#` ✞ winter. ⁞ you can’t love anyone‚ because that would mean you have a heart.

[sunlessea]

the romance chart meme for some................. select "unique" individuals just for fun KJERMHKJM ELYSIUM, THE ONLY NORMAL BITCH IN LONDON.... [KINDA...]

[lenaswritingandstuff]

Dating the Slytherin boys (+ Harry) ▪ HEADCANONS

Requested: No

Characters: Mattheo Riddle, Tom Riddle, Theodore Nott, Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Regulus Black, Harry Potter (+ y/n)

Warnings: NSFW mentions, English is not my first language

A/N: I'm not sure I like this but here we go. However I have to say I like Regulus' one so I might turn his version into a one shot one day (when uni won't be killing me slowly). This will include also the pre-dating/flirting stage as well. SORRY FOR THE TYPOS. Comments and feedback are always appreciated. Enjoy! ^^

Tag list: @helendeath @im-jesus

Tag list for this story: @anawritez-posts @pumpkinchee @alwayslatetothefandoms

Mattheo Riddle:

His feelings for you probably confused him at first 

If he falls first, he either won’t let you know or will do everything to get your attention (‘Hey, y/n, come sit here, the seat is free!”, “y/n, do you mind helping me with homework for Snape? I can’t bloody do it”, “How about we go to Hogsmeade, just you and me?”, “you look beautiful, y/n”)

Your love for him always calms him when he gets anxious or when he’s upset, especially after his father comes back

Will tell you things he never told anyone

Would rather spend time with you than with his friends

Is terrified something will happen to you because of his father 

VERY jealous, but trusts you

Despite easily getting angry, he can’t get mad at you. Even during arguments 

LOVES sleeping in your arms or when you just hold him

He's crazy about your body

Loves showering with you, and we both know how it often ends

HOT, passionate sex

Will randomly eat you out without expecting anything in return (doesn't mind if you return the favor, though)

100% calls you "baby" or "love" all the time

Doesn’t care about what anyone thinks of him as long as you love him

Your love makes him feel lighter and stronger

You're his whole world

Feels bad when he hears someone criticize you for dating him 

Always makes sure you don’t overwork yourself, and makes sure you get enough sleep, water and food, and comforts you when you're anxious

Holds your hands when he's anxious or stressed

Will listen to anything you have to say 

Crazy about your perfume

Theodore Nott:

Struggles to express his love or feelings in general, at least in the beginning 

Has never done serious relationships before, and it may cause some trouble in your relationship, as you end up believing he doesn’t care about you

It causes many fights, and the last one will be the first time he says ‘I love you’

Always goes to you for comfort 

Loves sleeping with you in his arms/on his laps, or cuddling, and with time he can’t sleep without you

Loves watching you sleep 

Loves having you on his lap

Always gets you great gifts (even randomly)

“Well, it thought it was pretty, and…it reminded me of you.”

Will fight any guy who is rude to you or acts like a creep 

Very jealous (trusts you, doesn’t trust others)

Doesn’t mind PDA at all, will gladly hold your hand or kiss you in public

Always has a hand on your waist or around your shoulders 

Very supportive in everything you do, even when he doesn’t understand it/isn’t really interested in it

Isn’t very good with comforting people (mostly because he's not used to it), but will hold you and listen to you as long as you need, can even give you advice/reassurance 

Every compliment/'I love you' you say melts his heart and means much more to him than he shows, same goes for anything you do for him

Loves doing fun things, even if it’s just throwing snowballs at each other during winter (which ends in loving kisses, just savouring the joy of being together)  

Love getting in a pool with you and playing "childish" games during summer

Any form of intimacy means A LOT to him 

He's used to hooks up and "fucking" but it takes him a bit of time to have sex with you (despite being crazy about you and your body) because you mean everything to him and with you it's really making love instead of just "fucking"

The first time is loving and slow yet passionnate (eye contact at all times, hands holding, desperate kisses from him), and it gets a bit rougher and passionate the next times (but aftercare, which he isn't used to, is always on point and keeps getting better)

Is secretly very insecure, and is terrified you will leave him (especially for another “better” guy) 

Craves your touch and your love but won’t admit it

His boggart is probably you being dead alongside his mother

Will tell you sweets things in Italian

Very clingy in private - and also in public with time

With you he learns to be happier and discovers a happier side of himself he didn't know he had

Loves you much more than he actually shows at first 

Will often say you're all he has (and means it)

But with time, you have no reason to doubt his love and he’s the perfect boyfriend

Blaise Zabini:

Probably will court you like the gentleman he is

He doesn’t trust people easily and might be a little distant (while always polite and kind) in the early stages of your relationship 

But with time he becomes very warm and smiles a lot

Always kisses the top of your hand or your forehead 

Doesn’t do much PDA except for holding hands and kisses on your forehead

However in private he’ll 100% cuddle you and hold you

Dates in parks or restaurants  

Get you flowers at least once a month

Will always defend you against others 

One of his love languages is acts of service

Lorenzo Berkshire:

You either were friends before dating or he fell in love with you at first sight, there is no in between

Takes you on fun dates (arcade, funfair, theme parks) 

Can be shy at the beginning, which will make it a bit hard for him to talk about how he feels about you

Movie nights where you two eats lots of snacks and sweets while cuddling 

Always smiles when you enter a room

So supportive 

Loves when you're on his lap

He has no problem with PDA

Quickly willing to meet your family if you agree

He’s a great listener and mostly gives good advices 

Loves taking naps with you 

Always makes you sure you get enough sleep, water and food

Won’t let you get yourself into dangerous situations

Loves to go anywhere with you, no matter the activity and even if he just follows you around 

Many pet names

If you're Muggleborn or grew up among Muggles, he will totally ask you questions about the muggle world

Passionnate sex, will get rough if he hasn't seen you in a long time or if it's angry sex after he got jealous

His aftercare is the best, and he's always thankful you trust him enough to have that form of intimacy with him

Draco Malfoy:

Won’t flirt at first with you but keeps wanting your attention

Tries to seduce you with expensive gifts, and is a bit taken aback when you say he doesn’t work

Continues to get you gifts, but will make sure they match your interests/tastes, and keeps expensive gifts for your birthdays and Christmas (even though he’d like to get them all year for you) 

At first he doesn't show any weakness in your presence

With you he’ll learn patience and to focus of more positive things, and also to stand up to his father

Takes you on dates every chance he gets

Will ditch his friends to spend time with you

Probably makes Crabbe and Goyle carry your bags or do things for you

So proud to be dating you, it might even make him more arrogant

Gets grumpy when jealous but after a kiss on the cheek he’s back to his normal self 

Will invite you to his home and write you nearly everyday during holidays

Hates it when Harry or any Gryffindor boy tries to talk to you

Surprisingly has no problem with PDA

Loves when you come to see him play during Quidditch matches

Tom Riddle:

Oh boy

It started with him admiring/watching you from afar, for a reason he can’t understand

SUPER confused by what he feels for you and why

Will probably try to get closer to you through homework or through books if he sees you read one

Will know everything about you, and will secretly follow you, saving you if you’re in danger with you never knowing who saved you

Crazy about your perfume, so much so that it makes him steal one of your clothes just to be able to smell it anytime he wants

After a while, he’ll spend most of his time with you without ever admitting he likes it

Will probably let you know his feelings for you after he cast a spell on a guy for being a creep with you 

Won’t let another man touch you

Will ask Mattheo for advice to be better or to make you fall in love with him

Will do your homework without hesitation, even if he pretends that he hates it, and will leave explanations so you understand his answers/his work

No PDA except for holding hands or your hand under his arm, but will make sure to stay close to you at all times 

Is a surprisingly good listener 

VERY jealous, but surprisingly isn’t mad or suspicious at you

“Did you enjoy having his attention? Do you wish for me to show you how my attention is better?” 

He doesn't stress over homework or stuff like that, so he finds it ridiculous when you do (learns with time to be more understanding)

Will let flowers in your room with a note on it

Pretends to not care about the gifts you get him for his birthday or Christmas but it actually means so much to him as no one ever got him any gifts before 

Nothing the others say about him gets to him, but he gets angry when he hears someone say that you deserve better than him

Is secretly insecure about his background and the fact that he’s poor, and thinks you deserve better 

As Voldemort: Might be torn between continuing his goals for power or spending a simple life with you; is aware you’ll leave him if he gets on a darker path 

As Voldemort’s son: would do everything to protect you from his father, and if he’s forced to get the Dark Mark, he will makes sure you don’t know 

Possessive kisses 

Would hurt anyone who does you wrong

Borrows money from Draco to take you on dates or to get you gifts, as he feels like you deserve the nicest things, even though you keep telling him his mere presence is enough

May feel a little bit guilty that he can’t properly show you his love like “normal” boyfriends do 

Won’t admit it but considers you the only good thing in his life, and if he ever lost you he’d get on a dark path

Won’t cuddle at first, but if you wake up first you’ll find him sleeping close to you, with at least one of his hands touching you

Always notices when you don’t eat, sleep or drink enough

You’re the first (and only) person he will feel romantic love for

He has a bit of sexual experience before, but with you it's completely different - once you guys have sex for the first time, he becomes obsessed with your body and how it makes him feel

Loves fingering you

"You like it, dove?"

Even if you guys don’t work out, he won’t ever be with somebody else 

Would ask your parents for you hand in marriage, but honestly it's just out of politeness, the only answer that matters to him is yours

Regulus Black:

Like Blaise, he was raised the old fashioned way

Acts coldly towards everyone except you, his tone and eyes gets warmer and kinder when talking/looking at you, and you’re the only person he’ll smile at

You were his best (and only) friend and he has been in love with you for years

He hides his feelings very well, but one day you start dating someone else (thinking Regulus doesn’t share your feelings) but he can’t bear it and confesses his feelings

Always defends you

He’ll take you on restaurants or picnics dates, always bringing flowers

Mostly fine with PDA (holding hands, hands on your waist)

Thinks he’s very lucky to have you

Probably already starts thinking of marrying you during your last year at Hogwarts 

A bit jealous, but can’t stand it when Sirius tries to talk to you

Will gladly do your homework with/for you

Loves it when you sleep in each other’s arms, loves feeling you close

Loves it when you call him “Reggie” (only you is allowed to)

Will literally do everything you ask him to

You’re everything to him

Can’t stay away from you for long

Will get worried if you’re five minutes late

Always calls you “sweetheart” or “love”/”my love” 

Slow, romantic sex most of the time but sometimes he needs to be rougher

Thanks to you he’ll feel lighter and he will become kinder

You’ll even make him change his views on blood purity and stand up to his parents, and with time he gets closer to Sirius thanks to that (and you) 

If that doesn’t change and he still joins Voldemort, he’ll leave you a letter before going to the cavern, saying how much he loves you and how much you mean to him

Harry Potter:

Don’t expect any pet names from him, but he might create a nickname with your name (like he calls Ginny ‘Gin’ in the Cursed Child) 

His love languages are fierce protectiveness, loyalty and a patience he didn’t knew he had

Has no problem with PDA because he doesn’t care about what other people think  

Loves cuddles

Rarely gets mad at you, and feels guilty when he does

Mostly gets mad at you when you hurt yourself (for example during Quidditch) but it's also because he was scared for you

Hot kisses in private

Will be jealous if he sees you with another guy 

He’s passionate in a lot of things he does, and it includes you and everything you do

Will fiercely defend you again anyone, can even throw hands

Gets FURIOUS when Umbridge hurts you during detention, and will cuddle you for hours and do everything he can to make the pain disappear

Knows people are mean to you during fifth year because you're dating him and he hates it

During that year the only peace he feels is when he's holding you or when you sleep in his arms (it's also the only time he doesn't get nightmares)

Very supportive 

Loves getting you gifts 

You make him feel SO happy, he’ll just keep smiling for no reason 

Gets more and more clingy with time

Always write to you during the holidays (you always invite him to come to your house)

I'm not sure about sex while you guys are at Hogwarts but he 100% feels lust for you, there will definitely be hot making sessions when you guys are alone in a dark corner of the castle and it often ends up with you against the wall with your legs around his waist while he kisses your neck and caresses your legs

However sometimes he just can't stop himself and will eat you out (even maybe finger you at the same time), and will be proud when you come

Any act of service you do for him means a lot

You're always worried about him when he's at the Dursleys but he reassures you that he's fine

Comes to you in the middle of the night if he has a nightmare and generally comes to you for comfort or to rant 

Needs you more than ever after Voldemort comes back and after Sirius’ death 

Misses you like crazy during his quest for Horcruxes, and he can’t bear the thought of something happening to you 

Might struggle to show it, but he knows and is thankful of how patient and comprehensive you are with him, and that makes him want to be the best boyfriend he can be

Terrified Voldemort might hurt/kill you

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[amiableness]

i had another idea for dad!james. who sometimes has to work late and reader helps take care of henry. he comes home and sees her reading henry a story before bed. he’s just heart eyes the whole time 🤎

Dad!James Potter x Bsf!Reader ☼ 1125 words

By the time James gets home, he’s exhausted. He didn’t plan to be this late, but sometimes his job demands it. He feels fortunate that you’re the one watching Henry tonight. If it had been the babysitter, she would have told him "tough luck" and left, as she never likes staying late when James’s work keeps him beyond schedule. He understands her frustration; it’s not fair to expect her to stay late without notice. But coming home to you and Henry is always a comfort.

He longs to kick off his shoes by the door, savoring the relief of stretching his toes. A hot shower to wash away the stress and changing into his cozy sweats are next on his list. Yet, more than anything, he looks forward to seeing his two favorite people: Henry, with his innocent, sleepy smile, and you, with your warm, comforting presence.

You truly embody comfort for him.

James will never admit it, but the nights you watch Henry while he works late are his favorite. Dinner is always kept warm for him in the oven, filling the kitchen with a delicious, welcoming aroma. The lamps he never uses are on because you insist they make the house cozier, casting a soft, inviting glow over the living room. And seeing your jacket and shoes tucked right next to his and Henry’s is one of his favorite sights—a simple yet profound reminder of home.

You take care of the little things that mean so much, like tidying up Henry’s toys and leaving a packed lunch for James in the fridge for the next day. Those lunches are the only ones he looks forward to, knowing that if he makes them himself, they’ll just be leftovers from Henry’s daycare lunches. You never prepare Henry’s lunches, understanding how much James values the tradition of leaving him a note. Although Henry can’t read it yet, Hilary at daycare always makes sure to read it to him.

The moment he opens the front door, a lovesick smile spreads across his face. There, by the door, are your coat and boots—essential for braving the London winter. As he steps inside, the familiar aroma of his favorite pasta dish fills the air, welcoming him home.

He locks the door behind him and sets his belongings down near the entryway. The house is neat and quiet, with the lamps providing a softer, more pleasant light than the harsh overheads. The faint aroma of pasta still lingers, adding to the relaxed atmosphere. He’s pretty sure the house never smells this good after he makes dinner.

As he heads up the stairs, he hears your voice animatedly reading Henry a bedtime story. Every now and then, Henry’s giggles punctuate the scene, and James imagines the dramatic pauses you take, flashing playful glances at him. He moves quietly, not wanting to interrupt, but he wants to take a moment to savor the sight of you reading to his son. The feeling he gets seeing you with Henry is something he knows he might never experience with anyone else.

He knows that someday things will change. You’ll find someone else, fall in love, and soon you won’t have the time to spend evenings at his house reading to his son. The thought of that future makes James feel uneasy.

For now, he leans quietly against the doorframe of Henry’s room, watching as you recline against the headboard of Henry’s small toddler bed, with Henry snuggled up next to you. Your hair is swept back, and you’re wearing a pair of sleep shorts that are a size too small, which always drives James a little crazy. He suppresses a smile when he notices you’re wearing one of his shirts—probably another forgotten piece from your own wardrobe. It happens often, but James remains oblivious to the fact that it might be intentional.

Henry’s head rests gently on the side of your upper stomach, his little hand clutching his stuffed dragon tightly to his chest. His brows are furrowed in deep concentration, and James can see the joy in his son’s eyes as he listens intently to the story. The soft glow from the bedside lamp washes over both of you: Henry’s tiny form curled up against you, his breaths steady and rhythmic, and you, fully immersed in the book, your voice animated and soothing.

James adjusts his glasses slightly, trying to avoid interrupting the moment. But as he moves, Henry’s gaze shoots up, and his face instantly lights up with a wide grin. “Daddy!” he exclaims with a burst of excitement, his voice filled with pure joy.

"That does look a bit like Daddy, doesn’t it?" you say, tilting your head as you examine the book with a playful grin.

“What does, darling?” James asks as he steps into the room, his voice warm but tinged with curiosity. He gives up trying to stay inconspicuous once Henry spots him. Your eyes widen in surprise, your expression shifting from surprise to a hint of embarrassment as you look up. The soft light from the bedside lamp illuminates your face, revealing the genuine shock.

“Jamie! You scared me.”

“I’m sorry. I thought you two might be asleep, so I tried to come in quietly.” It’s a half-truth, but you don’t press the matter.

“I suppose it’s getting a bit late, isn’t it?” You glance at the clock and wince. “Let’s finish this page and then get some rest, okay?”

“Daddy, you listen too.” Henry’s tiny hand reaches out and pats the bed, his eyes shining with anticipation. James fights back a grin, recognizing the familiar gesture. Whenever you want James or Henry to sit beside you, you pat the spot next to you just like that.

“There isn’t much room, buddy,” James says gently. Henry’s face falls into a small frown, clearly disappointed.

“You hold darling, like she holds me.” Henry pouts, and James knows he’s about to get what he wants in the most endearing way only a three-year-old can manage. “Darling”—the nickname James has always used for you and that Henry now affectionately calls you too.

James’s eyes flicker to yours, and you shrug with a smile, adjusting Henry in your arms to make space for him. As James shifts onto the too-small bed, his heart pounds with affection. You lean back against his chest, sending him a soft, reassuring smile over your shoulder.

The simple gesture nearly causes him to go into cardiac arrest.

Henry lets out a joyful giggle before snatching the book from your hands and starting to "read" it on his own. James glances down at the illustration of the friendly brown bear wearing wire-rimmed glasses, holding its cub close, and snorts softly.

So that’s how you see him.

please reblog or comment with your thoughts! they are very appreciated and keep me motivated to keep writing! 🤍

Dad!James and Bsf!Reader Masterlist!

[javier-pena]

three's a crowd

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader x Joel Miller

Word Count: 9.9k

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You’re in love with Frankie and he is in love with you, but you both have no idea how to act on it. Until Joel Miller comes along.

Warnings: friends to lovers | alcohol consumption | smoking | pining | jealousy | reader’s hair can get wet without it being an issue | Joel is kinda sleazy in this (but reader is very much into it) | mentions of cheating | protective Frankie | threesome m/f/(m) | a surprising amount of biting | the oral fixation in this is insane, I’m sorry | it’s all about hands and fingers | voyeurism | semi-public sex | cuck!Frankie but also not really (guess you’ll have to read it to find out what that means) | nipple play | (brief) fingering | (very brief) masturbation (m) | unprotected p in v sex | rough sex | spanking | orgasm delay | overstimulation | creampie

Notes: I started writing this fic in June and it was supposed to be a fun little summer thing and then stuff happened and now it's October - but here it finally is. There isn't really much I can say about it except that Dani @alexturner saved the whole thing by pointing out that the final fic wasn't really like what I had talked about while discussin the idea with her and after editing it, it's much, much better. I also had a lot of fun talking about Frankie's and Joel's backstory with you, Dani 🤭 maybe I'll write that one day ...

“D’you wanna fuck her, Miller?”

BEFORE

It must have been two years ago, or maybe it was three. Your hair was longer, you had just broken up with your boyfriend of five years, had just moved to a town where you didn’t know a single soul. “A fresh start is what you need.” That’s what your therapist said to you when you cried your heart out after Derek dumped you and moved in with his new girlfriend a week later. But she hadn’t been talking about this, moving halfway across the country, all the way from Maine, where the winters are cold and the air is always salty, to Texas, where it almost never snows and the tornado sirens make you run for cover.

That’s how you met Frankie, sweet, smiling Frankie. Your truck broke down in the grocery store parking lot and he jump-started it. He stuck out to you because he was wearing a pale blue baseball cap, bleached from countless summers under the hot Texan sun, and not a cowboy hat like all the other men around. You bought him dinner at that steak place that would become your favorite, and after three shots of tequila you opened up to him. He held you when you started to cry, took you home, slept on your couch when you asked him not to leave.

You’ve been friends ever since.

He showed you around San Antonio, he flew you to Enchanted Rock in a helicopter he rented, he even took you to Mexico where you found out he speaks Spanish fluently. He helped you fix the roof of your bungalow when it started leaking. You, in turn, took him to the cinema, made him watch horror movies that made him squeal, dragged him along to a rodeo, taught him how to ride a motorcycle when he told you he had always wanted to learn. The two of you just clicked. It felt right.

Now, after three years, you can’t imagine your life without Frankie in it. You don’t remember who you were before him, and you don’t want to. He’s your best friend, and you’re his. Where one of you goes, the other follows. And of course, people mistake you for a couple, of course they ask, “And what about your girlfriend here?”, they say, “You’re lucky to be dating such a nice young fella”. You always laugh, correct them lightheartedly. But sometimes you wish they were right. You love Frankie as a friend, more than you ever thought you could love anyone, but sometimes you want more.

You almost got that more about a year after meeting Frankie. One of his friends, Santi, was in town, and you went out with a group before taking advantage of the hot tub that came with Santi’s motel. There were drinks involved, one thing led to another, and suddenly you found yourself straddling Frankie, wearing nothing more than a bikini, your fingers tugging on his curls, his hands roaming all over your body. It didn’t go any further than that, and the next morning he dropped you off at your house with his usual, “See ya ‘round.” He never talked about it and neither did you. He was probably regretting it and you didn’t want to lose him over something like this, so you left it all unsaid.

He started dating someone soon afterwards, first Arabella, then Bessie, and you hated them both, even though they were probably decent women. Luckily, neither relationship lasted long because it hurt. You didn’t tell Frankie, acted perfectly civil around them, but it felt as if your heart had been dropped from a great height and had shattered against the pavement. You had to ease that pain with a couple of meaningless one-night-stands but they couldn’t take your mind off Frankie buried deep in another woman when it should have been you. And when you told him about Billy and Carson and Hank and Landon and Clara to provoke him to do something, he just shrugged it off and said, “I’m glad you had a nice evening.”

Frankie is single now, and so are you, and life is good. It isn’t always easy, but it’s a far cry from how it was in Maine. You’ve made peace with the whole Frankie situation, realizing it might just be enough knowing you’re the most important person in his life, even if you’ll never have him completely. This way, there also won’t be a messy breakup, hurtful things said in anger, actions you can never undo. You’re content with being Frankie’s best friend, and that should be enough.

It's summer now, one of the hottest on record. The AC in your bungalow broke and Frankie wanted to help you fix it, but then he got busy at work. That was almost a week ago, and you use these circumstances as an excuse to hang out at Frankie’s place as much as possible. He doesn’t mind. He has a big pool in his backyard that he always shares with you, and he loves your company. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he’s putting off fixing your AC on purpose.

You’re floating on your back, eyes closed, the sounds around you muffled by the water. Frankie is lounging in a chair by the side of the pool, resting in the shade after a hot day. Every time you glance over at him, his eyes are closed. That gives you the freedom to truly look, to see him how not many people are allowed to see him.

You take a deep breath and dive, floating weightlessly for a few seconds. It’s so easy to imagine this to be your life, Frankie to be your boyfriend. If he were, nothing would be different. You’d get to use your shared pool, watch him doze in the shade, help him prepare dinner later, laugh at his corny jokes … Your heart squeezes when you realize you have all of that and still it isn’t enough. What’s missing is riding him by the side of the pool, your bodies sticky with sweat. What’s missing is kissing his neck while he’s watching the brazier. What’s missing is knowing he’s yours and you’re his, come what may.

There’s a shadow by the side of the pool, and you scramble upwards, breaking through the surface with a gasp. “What?” you ask, smiling up at Frankie, shielding your eyes from the sun with your hand.

Frankie gives you a thumbs up. “Just making sure you’re not drowning.”

You’re treading water as you say, “Would you jump in and rescue me if I was?”

He laughs. “I’m pretty sure you’re a better swimmer than me.”

“I’d make it worth your while.” You wink at him.

He lowers himself into a crouch so he’s closer to the surface of the water, closer to you. “How?”

“Ever heard of mouth-to-mouth?”

He laughs one of those laughs that comes from deep inside his chest and shakes his whole body. “Leave it to you to make saving someone’s life sound sexy.”

“But it is sexy,” you say emphatically. “Imagine pulling me from the pool, your big, strong arms wrapped around me. I think you’d stay calm and collected; you’d know exactly what to do. Any woman who doesn’t fall for you after that would be a fool.”

Frankie dips his fingers into the water and flicks some of it in your direction. You squeal and try to duck, but the drops still hit you in a quick shower. “Shut up,” Frankie laughs.

You use your whole hand to try and shove the water back toward him. You miss. “Stop it,” you tell him, no weight behind your words, a broad smile on your face.

“Hey!” he shouts. “Don’t make me come in there, young lady.”

He always makes you laugh when he calls you that, the air of authority he puts into his words. You’re not that much younger than he is, but he always acts as if you’re 20 years his junior, while you have started calling him “gramps” to rile him up.

You propel yourself backward, away from him toward the opposite side of the pool. “You’re too chickenshit.”

“Oh, just you wait.” He starts to pull his shirt over his head, his cap that he always wears getting caught in the hem of the neckline. You really try not to but you can’t help looking at his soft belly, the white skin such a stark contrast to his tanned arms. You wonder what it would be like to touch him, what sounds he would make in response to the difference in pressure, if you were using your nails or –

“Am I interruptin’ somethin’?”

You don’t mean to, but you squeal at the sudden appearance of a strange man next to Frankie. You were so preoccupied staring at your friend you didn’t notice someone else approach.

Frankie lowers his shirt. His cheeks are slightly flushed. “Joel!”

You glance between the two men, but neither of them offers an explanation. Instead, a heavy silence settles itself over this already muggy afternoon.

Finally, the stranger, Joel, speaks. “Is this a bad time or –?”

“No, no,” Frankie quickly assures him while you bite down a harsh, “Yes, it is”. Frankie runs his palms down his shirt, trying to smooth the creased fabric. “I just … I had no idea you were in town.

“Well, I am,” Joel replies in a tone of voice that rubs you the wrong way. “I thought I’d drive by, see if you’re home.”

Frankie glances at you, seemingly only now remembering your presence. “This is Joel Miller,” he says in an oddly formal voice. “We sometimes work together.”

“Hi.” You raise your hand out of the water to wave at Joel, the smile you put on not reaching your eyes.

If you had to guess, you’d say Joel was older than Frankie by at least five years, maybe even ten. He’s taller too, broad-shouldered where Frankie tends to fold in on himself. His graying hair is slightly too long, but his graying beard makes him look handsome, especially when he gives you a twisted half-smile as if he’s fully aware of what he just interrupted and is taking pleasure in your discomfort and annoyance. You want him to leave but with a clench of your stomach you realize you also want him to stay.

“She your girlfriend?” Joel asks without pretense, nodding at you in a way that makes you clench your fists.

Frankie chuckles awkwardly, a sound you only heard a few times before and always hated. He lifts his cap with one hand to scratch his scalp, then shakes his head. “No, we’re just friends.”

Joel shifts, rolls his shoulders ever so slightly. “Nice to meet you, just friend of Frankie’s.”

Can’t say the same about you, you want to say but if there’s one thing you learned from your years spent in the south is that there is nothing more important than hospitality. “You too,” you say instead, and start kicking the water, doing laps in the pool. If you ignore him, maybe he’ll leave soon.

But Frankie opens a beer bottle for him and Joel sits down in the lawn chair next to him, taking a big swig. You try to ignore them as best as you can, but you can’t keep your ears from straining to catch snippets of their conversation.

“… between jobs … just a couple o’ nights …”

“… go out tomorrow … bar in town …”

“… broke up with me ‘cause she … her friend …”

Sometimes Frankie laughs in a way he only does when he wants to impress someone. Usually, you can see it too, usually you admire the same people but there is something about Joel that makes alarm bells ring in your head. And you don’t like the way Frankie behaves around him. You don’t want to call it submissive because you hate that word, but it feels as if he’s putting up a front for Joel, not saying what he really wants to say, not doing what he really wants to do.

But then sometimes Joel’s eyes are on you, his gaze hooded, and he doesn’t look away when you catch him staring. There is something in the brazen way he does it that makes you crave more, and you’re a little bit disgusted with yourself for wanting that. You don’t know this man, and you don’t like what you glimpsed so far, but when he asks, “Any chance of you joinin’ us, sunshine?” you’re so very tempted to say yes.

“I wanna shower first,” you answer, pushing yourself up on the edge of the pool. Joel’s eyes immediately shoot to your chest while Frankie’s are glued to his bottle, his fingers busy picking at the label.

“Don’t keep us waitin’,” Joel says in a tone of voice that grates on you and makes you tighten your jaw. You want to flip him off, and he knows it too because he raises his half-empty bottle to you. You wish Frankie would say something, or at least acknowledge your presence, but a loose thread on his jeans has caught his attention now. Your chest tightens with annoyance and, even though you’re loath to admit it, hurt, and you huff at Joel before grabbing your towel and making your way toward Frankie’s house. You feel Joel’s eyes burn a searing mark into your back.  

You have no right to feel the way you do, you tell yourself as you work shampoo into your hair. Frankie can be friends with whomever he wants to. This is his house and he can let himself be treated however he sees fit. And you’re not dependent on him to defend you against a jerk like Joel, you can manage that all on your own. Besides, it’s not as if Joel is going to be around for long, he will most likely leave after another beer or two, so there really is no reason for you to get so worked up about it.

And yet …

You turn off the water with a quick jerk of your hand.

Stepping out of the shower, locating a fresh towel, it’s like second nature to you. You briefly bury the face in the soft fabric, inhaling the clean scent of Frankie’s detergent, a scent that will always bring you comfort. Then you pull one of the several dresses you keep at Frankie’s house over your head before using the towel to superficially dry your hair. It comes away smelling like him, which sends a pleasant shiver down your spine.

You’ve come to terms with it, you really have. Yes, you sometimes dream about kissing him, yes, you can’t stop fantasizing about what the two of you would be like as a couple, but what you have is nice. And it feels like it should be enough, which should count for something, right?

“Took your sweet time in there, sunshine.”

You jump, only registering Joel’s presence leaning against the opposite wall as you pull the bathroom door closed behind you.

“There’s a half bath next to the kitchen,” you tell him, avoiding his searing gaze. “You know, if you need to go.”

You try to scurry down the hallway and back out into the garden, but Joel pushes himself off the wall and steps into your way. “I don’t,” he answers. “I was looking for you.”

You sigh and look up at him, hoping he’ll notice your mild annoyance. “Why?”

“Frankie’s busy with dinner.” His gaze sweeps you from your damp hair down to your bare feet, widening as he notices your dress is slightly too tight at your chest. “And you look like good company.” Before you can come up with a snide remark, he’s two steps closer and his hand is suddenly resting on your waist, his palm hot to the touch even through the fabric. “You’re certainly prettier.”

The sudden contact, his brazen approach catches you off-guard. It’s been years since a man has treated you like this, and many years more since you were free to do with that whatever you wanted.

“Come on.” Why is his voice so low suddenly? “Cat got your tongue?”

You roll your eyes. “N-”

But before you’re able to finish the second short sound, the thumb of his free hand is on your bottom lip and he starts to pull it down. “Let me check.”

Before your brain can consider all your options, you bite down on his finger, hard, out of reflex, drawing a hiss from him. He pulls back, steps away, shakes his hand. But that sleazy half-smile is still firmly fixed on his face. “Oh, you’re a little fighter, is that it?”

You take a step closer to him in an attempt to intimidate him, but he doesn’t budge. “I just don’t like it when people touch me without my permission.”

“I bet that sweet little pussy of yours is tellin’ a different tale.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You shove him, both palms hitting his chest, and he loses some ground.

He tries to snatch your wrist but you’re too fast for him. “Careful, sunshine. Don’t irritate me.”

“Why?” You push your chin forward in defiance. “What are you gonna do about it?”

“Oh, I have some ideas.” Joel reaches for your waist again, but you manage to step back quickly. He balls his hand into a fist. “I just ain’t sure you’d like them very much.”

“Didn’t your mother teach you manners?”

“I’d like to teach you some,” he shoots back.

The sound of Frankie clearing his throat makes you jump. He’s standing behind Joel, just inside the sliding door that leads into the garden, a cocktail shaker in his hand, an apron covering his chest. “Drinks are ready,” he announces, his voice tense. Then he turns around, leaving you to wonder how long he’s been standing there and how much he heard.

Your stomach curls tightly with shame. Not because of anything he might have overheard or because of anything you did, but because you liked the way Joel talked to you, you liked that he decided he wanted you and went for it. You liked being close to him, feeling his uninvited touch on your body, hearing him say those lewd things. And all the while you forgot about Frankie, for the first time in months.

Joel glances at you and some of the shame must show on your face because he says, “If I kissed you right now, do you think he’d punch me?”

And just like that you’re back to feeling the slow grating of annoyance, like nails scraping down a chalkboard. “Don’t flatter yourself,” you huff before pushing past him and stepping back out into the garden.

The evening light is softer now, the heat feels less oppressive. The sun has begun to dip toward the horizon, and Frankie’s shadow is long against the grass as he waits for you to rejoin him by the pool. You want to put on your brightest smile for him, want to show him how much you appreciate everything he is doing for you, but with him you never have to pretend. Your face lights up when you see him whether you want it to or not, your steps quicken, your heart feels full of happiness. Even someone like Joel can’t ruin that, no matter how hard he might try.

“All clean?” Frankie has a lopsided grin on his face and a martini glass in his hand. When you nod, he hands it to you. “I made it just the way you like it.”

“Thanks, honey,” you tease and playfully kiss his cheek.

“This one’s for you.” Frankie hands Joel a tumbler full of amber liquid.

Joel raises an eyebrow. “Just whiskey?”

“You seem like a whiskey kinda guy,” Frankie answers with a shrug before taking off his apron and hanging it over the backrest of his lawn chair.

“What are you having?” you ask, sitting down on one of the sun loungers Frankie keeps next to the pool.

Frankie lightly shakes his beer bottle. “I’ll stick with this for now.”

You glance from him to Joel and then back to him as both men remain standing, clutching their drinks. “Well, this is nice and relaxing.”

“Sorry,” Frankie mumbles and lets himself fall back into his chair. “Long day.”

Joel chuckles and steps forward, but instead of choosing the chair next to Frankie’s, he sits down on the sunbed right next to you. The rough denim of his jeans scrapes against your naked thigh and you scoot away from him, clearing your throat. Joel doesn’t seem to have noticed; his eyes are fixed on Frankie.

“You never told me you had a nice place like this,” he says, vaguely waving his hand at the pool and the manicured lawn. “I would’ve come over much sooner.”

“Where do you live?” you ask before Frankie can say something.

Joel chuckles before taking a sip from his whiskey. “You know what would go great with this?” He pulls a crumpled pack of cigarettes out of the back pocket of his jeans, conveniently having to lean against you to retrieve it. You push back, refusing to make yourself small. He holds the pack out to you first, but you shake your head. He doesn’t offer it to Frankie.

“She asked you a question.”

Your eyes snap from the sight of Joel lighting a cigarette, the filter hugged firmly between his lips, to Frankie, who has his elbows propped up on his knees, a thumb and forefinger wrapped around the neck of the beer bottle, holding it precariously.

Joel takes a drag from his cigarette and exhales slowly. The smoke tickles your suddenly very dry throat. “I live here and there,” he finally replies. “Wherever work takes me.”

“Okay, so where do you currently live?” you probe.

Joel waves his hand around. “Y’know …”

“What he means to say is that he’s currently between houses,” Frankie clarifies, a slight tension in his voice you haven’t heard before.

“Oh, so you’re a bum?” Is Frankie’s face lighting up with satisfaction at your comment or are you only imagining that?

Joel takes another drag. “I’m whatever you want me to be.”

It was bad enough that he had no regard for your boundaries when Frankie wasn’t right there next to you, but he can’t expect you to just take it now that Frankie is this close. You try to stand up, but his hand closes around yours and pulls you back down next to him, the force of it making some of your drink spill.

“Hey!” you protest loudly, but he only slings his arm around your shoulder.

“His girlfriend just kicked him out,” Frankie goes on, pretending he didn’t notice what just went down. “He cheated on her with her best friend.”

“Couldn’t have been a very good friend then.” You pick Joel’s heavy arm off your shoulders and let it fall down next to you.

Joel shrugs. “If I see somethin’ I want, I take it.”

“Must be lonely, going through life with that mindset,” you observe, watching him as he stubs out the cigarette against the tiles surrounding the pool.

“Depends on what you want out of life, I s’pose.”

You glance up at the slowly darkening evening sky, currently a soft, darkening blue, then take a sip from your very strong martini. “And what is that?” you ask, watching a bird glide across the sky.

“D’you wanna fuck her, Miller?”

AFTER

“Yes.” It comes out rough and breathless and eager, and suddenly your blood is rushing in your ears. You have no idea when the evening shifted to this, but you suppose it was inevitable from the moment Joel walked in. You just didn’t think Frankie would be the one to ask the question.

You glance at Frankie, sweet Frankie, who always respects you, always treats you like you’re royalty, and you see something in his gaze you’ve never seen before, a sort of strangled curiosity, like he’s desperate to find out where this might go, but unsure if he can handle the way there. You smile at him, and you nod, and his pupils dilate immediately, setting your heart pounding. That’s all he needs from you, and all you need from him.

Frankie puts his beer bottle on a small table next to his chair, leans back, crosses one leg over the other, ankle resting against his thigh. “Tough luck, pal,” he says, and next to you Joel stiffens. “You can kiss her though.”

For a moment, you’re right back there in high school, a bottle pointing at you, your friend Ines grinning at you from across the circle, Billy licking his lips nervously. But you’re all grown up now, you’ve played these games a million times, should know their rules by heart. Then why are your hands so sweaty?

Joel doesn’t waste any time, doesn’t even wait for you to turn toward him. His hand is already at the back of your neck while your eyes are still on Frankie, and his lips have found yours while you’re still trying to decipher the look in Frankie’s gaze. The kiss is rough, almost unpleasantly so, and you can taste the nicotine and whiskey on Joel’s tongue that claims your mouth with hungry licks. Joel’s whole body is pushing against yours, and you push back, pressing your chest against his, making his concentration slip briefly. You use this moment of inattention to gain the upper hand and bite his lip, less violently than you bit his finger but hard enough for him to inhale sharply. Maybe even hard enough to draw a little bit of blood.

Joel shifts, tightens his hold on your neck, and pushes up against you even more, like he’s trying to get you to lie down and submit to him. Resisting his efforts gives you a feeling of power you’re unable, maybe even unwilling, to control. You’re still trying to come to terms with the newness of the situation, with the shift that has taken place, but you know exactly what you want, and that is not to give up one inch to Joel without making him work hard for it.

Joel’s hand is on your naked thigh now, tough callouses rubbing against smooth skin. Just like his kisses, it almost feels too violent, but then you remember Frankie’s hands roaming your body in that hot tub, the way the water hadn’t managed to soften his skin. You remember how much you wanted him that night, and suddenly you wish Joel would touch you more.

As if he can read your thoughts, Joel’s hand is suddenly at the underside of your breast, cupping it through the fabric of your dress, his thumb finding the nipple so confidently as if he has touched you a million times before. Your body responds to the touch immediately and you lean into it, your lips parting in a stifled moan. The pad of his thumb rubs across your hardening nipple, rolls it through the dress and the bra you’re wearing, and you should push him away, make him feel like his efforts are futile and he has no effect on you whatsoever, but it’s been too long. Too fucking long. You’re on fire, unpleasantly so, feeling like you’re burning up too fast, like the flames have barely touched you and you’re already turning to ash. You press yourself into Joel’s touch as your jaw slackens, and he grabs your breast and squeezes it roughly while pushing his tongue into your mouth with the sole intent of making you gag.

“Hey!” Frankie’s voice is sharp, but when you flinch away from Joel and glance over at him, he’s still sitting in his chair holding his bottle of beer.

Your ears feel hot with shame as you refuse to acknowledge Joel’s presence and avoid Frankie’s gaze. Frankie was the one to suggest the kiss, Joel made the first move – then why do you feel such shame? Like you’ve been caught cheating? Why do you feel it’s wrong to –

“What?” Joel asks, interrupting the spiral you’re about to slide down.

Frankie squeezes the neck of the bottle, his skin making a wet sound against the glass. “We said kiss.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see that sleazy smirk return to Joel’s lips. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with a little second base.”

Frankie seems to consider this, his eyes fixed to the ground beneath his feet. You wish you could tell what was going on in his mind, but your heart is still racing like you’re being hunted for sport and your body is screaming for Joel to put his hands on you again, and all of that is too much to read Frankie.

Frankie holds out a hand to Joel. “Cigarette,” he says, and Joel obliges. You watch Frankie light it up and take a deep drag, a sight so unfamiliar it makes you eager to commit it to memory. “So you really wanna fuck her then?” he finally asks.

There is a pressure low in your abdomen that makes you shift against the lounger.

Joel only laughs, crude and hoarse, as if deigning that question with an answer is below him. “Where did you get that idea from?”

Frankie takes another drag, a short one this time, before glancing directly at Joel’s crotch. You follow his gaze to find a bulge there, one that definitely wasn’t there before, straining against the stiff fabric. When Joel’s eyes find yours, you make sure he sees you lick your lips. His jaw twitches.

Frankie leans back comfortably in his chair, some of the ash from the cigarette landing on his pants. He brushes it off with a flick of his wrist. “I’ll let you fuck her. But you’re gonna do exactly as I say.”

You think you must have entered a parallel universe or another dimension. For a short while at least. None of it makes sense: the cigarette in Frankie’s hand, the way he talks and what he says, that man next to you who is nothing more than a stranger, who had his tongue in your mouth two minutes ago, and that all of this makes you wetter than you can ever remember being. But then Frankie’s eyes meet yours, dark pupils blown unfamiliarly wide, and yet there is something in them you recognize – this isn’t a stranger who is looking at you, this is your best friend. No matter what happens next, he’s going to look out for you. All you need to do is trust him.

Next to you, Joel shifts, adjusting his crotch. He licks his lips. “Yeah.” He nods. “Okay.”

Your eyes are on Frankie now, heart racing in your chest, mouth completely dry, as you wait for what comes next. Your brain is running hot trying to go through all the possibilities of what Frankie could have Joel do to you, but all you come back to is Frankie kneeling in front of you, spreading your legs. Joel is nothing more than a shadow beside you, watching with a hungry gaze.

Frankie leans forward and reaches out his hand as if he means to touch you, but then stops himself and leans back. “You don’t have to do as you’re told.” The softness in his voice catches you by surprise, but he goes on before you can analyze it. “To start, do whatever you’re comfortable with.”

You glance at Joel, at how stiff his shoulders are, and you face him, trembling fingers pulling his shirt up where it is tugged into his jeans. Up and up you pull it until he has to raise his arms for you to get it off, and then you finally see his body betray his nerves as his chest flushes a deep red. There is a scar on his left collarbone, old and slightly brighter than the skin around it, there are some sparse, dark gray hairs on his chest, and his stomach is so much firmer than Frankie’s, so much less inviting.

Joel huffs and your gaze shoots back up to his face. “Kinda boring, don’t ya think? Pullin’ off my shirt when you could’ve done anythin’ to me?”

You won’t let him get to you, not like that, not when Frankie’s eyes are on you. “There’s no shame in me enjoying myself by taking things slow,” you retort. “I know your first move would’ve been to stuff two fingers into me but where’s the fun in that?”

“Oh, you’re gonna see where the fun in that is when you’re comin’ ‘round ‘em,” he replies with that infuriatingly sleazy smile darkening his face.

You lean in just a tiny bit closer. “Only if Frankie lets you.” God, that thought turns you on so much your head starts to spin.

Once you recover, Joel’s right hand is cupping your jaw, his grip firm, while his thumb rests against your lips. “Someone should stuff that mouth o’ yours.”

You open your mouth then, until his thumb is only pressing against your bottom lip. You let it slide in past your teeth until you can feel it on your tongue, heavy, tasting like nicotine. You close your lips around the digit and suck on it, your cheeks hollowing, your tongue massaging it. The corner of Joel’s mouth twitches. Somewhere to your right, you hear Frankie’s chair groan.

The sound of Frankie’s voice interrupts you. “I want you to take off her dress.”

With a wet plop, Joel pulls his thumb out of your mouth and then starts pulling at the straps of your sundress, pushing them down your shoulders.

“Slowly,” Frankie adds, his voice calm as if he’s talking to a semi-feral animal.

Joel moves you so both your feet are planted firmly on the ground, then shifts so he’s behind you. He finds the zipper at the back of your dress and begins to pull it down, torturously slowly as if there is something he wants to prove to Frankie. As more and more of your skin is revealed, he brushes over it, calloused fingers making you shiver. His hands feel so much like Frankie’s, and yet not at all like him. Frankie would be soft and gentle too, but he wouldn’t scrape you with his short nails, he wouldn’t tremble like it takes everything in him not to devour you whole.

The fabric of your dress glides down your shoulders and back, and comes to rest around your hips. It isn’t anything Frankie hasn’t seen before – your breasts are still covered, after all – and yet there is something in his gaze when you look at him, a strange kind of longing, like desire that has been kept in check for so long it has become second nature to him. You can see it in the flare of his nostrils, in the darkening of his eyes, in the way his bottom lip trembles briefly before he darts out his tongue to wet it. And yet he sits there, watching, his body unmoving like it has been trained not to give in.

“Take off her bra.”

Even Frankie’s voice is controlled and even. You shift, pulling back your shoulders and pushing out your chest in an attempt to get him to break, but his gaze shifts from you to Joel as he waits for the other man to follow his orders. Joel doesn’t need to be told twice. He flicks open the clasp at your back with one hand and your bra falls away. You push out your chin, willing your face not to heat up.

Frankie’s throat works as he swallows, a small crack in the otherwise impenetrable wall he has put up. “You’re perfect …” His voice, too, cracks on the second syllable and he coughs. “Wouldn’t you agree, Joel?”

Joel doesn’t reply. Instead, he cups one of your breasts again and squeezes the nipple tightly between his thumb and forefinger, making you arch you back as a small stab of pain shoots through you. Now that the protective barrier of fabric is gone, you can feel just how rough his skin is against your sensitive spots, how his callouses catch in places your own fingers smoothly glide over. Your head falls back against his shoulder as he pinches your nipple again, as he begins to roll it roughly, pull on it from time to time to hear you hiss.

Joel’s chest rises and falls against your back, hot skin pressing into hot skin, his breath caressing the back of your neck. He runs his nose from your earlobe all the way down to your shoulder, then back up again, but before he reaches the starting point, he sinks his teeth into your neck and bites down, drawing a shivering gasp from you. And then he doesn’t let go. He bites down harder, holding you in place, while cupping your breast with his entire hand, kneading it until your world tilts.

You’re not aware of how desperate you are to find purchase, but the garden and the pool and the sky above right themselves when your hand finds Joel’s thigh. The denim is rough beneath your palm, but he is a rough man so it doesn’t surprise you. What does surprise you though is how hard you have to fight to keep yourself from bucking your hips.

“Joel, stop.”

For just a short little while you had forgot Frankie is there with you, but his voice reminds you with brute force. And when Joel does as he’s told and you are left with nothing to distract you, all you can do is look at your best friend, at his fingers wrapped around that cigarette, and wonder what it would feel like to have him play with your nipple instead of Joel. The painful way your heart constricts at that thought utterly catches you by surprise.

Frankie takes a final drag on his cigarette, flicks the butt away, and clears his throat. “You’ll only do what I tell you to do.”

You shift, the fabric of your underwear rubbing against your clit sending a bolt of desperation through you, mixing with that unbearable longing to create a heady, dangerous cocktail. “Frankie, please.”

Frankie takes you in, and you have no idea what he sees, but he runs his thumb across his bottom lip and asks, “Do you want him to touch you?”

Joel runs his fingers up and down your arm, his touch so light it feels like torture. You try to squirm away but he keeps you trapped against his chest.

You exhale shakily. “Yeah.” There’s a brief moment of hesitation, one that makes your heart flutter as you decide whether you should keep going. You do. “God, I’m so wet.”

Joel’s wandering fingers close around your upper arm like a vise.

But Frankie keeps up his walls. “Show me how wet she is, Joel.”

You don’t think there has ever been a moment in your life where you were more turned on, a single moment where you were less in control of your body and your desires. You try to stand up, your legs trembling like you just finished a marathon, hands wrapped around your dress, ready to pull it all the way down. Joel doesn’t even let you straighten your back. He pulls you back against his chest and wraps an arm around yours before running his free hand down your stomach, not seductively or teasingly but as if he has a task to fulfill. You’ve barely registered the sensation of his fingers against your lower stomach before he has pushed them past the fabric bunched around you hips and into your underwear, and this time you lose the battle against your own body. You roll your hips into his touch as your eyes flutter shut, you push and push, moans and whimpers urging him on. He doesn’t need to be encouraged – he rolls your clit beneath his index finger, just like he rolled your nipple, before dipping it lower, pushing past the muscles at your opening and up into you.

Before you can make sense of it all, he removes his hand and holds up two fingers right in front of your eyes, glistening with your slick. Your chest heaving, you try to catch your breath.

Frankie’s eyes are wide open. “What does she taste like?” he asks, his voice rough as if he hasn’t used it in quite some time.

Joel rubs his thumb against his index and middle finger, toying with your slick. “Don’t you want to find out for yourself?”

Frankie nods so slightly you can’t be sure it really happens, then hides behind a smirk, and you feel something unbearably insisting curl up tightly in the pit of your stomach. “You tell me.”

Suddenly, Joel’s fingers are at your lips, pushing into your mouth. You open up, surprised by the sudden intrusion, and then his thick digits are pressing down against your tongue, making you gag. Tears are filling your eyes, and spit drips out of your mouth as you feel Joel’s hot breath against the shell of your ear.

“Tell him.”

You can’t, not even if you wanted to. Not because you can’t taste yourself on Joel’s skin, not because you can’t talk with his fingers filling up your mouth, but because Frankie flies out of his chair, brow furrowed and fists clenched. Before he can come to your aid, you close your hand around Joel’s wrist and push his fingers even deeper into your mouth, not breaking eye contact with Frankie, not even for a split second.

Joel presses down against your tongue and you suck on his fingers eagerly, but none of that matters to you. The only thing you care about is the red flush creeping up Frankie’s neck and into his cheeks, and the way he keeps closing the distance between the three of you until he’s standing right there, close enough for you to reach out and run your hands up and down his thigh.

Frankie’s hand is warm and heavy as it closes around yours, pulling Joel’s fingers out of your mouth. You gasp, unable to prevent a thin thread of spit from connecting your lips to Joel’s hand. It winks out of existence a second later when Frankie’s mouth clashes against yours, drawing another gasp from you, one that releases months and months of pent-up longing, one that originates deep in your chest but almost dies on your lips, stifled by wonder.

It isn’t a soft kiss, it isn’t even particularly well executed since your teeth clash painfully and Frankie pushes too hard too quickly. He also tastes more like Joel than himself, of beer and cigarettes, but none of that matters. He could have given you a small peck on the cheek and it would have been the greatest kiss you had ever shared with anyone. You feel his breath against your cheek, a shaky exhale, and before you can stop yourself, you find yourself fisting his shirt, fingers clenched so tightly you will never be able to let go again. That is all you ever wanted, all you ever prayed for, and now that you have it, you never want to lose it again.

Eventually, Frankie pulls back ever so slightly and whispers against your lips, “Summer, that’s what you taste like,” and it’s such a corny line it should have you rolling your eyes, but instead you crane your neck and seal your lips to his again, high from the feeling of your tongue in his mouth. He huffs and pushes up against you, but he’s not close enough – there’s still so much space between you. You reach up and grab the collar of his shirt and pull him even closer, but suddenly rough hands grab your arms and hold you back forcefully.

“I wanna go first.” It isn’t a request, that much is clear.

Frankie pulls back and smiles down at you, his face soft and open, searching for any indication you don’t want to do this anymore. Even though you’ve never wanted anyone as much as you want him right now, the thought of him watching while Joel fucks you, utterly in control of the situation, makes you clench around nothing. Frankie can tell – he switches back to his neutral mask in the matter of a second. “You didn’t do as you were told …”

It isn’t a threat, but it might as well be.

Joel hooks a thumb into your mouth and pulls down your bottom lip. You try to bite him again, but he is prepared this time, holding you in place. “Let me come in her mouth at least.”

Frankie grabs Joel’s wrist again and pulls his hand away from your face. “No.”

You have never heard him use that voice before, that kind of voice that makes you snap to attention, that voice that commands people to follow him. You shift, trying to rub your thighs together, but it’s just a primal reaction you have no control over. All your attention is on Joel trying to pull his wrist out of Frankie’s grip, and on Frankie holding him in place, the muscles in his arm straining.

“I’m going to sit back down, and you’re going to fuck her.” Frankie’s voice is so calm it sends a shiver down your spine. “Slowly,” he adds, letting go of Joel’s wrist. “And if you make her come before I tell you to, there’ll be consequences.”

Every muscle in your body tightens. You’re too wound up to rationally consider what Frankie is proposing, too wound up to think about how much you want this and what that might mean. You glance behind you to catch Joel’s reaction, to see if he’s just as affected by Frankie’s proposition as you are, just in time to watch him lick his lips.

“And I get to fuck her however I want?”

Frankie’s gaze shifts to you. It’s nothing more than a glance, a quick check-in, and you nod, just as quickly, just as imperceptibly.

“Yes,” Frankie answers.

Next thing you know, you’re up on the lounger, knees and hands braced against the soft pillows, faded from long summers under the hot Texan sun, focusing on the sounds of Joel unbuckling his belt. You feel your throat tighten at those sounds, leather scraping against skin, metal clicking against metal, but your mouth is too dry to swallow. Joel unzips his jeans, then there’s a rustling sound, followed by a deep, needy groan. It’s enough to make your heartbeat stumble over itself with excitement. You try to turn your head and glance behind you to see what he is doing, but Joel catches your movement and forces your head down, firm grip at the back of your skull.

“Stay.”

To your right, you hear the sound of Frankie shifting in his chair. He doesn’t intervene.

Joel grabs the bunched-up fabric of your dress with both hands and begins to tear it with quick, jerking movements, ruining it. It falls away and glides down to the ground where it comes to rest next to the lounger, leaving you almost completely exposed to Joel. And Joel doesn’t hesitate. He pushes the thin fabric of your underwear aside and sinks into you with one deep, calculated thrust you can feel in your chest.

Your fists clenched, your head hanging low, you try to take it, but his thrusts send shudders of pain up and down your body. It’s not unbearable, and it shouldn’t surprise you; he fucks like he does everything else – rough and with an edge of violence to it – but the stretch is uncomfortable, and the thrusts are greedy, so much so you wish he had surprised you after all.

“Slow down,” Frankie orders, and you lift your eyes to him. A muscle twitches in his jaw, and when Joel does as he’s told, he watches you closely, searching your face for any signs of the discomfort lessening. You shift, your body adjusting to the feeling of being so full, and when Frankie asks, his voice low, ��You okay?” you realize that you are. You’re more than okay, actually. Two more shallow thrusts from Joel and you’re completely relaxed.

“Yeah,” you answer, just for Frankie to hear and his lips quirk up in a smile.

“We’re good,” he tells Joel.

Joel’s open palm lands against your ass cheek catching you unawares, as does the moan you let loose at the sudden burst of pain. Frankie swallows, or at least you think he does – you can’t be sure with your eyes flutterin shut. You push back against Joel, eager for more, pulling him deeper inside of you with a greedy clench.

“The way you’re clenchin’ ‘round me makes me think you’ve never had dick before.”

Joel’s voice comes out restrained, the words are punctuated by more slaps, one harder than the last. Their meaning is lost on you as you are reduced to a babbling mess, unable to retain anything that is happening outside of your desire for him. You gush around his cock, hot and wet and wanton, and somewhere between the thrusts and the grunts, you hear a chortle.

“Greedy little thing, aren’t ya.”

That chortle is what pulls you back into yourself, and you risk another glance behind you, hoping that this time he will let you see. He does, and you watch him pound into you, both hands on your hips, denim pulled just low enough to free his cock, dark hairs curling just above it, streaked with bulging veins. He has one knee braced against the lounger, one foot firmly planted on the ground. You almost hate yourself for being so affected by that sight, but you can feel everything tighten, your body begging for release.

“Fuck,” you groan, your voice breathy. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna –”

With a condescending smirk, Joel reaches for your clit. “Go ahead, sunshine.”

You close your eyes, focusing on how you’re clenching around him. You’re so, so close, you can almost taste the release on your tongue. Your mouth hangs open, a moan begins to emerge from someplace deep inside your chest and –

Joel’s hips falter and still, and you can feel yourself flutter desperately around him, but it’s not enough. You glide along his length, coming down from the edge, frustration blossoming in the pit of your stomach. Joel’s fingers rest uselessly against your swollen clit, still as the rest of him, and whenever you try to grind yourself against them, his touch lessens.

“Joel …,” you whine, opening your eyes to look back at him.

It’s not Joel your gaze lands on. It’s Frankie, standing right there next to the lounger, one hand on Joel’s head, fisting his hair, pulling on it so his chin is raised high, his neck exposed, a thick vein pulsing near its base. Joel is breathing heavily, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t try to free himself, while Frankie looks down at him, darkness clouding his features.

“You’ll do as I tell you or I won’t let you come inside of her.”

Frankie lets go of Joel’s hair with a shove to drive home the point. Even now, freed from his restraint, Joel doesn’t fight back. He glares at Frankie as if he’s imagining beating him bloody, but he does like he’s told, removing his fingers from your clit to dig them back into your hip. He picks up the pace again, thrusts a little shallower than before, drawing a sigh of relief from you, scratching that undefinable itch Frankie restraining Joel like that triggered in you. That itch you don’t want to examine too closely right now but that you know you’ll return to.

Frankie pats Joel’s shoulder, two firm raps against the straining muscles. “Good boy.”

You clench so hard around Joel he must notice, but he doesn’t remark on it. He resumes the steady snapping of his hips while your eyes fall shut and drop down to your elbows, those two words floating around your mind like an echo.

Good boy.

A desperate little whimper escapes you, one at least Frankie seems to hear, because he runs two knuckles up and down your spine in a movement that is meant to calm you but shoves you toward the edge with a violent jolt. He must know what he’s doing to you, there is no way he hasn’t noticed. And it should fill you with shame, it should make you resent him, the way you lie bare before him, showing him the most vulnerable parts of yourself, but it only makes you want him more. You open your eyes to find him standing right next to you. This close, you can see how tight his pants stretch over the bulge you hadn’t noticed before, how you think you can even make out a dark spot of precum forming against the fabric. You lick your lips.

“Frankie, please.” Your voice is rough and broken, laced with desperation.

Joel shoves into you so violently you feel the thrust in your throat, but he doesn’t say anything.

Frankie leans down and places a soft kiss against your temple, then runs his thumb across your furrowed brow. “Just tell me when you’re ready.”

You whish you could tell him you’ve been ready ever since he suggested Joel should fuck you, but you can only laugh, a broken sound followed by a hard swallow.

Frankie straightens his back, his eyes bright with excitement. “I see.” He makes his way back over to his chair and sits down, the wood groaning beneath his weight. “Go ahead, Joel.”

Joel picks up the pace, making every thought, every doubt you might have, instantly disappear from your head. His fingers find your clit again, rubbing you hard, and after that it doesn’t take long at all. After that, you let out a deep moan and push back against Joel so hard it makes him lose his rhythm, but it doesn’t matter. You’re coming, pulling him deeper into you as he fucks you through it, letting you squeeze him as you sink deep into pleasure, losing track of your body’s movements.

You come back to the surface when you’re spent, and everything feels sore and tender, but Joel doesn’t stop. There is a burning between your legs now and you hiss, reaching back for him.

Frankie is there next to you again, cupping your cheek. You have no idea when he approached, what made him leave his role as spectator this time, but you instantly relax when you feel his touch on him. “Just a little more,” he murmurs, calming you. “You can take it, I know you can.”

You watch him squeeze the bulge in his pants, and giving it another, harder squeeze when Joel grabs your wrist and pins it to the small of your back. The proof of how much he’s affected by you is enough to chase away the discomfort and rekindle the fire in the pit of your stomach. Your eyes glued to the bulge in Frankie’s pants you wonder what it would be like to feel him thrust into you, chasing his release, to feel him take what he needed from your body, fueled by how much you want him in return.

Finally, Joel stills and spills into you, groaning as his orgasm sparks through him. But your eyes are locked to Frankie’s, as neither of you dares to look away.

THE OUTCOME

The neon sign of the motel casts deep shadows into the cabin of Frankie’s pickup. Your gaze is fixed to the flashing letters, promising vacancy. A car rushes past, its tires whispering against the concrete, still hot from the Texan summer day. You try to ignore the tightness in your stomach, but when a door falls shut with a rattling bang somewhere nearby, you feel that sound like a punch to your gut.

“That was fun,” Joel says from the backseat. He stretches his legs, kicking his foot against your backrest. “If you ever wanna repeat that …” He lets the offer hang there in the air between you.

Frankie grabs the steering wheel tightly, the wood groaning under his skin. “We’ll know where to find you,” he finishes the sentence.

Joel braces both hands against your backrest and leans forward so his lips are close to your ear. “I think I’ll stick around for a while, so if you ever wanna grab some drinks, sunshine …”

Only half-listening, you reply, “Whatever,” fighting down the nausea you’ve been feeling ever since you climbed into Frankie’s truck.

“Whatever,” Joel echoes with a huff, opens the backdoor, and climbs out. “You know, I’ve had better,” he adds, before shutting the door with a loud bang.

“Hey!” Frankie barks, but you shake your head, and Frankie lets him walk away.

It doesn’t matter what Joel says to you. You couldn’t care less. Because as soon as Frankie starts the car, he’ll drive it straight over to your place, say goodnight without really looking at you, and tomorrow, he’ll pretend that none of this happened. Just like he did before. And as much as you hate that thought, you’re going to have to live with it.

As Joel climbs the stairs to the second-floor landing of the motel, you say, “You’ll want to take me home now, right?” It’s best to get it over with as quickly as possible.

The wood groans again, but this time from Frankie loosening his grip. He takes off his cap and runs his fingers through his ruffled curls. You don’t look at him, but you study him out of the corner of your eye, trying to read his face. He puts the cap back on, then slings his arm across the backrest of your seat. “Actually … I was hopin’ you’d come back to my place.”

The nausea you’ve been feeling pricks up its ears with interest and then curls up into a tiny ball, tugged away in a corner of your stomach. “Oh?” you say. And that’s all you manage before he closes the distance between you, his left hand cupping your jaw, his lips brushing against yours, tentatively, asking for permission. You give it to him by fisting his shirt, pulling him toward you, by smiling against his lips, exhaling all the tension in one short giggle, full of relief. He strokes his thumb across your cheek at the same time as you open up for him so he can brush his tongue against yours. You find yourself mirroring him, hand on his cheek, thumb running over the stubble there, relishing the feeling of him being so close.

You pull away first, and he follows you, mouth slightly open, chasing another taste. “What are we gonna do at your place? Do you have more friends who want to fuck me while you watch?” you ask, high from the feeling of his tongue in your mouth, from that promise that he won’t forget about any of this in the morning.

A neon flash lights up Frankie’s face, once, twice, as you watch his cheeks darken with a flush. He takes his time, studying your face closely. “No,” he says, his voice a low rumble, so unfamiliar it draws a smile from him, “I want to fuck you myself.”

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dividers by @saradika-graphics

[sugarushwriting]

frat boy jake #2 — bed chem

yes there’s smut.

not proof read.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡

“are you free next week?”

those words haunted you for the next few days. you thought about it in the morning, afternoon, night. you’ve had dreams and nightmares about it. you’ve had it randomly pop up while focusing in class or having a conversation with your friends.

and now, the words haunt you even more as your heart sank.

it sank watching jake talk to another pretty girl—way prettier than you, you thought—having her smile and giggle. she flipped her hair over her shoulder, and her manicured nails resting on jakes upper arm.

and he did nothing to push her off.

why would he? yall hooked up, that’s it.

yall didn’t declare your love for one another. didn’t make anything inclusive. who knows, he probably doesn’t even remember the hookup and was just asking if you were free to guarantee he’d at least get laid.

you kept your head low, hoping to stay invisible and not been seen by jake. but the more you thought about it, if he didn’t see you, or acted like he didn’t see you, that would be worst. right?

you were too busy overthinking, not realizing your name was being called. it wasn’t until jake appeared in front of you that you stopped walking startled by his presence.

“didn’t mean to scare you.” jake laughed. “been trying to get your attention but you ignored me.”

“i wasn’t ignoring you.” you defending. “at least not on purpose.”

“then what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours that is keeping you occupied?”

“noth—nothing.” you stuttered out nervously. “i should get to class and you should get back to the girl.” you said almost in a jealous tone.

internally, you knew you didn’t have time for jake’s or anyone guys games.

just because you thought you both had some kind of bed chem doesn’t mean he thought the same. jake sim probably had bed chem with every girl.

you went to walk away with your head held high but jake stopped you again. “woah woah woah, where you going so fast?”

“class.”

“skip it.” he smirked proudly.

“jake, i can’t just skip a class.” you stated.

“why not?” he challenged back but you had nothing further to say. the class professor didn’t even take attendance points. you just went because you sucked at the subject.

“i just can’t skip it, okay?” you finally brought up. once again, you tried to walk past him but he grabbed your inner elbow with a pout.

“please?”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

and that’s how you found yourself currently sitting in an indoor soccer practice field, watching jake kick in some goals as you watched from the sidelines on the bleachers.

you thought he wanted you to skip to hook up. but no. he wanted you to watch him kick some balls.

jake was in his element on the field. he was too focused on the black and white ball in front of him while you were lost in your own thoughts.

did jake not find you hot enough? did he think you wouldn’t take a risk? is that why he didn’t take you somewhere to hook up? you know about how he sometimes will take a girl when he’s really in the mood somewhere to hook up.

is he just not in the mood? he seemed in the mood with that other girl. did you actually turn him off?

“penny for your thoughts?” jakes loud laugh interrupted your down spiral of negative thoughts.

you shook your head. “just hoping i don’t get in trouble for skipping for nothing!”

“skipping to hang out with me is something.” he chuckled.

“are you sure about that?”

his eyes twinkled with a sly smile on his face. “yes, i am sure.”

“well you’re not making it worth my time.”

“want me to kick a ball to your face again?” jake teased and you narrowed your eyes.

“not funny.”

what you didn’t know was that this was part of jakes plan. talking with jay who is close with winter, gave some insight on you as a person.

you’re not necessarily innocent, but you aren’t a wild one either. he liked that. he didn’t want to string you along, but rather, have you beg for him.

he knew last weeks hook up with him left an impression on you, as it did him too.

you were something alright.

jake couldn’t get you out of his mind since the last hookup. he casually flirted with other girls, but you were his main target after that night.

you got annoyed and got up to stand, grabbing your bag, without a word. you walked down the bleachers, when jake noticed you leaving with a frown on your face.

“where you going?” he yelled after you.

“going!” you shot back. you made it down the bleachers and towards the exit when jake caught up to you.

“wait for me yeah?” he asked with puppy dog eyes.

you sighed but nodded, and he grinned ear to ear.

“great follow me! you can come to the locker room while i shower quickly. i worked up a bit of a sweat.”

you took notice of his appearance. he barely had sweat on him, but guessed maybe he just didn’t want to smell bad?

either way, you mindlessly followed him into the locker room, not thinking much of it. he showed you were his locker was, so you sat down on the bleachers in front of it.

jake grabbed a towel with a smile, telling you to wait and he wouldn’t be long. while he showered, you pulled out your kindle out of your bag to continue with your current read.

so immersed into the words on the pages, you hadn’t even heard jake finish his shower and come back into the main part of the locker room.

“reading a smutty book of yours?”

you squealed at the sound of jake’s voice, forgetting where you were for a moment. “oh, um,” you stuttered. “no.”

thankfully the book you were reading, it was still early in the chapters so the main characters weren’t getting freaky. just yet.

jake chuckled, and that’s when you noticed he was in nothing but a towel around his hips. you swallowed.

“you don’t mind do you? it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” he teased and sent you a wink, before dropping his towel.

and holy moly he was in all his glory and you couldn’t help but stare. your eyes raked up his thighs, to his, um, private area, up his abs and chest, his full lips, finally meeting his eyes that looked back at you with pure amusement.

“like what you see?”

“yes.” you stated simply, and averted your gaze to put away your kindle and busy yourself.

jake went to his locker to grab extra clothes, putting on his boxers, some pants and a shirt. “you can look now. i don’t know why you are acting innocent. i definitely know you’re not.”

you huffed. “we were in a different setting then, jake.”

“what’s the difference? it’s still me and you, alone?”

“yeah but we were in your bedroom. this is a public space.” you whispered afraid to get caught.

“and?” jake asked bored.

“and? and anyone could see anything!”

“the thought of being caught fucking doesn’t turn you on?”

you snapped your lips shut. you mean, yes, it’s scary to think of some big adult coming in and catching jake buried deep in you. but it’s also thrilling to think one of his teammates coming in for any reason and jake having to keep you quiet.

“it does, doesn’t it?” jake’s left corner of his lips tilted up. he bit his lower lip as he looked at you, and you nervously stood up, knowing that look.

“i should go.” you quickly stated, but before you could even move an inch, jake started talking with a demand.

“sit down.” you quickly sat down, not even bothering to argue.

“i got dressed for nothing, sweetheart.” jake pouted, leaning down to be face to face with you, as his hands were on either side of your thighs.

he brought his left hand up to rest on your thigh, which was out free thanks to the skirt you wore in hopes to catch jake’s attention. and you succeeded.

“i hope you wore this tiny skirt for me and no one else.” he mumbled against your lips, giving you a small and soft kiss before pulling back.

his hand went higher up your thigh, to rest over your underwear covered cunt. one of his fingers teased you from on top, then snuck behind the clothing, and traced your folds.

“mhm so wet for me, yeah? getting turned on by the thought of being caught with my dick buried deep in you?”

your throat felt dry as you had nothing to say or contribute. but you nodded.

“stand up.” jake said and you followed his instructions as he positioned you against the lockers. your back rested against the cool locker, as his face went to your neck, leaving pecks, while he hooked your left leg around his right waist.

“although i would love to take my time with you, the thought of another guy seeing you wither in pleasure for me makes me mad.”

jake looked up into your eyes, and you felt him bury two fingers inside of you. deep.

your head leaned and hit the locker behind you, as his fingers worked deliciously to reach the spot that you needed most to be touched. you let out a soft moan, and wrapped one arm around his shoulder, while the other, you placed a hand on his other shoulder to keep you steady.

jake took his fingers out, and moved your underwear to the side, lifting your skirt upward.

his pants and underwear fell to his feet and he aligned his dick to your cunt. “baby, do you wanna go raw or do you want me to use a condom?”

“raw, please i can’t wait another second—,”

you couldn’t even finish as jake plunged into you. he wanted to be safe, he did. he always wore protection. if he didn’t have a condom, he wasn’t going to fuck, hence why he didn’t fuck your last week.

but this time—the condom was in the locker behind you and he couldn’t waste another second himself.

you moaned out loudly this time, eyes rolling back, to adjust to his thickness. “fuck jake.”

jake kissed your lips, forcing his tongue in your mouth. the kiss was so desperate for one another as he rocked his hips, thrusting up into you. that’s when he wrapped both of your legs around his waist so he could go at an even faster speed.

him holding you up was sexy in itself, and turned you on even more. you were definitely going to reach your climax.

then, you both heard a door open, and heard two male voices.

you gasped, jake’s hand went to covering your mouth, as his thrust never slowed down.

“keep quiet baby girl.” jake whispered.

the voices sounded familiar to you.

“he’s usually practicing, maybe he left already?” sunghoon said.

“he usually waits for us to walk to the food court together.” heeseung sighed. “traitor.” he scoffed with a laugh.

“he probably had to stuff his face in sadness cause he told me he couldn’t stop thinking about what’s her face.” sunghoon laughed.

your heart dropped wondering what sunghoon was talking about until heeseung said your name.

jake looked at you with a knowing smile, almost a little too cocky.

but it motivated him to speed up even more, the sound of skin slapping as sunghoon and heeseung walked out.

he took his hand off your mouth, and you let out another loud moan.

“that’s it baby, i have been thinking about doing this again with you for so long.” jake whispered. “fuck.”

jake halted his thrusts, to lay you on the bench. it was only wide enough so your back laid comfortably. jake scooted you close to the edge, both your legs still resting on either side of his waist.

“after this, i need you in my bed again.” jake says before he started his thrusts once again, even harder than before. “i need you in my bed over and over again. i don’t think i can ever get tired of holding you, fucking you, kissing you, goodness.” jake whispered with each thrust.

you nodded in agreement.

“my girl wants to be my little bed slut, mhm?”

“yes, jake.” you moaned out. you were close. jake reached between the both of you to rub his thumb circles against your clit.

it didn’t take much longer for your orgasm to hit, and jake soon was close as well.

“where does my girl want me to come?”

“in—in me jake.”

“you sure baby?”

you nodded. “birth control. plan b.” you mumbled over stimulated by jake’s thrusts.

your body couldn’t take anymore and you came for a second time either a loud moan, and jake made just as much noise as he came inside you, slowing down his thrusts.

“my girl did so good for me.” he smiled down at you. “after i get you in my bed, i will have to fuck you in public more often.”

you smiled weakly. jake pulled out slowly, grabbing his discarded towel to clean you up between your legs.

“who knew a ball to the face was the quickest way to get you to fuck me?”

you playfully slapped jake. “im sure you could just smile at a girl and use that accent of yours to get a girl to sleep with you.”

“but im sure that wouldn’t work on you, how would it? have a feeling you’re not that easy to get to bed.”

you smiled embarrassed. but then you looked at him confused, “wait—jake, what do you mean?” your brain was turning as you flipped your skirt down.

“surprised you don’t remember. about 3 months go i approached you with that same smile and accent and you told me to fuck off.” he laughed.

“did you kick the ball to my face on purpose?” your mouth flew open but jake quickly shook his head.

“no, that truly was an accident. but, i missed that goal because right before the kick i saw your face and got nervous. i truly didn’t mean for it to hit you.”

jake pulled up his bottoms, and helped you stand up from the bleachers with a pout.

“please don’t be mad.”

“not mad, just shocked and confused.”

“jay and winter are pretty close friends. so when i overheard winter talking to jay, i got excited.”

“i need winter to stop blabbing her mouth about me.” you slapped your forehead.

“it wasn’t anything bad. she just mentioned how you read your books more than anything.”

you waved it off, “and im sure she had a lot more to say.”

jake smiled. “maybe.”

jake held out his hand for you to grab. “let’s go get some food and i will take you to your next class.”

“im actually done for the day.”

“great, then let’s go to my place, order takeout, and i will fuck you until you can’t walk.”

you and jake walked out the building, surprised to see heeseung and sunghoon still lingering.

“ah, so you were in there.” heeseung smiled.

you wanted to hide forever from embarrassment.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 29, Unarmed, Redux - Pt. 4

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language,

Word Count: 741

Previously On...: Steve made some confessions.

A/N: Finally, resolutions!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

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You sat there, staring off into space for several moments. You couldn’t believe that had just happened. Was there no end to the number of times a super soldier would betray you?

Bucky cleared his throat after a few silent minutes. “I’ll… I’ll leave you alone now, doll,” he said. “‘M sure I’m one of the last people you want to see right now.”

He made to leave, but you called him back. “Buck, no,” you said. He turned around and looked at you quixotically. “Stay. We’re not done.”

He swallowed, then nodded, coming back to sit in the armchair next to your bed. “Yeah, okay,” he said. 

“Did you mean what you said,” you asked, looking up at him. “Back in Atlantic City? When you said you were self-sabotaging?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at you in confusion, as if that was the last topic of conversation he expected you to bring up right now. “When, uh… when you broke things off, for good, after Russia, I started seeing Raynor a lot more frequently. Like, two hours a day, every day,” he offered. “I needed to understand why I kept ruining things, especially when you make me so damned happy. It didn’t make sense to me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, didn’t make much sense to me, either,” you told him with a smirk, but he didn’t catch it.

“She told me, and I’m paraphrasin’ here, that, despite all the progress I’ve made, I still haven’t forgiven myself for the things I’ve done as the Winter Soldier,” he said, fidgeting with his metal fingers. “And, because I haven’t forgiven myself, I can’t see myself as being worth being loved, being happy. So, I did things, behaved in ways that proved I shouldn’t be. Like a, uh… ‘self-fulfilling prophecy,’ she said.

“She said that I created a loop, a cycle, where I kept makin’ fucked up decisions because I kept expectin’ to fuck up,” he continued. “Like, of course I hurt you, because I was scared of hurting you, if that makes sense? She said Carthage was like a mirror. When I sought validation from her, I was really seeking it from myself. I don’t necessarily know if I buy that,” he chuckled humorously. “Feels like it lets me off the hook too easily, but the doc seems to think it makes sense.”

You nodded, considering his words. “I thought you said she was a shitty quack,” you said after a moment. Bucky looked at you questioningly. “I did.”

“Sounds to me like you owe her a ‘thank you,’” you said, smiling at him. “What did she tell you to do about it?”

Bucky shrugged. “She called me a fucking dumbass, to start. Told me real love isn’t about whether or not you think you’re worthy of someone; it’s about working to be worthy of someone, to keep striving to be the best version of yourself for them. She said I needed to learn how to be honest, with you, and myself, to let you know when I’m struggling, to open up so we can help each other carry our burdens, and not hide mine away because I’m afraid.”

“She sounds a lot smarter than you’ve ever given her credit for,” you teased gently.

Bucky snorted. “Never let her hear you say that,” he said. “I won’t hear the end of it.”

“Can I ask you a question?” he said, after a moment of silence. You nodded. “Did you mean what you said, in front of Carthage, that you wished we could start fresh? Build something new? Something better?”

You nodded again. “With my whole heart,” you told him. 

Bucky seemed to take a moment to contemplate your words before he stuck out his hand. “‘M Bucky,” he said.

You scoffed playfully. “What the hell kind of name is ‘Bucky’?” you asked with a grin.

“I dunno,” he said with an answering grin of his own. “What the hell kind of name is Pocket?”

You grabbed his outstretched hand and pulled him to you, slotting your mouth over his and feeling his smile against your lips. “POCKET!” you heard Tony shout from behind the closed door. “He’s been in there long enough! The people demand to know! What the ‘F’ Is It?”

You and Bucky broke apart from your kiss, foreheads pressed together as you both laughed. Yeah, you thought with a smile, the two of you were going to be okay.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[chimivx]

That one fucked you over last year, this one is fucking you over this year, you had no idea she was involved with him, someone over here has been lying to you, you didn't mean to end up in that ones bed, he told you he loved you... Does anyone even trust anyone anymore?

👫 -> college!teez x fem!reader/oc {frat/sorority} #️⃣ -> 7.7k (part SIX of ten) ‼️ -> 18+, sexual content, drugs/alcohol, college life, all the drama, heavy angst, infidelity adjacent moments, mean boys, mean girls, mentions of anxiety/depression… IF I MISSED ANYTHING PLEASE LET ME KNOW!

{ there are names & faces in here that come from NMWID <3 }

january 14th ~ monday ~ last semester ~ 1:52 p.m 

Sitting on the floor of your bedroom with your back against the post of your bed, Tori and Yuna sat across from you, their legs stretched out as they scrolled your roommates phone together. Isla was beside you, her long shining hair pulled up into a bun on the top of her head. It was the first day back from winter break, three of you went back home to spend it with family, but Isla stayed here. Not entirely alone, some of the other girls stayed put as well, not wanting to travel long distances because of costs.

Everyone knew Isla could afford it, though. She stayed put because of her parents. Her brother, Dokyeom, or DK as he’s now called, was across the country anyhow, their parents were going to spend the holidays with him, and although they offered to fly Isla out to join, she stayed here in the ITZ house getting into who knows what.

“I have people asking me to make videos about sorority life,” Tori giggled with Yuna, glancing up at you and Isla from her phone. You were editing her Instagram caption for her.

Isla rubbed one of her eyes. “You should,” she said to Tori. “You’re good at speaking… and persuading.”

Tori perked a brow putting her focus on her phone screen. “Thank you, I think?”

“You’re welcome,” Isla said, laying her head on your mattress. She pointed her eyes to you typing away and took a breath. “Damn, it was that bad?”

“No,” you said quickly for reassurance. “Not bad at all, just… Missing some words and spelling errors.” Finishing up, you handed her phone back to her with a smile.

“Thanks, Ror,” she whispered, reading over what you’d done. “Idiot Isla over here.”

“Don’t do that,” you said. “You’re smart.”

She shot you a funny look. “Science smart,” she rolled her eyes, “Brain can name every bone in your body but can’t spell definitely.”

Yuna’s head shot up. “To be fair, that one is hard.”

Sharing a laugh with them both, Tori was the only one to keep quiet. Her brows had lowered over her eyes, the energy within them going dim.

“What happened?” you asked, the attention turning over to her. 

Shaking her head, slowly, she parted her lips and released a breath. “Mingi just told me their Vice President is going to be President next year, once their current one graduates.”

“Hongjoong?” Isla questioned, and Tori nodded. “Damn, it should be Seonghwa instead.”

Widening your eyes you nudged her side to agree with her. “Seonghwa is really smart.”

“They all are,” Yuna said, and you tilted your head from side to side.

“Of course they all are,” you said. “But, I’ve known Seonghwa since we started here. He’s different, he’s calculated, yanno?”

Tori watched you for a few seconds, then offered, “Why not Yunho?”

“What about him? He’s been working side by side with their secretary all year, he’s definitely getting that spot.”

She shrugged. “You don’t think he’s presidential material? You’d choose Seonghwa over him?”

Now Yuna and Isla were watching you. “I mean,” you paused, thinking to yourself, then smiled, “Yunho’s the smartest over there schoolwise, right? It makes sense for him to be in charge of keeping their records straight, making sure everything falls into the plan accordingly, he’s the right amount of mad man for the job, but he has too much heart. Seonghwa would make a good president ‘cause he can separate himself feelings-wise.”

Yuna and Isla ‘awe’d’ in response. Tori simply eyed you, cooking up something in her brain to counteract you, always playing devil's advocate.

“But, if Seonghwa separates himself feelings-wise, how will he relate to his brothers and be able to lead them with some sort of compassion. A president should be empathetic all while still strong minded enough to put their foot down when needed.”

Yuna and Isla were looking at her, then snapped their necks back to you.

“Then it makes all the more sense it’d be Hongjoong then, right?” Your smile made her nod.

“Yeah, it makes sense,” she said.

Isla, focused on you, narrowed her bright eyes slightly. “I like your opinions, Aurora.”

“Me too,” Yuna said, quietly. She and Tori went back to her phone.

“I do, too,” Tori said soon after. 

Isla picked her phone back up, getting ready to post her photos for her thousand of followers. “You should be our next president,” she mumbled, and Tori shot you a smile.

september 21st ~ saturday ~ 3:33 a.m.

Your phone buzzed incessantly, waking you up, pulling you from a much needed slumber that would bring you into a day off. Whoever was waking you up right now better have a good enough reason. Nasara was only finishing its second week of classes and everyone was already exhausted, falling straight back into the student mindset like no one had left for summer.

Lifting your phone, the light of the screen blinding you in the pitch black of your bedroom, you blinked hard, squinted your eyes, and lurched forward. Yunho was calling you. The second you sat up the call stopped, taking you to the home screen showing off the messages waiting for you.

[youknow everythin]: I’m sorry

[youknow everythin]: I’m so fucking sorry

[youknow everythin]: Rory

[youknow everythin]: Forgive me

Stomach sinking, you opened your phone to the thread and saw him typing. Then, the bubbles disappeared.

[you]: yunho are you okay

[youknow everythin]: Yes

[youknow everythin]: …

[youknow everythin]: No

[youknow everythin]: Don’t freak out

[you]: what are you talking about you’re scaring me

[youknow everythin]: Open your window

[youknow everythin]: Please

Dropping your phone to the blankets you twisted to your right and pushed the curtains aside, moving to your knees. Pitch black outside, you could barely see anything out of the window. Nerves sparked inside of you, traveling through your veins, your hands shaky as they worked at the locks on the wood. 

Was he here? On the roof? Was he on the ground? Did he want you to come down? Tori was asleep in the bed mere feet over, not far enough to allow him in if he was here. No one could see him. If he was caught here you were both in trouble. You with Mina, Yunho with Seonghwa.

That thought terrified you. It made you sick. The idea that something would happen to Yunho because he was affiliated with you. Because you two were together after you and Seonghwa… Fuck, you never should’ve did it in the first place. 

Seonghwa.

Now you were lying to other boys, using him as a pawn in this game you and Yunho were playing, if you could even call it that. Not speaking for a week after he made you cum twice had been taking its toll. You missed him, you wanted him. As much as it hurts to admit it to yourself, you missed him. Even if you meant it as a friend, it still hurt, because how were you two supposed to go back to friends after all of this?

Finding the edge of the window in the dark, you hooked your fingers beneath it and slowly pushed it open, trying to be as quiet as this ancient house would allow you to be. Past every whisper of a creak, every sigh of the slide, you finally opened it all the way, and without another second to think a pair of arms were thrown around your neck, Yunho pressing his lips to yours, his hands slipping into your sleep rumpled hair.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered between kisses, pressing you flush against his chest where he knelt on the shingles, hanging halfway into your window. He kissed you with a ferocity, one you figured came from that place of borderline instability, the part of him that’d make him go crazy over something he was passionate about. Something he loved.

“Yo,” you whispered in the shared air, putting a hand on his chest to push him back. He took a hand to your chin, placing a thumb over your lips.

“Rory,” he kept his voice low, knowing your roommate occupied the room. “I’m sorry.”

“You keep saying that.”

“I know,” his eyes squeezed shut, “But, I am. I’m sorry for not talking to you, for not answering you.” His words began to tighten the space between your lungs. “It’s been weird over there, at the house, with the guys, and I just… I don’t know how to handle this.”

You waited, for him to say anything else. “Handle what, Yo?”

“You.” He kissed your cheek. “You, Rory, this. Us. I don’t want anything else.”

Grabbing his wrists you tugged them away and put space between you. Eyes adjusting to the dark, you were able to make him out now. Fluffy hair, sleepy eyes, puffy cheeks. He had either just woken up, or he hadn’t slept. In a long time.

“Yunho, hang on,” you whispered, taking a breath. “There isn’t… Us.”

“Yes, there is.” He came closer to you. “Rory, come on.”

Moving your hands to his you opened your fingers and he snatched them right up, holding onto yours tight. “What do you think is going to happen? You’re gonna date me? You’re gonna be my boyfriend? After all of this? Yunho we’re not even barely into the semester yet and…” Releasing a sigh, you felt your throat tighten, like you were going to cry.

“Tell me,” he whispered. “Tell me everything, please.”

You wanted to. A part of you, most of you, wanted to tell him everything. From Seonghwa, to Tori and Mina’s friendship, to your dad… But, if you got into any of it you’d be airing out a lot of shit you’ve done to try to move past him. Sleeping with Seonghwa, putting your focus on him, toying with the idea of Soul, keeping the freshman in your back pocket just in case…

“Rory.” His whisper held a bout of sorrow, and when you looked up into his brown eyes, he nodded the smallest he’s ever had. “I know.”

Now you were crying. Tears slid from your eyes without your permission. “When?”

“The night it happened.” He drug his thumb over your cheek, brushing a tear away. “He makes it kinda obvious.”

“Fuck,” you sighed, taking your hands to your face, wiping it clean. Yunho sat back some, still halfway through your window. “I’m sorry.”

He shrugged slightly, and shook his head. “I can’t be mad at you.”

“Yes, you can.” You glared up at him, then closed your eyes.

Taking a deep breath, letting it out with a sigh, he said, “Okay. I am. That’s why I stuck to Mina after… And that's why I haven’t answered you.” He glanced away, but when you opened your eyes to watch him, his attention was back over your being. “But, that still isn’t right, Rory, we hooked up last week. I should’ve answered you, and I’m sorry.”

“Did we?” you asked, and he raised his brows in question. “Hooked up? That’s what we did?”

Yunho ran his tongue over his bottom lip, his eyes blinking like crazy. “I mean,” he breathed, “What do… What do you think?”

You waited to answer him. Letting the question marinate in the air, in the tension between the two of you that was so thick it could only be cut by him smothering you with his body weight on your sheets, you shrugged. “Yunho, it’s more than that.”

“Yeah,” he answered quickly, taking you by surprise.

“Yeah?”

“It’s been more than that, Rory,” he said. “For a while.”

“It has been,” you whispered.

His sideways smile melted on to his face, charming you, pulling you toward him. Outstretching your arms he let you fall into him, his own arms wrapping around your back, holding you close as you beckoned his lips closer with your own, and you kissed him. Slow, eating away time like you had nothing to lose, Yunho was seconds away from pulling you onto the roof, or rolling on top of your bed inside the window, but you pulled away from him.

“Wait,” you said, and he looked at you wide eyed, his lips still half pursed. “Not to… Talk about it… But, Tori told me something.” He thinned his lips and nodded. “About Seonghwa.”

Yunho sighed, his eyes falling shut for half a second. “Yeah,” he grumbled. “I know what you’re going to say.” Parting your lips to speak, he was quick to kiss you, swallowing your words. “Don’t apologize.”

“How can I not, I’m gonna get you kicked out of your frat,” you said, furrowing your brows. Keeping his lips moving over yours, his tongue slipping out to meet yours, he sighed and held you tighter.

“You’re not,” he whispered. “I’m not going to get kicked out.” 

Clamping your jaw shut, withholding the whine that yearned to slip out, Yunho’s lips slid down your neck. “But, Tori said that Mingi said-“

His teeth pressed into your skin, gently, cutting you off. A breath corrupted your lungs. Wrapping his lips around where he bit, he released a breath, the warm air erupting goosebumps over your skin.

“Can we not listen to other people?” Lifting his head, taking his hands to your cheeks, he drew circles over your skin and left a kiss on the tip of your nose. “That’s how so many of these messes get started, by listening to other people.”

Gazing up at him, longing to pull him into your bed, to fall asleep beside him, you gave him a small smile. “How?” He was quiet, you could see the gears turning behind his eyes. “How does this work, because I see it all going to shit if we do anything.”

“Me too,” he answered honestly, letting out a quiet laugh with you. “The reality is that I have to break things off with Mina, even though we aren’t dating.”

“You’re gonna break her heart,” you whispered, and Yunho expressed his distress on his face. “Do you feel things for her, Yo? Be honest with me.”

He shook his head, then hesitated, then continued to shake it. “She’s… cute. I’m attracted to her, but I don’t… I don’t know. She doesn’t get me like you do, Rory, she thinks I’m… silly.”

You caught your laugh before it echoed into your bedroom. “Silly?”

Yunho creased his brow. “Silly,” he said. “And, she has no opinions on Mesoamerican civilizations.”

Gasping, slightly sarcastic, you whispered, “You’re kidding. Does she even care that your favorite period is postclassic?” 

Holding back his laugh, you could tell he wanted to, he forced a frown on his face and shook his head. “She doesn’t.”

“Oh, honey,” you crooned, cupping his cheeks. “Just know that I still stand by what I said, they were superstitious bastards, and weak, abandoning all their land?”

His eyes bugged out of his head. “Rory, you know they had to move. How can you even say that? We’ve discussed this!”

Shushing him, you giggled and fell into him. Catching you, not finding it very funny, Yunho glanced away in shock. “I know, I know,” you said, catching your breath. “Listen to me,” you looked up at him, his face solemn, “You’re not silly. You’re intelligent, and you love what you do.”

“I think I love you,” he whispered.

“You have people around you who get you, Mingi, Tori, me, yanno? You don’t need that validation from elsewhere, you can get all you need from us. Okay?”

“Rory?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you hear what I said?” he whispered.

Gulping, you tilted your head. “I did.”

He searched your eyes for an answer. “And?”

Thinking for a moment, you sighed. “Yo, I don’t know what that feels like.”

The whole truth. Love? What was that? You’re not sure you’ve ever felt that for another human being, at least on this level. Sure you loved Tori, you loved Mingi and Yunho, as your friends. But, to love somebody? To be in love with somebody?

“I understand,” he said. “It’s okay.”

Toying with his hair at the nape of his neck, you pressed your lips together and frowned. “I like you, I have feelings for you, you have the ability to do things that hurt me in that way… So, I mean, maybe I do?”

Yunho’s eyes flickered to your lips. “Don’t force yourself, Rory, don’t overthink it. Don’t look into it.”

“But, I have to,” you whispered. “I’ve been jealous of Mina since last semester.”

He raised his brows. “You have?”

“I have,” you admitted, curling your lip. “Unfortunately, I still am.”

His hands pressed into you. “Don’t be.”

“Yo,” you started with a smirk, “Everyone throws in my face daily that she’s your type, that she’s perfect for you.” He narrowed his eyes. “And, looking at her, she kinda is.”

“Just by her looks?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Everybody mentions her clothes, her style, the way she puts herself together. She’s perfect for you.”

Yunho lowered his eyes, thinking again. Then, he lifted his gaze to meet yours. “Do they not know she’s a bitch?” Gasping aloud, you both started to laugh, covering each other's mouths with your shoulders. “I’m serious,” he snickered, moving a hand through your hair. “We have to do what she wants to do, we have to say what Mina wants to say, we have to act how Mina wants to act. She pretends to listen to me, but then won’t remember a thing. It’s like she’s not even into me, at least since we’ve been back. She’s worried about her image.”

Taking everything he said, knowing you would save it and hold onto it later, you scoffed. “Damn, started to think I was the only one who was starting to not like her.” Yunho smiled sideways, then shook his head. “What do we do?”

His smile faltered. “Exactly what you know we need to do.” 

“Don’t make me.”

He thinned his lips and bowed his head. “Rory, if I’m breaking it with Mina, I need you to break up with Seonghwa.”

september 21st ~ saturday ~ 10:17 a.m.

Somebody was crying.

Sitting up in bed, awoken by the sobs and harsh breaths, you rubbed your eyes and pushed your hair from your face. Somebody was crying and it was coming from the hallway. Your door was cracked open, Tori gone, having gotten up at some point without waking you.

Throwing the covers from your legs you slid from your bed and poked your head out of your door. The hall was empty, but the crying was louder. Stepping out into the vacant hall, closing your door behind you, you tiptoed around the floor, pressing your ear to Ryujin and Isla’s door. It wasn’t coming from there. Circling around, moving toward the common bathroom on this floor, the door was cracked like yours was, and the crying was coming from inside.

“You can call him,” Tori’s voice said from behind the door. “That’ll help won’t it?”

Shit. Shit. Did it happen already? Did Yunho even sleep at all? He left your roof soon after he told you to break things off with Seonghwa, when it was nearing quarter after four. Did he already do his part?

“I can’t, when he gets like this he doesn’t answer his phone,” Mina sniffled. “So high and mighty,” she muttered with a cry. “It’s scary, you know. You can’t pull him out of it, you can’t bring him back, he has to do it himself.”

“No one can help?” Tori asked.

Mina sniffled. “No,” she said. “His dad usually can, he said he’d get like this too sometimes, but… Chan is way worse. At least that’s what doctors like to say. He’s got the combination. His dad only has one.”

It’s not about Yunho.

Thank god, it’s not about Yunho.

But, damn, it’s about her family. 

Backing away toward the staircase, not wanting to interrupt the two or insert yourself into that situation, you leaned against the bannister and waited for someone, anyone, to come out. It took a couple minutes, but Tori was first, after telling Mina to take all the time she needs, and that if she needs any help she shouldn’t hesitate to let her know.

Your roommate stepped out of the bathroom in her pajamas, her hair pulled back into a ponytail. Pulling the door shut, she turned around and caught a glimpse at you, her eyes shifting into a hardened glare, her eyebrows going flat. Folding your hands over your front, you gestured toward the bathroom as Tori bounded forward toward you.

“Is she gonna be okay, should we-”

She grabbed onto your wrist, not worried whether or not she hurt you. Pulling you into your shared bedroom, she flung you inside, releasing you, and shut the door. Slamming it, really. Ryujin would be complaining later on.

“Tori!” you giggled, stumbling over clothes that laid on the floor. Catching your balance, turning to her and her, you think, anger, you sat on the edge of your mattress and shook your head. “What’s going on? Is it Mina?” She came closer to you, slowly, her mind at work. Or, rather, her mind settled, the venom ready to pierce you.

“Tell me everything,” she snapped, her volume low. She stepped in front of you, keeping you trapped where you sat on your bed. Looking up at her and her pointed brown eyes, there wasn’t as much honey in them as there normally would be. She was angry.

Electricity sparked in your veins, shooting throughout every limb. “What are you talking about? What did Mina say?” 

“Mina is having family troubles right now, Aurora, this isn’t about her, this is about you.” She jutted her chin toward the window behind you. Your stomach sunk through the floor. “Tell me why I woke up to you and Jeong Yunho swapping spit on our roof last night.”

Oh, fuck.

Well, here we go.

“Tori, listen, there isn’t anything-”

“Bullshit, Aurora,” she sneered, taking a step backward. Her piercing glare didn’t once leave you. “He told you he loved you. What the fuck is that?”

Lungs tightening in your chest, you tried to take a deep breath to ease the tension but it didn’t work. “I don’t know, Tori, you gotta believe me. I just… We’ve been hooking up for a while, it was only so I could get over what happened with Wooyoung, it wasn’t supposed to turn into anything crazy.”

“Your ‘hooking up’ that’s ‘more than that’?” she whispered behind her teeth. Damn, she really did hear everything. “When did this start? You said it was to get over Wooyoung, are you telling me you’ve been fucking him since last semester? While he’s been dating Mina?”

“What?” you sighed, eyes going wide. “Dating Mina?”

Tori glanced around the room like you were stupid. “Hello, Aurora, where have you been? Even if the words aren’t said it’s clear that the two are for one another. You’re telling me you’ve been sleeping with him this whole time?”

“Hang on,” you breathed, standing to your feet, making her back up. “Tori, hang on.” Reaching out for your best friend's shoulders, your heart sunk as she swatted you away. “Okay,” you whispered, putting your hands to your chest instead. “Yunho and I, it’s been since May.”

“May?!” Tori nearly shouted.

“Yes,” you said. “It was right after the year ended. I was at his place, I was helping him unpack because you know he is not good at that. If I didn’t go there he would probably to this day still not be unpacked.”

She rolled her eyes. “Where was his brother, is he not capable of helping him?”

“Tori, we’re friends, me and Yunho, I’ve been to his house before, it wasn’t weird,” you said, tilting your head aside, questioning her with your eyes. “It took us probably two hours to get him unpacked and comfortable, it was only him and I there, we got to talking, we opened a couple drinks.”

“Talking about what?” she asked, her tone never changing, dripping with frustration. “Don’t you dare beat around the fucking bush, tell me it all, I am so pissed off right now.”

“Wooyoung,” you sighed, speaking with your hands as if it would calm her down. Her emotion radiated off of her, her energy filling the room with the ability to suffocate you. “We were talking about Wooyoung and what had happened, how he slept with Yeji, or how Yeji slept with him. My feelings were hurt, you know this, and Yunho asked me how I was feeling. I was honest with him, it sucked. I thought Wooyoung actually liked me, and he didn’t. I thought I would get to have what you and Mingi had, and I wanted it with him.”

Tori grit her teeth. “Wooyoung or Yunho?”

Taking a breath you shook your head. “What?”

“Wooyoung or Yunho, Aurora,” she said. “Because now a whole bunch of shit is adding up.”

“Like what?” you asked quietly, tucking your hands over your front, clutching your t-shirt for some sort of comfort.

“For starters, last semester you were obsessed with him,” she scoffed, “And you made it pretty damn obvious, but I just thought it was because you guys were friends, and you were upset he was pulling away because of Mina.” She lowered her voice even more. “Now I know it’s because you liked him. Did you even know you liked him?”

“No,” you breathed, your throat tightening. “I didn’t. Not then.”

“From that, to this summer and you and Yunho spending so much time together, to how you guys were at that first party,” she paused and smirked. “You know, Mingi said that Yunho said the same exact thing when he asked him where he went. Outside? You know how upset he is right now?”

You flushed of all color, your blood running cold. “You told Mingi?”

“Of course I told Mingi, Aurora,” she laughed aloud, shaking her ponytail. “What do you think? I’m going to find this out about his best friend and not ask him about it? I had to make sure at least one person in my life was telling me the truth.” Sucking in air like your life depended on it, the tears welled up in your eyes, but you forced them back. “What did I say when you told me about Seonghwa? Don’t keep things from me? And you lied to my face?”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“That’s not going to cut it, Aurora,” she said, her own voice cracking. Knowing her, you were surprised she wasn’t already crying. It wasn’t in weakness either, that was just how she expressed her feelings. “Apologies aren’t going to mean anything anymore if you don’t change how you’re acting.”

“Right,” you whispered. “You’re right.”

“Was Seonghwa a lie? It’s been Yunho this whole time?”

“Seonghwa was not a lie,” you said, holding up your hands. “I slept with Seonghwa, that was real. It was me… Angry that Yunho was giving his attention to Mina instead of me.”

Her brows squished to the center of her forehead. “Sleeping with other guys is not going to heal what happened with another, and that’s coming from me.”

“I know,” you glanced down at the floor, then back at Tori. “Last week I was with Yunho, at the party.”

She huffed a laugh. “What party, you weren’t there.”

“Yes I was,” you whispered, and she spun in a circle, pressing her hands to her cheeks. “I left dinner. Seonghwa picked me up, he brought me to ATZ, and when you guys showed up was when Yunho took me upstairs, when I… followed him upstairs. We were only gonna talk, but… we were really drunk, and, I guess…”

“In love with each other,” Tori mumbled, her icy glare back over your trembling form. “Admit it, Ror.”

Swallowing hard, you clutched your hands together and shrugged. “Tori, I don’t think I can.” Her eyes softened the slightest, her knowing eyes. “I said it to him last night, I don’t know… what that feels like.”

She nodded and whispered, “I know.”

A tear slid down your cheek. “This is all a mess. I promise to you, I swear, that I did not know about Yunho and Mina. All summer, I had no clue. He told me nothing. Not until we were with her after that morning meeting and she told us about it.” She was quiet, letting you speak your truth. “Tori, after what happened to me, you really think that I would go and do that to another girl? One of our sisters?”

“When’s the last time you fucked him?” she raised a single brow, the pierced one. “Last night was pretty shitty enough. Was it last week? At the party nobody saw you at?” You nodded and she sighed. “You’re still doing what Yeji did to you, Aurora. You know she likes him.”

“I know, I know.” Taking your hands to your hair, you tugged them through the strands and gripped the ends. “It’s fucked up, and I hate it, and I don’t wanna do it.”

“Then, break it off,” Tori said.

Looking up at her, lips parted in some sort of shock, you whispered, “What?”

She shrugged. “With Yunho, break it off.”

The words struck you like a bolt of lightning. You couldn’t feel the floor beneath you, your stomach was sick, your head going dizzy. You couldn’t feel the tears on your cheeks, but you knew they were falling.

“I- I can’t do that, Tori,” you babbled, looking everywhere else but at her. “He’s the closest person I have, besides you. He’s one of my best friends, he knows so much, he cares about me. I care about him, how can I just break it off with him. He gets me, I get him, yanno, it’s like, when you talk about Mingi, and how he just fits with you, he’s your other half. That’s how it feels with Yunho, he just fits with me. He laughs at my jokes, he makes sure I’m alright, and I do the same for him, yanno, I love him, I can’t just…”

The corners of Tori’s lips perked up. She stepped closer to you and wiped your cheeks clean of tears. Squishing your cheeks together, she leaned over you and pressed a quick kiss to your forehead. She let you process what you had said, what you admitted in your blind rambles.

“It’s still shitty, Ror,” she said, her tone gentle. Making sure you were looking at her, she whispered, “And I’m really mad you didn’t tell me. As much as I love us loving those best friends, the four of us, I’m upset. So is Mingi. I don’t even want to know what’s going down at ATZ right now, especially since you’re Seonghwas. Yunho knew his consequences, he knew what would happen… So, I guess he really does love you if he doesn’t care about losing his brothers.”

“Please don’t tell Mina,” you whispered, and Tori brushed your cheeks clean again.

Pursing her lips, she sighed. “That puts me in a really awful place, Ror.” Pleading with her, your eyes wide and shiny, she took a breath and shook her head. “Figure this out, and tell me when you do.” Taking her hands back, she crossed her arms over her chest. “And, I’ll tell you when I’m not so mad anymore… I wanna know what it is about this boy's dick that’s made you like this.”

Cracking a smile, you raised your shoulders. “Okay, let me know.”

Bobbing her head, Tori glanced about the room. “We’ve got girls coming around this week, we need to clean up.”

“Let me do it, please,” you said. “I owe you this. I can take care of it all, I’ll do your laundry.”

She smiled. “I’ll help you, Ror. Don’t be silly.” Smiling back at her, she accepted it. “Recruitment dinner’s a week from now. We’ll be at ATZ. Do you think you’ll have things figured out by then? Sorted out?”

With a breath you shrugged. “I can’t tell you that. Yunho gives me whiplash.”

“Valid,” she popped her brows and turned to make her bed. “Maybe you guys are meant for one another.” Watching her pull at her blankets, you couldn’t help but giggle. She threw you a look over her shoulder, shutting you up.

“Right, mad at me, probably shouldn’t be giddy over a boy telling me he loves me,” you said, narrowing your eyes, and she lost her mind, collapsing onto her bed, laughing. “I’m so serious, too.”

Tori flipped over and tossed a hand your way. “Ror, you’re never serious.”

Sighing, you propped your hands on your hips. “You know, I could give you one fun fact to hold you over until you’re not mad at me, about Yunho.” She started to arrange her pillows, her head shaking, her smile still evident. “You want a spoiler, angry pants?”

“Ror!” she laughed, throwing a plushie at you, one gifted to her from Mingi. Shoving her hands into her lap, she squeezed her eyes shut, her entire face screwing up before she nodded really fast. “Tell me,” she forced from her mouth.

Smirking, you whispered, “He’s huge.”

Her eyes shot open, her extremities flying every which way beside her. “Compared to Seonghwa?”

“Bigger,” you whispered, and she flopped backward, kicking her feet.

“Shut the fuck UP!” Launching forward, she tucked her knees beneath her and slapped a hand over her mouth. “I wouldn’t even think that, ever, Hwa gives off such big-”

Your bedroom door opened, slowly, pulling you and Tori’s attention toward it. A red eyed, tear stained cheeked Mina poked her head inside. Mouth going dry, you watched as she took you in, then turned to Tori.

“Hey,” your roommate said, her tone hushed. You actively watched as she took everything you told her within the last ten to fifteen minutes and sat it in the backseat of her mind. “You okay?”

Mina pouted, a tear slipping down her cheek as she shook her head. “Can I talk to you?”

Tori glanced at you, and you nodded, something small so Mina wouldn’t think too much into anything. “Sure,” she said to the sophomore, moving off of her bed. Mina disappeared behind the door that Tori tugged closed, giving you a look before it latched shut.

Tori would have your back. She wouldn’t tell Mina anything, that much you knew. You could trust her, though it killed you to know that you had broken hers. It was all aired out now, all of your shit. Someone other than you and Yunho knew your history. Tori, and Mingi. Seonghwa had guessed it was Yunho, but the two of you didn’t go into details. He was still someone you could trust, though this whole belonging to him thing made you sick.

Yunho had to break things off with Mina, and you had to find a way to break things off with Seonghwa while still keeping him on your good side. 

september 21st ~ saturday ~ 5:02 p.m.

[youknow everythin]: Thinking about you. What else would I be doing.

[youknow everythin]: I want to see you. I want to show you what page I’m on in this textbook right now, you’ll freak out. It’s for my history of gender class, we’re reviewing the protests of women, the suffrage movements. They’re so badass. Makes me think of you. I don’t know.

[youknow everythin]: I haven’t talked to Mina yet. She’s been texting me about something with her brother. What’s going on over there?

[you]: you already know i’d be one of those girls in the streets with the signs, petticoats and everything

[youknow everythin]: You’d look good in one of those.

[you]: thanks <3

[youknow everythin]: What did you say about those hearts?

[you]: i can send it, you can’t

[youknow everythin]: <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

[you]: you’re insufferable, how’s your thumbs after that???

[youknow everythin]: They hurt

[youknow everythin]: See what I put myself through for you, Rory

[you]: my knight in shining armor, woe is me

[you]: mina is not okay, she’s been kinda crying all day, tori has been hanging with her. it is her brother, but i can’t tell what’s going on. he’s either missing, or he ran away, or something else, i dunno. i hope he’s okay, i know he struggles

[you]: let me know when you talk to her, then i’ll talk to seonghwa

[youknow everythin]: I will. I’m going to go back to my women now.

[youknow everythin]: …

[youknow everythin]: <3

[you]: …

[you]: <3

september 22nd ~ sunday ~ 12:14 p.m.

Getting out of the house, spending some time at the Conoscenza, claiming a table on the second floor with Tori, the two of you had been sitting in front of textbooks and notebooks for the last hour. It was incredibly unfortunate you weren’t able to tell Mingi or Yunho to meet you here, there were too many eyes around, and Yeji was off doing god knows what for the day. The two of you were better off getting homework done on your own, and a small part of you kind of loved that. It’d been chaos since move in day, you and Tori hadn’t had much time to just be you and Tori.

Sharing laughs, helping one another with tricky questions, taking time to scroll on your phones and show each other meme’s you knew the other would like, it felt it should, everything was good. Everything was going to be okay.

That is until now, when Tori caught your attention by tapping the end of her gel pen on your book, gesturing behind you with her eyes. Turning over your shoulder, Yunho was sliding into a chair at another table on the other side of the library. Tori smiled as she watched your eyes light up.

“Do you think I can go talk to him?” you whispered, looking at her. She shrugged, and went to speak, but then snapped her jaw shut, her eyes widening the slightest. “What?” Turning back around, you released a breath.

Mina was sitting down across from him in a pleated skirt and the sweetest sweater. She wore a pout on her lips, and when she was seated she stretched her hands across the table toward him, ones he took tentatively. Was this happening now?

“Tori, did she tell you they were coming here?” you asked, facing your best friend who had her eyes locked on the pair.

“No, I swear,” she whispered. “I had no idea they would be here. She did tell me she wanted to talk to him about her family, though. She told me they still don’t know where Chan is, one of the twins, you know about them right?”

Nodding, you sighed. You knew about all of your sisters' families, all of their siblings. Mina was quick to drop all of her information to you the second you two were alone. “I know about them. They’re a good family, she comes from a good one, I feel bad for her.”

Tori frowned. “I do, too. She shouldn’t have to worry about this while she’s here.”

Turning to catch a glimpse of her, Mina was crying, her mouth running a mile a minute. Yunho was nodding his head, his hands not having moved an inch since he originally took them. 

“Do you think they look anything like her?” you asked out of pure curiosity, facing Tori who gave you a questionable look. “Have you seen them before, I mean?”

“Are you asking that because they have a different dad?” she asked, eyeing you as you pulled out your phone. 

Ignoring the text from Seonghwa, who was asking to see you, you opened Instagram. “No, not because of that. You don’t get intrigued? She has three brothers, don’t you wanna know what they look like? We know what Isla’s brother looks like.”

“Everyone knows what DK looks like, Ror, he’s the most pined after baseball player in the fuckin’ MLB,” she laughed, then thought to herself. “Though, if Vernon gets there, that might change,” she mumbled, and you snickered. 

“You have a secret crush?”

Tori deadpanned. “Don’t we all?”

Shrugging, you typed away at your phone and leaned forward onto the table. “Touché.”

Opening up Mina’s profile, her follower count just under six thousand, though it went up everyday, you scrolled until you found a photo of several people standing together on a football field. Her high school graduation.

A man, taller than Yunho, stood beside a woman, his arm wrapped around her back, hooking around her waist. They were a beautiful couple, and they looked genuinely happy. The man, who you assumed was Mina’s father, was gorgeous. So gorgeous you had to keep scrolling through the photos or else you’d have to tell Tori you understood her when she spoke about your own father. The couple stood with Mina, her hair long and past her shoulders like her mothers. She was her father, they shared the same smile, their eyes would scrunch up the same.

In the next photo Mina was standing with another man, he was tall too, but not as tall as her dad. He had shorter dark hair that hung over his forehead, and he wore darker clothes. She was in the middle of the photo, the skinny guy on one side and someone who looked just like him stood on the other. He was tagged as @kaangmiinhoo, but neither the name nor neither of their faces rang any bells.

The third photo is what made you smile. Finally, Mina and her three brothers. Two were nearly identical, tagged as @chan_1007 and @choiisunoo. Speechless, you turned the phone to show Tori.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, zooming in on Chan and Sunoo. “Oh my god.”

“Who’s the dad?” you asked, and you both shared a quiet laugh. “If it’s not the first hot guy, is it the second hot guy?” Scrolling back to the photo with the Minho tag, Tori audibly expressed her disagreement.

“That’s her uncle and her cousin,” she said.

“Damn,” you said. “Is everyone hot?” Swiping back to the brother photo, Tori zoomed in on the boy to Mina’s left. The twins were behind her, smug, their chins tipped backward, but the boy to her left simply smiled, his other hand not behind his sister's back tucked behind his own. He was tagged as @everyone_woo. Wonwoo was his name.

“He’s her actual sibling,” Tori said. “He’s younger than her, and believe it or not, he plays baseball, too.”

“What do the twins do?” you asked, zooming back in on Chan, finding it hard to fathom that he was real. Tori shrugged.

“They’re older, I don’t know, she’s never spoken much of them until now,” she said.

“Hm, interesting,” you mumbled. Tori went back to her books. Sitting back in your chair you tapped on Chan's profile that was thankfully public. There were numerous photos of cars, a few of him and some friends thrown in the midst. With a whopping total of twenty photos, typical man, towards the bottom there were party pictures, probably from high school or college, if he went. The very first post was of him and another guy taller than him by a few inches. They almost shared a face. Tapping on it, the caption read ‘my dad is cooler than your dad’.

His dad was, dare you say, hotter than Mina’s. You couldn’t blame her mom. He was posed with an arm slung around Chan's shoulder, the other hand pressed to his own head, messing with his long, shaggy hair. Chan was leaning into him, his arms crossed over his chest, looking about fifteen or sixteen years old. Below it, the Minho who was tagged in one of Mina’s photos had left multiple comments, the boys going back and forth about the clothes he was wearing, and when they were going to hang out again.

Swiping away from it, scrolling up to the top of his profile, it accidentally refreshed, and when it loaded, there was a colorful ring around his profile photo. A new story update. Furrowing your brow, you contemplated tapping on it. If this guy was… missing, why would he be posting to his Instagram story?

You clicked it.

A video started to play, on silent. Chan was walking through a house, showing off the sneakers on his feet, and then the camera lifted to Sunoo, his twin brother who had a baby on his hip. He was bouncing the little one, a baby girl with a bow in her hair. When Chan shoved the camera in his face, Sunoo flashed him a smile behind the phone and then pushed him away with his free hand. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the words on the screen were ‘dad on duty’, and Sunoo was tagged.

The video ended.

He wasn’t missing, he was at home.

“Tor,” you whispered. She gave you a hum, but didn’t look up from her work. Locking your phone, you stared down at the table and didn’t answer her. Not that she was paying attention anyway. You’d tell her later. Hopefully Chan didn’t take the video down.

Moving slowly, you turned over your shoulder to peek at Mina and Yunho. They were standing, he was hugging her. Arms thrown around his neck, she was looking at you sending your stomach into a tizzy. Her cheek was laying on his shoulder, and you swore she wore some type of dominance in her gaze.

When they pulled apart from one another it vanished, and she blinked big, sad eyes up at him, nodding as he spoke to her. His hands took to her hair, maneuvering her chin upward, and he kissed her cheek. Trying to not let it bother you, you told yourself that everything would be okay. Everything was going to be fine.

He was yours, he told you he loved you.

Things would be settled soon, and everyone would have peace, though you’re not so sure Mina deserved any.

If you were lucky enough to be blessed with siblings, loving, caring siblings… You certainly wouldn’t use them or their struggles for your own personal gain.

What the fuck was going on?

NU home ✧ nice for what masterlist ✧ talk to me ✧ thank you for reading <3

you do not have permission to copy or translate my works without my consent.

[wambsgansshoelaces]

Hi there! How are you doing? I just recently found your account and LOVE it! Thank you for sharing all your stories! I particularly loved the head cannons for clingy Roman and comforting Roman!

After reading the comforting Roman one, I had an idea for some more head cannons or a story (truly whichever you prefer if you want to write this idea). But maybe something along the lines of standing up to Logan somehow and defending Roman? Seeing him so hurt and vulnerable because of what his father said broke my heart and I definitely think he needs someone in his corner, privately and publicly!

Thank you so much if you do write something around this idea, but please don’t feel pressured to if it doesn’t spark any ideas. I hope you have a fabulous day/night! 💛

In My Corner

Roman Roy x Reader

Oneshot

this is literally the sweetest request I’ve ever gotten so it went to the top of my priority list. I’m doing okay, thank you so much for asking!! I hope you’re amazing <3 you don’t understand how much it means to me that you enjoy what I write and that you love it!!! it makes me so happy!!! any request or idea you have, I promise, will give me ideas. I’m so grateful I have people like you enjoying and reading my work!! It’s one in the morning for me, so I’m sorry I can’t make it longer… but enjoy! I love you rita, thank you for requesting xx

also just a general psa, if there’s never any specific pronoun/reader gender detail in the request, I’ll default to fem/female unless I can access your profile, to which then I’ll just use the requester’s pronouns/gender. enjoy!

Word Count: 2.181k

Married life was all you could’ve ever dreamed it would be. It was more.

Roman had surprised you with how quickly he’d committed to you and you solely. He’d told you, the night of your wedding, he knew you were it for him from your first official date. That even if you dumped him, hated him, threw him out, he’d be yours. He’d never remarry, he’d never even look at another woman.

You’re the only thing that brings light to his life. You radiate warmth into him. Being around you is being by a fire in the dead of winter up on Mount Everest. In quiet conversations in the middle of the night, the two of you tangled together in bed, he’d admitted he’d kill for you. Lie for you, commit crime for you, it was all the same to him. You are what brings meaning to his life. You’re an absolute in his world of probabilities. His anchor, his rock, the love of his fucking life.

Neither of you ever take off your rings. You’d both made sure to get metals that wouldn’t rust with water and had high durability just so you were never without them. If Roman was a shell of a man before he’d met you, he’s a god now.

Late nights at the office, he has a thing of chocolate for you clutched in his hands as an apology. Untoward women flirting with him despite his very obvious marriage (he endlessly speaks of you to anyone and everyone), his hand is on your hip, his lips on yours. You’re sick? He’s taken the day off to stay with you so you’re not suffering on your own.

On the off chance you both have days off and the energy, you’re out and about. Arcades, carnivals, anything so he can see you laughing and smiling and so fucking glowy. If you’re happy, he’s happy. You’re the most important thing in his life. In between your occasional excursions, he’s Googling how to beat carnival games, he’s practicing Flappy Bird, just so that when you do go out, and your eyes catch on a particularly cute plushie, he can get it for you and watch your face light up and feel the universe grace him with heaven.

If there was anything that came with being married that you didn’t like, it was his family. Maybe not Kendall, nor Shiv. Both were kind to you, and Connor didn’t come round anymore. You couldn’t blame him.

Roman’s your husband. You know him, you know what upsets him. And nine times out of ten, when he’s crying, it’s because of his father.

Usually so bubbly and relaxed, when he was upset, he was upset. He was unable to function. He ran to you like a moth drawn to light. He’d gone so long not knowing how to cope; you were only just now helping him learn how.

“Roman, where’s that cream sweater of yours?” you call out to him. He was washing his face in the bathroom, the two of you getting ready for dinner with his family. Waystar shenanigans, as he’d put it. But you knew that truthfully, it was deeper than that. More terse.

“Hell if I know,” he calls back.

“Then what’re you going to wear?”

“No clue.”

You tsk, instead crossing over to your side of the closet to pick out an outfit. “Just no weird color combinations, for fuck’s sake.”

“Whatever you want, baby,” he says, not bothered, strolling into the closet. He pinches the small of your back as he slides past you, going to look through his clothing. “What color are you wearing?”

“It’s going to be really cold, so I was thinking cable knit. Or should I just wear a turtleneck and slap a jacket over it?” You hold both options up, turning to face him. This was routine for you both. Strangely enough, he loved matching with you, and you both regularly help each other dress.

“You’re already shivering. Wear the sweater.” He comes to you, plants a kiss on your lips, then turns back and tugs his shirt off over his head. He manages to find another sweater, slipping it on. It’s the same color as yours, and even though he’s done this countless times before, your heart warms. Once you’re both ready, you’re in the car that was sent for you. You grip the bridge of your nose with your fingers, taking a deep breath as the car gently jostles you as you’re driven. Roman scoots over in the back seat, where you both are, so that your sides are pressed together. His hand slides over your thigh, rubbing gently. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you say truthfully, dropping your hand and looking over at him. You smile, meeting his eyes. You adore him. It’s evident in your gaze, and it’s mirrored in his. “Just bracing myself.”

He leans over, kissing your cheek.

Roman grips your hand tightly as you go up in the elevator.

You stick a fake smile on your face and step out into the light to greet Marcia. She air kisses both your cheeks, then Roman’s, greeting you both. You both make your rounds, hugging, kissing cheeks. You pretend to steal Iverson’s nose, to his delight, and he runs to his father, tattling on you with a massive grin on his face. Kendall just smiles at the both of you, the exhaustion slightly lifting from his features.

You go say hello to Greg, who’s happy to see you. Out of all the Roys, save for your husband, Greg’s the one you got on with the most. You were both in the same situation. You were both considered outsiders, yet still apart of the inner circle, still concerned with all the plotting and scheming and drama.

He gives you a hug, and you duly note that Roman’s being taken aside by his dad. You turn your attention back to Greg, making sure to keep an ear strained for anything that might go wrong. You chat idly for a bit, and you get the sense that everyone in the room is doing the same thing you are. You can feel the tension slowly spreading. Something’s wrong. And if it’s not, it will be very soon.

It doesn’t take very long.

Logan’s voice is booming through the townhouse, and everyone gathered quickly silences.

“What do you fucking want me to do, then, Roman? Roll over and let you fuck me?”

You and Greg wince in unison. “Are they still arguing over whether they should sell?” he asks you quietly. Frown starting on your face, you nod.

Waystar wasn’t the only company the Roys had control over. There were conglomerates on conglomerates of other companies, the most problematic of the bunch causing massive monetary issues- among others. It was an ethical disaster, and the lawsuits were beginning to pile up on top of each other.

While the general consensus was that the company should be sold, and quickly, Logan was stuck in his ways and took it as personal offence. Specifically with Roman. You couldn’t even begin to make up some lame reason as to why. They’d gotten into countless arguments over it, Roman doing his best to convince his father that if this one company went down, it was going to take a lot down with it.

You give Kendall a look, and he pushes himself up from his seat on the sofa and follows the direction of their voices. Shiv follows shortly after.

At dinner, everyone is white knuckling their silverware. Under the table, you let your leg press up against Roman’s. His entire body’s taut, and he’s staring down into his plate. You eat silently, the chatter around you awkward. You and Shiv murmur to each other about a new restaurant opening up down the street, making unofficial plans to go together when you could.

Of course, the moment you’re feeling at ease again, Logan decides to ruin it.

“Roman, you want to tell the table how willing you are to stab your own father in the back? We can’t just not talk about it.” He chews before speaking again, voice ringing. “Don’t you think your wife ought to keep her eyes open?”

You bite down a retort, Roman bristling. “Come on, Dad. Don’t bring her into this.”

You’re silently hoping that Shiv, Kendall, anyone steps in. Points out how wrong this is. How hypocritical, just how fucking ridiculous it all is.

“You know what, Romulus? I’ve let you do as you please for far too long.” You look up from your plate, on the brink of shock. You just can’t fathom the idiocy. “It’s time the world knew that you’re a cheat, you’re a liar, and you’re fucking rotten to the core. It’s time you stopped showing your face around here, like your brother.”

Your husband opens his mouth, then closes it, flabbergasted. You can see the tears rushing to his tear ducts, you can practically feel the tightening in his chest.

That’s it. You can’t. You can’t fucking handle this anymore. You get up abruptly, your chair making a garish, grating noise against the marble floor. “He’s right. We shouldn’t come here anymore,” you say, voice steady and clear. Your voice is raised, your tone firm. “It’s time we left, Roman."

Logan drops his utensils, the silver clattering against the table. “What’s the hurry? At least finish up with dinner.”

The heat immediately rushes to your face, and you can’t suppress the anger anymore. “Are you fucking senile?” you yell, Roman quietly getting up to stand beside you. “Enough is enough. Stupid fucking Pyros and it’s stupid fucking issues! You run it like a prison, your profit is nonexistent, and it’s being sued by every law firm under the sun. There’s a right decision you can make, but your head is too far up your ass for you to even see it. Go ahead, let shit hit the fan! Let the entire fucking family fortune get snatched away from you because of one measly company! And by all means, bully Roman over it, despite the fucking fact that every single person in this room agrees with what we’re saying.” You’re the one bristling now, the words spilling out of your mouth. “We’re not coming back. I’m going to the press first thing in the morning. You’ve been doing too much for too long. You’re nothing more than a piece of shit, Logan. You wouldn’t know a good son if he fucking punched you. Fuck off. You don’t deserve someone like Roman.”

Roman’s out the door before you are. Face still flushed and adrenaline still pumping through your veins, Roman helps you into your coat, you grab your purse, and you’re out in the chilly New York air, waving your arm for a taxi.

The ride home is silent, his head leaning on your shoulder.

Back at home, you kick off your shoes at the door, your stomach still in knots. “I’m sorry,” you manage, watching him shuck his jacket off and toss it into the coat closet. “I should’ve… I should’ve kept my temper in control.”

“Sorry? Sorry for what?” He comes over to you, his hands going to cup your hips and pull you close to him. “You’re the only one that’s been in my corner. Ever. My entire fucking life. You deserve a fucking medal.”

You kiss him gently, quickly. “It just made me angry.”

“I’m going to quit,” he tells you lowly, hand coming up to your jaw. He strokes your bottom lip as he gazes at you. “I’m going to quit and we’re going to run off to whatever place is the farthest from here.”

You steal another kiss from him before responding. “Let me ruin his fucking life first, okay? Pretty please?”

He laughs, pulling you into a hug. “Oh, only since you asked so nicely.”

You’re both giggling as you collapse on the couch together, the dinner already forgotten. That’s how you know he was meant for you. Nothing mattered but him. The world could be burning around you, and Roman Roy could be smiling, and everything’d be fine because he was happy. That meant all was right in the world.

You cuddle up to him, his arm coming to drape over your shoulders. You hook your arms around his waist, tucking your face into his chest.

“You know,” he begins, “with corners and stuff, that’d make you a boxer. Or a wrestler.”

“Wasn’t that your analogy?” you ask, laughing lightly.

“Well, yeah. Doesn’t stop you from being a fuckin’ champion.” His voice wavers, the way it does when he’s on the brink of sleep.

“Fucking cheese ball. Go to bed.”

You both share a long, loud, laugh. It’s far too late at night for this. Apparently, his father was fucking nocturnal and only had meals past ten.

“You know you love it. You love me,” he murmurs groggily, barely still clinging on to consciousness.

“Yeah. I do.”

[thearchercore]

As a Lando fan, but first and foremost a Max and Charles fan, I’m quite disappointed in Lando. It’s true what they say, not everyone is happy when you are on top and your real friends show their true colours.

You are right, Max says what he thinks and never filters it. While Charles is a PR King (let’s be honest he’s more of a princess but that’s besides the point) but never once has he thrown shade at Max since they became friends (at least not that I know of)

Now, Daniel is not, has never been and will never be someone about him. Nothing against him, just vibes. But the fact that Max has held him so dear and close to his heart and he goes ahead and throws major shade at Max when Max was being nothing but honest at Vegas then makes sure to hang out with Lando during Winter break the other driver who is Max’s publicly known bestie on the grid (I mean the man even attends P’s birthday parties) anyway I digress. It’s just outright shady and childish.

Max is on another level and not everyone will understand that. True friendship should withstand such challenges. Of course anyone would be jealous and intimidated by such dominance and success but to deny the man like Peter denying Jesus infront of the crowd is just sad. I mean c’mon, did he mean it as a joke? Also was Daniel attempting humour? It’s possible but I can’t see someone like Charles making such weird comments. Even when they were beefing, Charles made it known that him and Max are okay and even though they are not best friends their relationship or hang out outside the paddock (back then things are different now) he still loved racing against Max because they understood each other and how they raced.

It’s actually petty for grown men to belittle their friend because of his success. But what do I know, the sport destroyed a childhood friendship (Nico + Lewis) Maybe only the realest and toughest friendships survive. Viva Charles and Max (whether you ship them or as friends) it’s real and they are always rooting for each other.

Sorry this got long.

yeah, i feel like the difference between daniel's current place in f1 and max's is playing a significant factor. again, max joined RBR when he was essentially still a teenager that was battling with puberty. daniel was there as the mature driver that max looked up to.

now, fast forward to 2024, daniel is fighting for his last chance at f1 after many unsuccessful team moves, and max is much more mature and has 3 WDC titles under his belt. that certainly changes things.

so i'm sure that if for whatever reason rbr kicks out checo and daniel jumps in, their dynamic would be different.

lando, on the other hand, is a different story. @tsarinablogs had a great post where someone suggested "I think Lando couldnt handle his car actually being competitive. Thats what weakened their friendship. It’s easy to be friends when you are driving a slow car, but then the car actually got competitive and he still couldnt beat Max."

again, the truth is -- f1 is a highly competitive environment and everyone will fight for themselves first without a doubt. that's what's happening with daniel and lando. daniel wants that red bull seat, lando wants to beat max. and that is going to be their priority over whatever friendly relationship they may have with max.

on the other hand, there are only 20 drivers in f1 so you have 20 other co-workers who share the same experiences as you. so you will always be closer to them than anyone else because no one would get you that well.

i think what works well currently between max and charles is that no matter how much media tried to put them against each other, they alway showed mutual respect to each other. charles never talked shit about max in press, and the overall vibe they have going on recently is that charles is happy for max's success, and is working hard to gain his own. also their actions speak a lot -- like charles' putting aside ferrari's questionable qatar strategy and rushing to congratulate max on his WDC. or max running to charles to apologise for his mistake in vegas.

their relationship doesn't seem to be definined by their racing results, and their joint racing history also makes them more equal in their own eyes than other drivers.

[sunlessea]

" — you should be careful poking your nose into my business, especially where it concerns my family. that particular subject is practically a taboo." his expression is lukewarm, a barely amused smile as he watches him through narrowed eyes. he isn't fucking with him, not really, despite being fully aware of the artisan's misconceptions. he isn't lying, just omitting. it's funny. "my parents and i spent a good few decades scrubbing evidence of our relation from each other's lives when they realized i wasn't coming home ever again."

@londonfallen / silas

[revasserium]

the little things (that add up to you) kageyama, hinata, suga, daichi, tsukki

kageyama || he keeps extras of your favorite hairties in his bag, just in case you need them; he always pauses to watch when you put up your hair, thinking to himself how such a mundane thing could mean so much, could take up so much space in his mind, your fingers running through your hair, gathering it up, the soft strands slipping loose to frame your face, your favorite hairtie caught between your lip and your teeth like some inconsequential thing, but he knows -- he knows that it's these moments he'll find tucked away in the pages of his own memories when he gets home, when the lights go out, when it's just him and his own thoughts of you.

hinata || he always buys your favorite flavor of taro milk-bread on the way home; he likes it when you take the first bite, loves the way you smile, unbidden, the happiness bubbling up through you as inevitable as the sunrise, the way you lick your lips and look up at him with those sparkles in your eyes, the way you blush when he laughs, reaching out to wipe at the crumbles that always, always get stuck to your cheek, your lips -- he knows that it's moments like these, the ones he gathers like breadcrumbs on the floor of a heart-break forest, leading him towards a place where he can't turn back without knowing that something inside him will shatter (but only if you leave him, and he doesn't think you will), but he doesn't mind, because he knows that it'll be worth it in the end, just to see you smile.

sugawara || he holds your hand in the hallways, even during the summer months when both your palms are sticky with sweat; he's always loved the feeling of your skin against his, loved the way it makes you blush, even to this day, loves how peoples eyes linger on the pair of you as he walks you to your next class, or to the lunch line, or out to where the gymnasium is, where you'd swing your hands between your bodies and pull him back for a kiss, ask him for one more minute, maybe two, the pair of you lingering like infatuated teens after their first date, unwilling to part at their parents' doors -- he knows that it's moments like these, the ones he cups in the palms of his hands like glass-blown marbles, these are the ones that will matter the most when one day the pair of you look back, holding hands in some distant future, because he knows that he'll never grow tired of the feeling of his hands in yours.

daichi || he lends you his jacket, his mittens, his umbrella, his scarf, even if that means he'll be a little chilly on the way home sometimes; because he's always prepared and you're -- well -- you're working on it, and he can't deny that he likes seeing you in his clothes, the size-difference strangely satisfying, the sight of it scratching some itch inside him he's never realized he had, and then when you return it -- whatever it happens to be -- he knows that it'll smell like you, and he can't lie, he really likes that too -- and he knows it's moments like these, the ones he tucks away in the lining of his jacket, in the stitching of his scarves, that he'll reach for the most, the ones that'll keep him warm on a cold winter's day when he doesn't have you by his side.

tsukki || he has a playlist of songs that you've mentioned you liked, just for himself; because he knows better than anyone else that the music a person likes reveals all their deepest secrets, and finds himself wanting to know all of yours, so he listens to each song, memorizes the lyrics, taps his fingers against the beat and wonders if you did the same the first time you listened, wonders if one day, he were to put a pair of headphones over your ears with a playlist full of all his favorite songs, if your eyes would light up, if your cheeks would flush, if your lips would split into a knowing smile and if you'd already know all the words to sing along -- because he knows that it's moments like these, the private ones he keeps like secret soundtracks, that might one day give him away to you, where you might one day realize that from the moment you met, all his favorite love songs started being about you.

[macbooth]

full of childish whimsy in a hostile fashion tonight so here’s every shakespeare clown i can think of and whether or not i think i’d beat them in a fight

(i do not mean fools i mean clowns. they do not need to be the secret genius of the play. if they are stupid in every way shape or form i am including them here)

Puck (A Midsummer Night’s Dream) No chance. Bro’s got that magic and ALSO has a big strong scary fairy king as his bear, like, do not separate them. If I even tried throwing hands at this cunt I’d get torn to shreds and used as glitter dude, I’d be over. 0/10

Nick Bottom (A Midsummer Night’s Dream) I could but I’d feel bad. I also think he’d put up a really solid fight. Like this is out of donkey form, bro was a physical worker. Like I reckon I could win a fight with some of the tradies I’ve seen but I don’t think it’d be easy. Also he’s just really dumb so I would feel a little bad. Donkey form though, I’m running away. Scary as shit. I am afraid of horses though. 6.5/10

Touchstone (As You Like It) Absolutely I could beat the shit out of this man. I hate him so much. Full of hostility towards this fucker. His clothes aren’t even subtle I could find this bitch in the forest no time and hunt him down and rip him to shreds, fuckin court jester doesn’t even have the roughness of the country on his side. 9/10 (-1 point cause he definitely fights dirty but I just hate him so much I’d win)

Jaques (As You Like It) First off he’s absolutely a clown. Second off I’ve played him before so my word is gospel. Third off bro has no fucking chance against me. He’s a podcast bro who thinks I don’t know that Tame Impala is one dude. I’d ask him why we can’t print more money and he would explode instantly and it would be the funniest thing he did with his life. 10/10

Audrey & Corin (As You Like It) I’m lumping these two together cause in the show I did they were one character (and I also played them). I wouldn’t even want to fight these two. And even if I wanted to Audrey would absolutely be able to beat the shit out of me and I would thank her. Our setting was in semi-modern country Australia, that girl would have a shotgun. 2/10

Autolycus (Winter’s Tale) Just like Jaques to me. He might be a little bit harder because he’d change costume and I’d get confused because I have no object permanence but other than that what has he got. Bitterness? Resentment? Bitch so did I when I was 15 grow up experience love. 8/10

Falstaff (Henry IV parts 1 & 2, Merry Wives of Windsor) I don’t actually know about this one but he is very punchable. I feel like he’d let me punch him and I think one punch would be enough for me. I think that would satisfy my urge to punch him. He may be a knight but let’s be honest he’s shit at it so I stand by this. 4/10 (just cause I don’t really give a shit)

The Dromios (Comedy of Errors) I absolutely could beat them in a fight but I would feel So Bad. You see how they’re literally already treated in the play, I wanna give them a break. That being said they’re both kinda dicks but they’re going through it already so I’d wanna give them a breather. I would win though, even if they both were attacking at once. 7/10

Launcelot Gobbo (Merchant of Venice) He’s such a prick but I would be laughing too hard at his name to fight him. Bro’s name is Gobbo. Bro’s name is basically Gobby. Imagine being named Blowjob. I would lose my mind. I would laugh so so hard I would collapse. My heart would fail. Biggest L name out there bro. Launcelot Gobbo oh my god. 3/10

Launce (Two Gentlemen of Verona)  Nah man he has an attack dog. I don’t care what breed of dog Crab is in a production I fully believe he would kill for Launce, that’s just their dynamic. I understand them better than anyone else (I have a dog). Also he’s already working for Proteus, is that not punishment enough? 4/10

Speed (Two Gentlemen of Verona) I mean I definitely could fight him. I don’t imagine he’s got much fighting experience. But once again, he has to deal with Valentine which does feel like it would be cruel to inflict more onto him. Like Valentine’s not as bad as Proteus but fuck is he stupid. Also if I accidentally flubbed a punch Speed could absolutely tear me a new asshole with his words and I would sob and cry and literally never recover. 4/10

The Porter (Macbeth) Fuck no. Bro definitely has a knife on him at all times. I can’t explain why I think this I just do. He works night shift, he definitely doesn’t get paid enough for his dog shit job, he would absolutely try to stab me just to spice up his evening without me starting a fight. 1/10

Trinculo (Tempest) Yes. Sorry, you’re Russell Brand? L. I could kick your ass. And he’s like drunk for half the show, and almost fucked a fish. I doubt his judgement is good enough to say the alphabet backwards let alone dodge a punch. He couldn’t even get Caliban to kick my ass (who definitely could by the way) cause Caliban fucking hates him. Bro, failwife to Stephano should pay more. But it doesn’t. 8.5/10

Dogberry (Much Ado About Nothing) Without Verges? Yes. With Verges? No way. Those two are a power couple in the dumbest possible way. He would absolutely try to get me arrested though but I simply would not go to prison. What’s he gonna do? Send me to prison? I’m already not going. 7/10

Mercutio (Romeo and Juliet) No chance. Unless Romeo fucked up so bad like he did in the actual play, I would have no chance against this dude. I wouldn’t even want to even if I could. I’m a Benvolio stan first and foremost and a person second you think I’d wanna fight his bestie? Only exception is if it was an actual fight club and not just a pure fight out of hatred. I feel like Mercutio could give Brad Pitt Fight Club Realness, outfits included.  I would still lose though. 2.5/10

Don Adriano De Armado (Love’s Labour’s Lost) I reckon I could wreck this dude’s shit. You know that gif where the fuckin dude is doing all these cool sword moves and then he just gets shot? You know the one. I forgot where it’s from but you know the one. That would be this fight. Armado would bust out his flair, his razzle dazzle, his pizzaz, and I would just deck him I think. That’s the power you need in this world, I think. Power of fist to face. Peace and love. <3 8/10

Costard (Love’s Labour’s Lost) I do not think Costard would realise he was being fought even as he was actively getting hit in the face. I know how to say honorificabilitudinitatibus, he doesn’t even have that against me. Bro couldn’t even confuse me with that, I learnt that, like an adult. Anyway yeah I’d kick his ass. 9/10

Holofernes & Sir Nathaniel (Love’s Labour’s Lost) This is the same man to me. I would destroy them both. Fuckin nerds. Flowery ass language nerds. I support gay rights and gay wrongs but the only reason I couldn’t fight those two gay muppets who heckle is cause they’re too far away (in a theatre booth), these two gay muppets who heckle are right in front of me. I’d kick their tweed cladded asses. 10/10

Jaquenetta (Love’s Labour’s Lost) She is just like Audrey to me. I could never bring myself to hurt her. Also she’s pregnant and I feel like it’s fucked up to hit a pregnant woman just for fun. Also she could absolutely wreck my shit. Please wreck my shit Jaquenetta. 0.5/10

Moth (Love’s Labour’s Lost) This little fucker should be an INSTANT knock out but I just know this fucker bites. He’s a shit talking 8 year old? Oh he plays wolves on the playground, I just know it. He plays wolves and he’s definitely been suspended for it, I just know it in my heart. Sure, I could kick him, but he would grab hold of my foot and try to rip it off. We would shake hands and agree to part ways, having met our match. He, who plays wolves, and me, who played fairies, leave the fight with our heads high and respect in our hearts. I am kidding of course but I do think we would tie. 5/10

Lear’s Fool (King Lear) There’s already so much fighting going on, I don’t even think they’d notice if I just started kicking this dude. Not only could I fight him and win, I think I’d get away with it too. I’d win not only physically but socially too. What’s he gonna do? Tell his boss? Bro he’s preoccupied with his whole kingdom crumbling, grow up. 9/10

Lavatch (All’s Well That Ends Well) This is more meta but my hatred of this play would fuel me here. I would fight literally anyone in this play if given the chance, not a joke. I would get in the ring with literally anyone from this play, but honestly, out of them all I weirdly respect Lavatch the most, maybe because he at least knows that he’s a cunt, unlike literally everyone else who Just Suck. I do think he’s probably scrappy though, so I wouldn’t leave unscathed. I also think if he got the upper hand he would be so so awful about it, so I’d really have to fight. 6/10

Sir Toby Belch & Sir Andrew Aguecheek (Twelfth Night)  Andrew is canonically bad at fighting, and honestly I do not believe Toby would be any better. Love both of these guys but if I had to fight them both at once I think I would be able to just move out of the way and they’d bonk each other on the head like a cartoon. They’re just silly guys. 9/10

Maria (Twelfth Night) Every woman clown could beat my ass. Audrey, Jaquenetta, Maria, they are all so special to me and would all also fucking destroy me. Maria especially cause I just know she is full of hate. You don’t hatch a plan like the Malvolio plan unless there’s something deeply worrying about you. She’s a Scorpio to me. <3 I do love her, she’d demolish me. 0/10

Feste (Twelfth Night) Would actually kill me. -5/10

I know I’ve definitely missed some but uhhh don’t expect me to remember every clown even if I’m neurodivergent about these plays please. <3

[sl-newsie]

Snow Day (Carlos de Vil x Silvermist Daughter) *Christmas Special* 🎄

'Can I request a Carlos descendants holiday fic with friends to lovers/everybody knows but them tropes? But the reader is an AK, adopted daughter of Silvermist.’ Here we go!

“No! Cut it out, Elvin!” I shout as I sprint through the icy wind. “You know I don’t like the cold!”

The white-blonde boy behind me jumps up to lean off a lamppost. “What’s the matter? Too afraid to have fun?”

I give an annoyed huff and hug my cape around me tighter. “Just because you’re the son of Jack Frost doesn’t mean you have to make my life a living nightmare with your pranks! Now for the last time, leave me alone!”

In a final effort I let out a water blast that sends Elvin flying into a snowbank, then dash down the street to hide inside Miss Muffet’s Bakery. 

“Oh- Sylvia! Hi! What’s going on-?!”

In my haste I almost run into a familiar face, though this is one face I am always excited to see!

“Shh!” I hold up a hand to silence Carlos. “I’m hiding!”

His eyes widen. “Oh!” He joins me behind the cookie display. “May I ask from whom?” Carlos whispers back.

“Ugh. It’s Elvin Frost. Son of Elsa and Jack Frost, and an icy pain in my side. He’s visiting from Arendelle, and has become the reason why I hate snow days.”

“Hate snow days?” Carlos laughs. “How could anyone hate snow days? I mean, look around!” He gestures to the billowing snow swirling around the window. “It’s so- so…”

“Magical?”

“Exactly!”

Ever since Carlos came to Auradon last summer, I’ve always been fond of his childlike energy. Not many kids in Auradon appreciate the little things like he does, so it goes without saying that we’d become friends. Mom’s always so busy controlling the water elements she didn’t have time to look after me, so she sent me to be adopted by Jack Beanstalk. But like Carlos, I’ve learned to enjoy other things. However, snow isn’t one of them.

“My wings can’t stand the bitter cold. If I stay outside too long, they freeze and wither away. It also doesn’t help that my water powers freeze in the winter. Water and cold do not mix well for me.”

Carlos’ face falls. “Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t think of that.”

I wave it off. “It’s alright.”

“It’s just that… we didn’t get snow on the Isle.”

That’s why he loves the snow. I can’t be mad at him for that. How could he have known anyway? It’s his first Christmas in Auradon, so he wouldn’t know.

“I guess if you’ve never seen it, snow can be very magical,” I attempt a cheerful smile. “I’m glad you enjoy it! You should go play outside.”

Carlos still isn’t convinced. “But it’s not as fun if you’re not there, Sylvia. Would you maybe wanna stay here for a hot chocolate?”

My spirits lift and my wings start fluttering. “That sounds wonderful! I’d love to!”

“Great! Um- maybe we could sit down instead of hiding behind the counter?”

I nod eagerly and start flying to a nearby table, too excited to remember not to use my wings indoors.

“Oh- right.” I flutter down, and my height difference shows. Since I’m the descendant of a fairy, I’ve been short my whole life.

“That never gets old,” Carlos comments with a grin.

I tilt my head in confusion. “What?”

“Your wings. I think they’re beautiful.”

His kind words send us both into blushing messes, so I try to change the subject.

"Where's Dude?"

Carlos chuckles. "He hates the cold, so he's currently sleeping in front of the fire in my dorm."

By now a waitress shows up to take our order.

“What’ll it be, hon?”

I don’t miss a beat. “A large old-fashioned hot chocolate extreme with peppermint dust, whipped cream, and marshmallows, please!”

Carlos’ jaw drops. 

I roll my eyes. “It’s my favorite holiday drink, I don’t care if it gives me a heart attack.”

“It sounds fantastic! I’ll have one too!” He smiles at the waitress, who just nods and walks off.

This snow day just got so much better!

Evie’s POV

“We’ve got to get them together!” I huff as I pace the dorm room.

“But they are together,” Jay states bluntly. “Haven’t you seen them around?”

I roll my eyes. “I mean, they need to know that they love each other, right? It’s like they’re completely oblivious to it!”

Jay lazily gets up from the couch and walks over to the window. “I wouldn’t say they look too upset.”

“What?”

I dash over and peer through the frosted glass to see Carlos and Sylvia walking hand-in-hand through the snow, each holding to-go mugs.

“Oh my God. Are they on a… date?”

Jay shrugs. “Guess we don’t gotta step in after all.”

I’m still unconvinced. “No, no. It’s been going on like this for months! They look happy hanging out together, but won’t confess their feelings! Come on!” I grab Jay’s sleeve and start dragging him out the door. “I want to see this for myself!”

Sylvia’s POV

Ok, if all snow days involve drinking hot chocolate with Carlos then I want one every day! 

“What’s been your favorite snow activity?” I ask Carlos, who keeps looking at the snow outside as if we’re in a real-life snow globe.

“Definitely making snowmen. Or snowball fights! Wait- have you ever ice skated?”

I let out a carefree laugh as I sip my cocoa. “Yes, it comes very naturally when I can control water.”

“What’s your favorite snow activity?”

I come to a stop in the flurrying snow, remembering how much I used to love winter as a kid.

“I… I liked making snow angels,” I whisper.

Carlos gets an unreadable expression. “Why don’t you now?”

I shake my head and gesture to the frozen ground. “I don’t like risking direct snow contact with my wings. Plus, all the snow that melts under me begins to freeze to my cape.”

The freckled VK looks distant for a second, then seems to get an idea. 

“Wait a sec!” He quickly slides off his own coat and lays it on the fluffy snow. “Now you have a double cover!”

I smile sadly at his thoughtful gesture. “Carlos, that’s really sweet. But I’m not sure-”

“Come on, it’ll only be for a second!” Carlos takes my hand and pulls me closer. “We’ll head straight back indoors, I promise.”

I must admit, Carlos’ pleading eyes combined with the sparkling snow is all too taunting to pass up despite my usual refusals.

With a deep breath, I hug my cape tighter around me and turn around to gently lie down on the soft blanket of snow. The cooler surface is refreshing, flooding my mind with childhood memories. Slowly, I bring my arms out to form the angel, and when I do I feel Carlos lay down beside me.

“Are you having fun?” He asks sincerely.

“Yes,” I answer in a relaxed tone, then seem to rethink something. “Carlos… Do you like spending time with me?”

Carlos doesn’t take more than 2 seconds to respond. “Of course! You’re always so full of fun ideas, and having a water balloon fight with you is one of the best things ever!”

I nod. “Does that mean… you enjoy my company? You like… me?”

By now we’ve both realized where this conversation might be going, but thankfully Carlos doesn’t seem weirded out by it and doesn’t slide away.

“Ok, don’t water-blast me for this,” Carlos takes a deep breath. “Would you be mad if I said I did like you? Maybe… as more than a friend?”

Is this what I think it is?

“So is this a date?” I stand up and my wings start getting excited, threatening to shake loose from my cape. “Oh no- I can’t be out too long!”

Carlos sees my panicked face and stands up with me to dust the snow off my cape. Then out of nowhere, he sweeps me up bridal-style and rushes me across the grounds to the dorm building entrance. We don’t speak, there’s no need to. I trust him not to drop me. Through speaking with actions Carlos shows me just how much he cares, and it sends my spirits soaring. I don’t know if it’s the sugar in the hot chocolate or my dilated emotions, but my heart’s racing like a rabbit!

When we get inside and the warmth engulfs my wings again, Carlos gently lets me down.

“I supposed I did mean for this to be a date,” Carlos admits. “I’m sorry you got too cold.”

For some reason my stubborn eyes can’t leave his cute face. “It’s my fault, I got too excited. I just wish I could stand the cold longer so I could enjoy it with you,” I say in a sad tone.

“I’d keep you warm.” Carlos leans in closer and wraps his arms around me, firm enough to show his affection but not too tight to damage my wings.

Using what courage I can muster, I turn my head up. “I know you will.” And with that, I press a soft kiss to his cheek.

Carlos’ face goes as red as a cherry, and immediately I regret being so bold.

“I’m sorry! God, I’m so bad at this- I just messed everything up- and now you’re mad-!”

Carlos cuts me off by leaning in to kiss my lips and my eyes close on instinct. If it weren’t for my wings going into hummingbird mode, this would be a really tender moment. 

When we break apart to breathe, I hear Carlos let out a surprised gasp.

“Sylvia, um… As much as I love your wings, would you mind letting me down?” He jokes.

My eyes pop open and I look down to find that my wings have lifted us up a good 5 feet in the air.

“Oh! Right. Sorry about that,” I gush as I lower us down, with Carlos still hugging me to him.

“Does this mean we can have more snow dates?” I ask in a timid voice.

Carlos grins. “That sounds fun! I think I just found my new favorite snow activity!”

I mirror his happiness with my own smile and grip his hand. “I think we’ve had enough snow for today, so how about watching a Christmas movie?”

“Perfect!” 

Carlos starts leading me back to his dorm, and when we pass by Evie and Jay in the hallway I swear I hear Evie mutter “It’s about time.” 

God, I love snow days!

@laylasshiftingtonight

[idle-daydreams]

I don't mind i don't think you take my crazy request anyway like i said before i just want Yandere Demon Chuuya X Female Demon reader because i just want wholesome yandere story so it not a point that you don't follow my request.

Also you don't have to sorry about thing you don't uncomfortable to do, it wasn't you fault.

[A.N.: Hi! Hope you like this!]

Tw: Yandere, implied imprisonment.

“So, what do you think?”

You looked around at the snow covered garden, gleaming silver in the moonlight. It was an ethereal scene, made all the more beautiful by the massive red roses peeking through the snow-covered bushes.

“... roses in winter,” you said, your breath coming out in white puffs. Slowly, you stepped out into the garden, pulling your shawl tighter about yourself. Chuuya was so paranoid about you catching a chill that he almost never let you out, so it was nice to feel the cold on your face.

“I know you like gardening,” Chuuya said, fiddling with the bindings around his torso as he fell into step beside you. He hadn’t bothered to dress warmly, yet he didn’t seem cold. “Figured you’d like to get out of the room.”

You didn’t answer, too mesmerized by the riot of color against the monochromatic backdrop of the garden. You wandered over to the nearest bush, tracing a petal as soft as... well, a rose-petal.

“How are they alive?” you asked. “Is it magic? Can you even do something like that?”

“Oh yeah. Turns out I can.” He shifted in place, looking less like the mighty demon lord that he was and more like a nervous schoolboy. “You do like ‘em, right? I know you planted them outside your... old place.”

“I did.” Ignoring the pang in your heart at the mention of home - there was no point to it, after all - you peered closely at the roses. They were exquisite, each bloom as large as your fist. The garden was alive with their fragrance, almost a testament to their existence. “They all died, though,” you admitted. “You seem to have a better green thumb than I do.”

“Oh no, I didn’t plant them,” Chuuya said. “I got some servants to do it. I just make sure that the roses don’t wither away in the cold. So you can mess about with them all you want without worryin’ about ‘em dying.”

So basically just play about with them like a child.

The words rose to your lips, a retort you would have once made without a second thought. But now, they faded away before the anticipation in Chuuya’s eyes. He truly had made an effort, taken more of an interest in you than anyone ever had your whole life. You pursed your lips, then smiled. “Thank you. The garden is lovely. I like it very much.”

“You do?” Chuuya beamed. “Great!”

You jumped as he threw his arms around you, capturing your lips with his own. You stiffened, pulling away instinctively, but Chuuya’s arms were like a vice, gripping you as tightly as he continued to kiss you in a passionate frenzy. You finally allowed yourself to melt in his arms, eyes fluttering shut as your hands moved to his shoulders of your own accord. When he finally pulled away you blinked, breathless. Chuuya grinned back, equally red-faced.

“I’m glad you like ‘em,” he said.

Your face heated up. “Be careful,” you said weakly, picking at a stray bloom pressed between your bodies. “We’re hurting it.”

“Ah, shit. Sorry.” Chuuya pulled away a little, and you gladly followed suit, pretending to care for the flowers to put some space between you two. Your mind whirled with being with him around him; he was so entirely handsome it was hard to remember at times that he was a demon.

Chuuya, however, leaned forward, cocking his head to peer at your face. “Don’t hide from me,” he said. “They’re still nothing compared to you. You’re the prettiest flower here, [Y/N].”

“Ah.” You lowered your head even more, trying to hide just how flustered you were. “That’s not - you’re too kind. I can’t believe you did all this.”

“Why not? Anything for you.”

“No, I mean - all this.” You waved your arms around. “All this. It’s... very thoughtful.”

Chuuya pouted. “You think I can’t be thoughtful?”

“No, no,” you said quickly. “That’s not what I meant. But... you are a demon, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, so?”

“You don’t-” You tried to pull your foot in your mouth- “act like it.”

To your relief, Chuuya chuckled. “What’s a demon supposed to act like?” he said.” You want me to be all crazy and violent?” He leaned in with a smirk. “Aren’t I wild enough for you?”

You cursed yourself for the erratic pounding of your heart. “I meant, still, demons are supposed to be, you know, demonic and all that.”

“I know.” He sobered up a little, looking somewhat abashed. “I try to hold myself to a higher standard than the others. Some of the other demons can be awful.”

“Will I be safe around them?”

“Like hell am I sharing you with anyone!”

You raised a brow. “So you intend to keep me locked away forever?”

“If I have to,” he said immediately. “I’m not risking anything happening to you.”

Your heart withered a little at this, the reality of your situation rearing its ugly head again. Chuuya seemed to notice your disappointment, for he squeezed your shoulder reassuringly. Don’t worry, [Y/N],” he said. “It won’t come to that, I promise. I know how difficult it is for you right now, but I’ll make sure everything is fine in the end I promise I’ll make things better. You just have to trust me.”

“I just don’t want to live like this,” you whispered, not meeting his gaze. “I can’t live alone.”

“You’re not alone,” he said. “You have me. You’ll always have me. I promise you; things will get better. I’ll make them better. At one time you hated me, right? And now you don’t anymore.”

That much was true enough. You didn’t hate Chuuya anymore. You didn’t love him - you weren’t sure what you felt about him - but your initial resentment had faded.

Maybe, just maybe, there was something there. Like roses blooming in a frozen garden, your love had begun in twisted circumstances, but maybe it could survive.

Maybe, one day, it could even become something real.

[thefirstlioveyou]

maybe this is more fanfic-y (and yes this ties with lettergate and that sus st writers tweet), but imagine s5 will walking in the woods, and he grows familar with where they’re at - near where castle byers was at.

he begins looking to find the destroyed pile of castle byers, just out of pure curiosity. he was expecting it to be all blown away by now from the cold and windy winter of 1985 he’d probably missed. but when he finds it… he finds it to be put together. well, not exactly how it was before - far from that. but, there was some sort of effort made by someone. couldn’t be just anyone. why would anyone care for something like this?

he gently rests a hand on the top, kneeling to sneak a peak inside, then falls an unsecure stick. his eyes following the stick, a bit buried, but noticable. he grabs it and opens it up.

the paper seems to have been crumbled before.

“dear will,

i’m sorry i hurt you like this. when you left, i couldn’t keep thinking about this. it felt like something wasn’t fixed. i never got to apologize for what i said that day when we were talking about el and the party, about how you don’t like girls. that was way out of line of me, and i didn’t mean it. i sounded just like the assholes that always bullied you i bet.

i guess i was just mad at myself. that whole summer, everything changed into something i didn’t like it. i was trying so hard to fit in with everyone else. lucas had max and maybe i just felt left out. did you ever feel like you were just trying to like things because people say you’re supposed to? i don’t like having a girlfriend. that makes me so weird, maybe crazy. but, i’m telling you this because you’re the only one that can accept my craziness, and because i lied to you and you deserve the truth - i can’t stop thinking about you, and it’s driving me crazy. i feel so wrong, i feel like i’m making a mistake. it should be el that makes me feel like this - any girl. but i don’t want a girlfriend, i don’t want to be popular, i don’t want things to change. i want to be with you playing dnd forever. i want you to be by my side forever. i don’t want to lose you like that again.

anyway i think you’ll like how i renovated castle byers. sorry i couldn’t get it done the way it probably was before, running on memory here. but you mean so much to me i just couldn’t not do anything and it’s been killing me just letting it be. hope this is gonna at least last until whenever you come back. winter’s gonna be strong this year.

love, mike”

will’s just… crying, shaking. he’s a jittery mess as his heart pounds from true happiness. he folds the letter and puts it in his pocket. he felt something had been repaired in his heart. it was at its fullest, had it not been in many, many years.

he sits inside the castle smiling to himself

[twstbookclub]

Please Look at Me

Summary: Can you stop calling Epel cute? Can you not look at and gush over him like a cute toddler? Please, just look at him as someone you can love for once. POV: 2nd Person Pronouns: Gender Neutral Admin/Writer: Cressa🦋 Tags: Fluff, Romance, Two Idiots in Love, Unrequited was actually Requited Feelings, Angry Epel Felmier and his Country Accent, Abusing the word Cute, MC is a bit Silly and Goofy like that Word count: 1,790

“I wish I was as cute as you, Epel.”

The Pomefiore freshman’s eyebrows rose so high that they disappeared behind his fringe. Epel turned to you in disbelief. Sat beside him on a stone bench in the courtyard, you fiddled with your popsicle stick as you stared at the clouds. Your eyes absent-mindedly drifted from one cloud to another. Epel could see flecks of gold in them as the scattered rays of sunset gave you an ethereal glow. Your lashes brushed your cheeks when you blinked, and your lips turned a bit redder after you gnawed on it.

Epel shook his head. He shouldn’t get distracted by how pretty you are when you literally said you wanted to be cute like him.

“What in tarnation made ya say that? And I ain't cute.”

You huffed, propping your elbow on your lap, and placed your chin in your free hand. Epel noticed the frown before he even processed the next words that came out of your mouth.

“Yes, you are! Literally, everyone mistakes you for a girl, and they start liking you for how adorable you are!”

Epel didn’t know whether it was a compliment or an insult. Judging by your pinched eyebrows and pout, you were praising him for his looks. He leaned back on his arms and tilted his head at you, as his gesture to elaborate.

“I…” You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “For once, I just want someone to look at me like that. Just someone who would like me at first glance, or think that I’m attractive enough to flirt with.”

I do, Epel thought. I always have, so why can’t you see me?

“Ya say that like it’s a bad thing,” Epel gritted out. His harsh grip on his popsicle stick made his knuckles white, and the poor stick was on the verge of breaking into splinters. “Ya don’t need someone ta complete ya, y’know.”

“But I want to,” you sighed, wistful eyes brimming with longing. “I want someone to cuddle with me at night. I want someone to hold me close and exchange sweet nothings with them. I want someone to have arcade dates with. I want to make dinner with them, then eat together while talking about our day. I want to experience all of those moments with a partner at least once.”

So, why can’t you do them with me? Epel couldn’t find his voice. He settled with, “Maybe someday, you’ll find someone to spend the rest of your life with. Then, ya can experience all that mushy lovey-dovey stuff.”

You snort, turning to Epel with the grin that held his heart in a vice grip. “I swear you don’t want anything to do with romance because of what you say about it.”

I don’t mind it if it’s with you.

“C’mon, let’s go,” Epel stood up from the stone bench and held out his hand towards you. “We can’t have Vil hounding us for staying out past curfew.”

“You mean, Vil hounding you. I’m the Ramshackle prefect, remember?” The grin never left your face, and Epel wished he could just kiss you right now. “I can make curfew any time I like.”

As he felt your hand softly squeeze his, warmth spread from his fingertips to his entire being. Like a soft, fleece blanket in front of a gentle fire during winter in Harveston. It reminded him of home. It felt like home with you. Epel wanted to be with you, if you let him. He wanted to do all of those things with you and more. He’d do anything for you, even if it meant the world turned against you two.

For now, he’d settle with being your cute, effeminate friend who’d roundhouse kick anyone who looked at you wrong.

The next few days were the most dreadful ones Epel had. His conversation with you that day never left his mind. It haunted him every time he saw you glance at every passing student in interest. Hell, you even looked at the Vil Schoenheit as if you were considering dating the strict and demanding housewarden. Great Seven, no. He’d rather die than see you hanging off of that royal pain in the ass.

Every glance of yours was another drop of frustration for Epel. The proverbial cup was dangerously close to spilling over. It didn’t help that most of his competitors are literally taller and bigger: two things that Epel aspires to be, but cannot be. You could pick anyone, and still deserve the happiness they’d give you. Epel, though? He didn’t deserve you. You deserve someone big and strong enough to protect you whenever you, yourself, couldn’t; someone who could drop everything to cheer you up. Epel isn’t any of those. He’s tiny and dainty and cute.

“Ah, you’re seriously so cute, Epel!” you cried, hugging him after he handed you another popsicle for your Thursday hang-out. It’s been a full week since that day, and you never stopped gushing about how cute he was.

It was that vile word again. Cute. Was that how you saw him? Was that all he’ll ever be to you?

“You know,” you hummed. “I think… I found someone already.”

Epel froze, his popsicle melting in his grasp. The harsh heat of the sun felt blistering on his skin, yet his hands grew as frigid as snow. The forgotten treat started dripping onto the ground as the sound echoed in his ears.

Drip.

“What?” Epel gaped, lips slightly parted in surprise. “Since when?”

“Since a few days ago,” you hummed with a smile softly curling the corners of your lips.

Drip.

“It’s only been a week,” Epel exasperatedly claimed, desperately holding himself together. “You found someone already? Isn’t this happening too fast?”

The gentle smile on your face never left. “I mean, yeah, but… I’m sure about who I want to be with.”

Drip. Drip.

“Do I know them?” Epel whispered, barely heard among the chirps of the birds and the rustle of the leaves in the breeze. Somehow, you heard him through it all. He just hoped you didn’t hear the sound of his heart starting to crack and break.

You laughed, smiling so wide that your eyes narrowed into crescents. Epel grew jealous of the person in your mind that made you smile so happily. “Of course you do!”

Drip. Drip. Drip.

“Oh.” Epel stared at the grass peeking through the crevices of the cobblestone. His mind grappled for something—anything—to ground him back to reality. He’s slipping. He’s losing. Epel should have taken the poison of rejection over the sting of losing you to someone else.

Your smile felt like a slap to his face. What once brought him so much joy and warmth filled him with dread and misery. Epel drifted in and out of consciousness, only catching bits and pieces of what you were prattling on about.

It was when he heard the word cute again that something inside him spilled over into tears and screams.

“Stop calling me cute!” Epel snapped, abruptly standing to face you. The popsicle fell to the ground with a splat, melting into dirt and stone. The world stood still and held its breath while Epel lost his own to his pent-up frustration.

“I feel like you only see me as—as a cute lil’ kid,” the petite freshman struggled with his words, but he was too afraid to stop lest he lose the sudden courage to tell you the truth. “Cute, tiny Epel. Dainty, harmless Epel. Well, that’s enough of that!

I can cuddle you. I can—I’ll hold ya close and tell ya everything I like ‘bout you. I’ll take ya to the arcade and win y’a plushie for our date. I’ll be the one to make dinner and talk about our day over the table. Just—see me as someone who can be with you!

I love you, dammit!” Epel yelled, chest rising and falling from spilling his heart out. You stared, eyes wide and mouth agape. He noticed how you clutched your uniform coat tightly, right above your heart. How you had forgotten your own popsicle that the orange juice stuck to your fingers and trailed down your palm. How you dropped the stick to reach a hand out to him. Although, you retreated when you saw the mess from your ruined treat.

“Epel, I…”

Oh no, Epel thought. Oh hell no. He did not just ruin his friendship with you.

“I’m so sorry—”

“You dingus,” you laughed, but tears started pooling in the corners of your eyes. “It’s you. It’s always been you. Why do you think I gush about you being cute all the time? How I always hug you whenever I could? I was about to confess until you beat me to it.”

Oh. Epel robotically sat beside you again and buried his tomato-red face in his hands. Oh.

“Oh Seven above,” he muttered, voice muffled by his hands. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Yeah, but you’re my idiot.” Epel felt your hand, the non-sticky one, slide into his. Your fingers found themselves intertwined with his, warm and accepting. He squeezed your hand, still too embarrassed to look you in the eye after his outburst. Despite his shame, his heart still jumped at the affection in your voice. It was reserved for him. Just him. Epel couldn’t ask for anything more at that point.

“I kept dropping hints, but I thought you didn’t want to date anyone since… Well, you always call it mushy, cringe, and cliché. I tried to forget my feelings for you, but I just can’t,” you caressed the back of his hand with your thumb. Thoughtfully looking at your joined hands, you continued, “Stay with me? For as long as possible?”

“Always,” Epel replied, squeezing your hand and sliding his thumb over your knuckles. “You bet I’ll make you the happiest person alive. I swear it.”

Your smile, wobbly and wide, said more than enough. Epel felt the brush of your lips on his cheek. Light as a feather. Gentle as a warm summer breeze. The kiss lingered for what felt like hours, and he wished that you two could stay like this forever.

Your lips left the spot on his cheek, searing and begging for more of your kisses. Epel looked at you, who leaned back and laughed at his wide, doe eyes and red cheeks and parted lips.

“I’m counting on it, cutie. You better not disappoint me.”

Epel smirked, raising an eyebrow as if to challenge you. With his cheeks still rosy red, he pulled you close and grabbed your chin to look into your eyes.

“Then, I’ll just make sure you’re always looking at me, darlin’.”