open the clasp of your trousers, yank until the material goes slack and pools around your ankles.

“Hey, wait--!”

You jolt, hands scrambling for purchase as he slides his leg against your core. The friction of his pants through your thin cotton underwear makes you ache.

Ripping through your bottom lip, blood beading to the surface, you choke on a high-pitched whimper. "I..."

There's no way he can't feel your reaction.

How quickly you're getting wet as he drags you along the length of his thigh while yanking your hips back into the cradle of his pelvis. You meet him in a slow grind that boils your blood and steals the breath from your lungs.

It’s been - shit - far too long since you’ve felt anything other than hunger, thirst; the animal drive to keep pushing forward.

"You like this, don'tcha?"

You hear the dagger-sharp smile hidden in his words.

He croons, "What would your fellow smoothies think, huh? Here you are lettin’ a ghoul get you all hot n bothered - and you’re lovin’ it. Ain't you?"

You throb in response, heat stealing its way into your cheeks as you turn your head away in shame. His dark chuckle lets you know he felt the squeeze of your thighs, the rock and dip of your hips against his knee.

"I - I don't..." you stutter, struggling for a retort. “I’m not--”

A tremble works its way through your body, crushed as you are between the rad warm burn of his body and the wall. Completely at his mercy as you try to figure out where it all went wrong and what you can do to worm your way out of this one.

Terrified of what'll happen if you stay, terrified of what'll happen if you go; stuck in limbo as what was meant to be a simple grab-and-dash devolved into this confusing cluster of shame and lust.

You loathe the embers of desire kindling to life low in your belly.

"You really outta start bein' more honest, Sweetheart."

A large hand dips beneath the worn band of your underwear, and you wait with baited breath. Helpless as calloused fingertips brush over the swell of your mond.

Your inner thighs are uncomfortably sticky with slick, and your eyes burn in humiliation. Your throat trembles around all the words you want to say.

"Didn't anyone teach you lyin' was bad?" he asks rhetorically as his fingers slip down to play with the swollen bud of your clit, tapping lightly.

You keen, low and wounded.

Short nails dig into your palms as you flex your hands for want of something to grab onto.

“I am being honest,” you bite out through grit teeth. Sweat dapples your furrowed brow. “Just lemme go, please.”

"I find that hard ta believe," he replies. "Sorry to say, but you're shit at lyin'. Just look how hungry your lil cunt is for me."

It’s the only warning you get before those long digits plunge deep inside, two becoming three as they stretch you wide. Hollow you out; knuckles massaging your entrance as the tips prod along the sensitive front wall of your cunt.

You clamp down with a strangled moan. “Shit!”

This is a horrible idea - but it’s been forever and a day since you’ve felt anything other than your own touch.

Whether it be the bone-deep loneliness you’ve been shoving down for months or the sudden, inexplicable need for contact, you long for a reminder that you’re still alive.

That you’re not some wrath of the Wasteland filled with sand and blood, doing whatever it takes to survive in a place that would rather see you fail.

“I - I’m not sure.”

He snorts but offers no council or reassurances, using his free hand to yank at the back of your head in impatience. While it might’ve been a fairer fight if you weren’t in such bad shape, there’s no denying that he’s proven himself to be more adept.

Stronger, quicker.

This is going to happen either way.

And that turns you on - even though you feel like it shouldn’t.

If you give in, if he forces you to give in, it’s not really your fault then, is it? You can enjoy it because you have no choice.

Fuck it, you think, closing your eyes and tilting your head to the side in submission.

Like a doll with cut strings, all the fight drains from your body and you’re left sharing space. The ghoul is a furnace of heat behind you, barely any space to breathe he’s crowded so close.

His cock thickens where it digs into the soft fat of your ass, as large and intimidating as the man himself. “Now stay still for me.”

The or else goes unspoken.

Then he’s stepping away, a rush of cold air filling the empty space at your back.

You shiver, tempted to turn around. Maybe make a run for it. The only thing stopping you is the awareness that his threats aren’t so idle. In your experience, it’s far better to befriend the monster than to anger it.

So you comply, waiting an eternity as your senses strain to pick up on anything other than the murmuring hush of rain, the rumble of thunder, as the Radstorm continues to blow its way through.

Though just when you think he might’ve left, ready to chance moving, you hear the clink of a belt buckle clicking open. The scuff of boots across the linoleum before broad hands shove up under your shirt, scarred palms bare as they settle on your hips.

You tense before forcing yourself to relax.

“You ain’t as stupid as I thought,” he says. “Good girl.”

A test.

You breathe a sigh of relief.

“I can listen,” you mumble, keeping calm as his hands explore the plains of your stomach, pluck at the waistband of your panties. “Promise ‘m not gonna do anything else.”

Learned my lesson the first time. Got my skull cracked open for it.

“That’s what I like ta hear.”

Without warning, your panties are being ripped from you, scraps of fabric fluttering useless to the floor. You squawk in indignation but then a heavy hand settles between your shoulder blades.

He presses down, and you follow without complaint, finding yourself bent in half.

And then the fat head of his cock is right there, teasing at your entrance. He plays with your cunt, slipping the shaft between your wet folds. Dragging up the length of you to tap at your swollen clit.

Jerking in his hold, you whine and try to bear down with all your weight. “Please,” you squirm. “Please, c’mon…”

His grip remains firm, bruising as he exhales next to your ear, a pleased little grumble. “Thatta girl. Now tell me, who’s my pretty lil thief?”

Every hard ridge of his body bites into the softness of yours, your stiff nipples dragging against the rough material of your shirt. Zings of pleasure shoot through you; bursting in your bloodstream, fizzy like warm Nuka Cola.

“I-”

“Go on now, Sweetheart: say it.” Fingers dig into your hips so hard your bones ache. “Or I jus' might be tempted ta take a bite outta your pretty lil backside instead.”

He’s bluffing, you think, half delirious, … Right? He wouldn’t--

You swallow, throat clicking, and squirm against him.

Is that a chance you’re willing to take?

No, no it’s not.

“Y-Yours - I’m - I’m your little thief.”

The unexpected flare of satisfaction in his voice is almost your undoing. A hand pets down your flank, swatting the outside of your thigh playfully.

“Good girl.” He demands, “Say it again.”

Sharp hip bones kick forward against your ass as he lines himself up and starts to bully his way inside.

“I’m - YOURS!”

Your soft, gummy walls flutter, squeeze until giving in with a pop under the hard pressure of the fat head. His cock stretches you out, thick and girthy.

Ridges of scar tissue and patches of rough friction pockmark his shaft, massaging tender places as he fills you up, fucking you open.

He feeds you inch after inch… until he can’t.

“Wait!”

Accommodating his girth is a struggle, your cunt filled to the brim by the time he’s halfway inside. No amount of slick could make him fit, so he makes do with harsh little jerks of his hips. Forces himself deeper and deeper until he glides home nice and smooth, sheathing himself to the base with a sigh of satisfaction.

You clamp down hard with a hiccupy whine, walls furtively trying to push him out. “A-Ah!”

“Goddamn,” he huffs, hands kneading your ass, “You’re a tight fit.”

Tears prick your lash line, your hips shifting as you try to stop him from moving. Begging for a moment of reprieve. You’ve never taken something so big and thick, so textured before.

Coupled with the minimal foreplay, it feels like he’s punched his way through your body. Hollowed you out to make a home for himself.

Pussy aching, a low burning tightness creeps over your lower belly as tender flesh pulses uncomfortably around the unforgiving heft of his cock seated deep inside. You swear you feel him poking your belly button.

“Please,” you pant, heat settling into your cheeks. “J-Just wait a sec-ond! I can’t - oh shit.” 

“Aw, look at you.” Fingers reach around to brush over your cheeks, gather the tears that’ve slipped free. “Didn’t mean ta make you cry,” he lies.

The sound of him sucking his fingers clean reaches your ears. Your stomach swoops, and your clit throbs. Dazed as you wonder what his mouth would feel like on your pussy.

"Hah - too much, you're - fuck - you're too big."

He snickers. “Can’t be helped, I guess.” Body rippling in a shrug, his hands re-settling on your hips. “But that’s all right - I like it better when they cry.”

Before you can retort, he pulls his hips back.

Your toes curl in your boots, feet squeaking across the linoleum floor as your sweaty forehead grinds into the cool metal of the wall. The texture of his shaft burns as it slides through your swollen folds, dragging against sensitive spots you didn’t even know existed.

You can’t tell if it’s the best you’ve ever felt or the worst, but you nearly sob all the same, nerves alight with liquid fire. Want him as deep inside as he can go; a frenzy of desperation that needs him to stuff you so full you choke.

“See for all your whining, you’re takin’ me so well. What did I say about bein' honest?”

You sniffle, blurry eyes creaking open to stare out the window.

Your body throbs in time with your pulse, your pussy so stretched out you can’t clench down when he thrusts in deep. The fat mushroom head teases your cervix, a faint whisper, before he’s drawing back again.

“T-Too fast,” you stutter, head rolling back to rest on his shoulder. Your thighs tremble, knees going soft. “Slow down, slow down.”

“Sh, you can take it. I know you can.”

With a grunt, he surges forward. Wasting no time in starting up a brutal pace that rattles your bones. He drives you hard into the side of the diner; tits crushed and face smashed, a disgusting mixture of tears and drool wetting your cheek.

“Just like that, Sweetheart.”

You do little more than hold on, all thoughts driven from your mind as he fucks you swollen and bruised. Cunt a sticky mess as your slick eases the way, clinging to your inner thighs and dripping down his heavy balls.

Every thrust punches little sounds from you, and he grunts. “Fuck!”

Your hands cling to the sides of his hips, focusing on the shift of muscle beneath heavy fabric. “I can’t,” you slur, eyes cloudy as you glance up into his, gazes meeting for the first time. “Please, I - ah!”

His thrusts turn punishing, even more so than they already were, hips meet your ass with enough force to leave bruises. “What did I say about sneakin' a peek?”

While the words sound threatening, his voice is heated and breathy. For all his talk, he doesn’t look away. In fact, his hips slow into languid rolls, grinding close. When your eyes slide from his, he reaches down to pinch your clit between his fingers.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he chides. “You keep those eyes on me.”

Pretty, you think, dazed.

Glinting in the slants of firelight like wet sand or a Nuka Cola bottle in the sun; bourbon warm as they peer at you from beneath a heavy brow bone.

“That’s it, there’s my good girl."

Eyes fluttering when he flexes his hips in reward, the tip massaging along your g-spot, your mouth drops open on a whine.

“O-Oh! Right there, I - fuck, please don’t stop. ‘m so close.” F-Feels s'good.

His bare hand reaches up to curl around your jaw, gnarled fingers pushing their way past the open circle of your swollen lips. They compress your tongue as they gather saliva, stroking along your tastebuds.

Gritty, rough; he tastes of dirt, blood, and gunpowder.

You sneak a kiss to his scarred knuckle when he pulls free.

“Shit, I’ll be damned. You’re just a nasty lil freak, ain't you?”

You moan in response, stretching up on your tip-toes and arching your hips to change the angle. Your palms rest beside your head, docile.

A crazed grin cracks the corners of his lips, his teeth bared like an animal. “I like that,” he husks. “Now be a peach…”

Then those soaked digits are finding their way between your thighs, ghosting over your skin to smear spit onto your abused clit. The tender bud throbs beneath his fingertips, swollen and begging for attention.

He hitches his hips forward to feel you jerk, pulsing beneath his touch as he resumes a fast, jolting pace that has you smacking into the wall.

“And cum for me.”

A deep rumble escapes his throat, the sloppy, wet sounds of him fucking you ringing loud in your ears. Your hips roll, unsure if you want to press forward into the swirl of his fingers or back into the rut of his cock.

Tears stream down your cheeks, your chest heaving with weak sobs.

“Please,” you whine, his shaft pinching your walls uncomfortably. You feel swollen, rubbed raw. “A-Almost there.”

A nip to the ear is all it takes.

“Hhaah, I’m--!”

The liquid heat that’s been pooling low in your belly - building and building - finally bursts in a gush of slick that soaks his hand. Darkens the crotch of his pants as it drips down your thighs to splash against the tile.

You sob, a full body tremor zipping through you like bottled lightening.

In the aftermath, your cunt twitches in time with your heartbeat. Hands numb and head full of cotton as cramps bloom between your hips. Sharp little stabs shoot up behind your navel.

“Shit, I’ve got myself a gusher,” he laughs, a nasty little smirk tugging at his lips. “Look at the mess you made. Now if you ask real sweet-like, maybe I’ll let you clean it up with your tongue.”

You sag, too boneless to be ashamed as electric aftershocks tingle along your nerves. All the while, his pace never falters, quickly fucking you into overstimulation.

Your clit twitches pathetically when the fat head of his cock drags along your g-spot. "No more," you mumble weakly, letting him maneuver your body how he likes. "Please."

“Heh, let’s see if you can do that again.”

You whimper, “Oh, oh, please n-no. I - I can’t. You’ll break me.”

“That’s real cute,” his lips, harsh and rasping, drag over the shell of your ear, “but I wasn’t askin’.”

The grip on your hips tightens to the point of pain, digging in and marking you up.

“Now, why don’ we have some real fun, Darlin'?”

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