#((but maybe not more than her but shhh))

[misty-moth]

Siiigh I think I’m going to drop ikerev soon 😔 it started off so strong and was my fave for a while, but there are some very neglected routes. I mean… imma finish Harr then go back to redo Luka and do his sequel (and that will be a couple months) but I thought for sure I’d be trading ikesen for ikevil first.

[writerfae]

Aiden provides a lot of people in his village with meat (as a village’s hunter does) but by far his favorite customer is Greta. Greta is an elderly woman that lives alone and has pretty much declared herself Aiden’s surrogate grandma (since he doesn’t have one).

She always invites him in for tea or dinner, pats his cheek when she thanks him for his delivery and gifts him berries that grow on her garden.

Aiden always gives her the best prey he got that day and stays extra long when he delivers it to her so that she won’t be so lonely. He enjoys her company a lot and loves to listen to her stories of old times and faeries.

His favorite story of hers is that of the wild hunt, a group of fae hunters that once upon a time defeated the dangerous wood demons (and other creatures). Once a year during a festival they allow a couple humans to join their hunt, but they only accept the most skilled of mortals.

Greta always tells him she thinks Aiden is worthy to hunt among them. Aiden blushes every time and tells her that’s not true, but she insists.

[astrxealis]

i am so used to my pinned post i kinda don't want to change the format but i want to

[sharkieboi]

it’s my little brother’s birthday so I called him and we chatted for a very long time and made plans to play video games together and it made me very happy especially cause I know this last year has been very hard for him and it sounds like he’s doing better and !!! i’m just really happy for him and excited to try and virtually hang out with him more often!!!

[meiieiri]

𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫 [toji fushiguro]

synopsis: so she tells him not to cry over the injustice of a life cut too short for at the end of all this, she’ll only be a dream.

pairing: ex-husband!toji fushiguro x terminally ill wife!reader | song inspo: soon you’ll get better, cancer

warnings: heavy angst, terminal illness (primary bone cancer, stroke and MS), mentions of divorce/past infidelity, allegories to cheating, major character death. please read at your own risk. | a/n: this was so heavy for me to write, i started writing at 2 in the morning, and it’s 6:34 now.

word count. 3k~

“Why can’t you do anything right?”

Toji should have noticed, he laments as he takes a sip of his cognac. He should have sensed that something was wrong sooner, maybe that way, he wouldn’t be begging to borrow some more time to make things right. Your fingers were trembling that day — the first time you ever ruined his morning coffee — your hands shaking uncontrollably as you washed the mug with a sorrowful look on your face, your eyes glossy with the tears you were desperately trying to hold back.

He shouldn’t have been so harsh, he realizes that now. Breakfast had been burnt to a crisp and ruined, sure, but nothing could compare to how he constantly ruins the one beautiful thing that has ever happened to him, who haphazardly spilled her smoothie on him when they first bumped into each other in Shinjuku just after he finally cashed in enough money with Shiu to get his laundry done.

Toji, whose senses have now been honed to pick up on the slightest of your sluggish movements and your pained and suppressed hisses, hears the bedsheets rustling and he instantly gets up before you could even force yourself out of bed. “Hey, hey, easy now.” He catches you before you could fall backwards onto the mattress, your skin appears cold and clammy, your thinning muscles stiff as a board — you must be having one of your episodes again. “What do you need?” he asks, his voice heartbreakingly gentle for the first time in months.

“Water.”

Your husband nods, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed, hurriedly making his way to the dining table which was now kept in your bedroom so you aren’t forced to move around too much. The sound of water splashing into the glass fills the air and you feel another stabbing pain coarse through your joints.

Toji gingerly brings the glass of water to your lips and you sighed, an exasperated yet amused smile on your face. “I can do it, babe. Don’t worry.” Why did that sound like you were trying to convince not just Toji but yourself? You bring your bony hands to grip the glass and it takes everything out of your husband not to break into a fit of sobs when he sees your hand violently shaking with effort just to keep the glass steady.

His larger hands close around your defeated one. “I-I…I can do it, I did it yesterday. Y-you saw me.”

“Shhh, I know, it’s okay.”

You bite your lip to distract yourself from the anguish of realizing the truth behind the doctor’s words. Everything you feared was finally becoming your and Toji’s bleak reality.

“It’ll be a painful decline.”

Funny how you’re the one fighting to extend your life but Toji feels like he’s already gone ahead and passed on. Just a few minutes earlier, you were overjoyed to see him again. You didn’t think he’d see your text thinking that his new girlfriend must have asked him to block your number, and you most certainly didn’t expect him to arrive when you asked for him via a brief phone call to drive you to the hospital for your monthly checkup since he took the car with him when you separated. He made up a bullshit excuse when Yuko asked where he was going in such a hurry and he makes it to your old shared apartment to see you sitting on the driveway looking thinner and sicklier than ever — your eyes were sunken, and your cheeks were hollow.

Yet in spite of that, you gave him the brightest of smiles, waving shyly to him as he steps out of the driver’s seat. “Happy morning!” you smiled, greeting him with your signature good morning tagline which he used to happily wake up to everyday. There wasn’t a scintilla of resentfulness in your demeanor, and you genuinely looked so happy to see him for the first time since he moved out.

“How long?” Toji asked the doctor, his heart twisted into knots when he hears you happily humming in the MRI room as you put your clothes back on, oblivious to the solemn mood in the other room. You already knew what was going on, but you’ll just continue pretending that everything’s alright and that this is nothing more but a case of fatigue so as not to inconvenience Toji.

“A year, maybe even less.”

“And…you’re saying it’s best if she simply…doesn’t get the treatment?”

The doctor sighs heavily. She’s seen many cases like this before, but none as utterly hopeless as yours. Even if you did start the treatment, the lesions in your spinal cord have already entered the most severe stage, you were already exhibiting signs of autonomic nervous system distress — the tremors, the uncontrollable stuttering of your words, the growing loss of balance — and as if that wasn’t enough, the doctor also discovers that you were suffering from primary osteosarcoma.

There was no way to cure you now that it’s too late.

“I suggest we just focus on keeping her comfortable. The only thing left for us to do now is to bring her home. I’m so sorry.”

“You’re so fucking embarrassing. I can’t bring you anywhere.”

By some miracle, you and Toji went out one night around four months before the divorce proceedings. He went home that day, exhausted beyond all belief from another mission, but he was in a good mood. Yuko was out working late tonight, so, he decides to take you out to your and his favorite izakaya for some yakitori.

Some time during the night, after downing three full bottles of sake together, you excuse yourself to use the restroom. “I’ll be right back,” you told Toji, tipsily kissing him on the cheek as you hop off the bar stool in the direction of the women’s room.

You couldn’t tell if you were staggering from the copious amounts of alcohol you ingested, but your legs were beginning to feel heavy, and for some ominous reason, you were slowly losing all sensation in your left leg. You try to hold onto one of the izakaya’s shōji panel decor pieces to regain your balance, but it was a futile effort in the end. Your knees suddenly buckle, and a sickening crack tears through your tibia as you fall to the ground.

“Are you alright?!”

Toji picks up on the commotion instantly and he sees the izakaya patrons crowding around the hallway leading to the restroom. He quickly makes his way over and a look of disgust appears on his features when he sees you crumpled on the ground and the mortifying sight of you having relieved yourself on the floor, tears of embarrassment staining your cheeks at the thought of your body suddenly malfunctioning like this.

Muttering out an ignorant apology for his seemingly drunk wife, he roughly picks you up, growing increasingly infuriated with you when one izakaya employee offers him a damp cloth to dry out your urine with. It was funny how quickly other people came to your aid — people whose names you don’t even know — while your own husband seems very reluctant to even touch you right now. He doesn’t speak to you on the way home even as you apologize while he’s loading you into the car, grimacing when the leather seat gets wet. “Toji, I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened—��

“—Save it.”

What he should have said was: “Are you okay?”, “It’s alright.” or better yet, “I still love you.”.

At present, Toji decides on a whim to take you to Yokohama’s famed bayside today. It’s only a two hour drive from your place in Tokyo and Toji figures you must miss going on road trips by now with you cooped up at home all the time. “Toji, are you sure this is a good idea?” you murmured nervously as the car pulls to a stop by the bayside promenade. What happens if you can’t control yourself again? There doesn’t look to be a lot of public restrooms nearby.

Toji plants a reassuring kiss to your nose. “Babe, you remember what the doctor said, spending some time outdoors can do wonders for your health. Besides, didn’t you always love the coast?” He brings your hand to his scarred lips, rubbing his thumb against the soft skin before stepping out of the car to retrieve your wheelchair from the trunk.

“I know but what if I have another accident?” you said worriedly, rolling down the car windows so he could hear you. “What if I embarrass you again?”

“There’s nothing embarrassing about you.”

You’ve lost all control of your lower extremities three months ago, rendering you unable to walk and feel when you need to relieve yourself. Toji struggles with the wheelchair for a bit and a flash of sadness fills your heart when you see him take a few deep breaths to calm himself down. He wasn’t angry, he was devastated. He looks wistfully at the boardwalk, a distant gaze trained on the sea. He remembers when you used to walk down this very lane, his hand protectively around your waist as you happily take selfies. He could still hear your fond giggles the last time the two of you went here.

“Why don’t you ever smile when I take pictures of you?”

Toji shoos away a pigeon from stealing a bite of his ice cream sandwich. He feigns an unamused look when you try to take another picture of him on your phone.

“Come on, I’ve been trying to get a shot of you all day! You still have to take pictures of me so I can post it on my Instagram feed!”

Your ever moody husband pinches off a small piece of bread and feeds it to the nosy pigeon. “You and your precious feed,” he bemoans jokingly.

“Please? Just one picture!“ you playfully nudged him. Truthfully, you just wanted to see him smile for once, a genuine one and not one of those lopsided smirks he usually gives you when he’s teasing you. “Please?” you pout knowing he can never say no to that adorable face you make when you really want him to do something or worse, buy something for you.

Sighing, he turns to look at your phone’s camera lens and you blush when a smile slowly illuminates his usually stoic face. Your thumb hovers over the stop recording function, not realizing you’re taking a video, but you can’t seem to press it. “What’s taking so long?” he holds the smile like he’s some cartoon character and you snap out of it.

“Oh shoot, it’s a video!” you laughed, and you begin to run down the boardwalk, eagerly getting away from Toji who demands that you delete it immediately. Of course, you’re no match for his borderline inhuman speed attributed to his athletic physique and he catches you by the waist, playfully swinging you over his shoulder like you’re a sack of potatoes.

Now, your giggles have gone silent.

Toji realizes now he should have indulged you more over the course of your relationship and subsequent marriage. Had he known that you won’t even make it to your third wedding anniversary, he would have allowed you to take as many pictures and videos of him as you’d like, he’d swallow his pride and he’d give you the brightest of smiles so you could happily post him on your social media accounts with a heartwarming caption about him being your “smiley hubby”.

More than that though, he should have taken more photos of you, mostly stolen candid shots, of course. You can’t catch him being all soft on you now. He still has a reputation to live up to after all. But more than that, had he known that your illness was intent on stealing every scrap of you from him, he should have made more effort in preserving all these memories. He should have kept everything from those toll tickets on your late night drives together when the two of you just needed a quick escape from the world, to receipts from your trip to Tokyo Disney Sea on your first wedding anniversary, and even simple convenience store receipts.

Toji should have kept everything down to the smallest of memories knowing one day, that’s all he’ll have to remember you by.

He opens the passenger seat’s door and he effortlessly gathers you into his arms, being extra careful with your fragile form as he sits you down on the wheelchair. He opens the backseat and he pulls out two different colored blankets, one sea-foam green and the other, rose pink. “Take your pick,” he smiles at you and you chuckled softly, pointing to the rose pink one. He happily covers your legs with it to keep you warm, stroking your cheek when you whisper a bashful ‘thank you’.

Suddenly, the wind picks up and your hair-clip that’s holding your locks in a low bun comes loose, and your head turns in the direction of where it flew off to. Toji is quick to take out his phone and he snaps a quick burst shot of you, your hair blowing in the wind, under the coastal spring weather. You turn to look at him and your face falls when you see him burying his phone in his pocket. Since you fell ill, you’ve become insecure of your appearance, banning your husband from taking pictures and videos of you altogether. “Toji, I thought I said no pictures.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The next day, you serendipitously find your photo on your Instagram handle with the caption: “Y/N — Yokohama, Spring, 2024” and when you swipe left, another picture, well to be more accurate, a screenshot of the video clip you accidentally took of him captioned: “Toji — Yokohama, Summer, 2022”.

“You don’t have to stick around for me. Please just go, I’m sure Yuko must be looking for you right now.”

Yuko, his new fiancé, had been blowing up his phone the entire day with texts demanding to know where he is and if he’s going to make it to their date that night. It’s 7 PM now, and Toji still hasn’t shown up to confirm their restaurant reservations. The damn witch will surely cuss him out when they see each other again, but for some reason, even if he tries, he simply cannot bring himself to give a flying fuck. Your immunologist and oncologist stepped out for a bit to allow you two a brief moment of privacy which had now stretched to an expanse of five hours since your results came in.

The air in the room is thick and heavy, not a single sound can be heard. Inside however, underneath this tough exterior he was projecting, Toji is throwing a fit, screaming at the sky like those broken men in those shitty Netflix romance tragedies he used to callously make fun of.

“Why didn’t you call me sooner? You knew, didn’t you?”

Toji’s bites his cheek trying to keep a lid on his emotions. He knows the answer. He just wants to hear you say it out loud. You hated him. You wanted nothing to do with him after he cheated on you with some girl he met at a bar in uptown Shibuya. That’s why you didn’t tell him, he didn’t deserve to know. “Shit,” he whispers harshly, crumpling the medical abstract in his hands. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick? Was it because you hated me? Is that it? You didn’t think I’d worry about you?”

You screwed your eyes shut, shaking your head. You didn’t hate him, not even when you have every reason to. He abandoned you, left you to waste away and to die and yet, even now, you can’t bring yourself to resent him for the simple reason that he is the literal love of your life, the reason behind your smiles, your happy mornings and passionate midnight hours. “At first, I thought I was fine, maybe just fatigued or something.”

“Don’t lie. You knew something was going on and that something in your body was seriously fucked up.”

“And we weren’t married anymore so, I didn’t think it was right to tell you…I wanted to though, but I didn’t want to intrude on you and Yuko,” you said meekly. Even in your greatest hour of need, you were still thinking of him, putting him first even when he doesn’t deserve it. “I-I…I don’t hate you enough to worry you, to make you feel that you could have done something to prevent this. Because I’m telling you right now, regardless if you were faithful or not, I was bound to get sick anyway. You couldn’t have done anything to change that.”

“But I could have been there. I should have noticed. I shouldn’t have downplayed everything.” He says this as if he wants to shake this noble, self-sacrificing bullshit attitude out of your system. “I’m your husband. I should have been there.”

You flash him a heartbroken smile at his little slip-up, so, even now, he was still referring to himself as your husband, not your ex-husband. “To see me waste away? Babe, I don’t want you to see that.”

You begin to feel tears streaming down your face, the emotions you were experiencing now flowing like a free river after an entire dam is destroyed. Toji watches you unravel before his eyes and his bottom lip begins to tremble. What has he done? Dear god, what has he done to his poor, poor wife?

“I want you to remember me healthy, I want you to remember me as myself not this…sickly pitiful woman you’re unlucky to call your ex-wife…besides, after all this, I’ll only be a dream.” A mere passing second in his life. “And believe me, my life wasn’t so bad.”

He loses it at that.

“Just stop this, Y/N! Stop acting like you’re not scared shitless of dying, like you’re not gonna have regrets once all this is over! Stop pretending that things are gonna be alright one day because it won’t! Not when I’m now being forced to accept that you won’t get better, not when I’ve wasted so much time putting you through hell and back instead of taking care of you like a proper husband should, and certainly not when I’m suddenly supposed to learn to say goodbye and to live without you! Because fuck that, Y/N!”

You are left speechless at that.

Toji was never one to lose his cool, even during your worst arguments, he may slide a few snarky remarks here and there but Toji Fushiguro…never yells, and he doesn’t sob either.

You hesitantly stand up and walk over to him, crouching down in front of him as he covers his tear-stained eyes with his right hand while the other is crumpled around your medical abstract. Taking his left hand, you gently remove the medical abstract from his grip, and for the first time in so many months, you feel one another’s warm skin against each other. You press your forehead to his hand as you wept with him.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be a dream. I want you to be real.”

“Can’t you be bothered to clean up in here?!”

You wake up from your nap, you’ve been battling muscle and joint pain the entire day, the slightest of movement causing you to double over in agony and because of that, you weren’t able to clean the apartment today. You slowly get up from the couch, being extra cautious not to make any sudden movements. “Well?” Toji presses, his lips curled into a scowl.

“I’m sorry, I was feeling a little tired,” you sighed heavily, picking up a broom to sweep the living room floor despite the excruciating pain you were in. Toji rolls his eyes, handing you a Manila envelope. “What’s this?” you asked softly, peering inside.

“Divorce papers,” he shrugs nonchalantly. Everything stops, even the very rise and fall of your chest halts into an uneasy stasis. “I already signed them. I just need your signature then, I’ll move out by tomorrow.”

You must be dreaming. That’s the only logical explanation to all this. You’re asleep, in a deep REM sleep, utterly oblivious to the world. This wasn’t happening. But you could feel the rough surface of the brown envelope, and you could still feel the agonizing stabs of white hot pain throughout your body. Glancing at Toji, you see him texting someone with an eager look on his face that screams: “I’m free.”.

Instantly, it dawns on you.

“Will she make you happy?” you asked, putting down the broom to look around for a pen but Toji pulls one he stole from the law firm office out of his pocket.

“She will,” he answers simply.

And you are indeed grateful that he is completely upfront about finding another while the two of you are married. It would have hurt much more, you silently remind yourself, if he had just upped and left without another word leaving you to wonder what went wrong between the two of you. This was Toji’s final act of mercy in your marriage, and he’s not opposed to honesty and truthfulness either. Not once did he try to change his phone’s lock-screen passcode, nor did he try to conceal the identity of the woman who was texting him every night while you slept fitfully next to him. It was almost as if he wanted you to find out, like he wanted you to know so you could back off yourself.

But if there’s one thing Toji loves about you, it’s your unending faithfulness to your promises, to your marriage vows, and your willingness to endure anything he threw at you. You never checked his phone, you never brought up his affair, you never got angry with him. You just kept silent, simply content with giving and giving…and giving while he milked you dry by taking, and taking and taking, tearing you to pieces bit by bit without hearing a single complaint fall from your lips.

You were a devoted wife, through and through.

And it bored the hell out of him, on top of your recent mishaps, he was done. Done with everything, and done with you.

“Okay.”

Come morning, he takes everything he owns with him and promptly proposes to the girl he’s been seeing for the past year. Two weeks later, your divorce is received by the Tokyo Family Court and is summarily approved and finalized. From that moment on, you and Toji went on your separate ways never to look back, you were each other’s yesterdays, and the love that existed between the two of you was nullified in favor of acquaintanceship…or so you thought.

“Y/N, I’m home!” Toji calls into the house as he comes back from your neighborhood’s pharmacy. You look up from the book you were reading, smiling ever so slightly at your husband who seemed to have a wonderful sparkle in his eyes. “Hey, kid,” he kisses the top of your head when he reaches your wheelchair.

“You seem happy,” you remarked positively.

“Well, for one, they replenished their stocks today and I managed to get you your steroids and painkillers so you’ll be able to sleep easy tonight,” Toji smiles, taking out the items from the pharmacy’s paper bag. “And I got you this neat memory foam cushion for your wheelchair.” He fluffs it up as a form of demonstration before placing it behind your back.

When he sees you smile, a sense of relief washes over Toji. You reach towards him, and he pulls you into an embrace. “Thank you,” you said, pure sincerity dripping from your voice. “For everything you do.”

“Anything for you.” He suddenly moves back and reaches into the tote bag you lended him. “Oh, and wait, before I forget, I have another surprise.”

You laughed airily. “Another surprise? Now, you’re just spoiling me!”

He pulls out a piece of paper from the tote bag and he places it in your hands as your eyes quickly scan over the document. Your breath hitches in your throat when you realize what it is. Did Toji really—? You couldn’t believe it. “A marriage pre-registration,” you said in awe. You read it again just in case to make sure that this wasn’t a figment of your sick body’s imagination, that this was real, that Toji genuinely wants to make everything right again. Your fingers skim over your typewritten names. “It has our names…we’re really—“ You can’t even finish your sentence without bursting into happy tears. “Are we—?”

Toji nods, gazing into your eyes, and as emerald and (E/C) clash for what seems to be an eternity lost in one another, he plants a kiss to your temple, coming up to embrace you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“We are. The Tokyo Family Court, as far as I know, will approve our remarriage once we file this. So, you have to get stronger, okay?” He’s begging you at this point, despite your rapidly deteriorating condition. “Strong enough to see me fix everything. Strong enough to be there on our second wedding, strong enough to say our vows again.”

Your hand comes up to stroke his cheek from behind, and he nuzzles into your neck at your tender touch.

“I will. I promise.”

But you never really get to say your vows. Not comprehensibly anyway.

“Babe, can you say that again?”

Toji crouches by your bedside as you look at him apologetically. You were causing him trouble and pain again which is the last thing that you want to give him especially when’s fought and worked so hard to care for you, to keep prolonging this borrowed time you’re on. “To-ji. Toji.” You gaze at him apprehensibly, not really believing you can do it without crumbling.

“Come on, babe, you can do it. Say my name, please…Toji. I’m Toji.”

“Toooji-“ you slurred sadly. At this point, your Multiple Sclerosis has reached its end stage and has taken…everything from you: your ability to walk, your ability to control your muscle spasms and other bodily functions…and now, coupled with an unexpected stroke, your ability to speak. And you and Toji know that time is almost up, with you having come to accept it, while your husband still held onto hope. Your fingers gently graze over his face as best as your spasms and tremors allow you, starting from his forehead to his eyes, his nose, his cheek and finally, his lips, as if you’re memorizing it one last time. “Lo-ove you-“

Toji sniffles, and your fingers instinctively catch his warm tears. “I love you,” he whispers brokenly. “I do. I love you.”

You feel yourself tearing up as you’re forced to watch your beloved cry. And the worst part? You can’t do a thing about it. “D-oon’t c-cry—‘m okaay. Promi-miise…e’everyything ‘ill be okaaay.”

“Y-yeah,” he chuckles, trying to crack a joke even as hope dwindles. “You’ve been nothing but a fucking champ this entire time, you know? I’m so proud of you. So…so…proud that you’re still here.” He strokes your hair as you tread between the realms of the conscious and the unconscious. “Do you wanna go out today? The weather’s shit though. You’ll probably catch your death out there.” At the mention of the word ‘death’, Toji stops, falling into an uncomfortable silence.

You smile weakly at him. “Tiiredd—“

“You’re no fun,” Toji gently flicks your nose and you scrunch it up in displeasure. “Sorry,” he chuckles, holding back an entire waterfall of tears. He knows it’s today. It has to be. You woke up today without your usual ‘happy morning’ greeting, and you refused to drink anything, much less eat anything. “You tired? Any pain?”

You shake your head. You’re as comfortable as you can be for the first time in months. Hospice nurses say humans are built to live the same way they are built to die, no person in this world has ever had the uncanny privilege of being able to look up ‘How to die?’ on a quick Google search and actually find a Wikihow on the morbid subject matter, nor is there anyone else who can teach another how it’s done. It’s just something humans know how to do without a manual, deeply ingrained in the very fabric of human existence is the fear of death, the fear of what comes after, the fear of a nothingness that could follow after living such a vibrant life. Your life was short, barely spanning thirty years, but you lived well: you fell in love, you got hurt, but you fell together again. Now it all has to come to an end, Toji will just have to take care of the rest.

And you weren’t scared.

Or at least you can’t look scared, if you were to be more accurate, you have to look strong and ready to accept the cards you’ve been dealt with for Toji’s sake. When he feels your hand start to slacken, Toji intakes a sharp, shaky breath of sheer panic. “Not yet, Y/N. Please. Not yet.”

He climbs into bed with you, bringing you closer to this desperate man you call yours. There was no getting better anymore, there was no miracle he could hang onto, no deity he could beg for death to spare you, no pill bottle he could pray to. He knew that from the start. But what he witnessed these past months, you’ve been the braver one between the two of you, you knew how to make the most of the rhythm this cruel world gave you and you graciously took him along to dance to the last song of the evening with you.

“There’s still hope. Just keep your eyes open. Just keep them open.” He presses his lips to your forehead, his delusion getting the better of him. “We’ll just keep trying…you can’t leave. You have to stay. You have to.”

“Thaank yoou—“ you softly told your Toji, your voice shrinking in decibels as you become a little drowsy, sinking into the warmth of the requiem of a life well spent.

Toji listens to you, his lips pursed, intent on making this final act of love — a love that is strong enough to say goodbye — a memorable one. And should the afterlife exist, he wishes to send you off with a smile, with the reassurance that he’ll be alright even if that was far from happening.

“Toji.”

“I want you to be real. And I don’t care if we’ll live on borrowed time. Another extra second with you…is enough to last me my entire lifetime.”

[beloveds-embrace]

so i have a habit of calling be love/babe/darling as a term of enderament (even in friendships) and was wondering how the dukedom guys would react to being called love or darling by the reader for the first time? I grt it probably wasnt as socially acceptable back then but the thought still plaques my mind

Historical accuracy who? We don’t know her shhh

Original post

But they’d love it! At first, you had tried really hard to stop yourself and semi-succeeded by only calling your maids like that. Your parents always hated that habit of yours, a leftover from your nanny’s own habit. They had warned you again and again and again to not let your tongue run, to keep your words polite and demure, only fallen women working in brothels would speak so freely.

And you did keep it under control for a good while; with your interactions few with John, you could remind yourself not to let your tongue loose and call him honey right off the bat when he simply calls you by your name. It’s harder with Kyle, you almost slip and call him darling, same with Johnny. With Simon it’s easier because on the times he visits, you leave him to his meetings with John and don’t bother them. (Or what you thought were business meetings at that time lol)

But once they start getting closer to you, it’s inevitable that the nicknames start slipping out.

“Kyle, darling-“ you are rushing today, and the words slip out before you realize. You just spare a thought to wonder why he’s frozen solid like that. “Where is my hairpin? I was so sure we left it on my vanity?”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” you say to Johnny when he brings you a platter of fresh deserts while working, not lifting your head from the papers in front of you other than to flash him a quick, grateful smile. You don’t notice how long it takes before Johnny stutters out a ‘welcome, m’lady’ and leaves you be.

“Simon, honey?” You ask on another occasion, voice too worried to notice what you’d called him. No maids around, and no one would question you calling you husband’s ‘close friend’ by his name in your home. “Is your leg okay? You are leaning on it too much, shall I call the doctor?” His silence is typical to you, but too busy fussing over his leg, you don’t see his face. Until you look up, eyes widening at his averted eyes and red-tipped ears. “Are you sick, Simon? You should be resting instead, you know?”

And at last… “John, love,” you sigh softly, controlling the tremble of your limbs. You look away from the newspaper, though you believe it should just be called a glorified gossip magazing, and close your eyes. Duke Price’s Duchess remains barren of a child! Is a divorce in their future? “It’s alright, it is what it is-“ you try to calm him.

Up until now, from the moment you’d both read the headline, John had been fuming. He wasn’t loud in his anger, but it was clear in his ticking jaw and clenched fists. So you expect him to continue in his anger.

“…I will deal with it.” John promises, voice low but no longer a rolling thunder. He sits down calmer now, when you finally open your eyes to look at him. He’s simply gazing at you, and his hands clench in the air before he sets them down on the table. “They won’t be slandering you any longer, wife. I promise you.”

You wish you could pinpoint what soothed him, but alas. Though you know he will try his best and maybe this news agency won’t make anymore comments like this about you, others will still continue to do so.

“It’s alright.” You repeat, but the words ring hollow and the smile on your face is empty. You push your plate away. “Now, if my husband permits it, I don’t believe I can stomach much more.”

“You never need my permission for such things,” he tells you; a sentiment he’d told you from the very first day. His face softens. “Go rest. Today, I will take care of everything that needs to be done.”

Darling, sweetheart, honey, love… they wonder if you know how much those words repeat in their minds.

[misstycloud]

Shapeshifter x fem.reader

“Please stop.” You whimpered, shaking like a leaf.

The creature crouched down to your level and whispered in a soothing voice- it didn’t have the desired effect, though. “Why? Don’t be scared, I would never hurt you. There’s no need to be so frightened.”

“….just leave me alone..”

“No I can’t do that. I love you (Y/n). You’re everything to me. You don’t understand the depth of how much I need you.” He- it- pleaded.

You scoffed despite the inner turmoil. “Well, feelings not mutual.”

He sighed and shook his head slowly. “Why can’t you understand? I just love you so much.” He caressed your hands while staring straight into your eyes. It felt like he was unveiling your soul, like you couldn’t hide from that look, no matter what. “I,” he started, “can be whoever you want me to be. I can be whatever you wish.”

Suddenly, he started changing. It was like something was alive underneath his skin, that wanted to move and reshape the shell it was inside. Slowly, but surely, its features morphed into someone else.

This new shape was clearly tall, even when he was still couching. He looked a little rugged, wi the jet black hair and also at as equally dark grey eyes. He was muscular, too.

“Would this be better?” He asked in a deep voice, tilting his head in wonder. “Would you like someone like this- someone who can protect and care for you? Someone who wouldn’t hesitate to get into a bar fight to defend your honour.”

You looked away and shut your eyes.

“I see.” He said. “So this is not your type, then?”

Once more, you heard the familiar sound of flesh and bones. And against you better judgement, you glance his way again.

This time, he was not as muscular. In fact he was quite thin, but still tall. Messy brown hair shot in all directions, coverering his forehead, it almost shielded his face entirely from view.

“Or is this better?” He gave you a dorky smile. “A nerd? Someone who can relate to your interests and become just as engrossed in them as you. Wouldn’t that be nice? We could talk for hours about the things we like.”

You shook your head hastily. Rejecting his suggestion.

“Or maybe not.” He sighed.

The sound of flesh moving followed and you looked away, not wishing to see the peak of the gruesome transformation, before facing him again.

This new body was considerably shorter than the previous two. It was one of a mousy young man, appearing to be in the beginnings of adulthood.

“If you like being the one in control, I wouldn’t mind. I think this form would fit for that, you see. I’d be nice to be dominated by you. You wouldn’t have to hold back from anything, you could be completely in charge if that’s what you desire?”

You remained silent.

“I take that as a ‘no’, then.” He stopped for a few seconds, thinking, then the smile retuned. “Wait, I can’t believe I didn’t think this.”

Suddenly the young man disappeared and a woman took his place. She was gorgeous by all means. Her long blonde hair flowed in waves down her back. Her curvaceous form would have any person staring.

“I apologise. I should have asked if you would prefer a woman instead, my mistake. Now, finally, is this desireble?”

“I told you to stop. I don’t want any of this- I don’t want you. I don’t want to be near you. Leave me alone, please.” You cried in desperation. Hoping it would be able to push away the creature for good. But you knew it was a foolish dream for it to become bored with you.

The woman hushed you and took you into her arms. “Shhh, shhh, it will all be fine. No need to worry about anything. You’ll be good, I promise. I will take care of you.” She tried comforting you by patting your back like a mother consoling her crying child. “And don’t worry. It doesnt matter how long it’ll take, but I will find the right form eventually. You will just love it~.”

::::::::::::::::::::: ::::::::::::::::::::: ::::::::::::::::::::: :::::::::::::::::::::

[peachesofteal]

Light on - single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader

Morning comes with dark regret. 

Light tries to fight past his curtains, luxurious slivers of sun peeking through the edges, casting sharp beams across his face. It’s what wakes him, at first, gently bringing him to consciousness, easing him into reality- before memory slaps him across the face. 

Fuck. Did he dream that? Was that real? 

He tries, for a barely there moment, to pretend that it was a nightmare. That he didn’t shut you out, turn you away from his door, sweet, beautiful face smiling up at him, timid offering on your lips. 

“Thought we could, um, try this again?” 

His stomach sours when he remembers the way your shy expression shattered, how you faltered, confused and… hurt. He hurt you. He took your trust, your precious heart, and smashed it to pieces because he was afraid. Because he couldn’t let you see. 

His reflection in the bathroom mirror makes him sick. 

Fucked up nose, fucked up face, fucked up, cruel, awful person. 

Maybe he's more like him than he realizes.

How could he have done that to you? To you. The one person in this entire world that makes him feel warm, that makes him want something more, that gives him hope. His girl. 

He knows why, of course. He didn’t want you to see him, didn’t want you to know what it was like. Wanted to shield you from it, keep you and Emmaline tucked away in the space inside his heart, where you're safe. Where you don't realize how much of a monster he is. Didn’t want you to witness the come down, the decompression, the shedding of his skin post mission. Didn’t want you to know that he’s not always the man you think he is, the one you know, the one you trust to hold your baby and take you to the hospital and eat dinner in your kitchen. He didn’t want to shatter the illusion, didn’t want to step out from behind the lie. He wasn’t ready for it to be over yet. 

Because what would you have done, if you met Ghost? If you realized that your neighbor is a professional killer? A war criminal? Sure, he told you what he does for a living, but he didn’t tell you that much. And fuck. He couldn’t just let you in his flat. He hadn’t even showered, hadn’t gotten all the grease off his face. He still had blood under his fingernails, men’s dying screams echoing in his ears. How could he let that touch you? How could he let any of that, be anywhere near you? 

You and Emmaline would be far better off if he stayed in the shadows. Kept an eye on you, kept you safe, but kept his distance. A good man, a better man, would spare you the pain, the heartbreak, of bringing something like him into your life. 

The problem is, Simon’s never been a good man. 

He tries calling you. When it goes to voicemail, he hangs up, rolling over in bed, burying his face in his pillow. He keeps himself tucked under his blankets, sleep desperately pulling at him, trying to drag him into the black abyss of his dreams and when the minutes tick by and you don’t call him back… he begrudgingly succumbs to the cocoon of sleep. 

He calls again, later, as the sun is setting. You don’t answer, and he tells himself you’re probably busy, busy getting Emmaline and you fed, busy trying to settle her for bedtime. Busy ignoring him. He strains to listen through the walls, hoping to catch the muffled sound of your voice, or the TV, Emma’s cries or giggles, a sign of some kind. A sign that he should try again. Call you again. Knock on your door. 

He hears you in the hall an hour later.

Emmaline is crying, and you’re trying to soothe her, low pitch of your “shhh, shhh, shhh” slipping under his door and down the hall to where he’s pacing in the living room. He bolts to his front door, swinging through the frame, turning towards where you’ve got her in a wrap against your chest, backpack straps looped through your arm.  “Shit!” You yelp, eyes wide. Emmaline startles against you, cheeks wet with tears, and then she quiets, mouth hanging open. “Jesus. You scared me.” You’re fidgeting with your keys, fingers clenched just a little too tight around the ring. 

“Sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” You smile at him, but it’s all wrong, the kind of smile you might give a stranger, someone you only know in passing. His stomach flips. 

“I tried calling, earlier, uh- are you two… busy?” Let me explain, sweetheart. Please. I’m so sorry. 

“She’s overdue for a bottle,” You motion to Emma, who’s now gazing at him with a sweet little smile, tears evaporated. “and she’s got a tooth pushing through, so it’s been a really long day.” You sound exhausted, and look it too, shifting your weight, stretching with a bit of a wince, and he frowns. Is your back hurting you? Is it your neck? Where is the stroller? 

“Do you need some help?” C’mon love. I know I hurt you, let me explain. Please. Let me help. You need me. I need you. He takes a step towards you, longing practically dragging him by force into your orbit, but your face twists, and you move backwards, away from him. 

His heart cracks in his chest. No. Please.

“Ah, no. I got it, no worries.” No worries. No worries? “With the teething, she’s… I’ll try to keep her quiet. Just let me know if she’s too loud or if it’s a problem.”  

“It’s not a problem.” He rushes to reassure you. “Of course it’s not, sweetheart. I… if you have some time, later… I want to talk to you, about last night, I-“ 

“Oh, it’s fine. Don’t even worry about it.” You wave him off, eyes tight, lip tugged between your teeth. Emmaline lets out a small cry, just the beginning of a wail, and you sigh. “I’ve gotta get her inside.” He doesn’t want to push you, doesn’t want to make you feel like he’s backing you into a corner or trying to force you to listen to him, and he doesn’t know what else to do. He feels lost. Stupid. So, so stupid for letting his girl, his… family, slip away from him like this. 

“Alright… well, let me know if you need anything, yeah?” He asks gently, and you nod without looking at him, eyes bouncing from Emmaline to the floor, to the keys in your hand. 

“Sure.” 

[facefullofsadness]

we both have two sides that no one knows

nightlclub birthday party!au

rich girl enemy!aeri x rich girl enemy!reader

prompt - why would you show up to aeri uchinaga's party if you hate her so much? she wonders the same as she sees you, but maybe it'll be more fun than either of you thought

content - smut (heated messy desperate hate sex, quickie, intoxicated sex, kinda exhibitionism, cunnilingus), alcohol consumption, written in the second person, fluff at the end if you squint

wc - 2740

a/n - omggg happy birthday my gigi!!! my loml, my only one, my pookie, my one true lover, my baddie from japan, my emo hot girl, my aeri uchinaga!!! god I love this woman and I wish her all the love and support and everything in between and beyond on this lovely october 30th <333 (it's the 31st...) (kinda rushed and bad but you'll let it go right? SHHH DON'T BOO ME AT LEAST IM BACK-)

you fucking hated aeri uchinaga's guts.

oh my god, this girl is the embodiment of nuisance, a rich bitch with daddy's money that stomps on people because of their status. she's such a brat and you absolutely loathe her, but so does she. she views you in the exact same way, just an asshole with her parents' money who doesn't give a fuck about anyone or anything. ironic isn't it? hating the carbon copy of yourself? maybe you both did hate yourselves, making it easy to hate one another. not that either of you would admit that, it must be because your parents' and hers' are rivals, which meant that applied to you both as well.

so you're both left to ponder why you decided to show up to her birthday party tonight, meeting eyes with aeri across the dimly lit and loud nightclub full of people. you both scoff almost at the same time at the sight of one another, the birthday girl rolling her eyes as soon as she sees you and you grimace in response. the faint smirk tugs at her lips the more she realizes that you're here. y/n l/n arriving at aeri uchinaga's birthday party? the two girls loathe one another, so why is this happening?

yunjin was at fault, saying you needed to get your mind off of things and party tonight. you interrogated her and scowled at the girl, wondering if she had any ulterior motive. you didn't realize the party tonight she'd be forcing you to go to was your nemesis' birthday celebration, cursing loudly at the dark-haired girl giggling at you. she didn't give a fuck, she responded with a nonchalant shrug and blew a kiss towards you as she pulled up to the valet.

you storm off towards the bar as the crowd all watches the iron gaze the pink-haired girl has on you. you down a few shots enough to feel your head buzz before you scoff to yourself. just because this is aeri's party doesn't mean you have to go down without a fight. after all, you are still better than her, she's nothing more than an annoying attention seeker. you can handle a little fire if that's what she decides to ignite.

"what the fuck do you think you're doing at my party?" the venom-laced voice snarks from behind you.

you down another drink, wiping your mouth before looking at her with an expression that annoys aeri to her core, "having fun, of course. why, do I bother you?"

she bites her lip and crosses her arms, the faux fur coat rustling on her shoulders as her chest pushes up against your face, "no, I couldn't give less of a fuck if you were here or not. I just think it's amusing that you were audacious enough to come. parents' money not enough to entertain you?"

"you say as if daddy didn't arrange a birthday party for you at the most popular club in the city," you snark back, leaning against the counter and getting up in her space, "clearly I'm not the one that needs entertaining."

she huffs in your face and twirls her pink locks in her fingers, "hm, consider me entertained then. you showed up to my party, how cute, no?"

aeri struts away but not before flashing a cocky smirk, flinging her sakura colored hair towards you. you trail her heatedly, "oh please, you've been bored all night till I showed up."

"heh, you're right," she admits, calling over her bare shoulder to you, "you've made things a lot more interesting."

the sea of people part before you two as you both traverse through the crowd, "now since you're here, why don't you play my games? it's only right to participate since you're my guest."

she turns and pushes you back against the couch you find yourself now sitting in a secluded room filled with her posse of spoiled brats all lined up in a circle resting against the large, round couch lining the private room. her friends snicker as soon as they realize it's you, some of their faces familiar, some of them new. you scowl as soon as you spot yunjin with her arm draped over some girl, realizing it's aeri's friend minjeong. she mimics a yawning gesture and waves her fingers at you in acknowledgement.

aeri places her hands on her hips and sighs, "let's play a classic, shall we?" she smirks as she picks up an empty soju bottle from the table, playing with it before placing it in the center and eyeing you.

you scoff, "spin the bottle? really? how old are you?" the room boos in response to your comment.

"why? scared? nervous y/n?" aeri mocks, her eyebrow cocked as her tongue trails across her lip curiously.

you feel a smirk tug at your lip, "no, not nearly as much as you are uchinaga."

you call her bluff as a pink the same shade of her hair spreads to her cheeks. whether it was the alcohol or embarrassment, it was too late, you already saw through her.

she clears her throat and acts as if her cheeks don't continue to heat up, lowering her large shades over her face and resting them on the tip of her nose, "oh whatever, we'll save the main event for last. jimin?"

she turns to the long haired girl on her side, letting her spin the bottle first. the tall girl reaches forward and spins it, the dim burgundy lighting bouncing off of the glass as it swiftly turns. the empty bottle slows and its tip points towards the other cute girl in the room sporting a bob. you recognize kim chaewon as she stands and licks her lips, jimin chuckling and reaching out towards her, dragging her by the hand to the small closet-like room next door. the room is filled with amused noises as you see yunjin and minjeong's expressions turn (which was the most amusing thing you saw).

you turn away from the love quarrel to face aeri's piercing stare, adjusting the glasses away from her face again and fixing her hair, her eyes staying on you. you accept her challenge, leaning back against the couch and tilting your head to the side, looking right at her with the same intensity. you watch as her finger traces her bottom lip, tugging at it with her nail and her eyes gradually trailing down your body, feasting on you.

you gulp at her stare filled with hunger, playing with the hem of your dark skintight dress between your fingers, rolling it up your crossed legs, letting more of your skin expose itself to her. your stick your tongue between your teeth as you pour yourself a shot and down it, the alcohol leaving a wet sheen on your lips that glimmered in the darkness. she observes your every movement, her eyes never leaving you for a moment.

you lick the alcohol off your lips slowly, your eyes taking the opportunity to wander her tempting figure, tracing every curve accentuated by her dress, your body heating up as you take in every inch of skin exposed to your sight. as your gaze trails her chest and prominent cleavage, falling around her plush thighs, she commands your attention back towards her as she taps on her knee and lifts her finger up.

a waiter stands next to you with drinks on his tray which you take and down, staring into aeri's eyes as she does the same. you feel the alcohol burn down your throat, rolling down until it sloshes with the concoction in your stomach. the buzz heats up your cheeks as jimin and chaewon return to the room, hair disheveled and lipstick smeared, no shame in their appearances.

the room's volume increases in cheers and noise as the smirks on the girls' faces fail to die down. chaewon, as the girl who was picked, has to pick the next person to spin the bottle. she picks up the empty glass, plays with it in her small hands and surveys the room with familiar faces and strangers. her eyes scan before landing on you, grin pulling at her cute face.

she trudges towards you and drops the bottle in your lap with a wink. she drags her feet away as the people cheer your turn, adjusting yourself and standing, dipping over the table in front of aeri, cleavage on full display for the girl gawking at you all night. you lean down and spin it, eyes locked onto the pink haired girl. the anticipation for the other end is high as everyone stares expectantly, the glass' hollow noises echoing through the ears of the players in the room, you and aeri never looking away from one another.

gasps fill the room as the bottle slows and comes to a stop, the tip aiming towards your one and only rival who's eyes are still trained on you. neither of you need to look down to know what happened, the uproar from the crowd of people surrounding you enough to understand. aeri stands and finally turns away, swaying towards the secluded room, and you follow immediately, the room an absolute mess of noise.

you follow aeri into the dark, small, closet-like room, the door shutting behind you both as you feel the pumping from the blasting music of the club behind the other side, the light leaking through enough to illuminate the older girl's features and figure. your bodies are close to each other, the heat emanating from one another as you can hear each other's breathing pick up.

"so much for main event for last huh-" you start to tease her.

"jesus, I wish you'd shut the fuck up already," she interrupts annoyedly before grabbing the back of your neck and smashing her lips against yours', pushing her body against yours' and pinning you to the wall behind you.

immediately, your body responds to her burning touch, kissing her back with the same ferocity, arms clinging around her and gripping her body. your hands drag over her curves, clutching at her dress to grab her flesh under it, digging your nails into her. she hisses into your mouth, breathing heavily against you as her soft lips bruise your needy ones.

you throw off her coat as she pulls your her mouth away to suck on your neck and chest, aeri's hot tongue trailing your exposed skin, her desperate lips leaving wet kisses as you thread your fingers through her luscious locks and pant against her. her strong arms have you pinned against the wall, clinging onto her body as she greedily ravishes your burning skin, causing you to moan out into the small but silent room, your noises filling only her ears to hear.

you feel the cocky girl smile against your skin as she continues to digs her face into you neck, sucking your skin and sinking her teeth into you, making you whimper and squeeze your eyes shut. you grab her biceps and pull her into you, forcing you to flip her against the wall as your eyes fall to her wet red lips, face flushed and eyes filled with pure lust, the desire to indulge in you building in her body. the sight ignites your primal need for the same thing.

you shove your tongue into her mouth and taste her, the combination of various alcohol and sweet lipstick filling your senses, becoming addicted to the taste of aeri uchinaga. your hands grip her thighs as you dig your fingers into her skin, trailing your hands up and under her dress, pushing the material up to her hips. her breath hitches in her throat as your fingertips trace her slit through the lingerie she wears.

you pull away from the heated kiss as a string of saliva connects the two of you, attaching your mouth to her neck. her chest rises and falls as you greedily lick her skin, the spit rolling down through her cleavage. you descend to your knees and leave wet kisses along her thick thighs, hands holding each one, gripping her as they wander around to her ass, sliding under the dress and pulling her panties down.

a sticky string of pleasure stretches as you drag her clothing down her thighs, her legs spreading in anticipation for your next movement. as badly as you want to tease her for being so ruined for you, you need her just as bad, looking up at her and staring into her desperate eyes, wild and dark with desire. continuing to gaze into aeri's needy eyes, you bring your mouth forward and swipe your tongue along her slit, sticking it in her hole and trailing it tortuously against her clit, her delicious wetness coating your tastebuds.

you watch as her eyes roll back and her body slumps against the wall, her head thrown backwards and a pleasured groan escapes her throat, her hand resting atop your head and lacing her fingers through your already messy hair. you lick once again, swirling the tip of your tongue around her pink and hot bud, making her thighs tremble on either side of your head, holding her legs apart and hooking your arms around them.

her hips buck into your mouth as you wrap your lips around her clit and suck, flicking your hot tongue across her pulsing nerves. profanities flow pathetically from your rival's mouth as you continue indulging in her, fluttering your eyes shut as you makeout with her clit. the grip on your hair tightens as her hand digs deeper through your locks, your hands caressing up and down her long legs. she grinds her hips into your mouth as your tongue slips into her leaking cunt, nose brushing her clit now, flicking your wet muscle against her aching walls.

the sound of her desperate and loud moaning resonates within the small room, her whimpers fill your ears and will you to keep going, the intent of stopping failing to comprehend in your intoxicated head, focused on eating the girl shaking in your hold out. you bury your face deep into her pussy, her cunt walls wrapping and sucking your tongue in, rolling the muscle into her and flicking it against the delicious most pleasurable spots inside, rubbing your nose against her throbbing clit. you bring your hand around to use your fingers and roll the pulsing bud in your fingertips, aeri whimpering above you, gathering her pleasure and your saliva to lubricate the aching clit.

you hum against her cunt, the sound reverberating through her body as her moaning becomes pleasurably loud, jutting her hips into your mouth full of her wetness. you moan into her pussy, the vibration throwing her over the edge, screaming your name out as she cums into your expectant mouth. you feel a rush of her juice flow into your mouth, the taste covering your tongue as you drink down every single drop. your tongue licks her cunt up, cleaning every inch of her pussy to devour her slick fully. you leave kisses along her shaking thighs, holding her up and letting her body relax against the wall behind her.

your core pounds against your dress as you stand shakily, your hands resting under her ass to support her. you kiss your way up her body, on top of her dress, not caring if she can't feel your warm lips, just wanting to make sure she knows you're here and can feel and hear you right in front of her. you observe her flushed face, eyes closed, head resting against the wall, pink hair disheveled beautifully, her chest rising and falling, a glistening sheen of perspiration on her skin across her neck, a goddess you call your rival at your mercy in your hands.

you trail your lips across her sweaty skin, kissing her shoulder and inching towards her neck.

"happy birthday, princess," you whisper in her ear as she giggles cutely, turning your face and pressing her forehead to yours.

"let's get out of here," aeri pants against your cum covered lips.

you kiss her in response, "okay, you still owe me an orgasm."

she bites your bottom lip, "it's my birthday."

"wouldn't it be a good present?" you challenge.

she huffs and agrees, "every part of y/n l/n in my hands would be my perfect present."

a/n: this was supposed to be more intricate and better structured but erm well! this is what you get! also this was originally a short but this is too long for a short and kinda long for a regular fic so... idk wtv!

[dwaekkicidal]

The Easy Way vs The Hard Way

˚ʚBang Chan x fem!Readerɞ˚

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: I was thinking about brat taming the other day and I came to the conclusion that Chris has 2 different ways to tame a brat. So I procrastinated on my fics + assignments and wrote this :)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: ~1k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: fem!reader, largely based around Daddy kink, creampie (try to pee after sex pls <3), breeding mentions, Chris calls himself Daddy, 'good girl' used #2: kinda hard dom!chris, man handling, spanking

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes: sorry not sorry that 'hard' is longer than 'easy' (are u surprised? have you SEEN my content?) and take this off of schedule because I hate letting things sit in my drafts for more than a day 😭 ALSO Sharing is Caring part 2 coming out later this week :3 (along with a Jisung request I got hehe <3)

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

I think he has 2 ways of taming brats depending on what his mood is. So here's a little scenario to picture so that I can explain what I mean!

After a long day for the both of you, you guys indulge each other in a nice hour or 2 of foreplay before he finally fucks you. After you both finish, Chris pulls away to watch his cum drip out of you and you wiggle your hips to tease him. He slaps your ass playfully in response and teases you back by saying something along the lines of “Unless you’re trying to get bred tonight, I suggest you stop shaking your ass at me like that baby.” “As if you would complain about that. For somebody who calls himself ‘Daddy’ and says he ‘DoEsN’t MeAn It LiKe ThAt’, you sure as hell are trying to become one.” He originally laughs, but once he processes that you mocked him he rolls his eyes at you, “Just have to be a little brat? Maybe I didn’t fuck you thoroughly enough.” You scoff, crossing your arms and turning to look at him, “You think you do that anyways?”

So. How does theee Bang Christopher Chan deal with this?

‘Easy’ Way; aka “kill them with kindness”

“You think you do that anyways?”

He simply narrows his eyes at you, placing his hands on his hips, “Yeah?”

You proudly respond with an “Mhm." and stick your chin up.

He chuckles, stepping towards you and raising his hand to rest against your cheek, softly caressing the skin there. “But baby, you were just the one begging me to fuck you. Surely if I ‘never’ fucked you thoroughly enough, you wouldn’t be on your knees begging for my dick to be in you?”

You frown and he laughs in response, not giving you a chance to speak up before he continues. His free hand trails down your stomach and stops at your cunt, where he ghosts his fingers along your folds. You whimper and chew on your bottom lip, looking away from him shyly.

"And... Where did my good girl go? Hm? My pretty baby who listens soo well.” His fingers tease your hole before you’re filled with two of them. “My sweet doll who would never let her Daddy down like this.” His fingers double their efforts and the hand on your cheek slides a thumb into your puffy lips. "The good girl who doesn’t disrespect her Daddy like this… Where is she at?” Your breath suddenly becomes hectic and he can tell you’re getting close.

Between the bittersweet words and the eager movements against your pussy, you slip into another mindset all too easily. He smiles when you finally look at him with glossy eyes and respond in a small voice, "'M right here..." He tilts his head at you expectantly and you squirm in his hold before repeating yourself louder. "I'm right here Daddy.."

"Oh, hi baby. Is my good girl back now?" You nod desperately in response, tightening your hands into fists against his chest as you grip around his fingers. "And is she ready to behave?"

"Yes, Daddy. 'M sorry.."

"Shhh, it’s okay baby. Now be good and cum on my fingers, kay?"

Hard’ Way; aka “fuck around and find out”

“You think you do that anyways?”

His eyebrows furrow and his tongue drags against the inside of his cheek. “Yeah? You’re really gonna do this right now? Right after I was nice enough to let you cum?” You gulp but stand your ground, making a scene to roll your eyes and lean back against the headboard.

He sits there silently, trying to give you another chance to come to your senses to realize that you’re butt ass naked in front of him and at his mercy. When you instead cock your head sideways with a bunch of attitude, he sighs loudly. His hands suddenly grips your ankles and drags you towards him. Then you’re flipped into your stomach and he renters you with no warning.

Your jaw drops and you moan loudly in surprise. His hands take turns slamming down against your ass cheeks over and over, seemingly getting harder with each slap. He sighs contently at the way you cling tightly around him with each smack, and he only stops once your cheeks are beet red and you’re trembling below him.

He hums to himself and taps the flesh, making it burn more and watching as you shake. "Such a pretty thing with such pretty reactions.. If only you were a good plaything and shut that pretty mouth for once."

He watches as your head snaps back towards him for a moment, the angry face and tears running down your face only make him smile at you. You feel his hips drag away from you, painfully slowly, until only the first centimeter or two of his tip are in you. You're taking a deep breath trying to regain your composure when a hand grabs a tight grip of your hair and pulls you backwards, his hips slamming forward at the same time.

A choke leaves you at the suddenness but he wastes no time, using the leverage in your hair to hold you in place as he fucks into you roughly. The aftermath of your previous orgasm sneaks up on you and you feel another one building up in no time. You melt into the sheets at the feeling, shaking as you almost tip over from one of the faster orgasms you've experienced, but Chris proves himself to be faster.

In an instant he's pulling out completely and holding you down preemptively for when you start thrash and whine. He waits until you stop kicking your feet at him, a tell tale sign that the tightness in your stomach finally faded, then he all of the sudden plunges back into you. The slide against your walls is rough, but you can’t deny how well it’s breaking down your resolution.

He uses the hand in your hair to tilt your head up at him when he leans forward to tower over you. It's very uncomfortable but it gives him the advantage as his narrowed eyes bore directly into you. He eventually changes positions, not wanting to actually hurt you like that, and he uses the new one to bring you to another orgasm. One that he, of course, ruins immediately with no hesitation.

This happens multiple times across the next 2 hours, to the point where you lost count of how many orgasms slipped away. It's not until you're sobbing beneath him and no longer kicking at him with each ruined orgasm, that he's flipping you onto your back and leaning down to kiss your tears away.

"Are you done now, love? You ready to be my good girl again?"

Your arms wrap around his neck and your lower lip trembles as you nod. He smiles, petting your hair and cooing at you before returning to his previous pace fucking you.

"There we go..."

Taglist:

@jiminssluttyminx @changisworld @juskz @linohumina

[roturo]

CRY FOR ME -dick grayson x f!reader

① NEW REQUEST FROM ANONYMOUS!: sex pollen, old lovers meet again.

→ summary: He loves you, he really does, but he left you. Months wondering why he did that had you crying for him, never ending the never-ending cycle of the abandoned by Dick Grayson wasn't in your to-do list. It's time to hit him with a smile, rather than a goodbye that would leave him wondering.

→ warnings: SMUT, angst, sex pollen, mating press, breeding kink, marking, fingering & oral (f receiving), mutlipes orgasms, overstimulation, mention of weight loss (but it's never specified how much or the weight of the reader exactly, neither a body type), hero into villain!reader, med student!reader, mentions of kory and dick being together but never in a relationship, reader is friends with harley quinn, reader was part of the og titans.

A/N: I'm really proud of this one, might even do pt2 if it gets support. -Words: 3.4k

TUMBLR IS BASED ON A REBLOG SYSTEM. PLEASE REBLOG MY WORK. THANK YOU. ENJOY. SMUT BELOW THE CUT.

¨And you know what I hate most of all that shit he put me through?, He-¨

¨Can you please stop talking about Dick Y/N? It's been MONTHS, damn it! almost a year! You're driving me nuts! I'm not even Dick's ex, or friend and I already hate him as much as you do. So let's move on.¨

¨You don't understand, I was a good girlfriend! Shit! I even became a hero for him! Now look where we are.¨

Harley laughs at your remark of how the tables have turned.

Both of you were sitting at the top of a building eating some ice-cream, which Harley insisted on steal from a random kid on the street, after robbing some random store she liked a collar from, you were now looking at how police officers where trying to look for a culpable of this crime.

It's been 11 months and 5 days since Dick broke up with you. You couldn't AND still don't understand why he did it, both of you were fine one day and the next one he decided, 'oh how could I destroy the woman of my dreams heart?, I know how! What if I tell her I don't need her anymore in my life and she's useless! then some months later fuck some fire princess and act like i'm a new person with this new suit and name! oh! also, re-do the titans! when my ex helped me do the og ones, helped when the fell apart but she's useless anyways!'

To say you weren't deep down for him, would be a lie. You don't know how he could keep laughing everyday knowing how his little trauma ass dumped you like trash. Well, if you're being honest he doesn't have a small ass, but that doesn't matter.

¨Aw, I want more ice-cream¨ Coming back to earth after some deep thoughts, Harley grabbed you by the wrists in order to change up and start looking some restaurant for dinner.

After changing clothes and Harley talking about how obsessed she´s with the Joker, you couldn't quite blame her, both of you were finally walking on the street, laughing at some random inside joke both of you had.

¨Huh.¨ Your phone started ringing and you could swear if it wasn't cold enough to freeze you up, the call was. ¨Who is it?¨ Harley asked, sneaking through your shoulder.

¨OH! Donna?, the cute girl you talked about?¨

¨Shhh, let me attend this call... Hello? Donna?¨

¨Y/N, um- hello! How are you? It's been what? one year since we don't talk?¨ ¨I'm... fine. How about you?¨

You were quite confused for this call, on the outside you're calm, but inside, you're freaking out.

¨I'm good, it's nice to hear you're doing fine!¨ ¨Thank you Donna, but I know you just don't call to ask how i'm doing, what's wrong?¨ ¨Oh well, you quite know me well Y/N, i'm sorry it seemed that way, but you're like the only person I know who could help us with some medical issues, you know? So I wanted to ask you if you could come and help us to deal with Conner, and maybe stay some days...? i'll explain you who he is and all of that later.¨ ¨Donna, you know i'm not longer on the me-¨

Harley pinched you in the arm, trying to talk but you were faster. ¨Ow Harley! Stop it!¨ You told your best friend in a whisper so Donna couldn't hear the both of you, also covering the microphone of your phone, for... extra precautions.

¨You don't understand! This is an awesome opportunity! You're going undercover in the titans tower! Imagine how crazy Jack (Jocker) would be! Say yes!¨

Thinking it for a few seconds, she was right, you could get some important information from them, it was indeed, an awesome plan.

¨Who knows, you might also see bird-boy again!¨ She said raising her eyebrows in a teasing way making you roll your eyes.

¨Y/N? Are you still there?¨

¨Yes, when do you need me to be there?¨

¨Erm... now if it's possible¨

You were now unpacking your suitcase, Donna told you to pack for at least a month, isn't that incredible?

You haven't come across any of the other titans, beside, Donna, Dawn, Gar, Rachel, Jason and Rose... Quite interesting team.

You didn't introduced well to the kids since you were in a hurry to enter your temporary room and not ran into someone else...

While you were unpacking your old tools Wayne gave you while you were their medical support 'hero' maybe also because you were a med student, you still helped with fights, bruises and hits.

You found the 'special' bandages you had for Dick, since the 'normal ones weren't soft enough for his bruises' a small smile appeared on your face at those old memories.

Now unpacking your clothes, you found three special lingerie underwear with a note from Harley:

'Just in case you have some fun ;)

xx Harley~'

The note made you roll your eyes but you couldn't deny it brighten your mood, throwing away the not and putting aside the 'Harley present', you continued unpacking your clothes, you brought in a separate case for your suit, just in case.

¨Y/N! Can you come here?¨

¨Coming!¨ maybe you could order the clothes other time.

When you entered the living room, the kids were no longer there, except Jason.

They started explaining you what happened between Deathstroke and what they know about Conner, you were paying attention to know what you're dealing with, you haven't even realize Dick came in sight until Dawn mentioned it.

But Dick didn't came alone, he was next fire princess which you couldn't care less to investigate her name when you found out about Dick meeting her.

¨Oh Dick! We brought Y/N so she could help us with Conner, since we don't have anyone else who knows about this weird medical stuff.¨ They know what happened between you two, and they still decided to ask for your help knowing he's going to be here.

You stood up from the sofa, eyes locking with his, you couldn't longer see the coldness in his eyes, but there wasn't warm either, you couldn't quite decipher what he's feeling.

¨Kory¨ She gave you her hand at which you responded with your name and doing the same. You locked eyes with her for a brief moment, a small smirk appeared in your face but disappeared once the greeting finished.

¨Y/N.¨ You locked eyes with him, a tension only the two of you could feel. You were different, much prettier, you lose some weight too, blame it on the break-up depression, but you were shining.

¨Grayson.¨ Hearing you say his last name instead of his name he could feel a small part of him getting shattered inside him, you changed.

After checking on Conner and taking some notes, it was finally night time, you were eating some cereal, knowing more about Gar and Rachel, Kory, Dawn, Donna and Robin were dressed up with their suits.

¨We have some issues to deal tonight with another troublemaker, nothing serious though, just a one night problem.¨ Dick announced while getting ready to go out.

¨Y/N, you should come! Maybe warm out a little like the old times." Dawn invited you, how nice of her, only if she knew you were also a troublemaker.

¨No thank you, i'm only here for medical support.¨ You gave her a small smile and said your goonights.

Some knocking in your door woke you up, it only passes one hour since you went asleep and they're already annoying you, first day!

¨Y/N? Are you awake?¨ You heard Dawn saying though the door.

¨Mmh¨ You replied.

¨We need you, it's Dick.¨

Even more annoying.

You walked next Dawn through the halls until you finally came into Dick´s room. Inside they were Donna and Kory, clearly concerned about his well being.

His behavior seemed, weird, there wasn’t any bruises or cuts, not even blood. He was just twisting in pain on his bed. You stepped closer to him, and got your hand on top of his forehead at which he only whined, that scared you, since it sounded more like a moan than a whine. He was hot, sweating and moving a lot.

You had your suspicions what this could be, but you needed to confirm it, this can't be real.

¨Can you please... tell me with which villain you fought with?¨

¨Ivy¨ Donna said.

Shit.

¨I need to make a call¨ you quickly said running out of the room.

¨Surprise, surprise!¨ Harley said in her taunting tone. ¨Oh my god Harley, I can't believe you.¨ ¨Well, you know a girl needs to help her best friend, so... I called another friend and voilà!¨ ¨What am I supposed to do? I don't have the fucking cure for sex pollen Harley! I owe you one, can't believe Ivy did this for me.¨ ¨You just said it, sex. C´mon Y/N!, it's your moment to play with him! He had you like a sad girl, why don't turn her into a mad girl? Make him cry for you. Break his heart like he did with you.

You ended the call, and just in time, Kory came. ¨Y/N, we need you Dick keeps talking about you and rambling about some stupid things.¨ You could sense a strange behavior from her, like if she just discovered something big.

Watching Dick twisting in pain and saying your name in just some black briefs felt good. You can't lie to yourself Harley was right.

¨It's sex pollen¨ You admitted.

¨And what's the cure? Do you have it? That's why you made the call?¨ Donna asked.

¨No, the only cure for it it's well... sex. The pollen might last for at-least 3 days or even a week, symptoms are well... extremely high sex-drive, dehydration, high temperatures, and... I think that's all.¨

Donna chuckled at what happened to Dick, ¨Let's go girls, let's leave this to Kory.¨ Dawn just laughed at a very shocked and blushed Kory, ¨Don't be like that Donna, Kory and Dick haven't confirmed anything yet.¨ You felt your jaw clenching, but decided to act calm, and when all of you were almost leaving, you were stopped.

¨No. I want her.¨ Dick said, pointing towards you. All of you stayed quiet at the sudden confession. You were shocked to say at least, blood rushing to your cheeks, you were about to leave that damn room until you remembered what Harley said.

Cry for me.

Donna grabbed your shoulder, looking at you. ¨You don't have to do this if you're uncomfortable.¨

¨No. It's okay, i'm in.¨

After mentally preparing yourself, bringing some water bottles into the room, they left you alone with him.

You sat next to him on his bed, memories came back flying around the both of you.

¨Look, I know that-¨ He completely cut you off when he started kissing you, making you lay down on the bed, you left a small moan when he broke the kiss for a moment.¨Oh my god, you don't know how much I wanted to kiss you again.¨

Did he missed you? Every question that came to your mind was easily erased when he started kissing and sucking your neck while unbuckling your jeans and taking them down with your underwear, he pulled apart to admire the bruises he left, he grabbed your panties and threw them to his nightstand.

He started kissing your thighs, making small pauses on each to make sure he's marking you as his again. Every time he went higher until he gave a small peck on your clit. ¨I can't wait to taste you sweetheart.¨ There it is... the nickname.

He got your legs over his shoulders and gave a testing long lick on your pussy, teasing your hole. At which he started sucking your clit once he heard the high pitched moan you did when he teases your hole.

His started spelling his name with his tongue on your pussy at which it only made you hornier, suddenly he inserted his index finger inside you. Dick sped up, fingers now flicking in and out of you at light speed, nose pressed into your clit, and before you knew it you were cumming, shuddering on his mouth, crying out his name.  Quickly he took all the remaining clothes from you and him, now both of you completely naked for each-other.

He was rock hard. No, scratch that, his cock looked like it was made of fucking ruby. Red and painful and already half-soaked with pre-cum.

He pressed your legs impossibly closer to your torso, moving down to meet your eyes, until you were folded in half beneath him, legs on his shoulders, putting you into a—

Oh. 

Oh. 

This was going to be a long night.

He fell on his forearms, and you wondered how much more you could take- He laced his fingers on top of your head, thumbs on your forehead, holding you still. He mumbled out another gonna make you feel s’ good before pounding you in earnest, practically bouncing you both on his mattress. His balls smacked against your ass, and the feeling was so damn satisfying that he just had to go harder. You would sport matching bruises tomorrow, his hips on your ass. You pushed out moans in time with his unforgiving pace, a metronome playing the beat to which his sanity danced away from him. 

“More?” He sounded fucking pathetic, like he was asking himself that, his voice octaves higher than it usually was, but he didn’t care. “More, you little slut? That what you want? You want more?”

“I’ll give you more,” he babbled, “More, baby, give you more give you everythin’ gonna fuck you so hard you won’t walk for weeks.”

He’s not too worried about hurting you—you’re already so wet—more that he’s afraid he’ll cum the second he starts moving again. Out of his previous partners, he doesn’t think any of them have felt this good around him.

“Please-” a strand of incomprehensible begs and pleads leaves his mouth when he starts thrusting into you again.

¨Shit- how are you even tighter huh? You've been keeping this tight pussy just for me?¨ He's a whiny mess, small kisses every time he cans, praises here and there.

“Mmm yes please yes please yesyesyesss—” was all you could manage. He laughed at you, breathless, and you wondered how he could keep up this pace and still rattle off incredibly filthy little comments, looking right in your eyes. 

“You’d like that? Yeah? Gon’ look so pretty, little baby, so pretty full of my child, yeah? All round and glowing and heavy with me. All of ’em will look at you and see me, all me, see that I did that. You want that? You want that you want that—”

He leans forward to coo praise into your ear, gently nipping at your earlobe. Goosebumps raise along your exposed flesh. The sound of skin slapping on skin echoes through the stairwell. Sometime during this his teeth find the soft muscle of your neck, leaving a crescent shape mark that’ll certainly bruise in the morning.

You're pretty sure everyone on this tower have heard the both of you fucking like rabbits by now, but knowing this was going to follow him his whole life, with the memories of him fucking you every way possible just so you could leave him, it's all you need to don't care about that.

The first time he cums, he doesn’t even realize he has. He shudders. It felt good—a bit too good—but nothing out of the ordinary. It makes him do a double take. His cock doesn’t even go soft. Drips of cum run down your thighs, pooling on the bed-sheets beneath you.

His thumb traces circles around your clit, moving in erratic, uneven motions. Dick leans back down for another kiss. You can taste yourself on him, though it’s not entirely unpleasant. Your arms wrap around his neck, holding him to your chest. The two of you can only fuck and cum until you’re too exhausted to continue. You’ve never felt so full. The thought of using protection crossed your mind once—and only for a moment—the pollen leaving you too desperate to care.

Second day and he wouldn't give you a break to nap for a minute.

His body curved and bowed, hips pressed hard against you, arms below your body and hands gripping your shoulders. “Mmm fuck baby,” Dick muttered into your mouth, your moans coming out of you almost breathless. “Yeah, yeahyeahyeah milk me fucking milk my cock gonna cum in you fuck a baby, my baby into you and you’re gonna fucking take it take it nnngh —”

He buried his face into your neck, teeth latching on to skin, biting down to draw blood, a choked groan as he came, really came, his balls squeezing painfully, a deep ache in his gut, indescribable tingles all along his cock, his spine, down to the soles of his feet.

Third day, and you started getting him where you wanted it.

“Sensitive,” you hissed, “Sensitive, Dick, you insatiable—”

“Insatiable is right,” he said to you, eyes wide, still looking like you just told him the Earth was flat. He towered over you, kneeling now, and with horror and a bit of something else you felt how hard he still was. 

��I missed you so much, the biggest mistake of my life was leaving you.¨

Fourth day he started getting sensitive but that didn't stopped him, and he was a little more languid, strokes slow and smooth, his thighs shaking just a bit as exhaustion started to settle in. His cum was spreading in a pool on the sheets now, and you couldn’t bring yourselves to be even a little disgusted. He loved it. He loved so much how it felt that tears dropped from his eyes every-time he felt that electric shock come to him when he was about to come. He was crying for you.

Last day. Fifth day. Barely even thrusting anymore, just a slow grind of his hips, the friction and the pressure and the raw sensation squeezing out what could have been an orgasm if only both of you were awake enough to feel it.

When you both woke up the next day, he was staring at you, straddling your hair, and that's when you knew it.

¨Good morning sweetheart.¨

You just answered with a small ¨hey¨

¨I never through of seeing you laying next to me again, it felt like home. I'm sorry I did that to you, you don't know how much I regret it, please, give me a second chance.¨

Bingo.

Without saying a word, you grabbed some shirt of his, long enough to cover yourself and went back to your room, stumbling and shaking someway you made it. You changed yourself, taking a minute to observe how he marked you, it was time.

You went back to his room, already changed, you gave him a smile and sat on the bed with him, with no emotion behind your eyes, it was your time.

¨You were ready to leave me for her.¨ Confusion, first stage he made you go through.

¨I was doing fine, really, but then you walked again into my life again and fucked me up.¨ Sadness and lies. Second stage.

¨You think this will make me stay?¨ You signaled the both of you. ¨You think with just some stupid sex to heal you is enough of an apology?¨ A laugh escaped your mouth. ¨You thought this was real?¨

¨You know for a fucking fact this wasn't supposed to happen.¨ You got your hand on top of his, faking a caring smile looking at him.

¨When friends of yours make jokes about how you always leave them, you think it's funny, but it's not. That hurts a lot, actually.¨

You got up from the bed and stepped closer to the door, you paused for a second and turned around to see a hurt Dick naked on the bed with just some blanket covering him.

¨And Dick... Of course I still love you, if it wasn't for me, I would go crying and throwing myself into your arms again.¨

¨You still can.¨ He tried.

¨No.¨ You chuckled. ¨I won't let myself get hurt again. Our love isn't worth the fight. Goodbye Dick Grayson.¨

[theemporium]

[3.1k] after a spell goes wrong, you and lando are forced to hide the fact that oscar isn't quite himself during media day at the british grand prix. it goes about as well as you would expect ft. mediocre magic, a surprised max verstappen and a cute black cat.

[find other fright night specials here]

.

There was a lot more to being a witch than people expected. 

It wasn’t all hocus pocus, waving a wand and standing around a bubbling cauldron whilst chanting in an ancient language under the moonlight. Don’t get it twisted, that was still a part of it. But there was more than cliches and stereotypes, things were a lot more complicated than reading from a spellbook and swishing a stick around. 

It was hard. 

Sometimes, it felt like that one subject in school that just never clicked. You were reading the textbooks, doing the homework and listening to the teacher but, no matter what, you couldn’t seem to get it quite right. Sometimes, you would eventually get it. 

And sometimes, you were left in situations quite like this one. 

Ideally—at least in the eyes of your grandmother—you would have done what every other young witch did at your age. You would have finished school, joined a coven and trained under the watchful eyes of the elders until you had successfully and safely mastered your magic. Upon reaching adulthood, a witch’s magic became more volatile, more unpredictable, more potent. It was vital for her to learn to control it before it overtook her. 

Unfortunately for your grandmother’s sake, you didn’t want to settle down in a coven. You wanted to explore the world. You wanted to learn to control your magic through experience, not through old scrolls and grimoires. You wanted to live, not just survive and learn. 

You did not want to be chained down by ancient rules and practices. 

However, as much as it pained for you to admit it, you kind of wish you had listened to your grandmother around about now. 

It was a funny series of events that led you to meet the two Mclaren drivers. It was somewhere during two race weekends a year ago, a meeting that happened by chance but changed the trajectory of all three of your lives. It was instant connections, late nights spent in hotels and a passion that was far from fizzling after your two weeks together were over. 

And it bloomed. 

You wanted to travel the world and they wanted to show you the world. You wanted to experience life beyond a witch’s expectations and they wanted to share that experience with you. You wanted someone to share your heart with and they wanted to be the ones you trusted with it. 

It felt like the planets aligned, the stars shone and the universe worked its magic to help you cross paths with Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri. It felt the invisible string of fate weaving its way through your hearts to bring you together, to keep you together, to intertwine your lives to this very point. 

And, despite the stories whispered in young witch’s ears about the taboos of humans, Lando and Oscar accepted you for who you were, they loved you for who you were. The tales of humans hating and despising and disapproving of witches were squished by your boys in seconds. In fact, they were your biggest supporters in your journey to learn and control your magic. 

Maybe sometimes a little too supportive. 

“Oh my god.”

“Lando—” 

“Oh my god!” 

“Stop panicking!” 

“How can I not fucking panic?! Oscar is a fucking—” 

“Shhh!” You hissed, slapping your hand over your boyfriend’s mouth before he altered the whole McLaren hospitality. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, the bubbling of feeling of ‘oh, I fucked up’ becoming more and more prominent. “Just…calm down for a second.” 

Lando let out a squeak of disbelief as he gestured towards the orange cat blinking up at the both of you, sitting in the spot where Oscar had been standing moments ago. 

“Fuck,” you whispered, staring at the orange cat. “Oscar?” 

The cat meowed in response.

“Oh my god,” Lando wheezed, his eyes comically wide. “I can’t believe you turned him into an orange cat. He is definitely more of a black cat, if anything.” 

You glared at the Brit. “Oh, sorry, let me just remember that for the next time I turn our boyfriend into a fucking cat!” 

Lando’s mouth parted. “Uh, babe—” 

“What?”

Lando only nodded back towards the cat, only to find Oscar the orange cat now very much black. 

“What the fuck?” You breathed out, the panic starting to resurface. 

“Change him back!” Lando hissed. 

“Okay, okay!” You rolled your shoulders, eyes narrowing slightly in determination as you stared at the black cat in front of you. “This is fine. I turned you into a cat, I can turn you back into a human.” 

“Ideally soon,” Lando added, staring at the cat with a suspicious glare. Like he didn’t quite believe it was really Oscar. “It’s Thursday. The media team is gonna want us to start filming stuff soon.” 

So, no pressure. 

…

Sometimes, you wondered if your grandmother placed a small, inconvenient curse on you to punish you for not listening to her advice about joining a coven straight after school. 

Because that was the only explanation you could come up with behind your horrendously, inconveniently timed bad luck that would be turning one of your boyfriends into a cat on media day of the British Grand Prix—arguably one of the most important for the team and the boys in the racing calendar. 

It was a purely unpurposeful accident that led to you accidentally turning Oscar into a cat, but you thought you had a little more skill and experience to be able to change him back with the same ease. However, forty minutes later and three breakdowns later—all from Lando, thank you very much—told you that accidental magic was a lot harder to fix than one would expect. 

Or, at least, than you expected. 

“This is pointless!” 

“Babe,” you sighed but the boy was already pacing the small driver’s room already. 

“He’s stuck forever! We will never see that stupid swoop ever again! We will never hear him say ‘Webbah’ ever again!”

“Lando,” you tried again.

“Oh my god, we have to tell Mark! We have to tell everyone! How the fuck are we going to tell everyone?!” 

“Lando!” 

The boy’s mouth quickly snapped shut, his wide eyes staring back at you as you pushed yourself up from your spot on the couch, crossing the room and gently cupping his face. Your thumbs soothed over his cheeks, feeling him relax a little under your touch. 

“Relax, baby,” you whispered softly, your lips twitching upwards as he took a deep breath. “This isn’t ideal but I have messaged my grandmother. She will call back and help us sort out this mess and nobody has to know.” 

“What about the team?” Lando questioned, his brows furrowing together. “They are gonna notice—”

“We will just have to cover up until Oscar is human again,” you said with a determined nod. “It can’t be too hard, right?”

“Right, yeah, of course,” Lando nodded. “Except for one minor problem.” 

You frowned. “What?” 

“Oscar is gone.” 

Your head snapped around, expecting to turn and see the black cat curled up where he was less than a few minutes ago. But he was nowhere to be seen, the driver room now empty apart from the two of you and the door out to the rest of the paddock somehow wiggled open.

“Fuck.” 

…

“If I were a cat, where would I be?” 

“Keep your voice down!” 

“I’m just trying to get into the mindset of Oscar right now,” Lando murmured in response, his lips turned downwards as he rubbed the spot of his arm you just slapped. “If he’s even Oscar anymore. What if he’s stuck with a cat brain forever?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Magic can’t do that. He’s still Oscar. Just…Oscar with very strong cat-like urges.” 

The two of you had managed to sneak out of Lando’s driver room without alerting anyone else on the team that something was wrong. None of them questioned where Oscar was, just simply waving at the two of you walking past as Lando panic-babbled some bullshit about wanting to go see Carlos in the Ferrari hospitality to sort out some details for a golf day before the McLaren media team stole them away for the rest of the day. 

Fortunately, they bought it. 

Unfortunately, it’s a lot harder to look for a cat in a paddock when no one can know you are looking for a cat.

“Should we get treats?” Lando questioned, keeping his voice low. “Or like…a laser?” 

“Yeah, because that will be real subtle,” you murmured with a snort. 

“We need to get into the mindset of a cat,” Lando said with an odd sense of certainty. 

“He would probably be somewhere warm,” you pointed out, tilting your head back to look up at the grey clouds starting to cover the sky. “But that's more of an Oscar thing than a cat thing.” 

“Oscar did say the other day he was going to hog the tire warmer blankets if the weekend had shit weather,” Lando suggested, his brows furrowing together. “What are the chances he’s just…sleeping there?” 

You glanced down at his watch, your frown deepening. “Let’s hope high.” 

…

“Pspspsps!”

“What the fuck are you doing?” 

Lando glanced up, a sheepish smile on his face. “Trying to make him feel relaxed, you know? Like we are one of his people.” 

You raised your brows, taking in the sight of him crawling through the stacks of tires on all fours before shaking your head, deciding it was easier to just leave it rather than ask any questions. 

Your grandmother hadn’t responded to any of the messages, the team were starting to blow up Lando’s phone and the two of you have had to dodge a handful of McLaren employees scouting the paddock for their drivers. 

Safe to say your plan wasn’t working the way you intended. 

“Oscar!” You called out, crouched down as you joined Lando in searching amongst the tires. “Oscar! Come on! We have fish!” 

“Ew, we do?” 

You shot the boy a look.

“Uh, yeah!” Lando quickly cleared his throat. “We have a lovely piece of salmon just for you!” 

“Fuck, maybe we should have brought some fish,” you murmured under your breath.

“What the fuck are the both of you doing?” 

You let out a noise of surprise as your head snapped up, your eyes widening a little at the sight of Max Verstappen standing a few feet away from you. But more surprisingly, the sight of a familiar black cat curled up in his arms. 

“Osc—” You winced when Lando nudged your side with elbow. “Cat! You found him!” 

Max blinked. “Did you just call him Oscat?” 

You smiled sheepishly. “Yes, I did, didn’t I?” 

“Odd name choice,” Max commented, lightly scratching the cat underneath his chin. “I didn’t know you got a cat.”

“He’s new,” Lando retorted, quickly scrambling to stand up and brush his knees off. “Uh, where did you find him?” 

“I heard meowing behind the motorhome and found this little guy trying to puncture some spare tires,” Max grinned, cooing at the black cat. “He’s a menace, isn’t he?” 

“Tell me about it,” Lando grumbled before clearing his throat. “I mean, thanks for finding him! But we will take it from here!”

“You should bring him over some time,” Max said as he handed the black cat off to Lando. “Sassy probably won’t like him but Jimmy might—” 

The cat let out a god-awful screech before he could be placed in Lando’s arms.

“Bastard,” Lando glared at the cat.

“We’ll think about it!” You quickly spoke up, ignoring Max’s odd expression as you quickly took Oscar in your arms. You didn’t miss the way Lando’s glare hardened when the black cat easily curled into your arms, purring away like nothing was wrong. “But we have to go.” 

“Media duties,” Lando supplied with a grim smile.

“Tell Oscar I said hi.” 

Lando only hummed, glaring at the black cat once more before the two of you headed back towards the McLaren garage.

…

Lando was pretty sure his team were going to think he had food poisoning again considering he had told them he had needed to go to the bathroom before they started filming. 

And the fact that had been forty minutes ago. 

“We can’t stay here forever,” Lando muttered, staring at the black cat curled up on his hoodie. Despite refusing to be held by the Brit, Oscar seemed happy to nap amongst his clothes. Lando was trying not to take it personally. 

“I know, I know,” you sighed, frowning as you flipped through your notebook. It was no grimoire, but it had little notes and lessons and spells you had learnt over the years. Your grandmother insisted it was pertinent for a witch to record her progress properly, to take extensive notes to pass on to the witches after her. You were starting to see her point now. “Why have I never turned a person into a cat before?!” 

Lando paused. “Was that question rhetorical or…?” 

You lifted your head to shoot him a look.

“Rhetorical it is,” he nodded, slouching back against the couch. “What if you just abracadabra your hands at him until something eventually happens?” 

“Other than the fact that is an incredibly stupid and idiotic idea?” You retorted before sighing, flashing him an apologetic smile at your biting tone. “It wouldn’t be safe for him or me. I don’t know what spell I would be adding onto and we don’t know what effects it could have on Oscar. For all we know, it could make this change…permanent.” 

The black cat lifted his head to meow in response. 

“He doesn’t seem like a fan of that idea either,” you added, your lips twitching at the way Oscar managed to look so judgemental even in cat form. 

“He doesn’t have much of a brain right now,” Lando grumbled, shuffling away when Oscar hissed at him in response.

“Stop antagonising him,” you chastised.

“He’s the one who won’t let me pet him!” Lando huffed in response. “He’s my boyfriend too.” 

“Is this about Max holding him?” You deadpanned.

“Yes!” 

“Well,” you started, quickly turning back towards your notebook. “In his defence, it was your fault that he got turned into a cat.”

Lando blinked. “How?”

“You were the one who kept pushing me to make you an ice lolly!”

“And you were the one who fucked up the spell!” 

“And that was because you kept tickling me—”

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

The room fell dead silent as the three of you stared at the door. 

“Lando? Is Oscar with you? The press conference starts in five minutes, you’re both needed right now.” 

The Brit turned to you with a panicked look.

“Go,” you whispered with wide eyes. “Stall them. I’ll work on Oscar.”

Lando’s brows furrowed together. “Are you sure? I can—”

“Go, we’ll be okay,” you assured him, quickly leaning in to peck his lips. “Promise, baby.” 

“Okay, okay,” he nodded, swallowing harshly. “I can distract them. I can hold them off.” 

That was perfectly possible and capable. 

…

It was not, in fact, possible or capable.

The journalists were like vultures the second they realised the second McLaren driver was nowhere to be seen. Lando assumed his presence and the three other Brits on the couch would be more than enough for the media, especially for Silverstone weekend. It turns out he was wrong. 

So very wrong. 

“Question for Lando!” 

The boy resisted the urge to roll his eyes, instead slumping further back the couch in hopes it would open up and eat him alive. He noticed Alex and George sat to his left, snickering away with their microphones sitting beside them considering they hadn’t been asked a question in the last ten minutes.

“With Oscar out of contention for the weekend, are we to expect McLaren will be focusing on your standing in the championship?” 

Lando frowned. “Oscar isn’t out for the weekend.” 

“No one has given us a reason for his absence in this conference,” the journalists retorted. “We assumed he was unwell. Do we have reason to believe he isn’t here for another reason?”

Lando bit his tongue. 

“He was seen this morning arriving in the paddock,” another journalist added. 

“Then I’m sure you saw he was here and well,” Lando said, a fake and forced smile on his face. 

“Hey, if you need a driver for that second McLaren,” Alex spoke up as he tried to divert the attention away from Lando—because bless his heart, he is a good friend—after picking up his microphone for the first time in the conference. “I know a guy.”

Lando’s smile felt a little more genuine this time. “Yeah? There’s a few qualifications he needs to meet.” 

“Be slower than you?” Alex guessed, a few chuckles breaking out amongst the crowd.

“Yeah, if he could hold everyone back, that would be great,” Lando grinned. “Just swipe everyone out whilst I just zoom off.” 

Alex cackled, leaning into George as he shook his head fondly. 

“Lando!” A journalist called out and Lando felt his whole body tense up. “Do you think Oscar’s absence shows a lack of commitment to the team?” 

Lando could feel his face scrunch up. He knew his emotions were probably written very clearly across his face if the bubbling anger inside him was telling enough. But before he could lift his microphone and say something that would have the PR team sighing deeply at his snarkiness, the door to the conference room slammed open as someone came running in. 

“Sorry, sorry!” 

Lando’s anger quickly melted away, replaced with something quite like knee-buckling relief at the sight of Oscar settling onto the couch beside him, his cheeks flushed and his hair dishevelled on his head. But he was there and he was human and that was all Lando needed to know right now. 

At least, he tried to tell himself that as Oscar supplied the journalists with some very vague excuse as to why he was late.

“How?” Lando muttered under his breath, leaning into Oscar so the microphones wouldn’t pick up on their voices.

“Grandma messaged back,” Oscar said with a small smile. “She seems confident it worked fine. But she was also three drinks deep into happy hour so, take it with a pinch of salt.” 

Lando raised his brows. “Do you feel okay?” 

“Yeah, Grandma said there shouldn’t be any lingering side effects,” Oscar assured him, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m fine. Promise. I’ll explain later.” 

Lando only nodded in response, shuffling a little closer to Oscar until their knees were nudging against each other. Oscar was there and he was human and he was touching him now, and that was what mattered. He could wait another fifteen minutes before finding out more, before wrapping his arms around his boyfriend and muttering about needing to buy a black cat before Max texted him with more questions. 

Oscar was fine now and nobody knew the mess they had accidentally created. 

“Next question is for Oscar: did you just meow?” 

.

[icejjfishesz]

𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐄 ❞ 𓄼˚ ▍ E.E.

❛ 𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆             ━━  how days off are spent ❜

❛ 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁                ━━  sex in the kitchen cause…why not ❜

❛ 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁         ━━  1k+ ❜

❛ 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲      ━━  emily is literally soooo fine ❜  

WRIST DEEP IN SUDDY WATER, scrubbing the life back into a blue plate as you hum a song to yourself. you glance up at the kitchen window above the sink, admiring as solar rays cast light on the leaves of the tree outside. 

while you admire nature…emily admires you. the way your shoulders roll back by virtue of their soreness, your allure is unquestionable. emily gazes your way from the living room, she just finished sweeping the hardwood floors until they are akin to the day you first moved in.

you’ve both settled into the new place comfortably, emily more than you. it’s clear by the way she slumps down in relaxation while you still get used to your surroundings. maybe you were a control freak, even slightly.

“do you think our neighbors are nice?” you hum, noticing the way the family next door walks out of their house. the question isn’t one that truly plagues you. it’s your way of making conversation.

she stands from the slump of the couch, long legs carrying her to the kitchen, she leans up against a wall just watching you. there is a sense of calm towards every emotion you bestow upon her, like a pill of tranquility –– an immediate nostrum to all her ailments. the love you deliver for her. she appreciates you in your most natural form, doing a habitual task such as washing dishes mid-day on a sunday. she venerates the simplicity of your beauty, greedy palms itching to be pressed against your skin. 

“i think they’re fine.” she hums, not truly giving your question very much thought either. she’s too busy staring your way. you’re so engrossed in the task at hand, washing the last cup in the sink. so when dual hands tighten around your hips, you jump. her silhouette looms over you, your heart beating rapidly at the unexpectancy of it all but quickly relaxing when you recognize her.

“jesus, emily.” you laugh off your alarm when you feel her chin press against the blade of your shoulder. “you scared me.”

“you scare too easily.” she mumbles, placing a kiss to the nape of your neck. she grips at your waist, desperate for your attention. “when will you be done?”

“just need to dry the dishes and clean the counters.” you reach for a gingham kitchen towel, drying off a plate. her hands press your butt against her pelvis: she latches onto you, pulling you close and then even closer.

“let me help…” she mutters, breath tickling the skin of your neck. “you’ll be done quicker that way.”

you hold the plate out to her wordlessly, she takes the now dry dish from your hands and puts it away in the cupboard. 

soon, all the dishes have been dried and put away. then onto the countertops which to emily, look clean enough as is. your hands wiping the counter down, until it’s practically luster. she makes her way back behind you, sighing audibly. 

“you could take a break, you know…” tattooed hands finding their way across your stomach to rest across your abdomen. 

“or…” you hum. “i could finish cleaning now so i don’t have to worry about it tomorrow.”

yeah, or…she presses against you, deviously. lean body flush against yours.

“babe –– ?”

“shhh…” she shushes, licking her lips as her eyes stay trained to the swell of your ass. “you can keep cleaning.”

it elicits a chuckle to bubble up from your throat. “what are you ––”

then tedious, implacable fingers make their way across your front, pressing against the inseam of your cotton shorts. the sudden pressure shocks you, body jolting to it –– leaving you bent at the hips across the kitchen counter. her sporadic fingers slip away from the inseam despite the squeeze of your thighs trying to hold her there, they move to the hem and then slowly rid you of them. down to cuff around your ankles.

“i have to –– ” 

“clean the counters. yes, i know. i told you, you don’t have to stop.” smug lips quirk up at your quickened breaths, your ass pushing into her despite yourself. “bet you’re already wet.”

ignominy spreads over you deliciously –– so familiar that it doesn’t even phase you. you reach for her wrist, wrapping your hands around it and leading it up to your abdomen before you let it go back down –– underneath your underwear. letting her feel for herself the mess she makes of you so easily. 

“damn, baby…” she breathes out another laugh, this one not from humor but as a release from the shackles of the intensity of this situation. she slides her hand out of your underwear and instead opts to push them to the side. and then, cocky as ever: “i knew it.”

and she did. you lick your lips, waiting for her to resume her allconsuming touches against your skin. you suck in a deep breath, trying not to rush her. 

your patience is rewarded when she slips a finger inside you, a second following within seconds just to have you clenching around her. desirous breaths, slipping from your mouth. all under her command. her long fingers push in and out of you with precision only a woman in love with your body could have. 

she revels in the artistry of making you feel this way. 

“come on baby, take it.” the hand that was free from the latch of your greedy pussy engaged in the sweet pursuit of rubbing at your clit in a circular motion. you suck in a deep breath as you try and gain a sliver of your composure. your brows furrow within the waves of pleasure she bestows upon you. 

“you can take it, i know you can.” she cooed in encouragement, eyes locked in on the swell of your ass, mouth parting as she darted her tongue out to lick her lips. “you love it when i have you like this, don’t you?” 

you nod, back arched as you press your front against the counter to push back into her hand. 

“what was that?” she muses, free hand leaving your waist to push against your spin, keeping you still –– holding you at her mercy. “tell me you like it when i make you mine.”

“i love it.” you breathe eagerly, desperate to please her as she pleases you. your autonomy serendipitously surrenders to her control. her, an angel with the way her devilish actions unfold you, commanding you to her attention. deliver you.

[itneverendshere]

you said i have to trust more freely - r.c series (six)

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader; word count: 5.5k requested here; (one); (two); (three); (four); (five)

Being with Rafe was surprisingly easy, like slipping into a routine you didn’t know you’d been craving. It wasn’t over-the-top or dramatic; it was just normal—in the way that holding hands and sharing glances in crowded classrooms felt like the most natural thing in the world.

The guy who used to get under your skin, drive you absolutely crazy, and somehow, now, was making you melt with just one look? You didn’t know when your life turned into a rom-com, but you were pretty sure Rafe missed the part where he was supposed to stop being so intense the second the credits rolled. 

But, no. He was always like this now. Kisses in between classes, pulling you into him like he’d forget how to breathe if you stepped too far away. And you were starting to crave it. The constant closeness, the feel of his hands on you.

Today, it was more of the same—Rafe slipping into the seat next to you during a boring afternoon lecture, sliding his arm around you like it was his assigned spot. Like he belonged there. You had barely settled in before he was leaning in close, his mouth brushing your temple in a casual, absentminded kiss.

“Didn’t you just see me twenty minutes ago?” you teased, glancing up at him.

“Yeah, and?” He didn’t bother to look up at the professor as he trailed his fingers down your arm, sending goosebumps in their wake.

“And,” you whispered, fighting to keep your smile in check, “maybe we should try to pay attention?”

He glanced down at you, that half-smirk playing on his lips. “You really wanna listen to this guy talk about the English 18th-century economic policies, or do you wanna tell me what you’re doing after class?”

“Rafe—”

“—Because I’m thinking we grab coffee and maybe—”

“Shhh!” you hissed, your cheeks heating when you realized a few people in front of you were turning around to look. You shot him a pointed look, mouthing, You’re going to get us kicked out.

He just grinned wider, completely unbothered, and leaned back in his seat, looking more amused than ever. “Fine, fine,” he whispered. “But only ‘cause you’re cute when you’re pretending to be all serious.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, settling back against him instead. It should have felt weird, being so openly affectionate like this, but somehow, it didn’t. You knew people were watching, whispering even—Is that really Rafe with her? Didn’t they used to, like, hate each other?—but he made it all feel so… normal. 

He still made it impossible to focus, not dropping his touch from your skin.

“Are you even listening?”

“Not even a little.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the grin threatening to break free. “You’re going to fail if you keep staring at me.”

He leaned closer, “Worth it. Plus I got a hot tutor to help me out.”

There it was again—that fluttery feeling in your stomach, the one that always seemed to come alive whenever he looked at you like that. You shifted in your seat, your leg brushing against his, and he tightened his grip on you, almost as if he knew what he was doing to you.

“Pay attention, Cameron.”

“Make me,” he shot back, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Rafe,” you looked around to make sure no one was watching. But of course, a few heads were already turned in your direction. People had started noticing the two of you—how he was always leaning closer, how his arm would always be slung around your shoulders whenever you sat together.

Just as you were about to elbow him the professor started handing back quizzes—the ones you both knew were worth 50% of your eventual final grade.

You were nervous, but not just for yourself. You knew how much these grades meant to Rafe. He wasn’t one to show it, but you could tell. He used to barely scrape by with D’s before you two started your deal. You’d spent so many nights going over chapters together, sometimes until the early hours of the morning, and you were hoping it all paid off. The professor reached your row, placing the papers face down on the desk in front of you and Rafe. You glanced at yours first—an A, not bad. But when you turned your head to peek at his, you froze.

B.

Rafe had gotten a B.

You almost let out an excited squeal right there in the middle of the lecture hall but stopped yourself just in time. You turned to him, eyes wide, a huge grin spreading across your face. “Rafe, look!”

He was already smirking, casually flipping his paper back over, but you could tell he was trying to hide how pleased he was. “Yeah, I saw,” he said, all laid-back like it was no big deal. But the spark in his eyes said otherwise.

“B!” you tried to keep your voice as low as possible, but you couldn’t help it. “You’ve never gotten a B in this class!”

Last quiz he’d gotten a C, which was better... but a B in the last three quizzes? That was something.

“Thanks for the reminder,” he teased, nudging you with his shoulder, “Told you I’d get it together.”

“I told you you’d get it together,” you corrected.

He rolled his eyes, but you could see he was proud of himself. “And I told you I got a pretty good tutor, huh?”

You nudged him playfully. “Pretty good? You mean the best.”

You felt your heart swell at the look on his face. It wasn’t just about the grade—it was about the effort, the late-night study sessions, and the fact that he did care, even if he pretended not to. 

But his touching was even worse between classes.

The second the lecture ended, he was on his feet, gathering his stuff with that effortless, laid-back confidence that made it seem like he wasn’t in a rush, even though you knew he couldn’t wait to get out of there.

“Ready?” He didn’t bother waiting for you to answer, just slipped his hand into yours and pulled you gently toward the door.

Out in the hallway, he barely gave you a second to find your footing before pulling you in close, his hand lifting to cradle your face as he pressed a kiss to your lips. Your pulse jumped, and you felt the familiar rush of heat rise to your cheeks, even though you should be used to it by now.

“Rafe,” you mumbled, feeling a little sheepish when he finally pulled back.

“What?” He gave you an innocent look that didn’t match the way his eyes were sparkling. “Can’t a guy kiss his soon-to-be- girlfriend after suffering through a lecture?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to look stern but failing miserably. “You know half the hallway is staring, right?”

“Let them.” He shrugged nonchalantly, lacing his fingers with yours like it was no big deal. Like being with you like this—in front of everyone—wasn’t the huge deal it still felt like to you. 

The moment you paused by your locker, his hands were on your waist, spinning you to face him.

“Finally,” he murmured, dipping his head down to catch your lips in a kiss that was too much tongue and entirely too distracting for a busy hallway.

“Cameron,” you mumbled against his mouth, your fingers curling around his biceps. “We’re gonna be late.”

He hummed, lips not leaving yours. “Worth it,” he muttered, his hands sliding up your back, pressing you closer. “Always worth it.”

Your heart did a little flip, but you pulled back just enough to give him a look. “You said that in class, too.”

He grinned, looking completely unrepentant. “Yeah, and I meant it then, too.”

Your cheeks heated, and you shot him a half-hearted glare, hoping it covered up the way your purse sped up at the way he was looking at you.

The days blended together like that—Rafe’s hand on you somewhere always—whether it was his arm slung around your waist as you walked to class, his thumb brushing little circles on your knee when you were sitting across from each other in the library, or just… holding your hand, like he needed to feel your skin against his.

You were starting to forget what it felt like to not have him touching you. And maybe that should have scared you a little, but it didn’t. It was nice, easy. The way he’d press a kiss to your forehead before slipping into his own class, whisper something low and teasing when he caught you blushing, smirking at the way you tried to hide your smile.

After a long afternoon of half-hearted studying—thanks to Rafe’s wandering hands and that stupidly distracting grin—you found yourself back in your dorm room, tucked against him on your tiny bed, with a movie you weren’t even pretending to watch playing softly in the background.

It was cozy, almost too cozy. You’d ditched your jeans for a pair of shorts and borrowed one of his hoodies that still smelled faintly like him, and Rafe was propped up against the headboard, his legs tangled with yours. The smell of popcorn lingered in the air, but the bowl had been abandoned on your desk, long forgotten as you focused on something infinitely better.

Him.

You were still breathless from the last round of his kisses—his lips trailing down your neck, his thumb grazing against the line of your jaw as if he were memorizing it. And then his mouth had moved lower, his teeth nipping at your collarbone until you’d let out an embarrassingly needy sound that had him pulling back, smirking.

“What?” you’d huffed, feeling your cheeks flush.

“Nothing,” he’d murmured, “Just love seeing you like this.”

Like this?

You didn’t even know what he meant. All you knew was that he hadn’t stopped looking at you like that since, his eyes following every curve of your face, lingering on the way your lips parted as you tried to get your breathing under control.

“Focus,” you’d said, half-laughing, half-gasping. “We’re supposed to be studying.”

“Pretty sure I was learning a lot,” he’d countered as he ran a hand down your side, “Like how you’re really ticklish right here.” 

And then his fingers had dug into your side, making you squirm and giggle, batting his hand away until you’d ended up tangled even closer together, his mouth pressing quick kisses along your cheek until you finally gave in, letting him kiss you again.

That’s how you’d ended up here now—his arm slung around your shoulders, his other hand playing with the ends of your hair as you half-watched whatever movie he’d picked. His chest was warm and solid against your back, and every now and then, he’d press a kiss to your hair.

“You’re gonna miss the whole movie,” he teased lightly, his voice rumbling against your ear.

“You’re the one who distracted me,” you pointed out, turning slightly to give him a look. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Hmm, fair,” he agreed, grinning lazily as his fingers traced random patterns on your thigh. “But I think I’d rather kiss you anyway.”

 “You’re ridiculous.”

“Only for you,” And there it was again—that look, the one that made your breath hitch and your heart do a funny little backflip.

It was so easy to lose track of time like this—getting lost in him, the way his eyes softened whenever he looked at you, the warmth of his hand against your skin. You didn’t know how long you lay there, just soaking it all in, until he moved a little, turning slightly so he was looking right at you.

“Hey,” he reached up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Hey,” you whispered back, blinking up at him. He hesitated for a second and then he took a deep breath, looking way too serious for what you’d expected on a lazy night like this.

“Can I ask you something?” his thumb brushed softly against your cheek.

“Yeah, of course.”

“I, um…” He paused, looking almost… nervous? But that didn’t make sense. This was Rafe Cameron—the guy who never seemed fazed by anything. “I was thinking… I mean, we’ve been… you know.”

You blinked at him, trying to understand where he was going with this. “Rafe, you’re not making any sense.”

He let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe himself. 

“Right, sorry.” He looked down for a second, then met your eyes again, “I was just wondering if… if you’d want to be my girlfriend. Officially.”

Rafe? Nervous? Asking if you’d want to be his girlfriend? As if that wasn’t already painfully obvious.

You pressed your lips together, trying not to burst into a cackle as you pretended to think it over. “Hmmm…” you started slowly, watching the way his brow furrowed, like he was already second-guessing himself. “I dunno…”

He blinked, his grip on your waist tightening slightly. “Wait, unless you don’t want to? Because if that’s the case, I’m sorry—like, we don’t have to—”

“Rafe.” You cut him off, watching as his eyes darted between yours, full-on panicking now.

“I just thought… you know, since we’re always hanging out… and the kisses, I mean—unless you think they’re weird? I’m sorry, stop looking at me like that, please.”

You finally let out the laugh you’d been holding in.

“Really? You’re laughing at me now?”

“Cameron,” you said through a chuckle, “I’m already basically your girlfriend. You didn’t have to ask.”

He raised an eyebrow, pretending to look offended. “I’m being a gentleman here, okay? I—I know, okay? I know this isn’t the way people usually do it,” he rambled, suddenly looking adorably flustered. “I was going to do some big, stupid gesture, maybe show up with flowers or whatever, but… I thought about it, and I know you hate surprises, so I didn’t want to make a whole thing out of it and freak you out.” He paused, taking another deep breath, his hand tightening slightly around yours. “But I couldn’t wait anymore,” he admitted. “I just— I want it to be real. I want to be able to call you mine. For real.”

This wasn’t a casual question. This wasn’t some flirty comment in the hallway, something he could brush off if you didn’t react the way he wanted. He was serious. Completely, terrifyingly serious.

 “You really—?”

“Yes,” he said immediately, leaning forward, “I really want this. You and me. No more of this ‘are-they-or-aren’t-they’ crap.”

The smile that spread across your face was blinding, “Okay. I’ll say yes for your sake.”

And then, he was kissing you—hard and fast and completely giddy, like he couldn’t believe it.

“God, you’re gonna make me crazy,” he murmured against your mouth, his hands cradling your face like he couldn’t get close enough. “My girl. You’re actually my girl.”

The second his lips were on yours again, all coherent thoughts went flying out of your head. It was like his mouth had some kind of superpower over you. t made everything else—every little doubt and worry—just… disappear. 

“Oh my God, no. Wait. Tell me,” you said, sitting up a little so you could look at him better. “When did you realize you had feelings for me?”

Rafe’s hand was still brushing against your thigh as he looked down at you. “Like… three weeks into our deal.”

 “Three weeks?!”

“Yeah,” he said it casually, like he hadn’t just dropped that little bomb on you. “We were about three weeks in. You were still going on about Nate, and I was, I don’t know. I started getting annoyed anytime you brought him up.”

You stared at him, trying to wrap your head around that. “So, while I was trying to figure out how to get Nate to like me, you were just… what? Secretly into me?”

He snickered, leaning back against the headboard, looking way too relaxed for someone who’d kept his feelings a secret for months.

“Pretty much.”

“You were such an ass to me back then,” you pointed out, still kind of shocked.

“Yeah, because I didn’t know what the hell to do with how I was feeling,” he admitted, “We acted like we hated each other for years. I didn’t just wake up one day and go, ‘Oh, maybe I like her.’ It took me a minute to figure it out.”

You were still processing. Three weeks in? That was barely when you started realizing he wasn’t the worst person in the world.

“So, what, you just... didn’t say anything?”

Rafe gave you a look, like you should’ve known better. “Of course not. What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, I know we’ve spent most of our lives hating each other, but now I’m kind of into you’?” He shook his head. “Besides, you were still all hung up on Nate.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands for a second. “Oh my God. That’s so embarrassing.”

“Nah,” he said, laughing softly as he pulled your hands away from your face. “It’s kinda cute, honestly. You had no idea.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You really waited until I was over my Nate phase to make a move, didn’t you?”

“Yup. I was patient,” he said, leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “I was better for you anyway.”

Rafe was still so close, his lips hovering just above yours like he was waiting for you to make the move. But you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction—not yet. “You think you’re better for me, huh?”

 “I know I am.”

You didn’t even have time to roll your eyes before he kissed you again, slowly at first, almost teasing, until his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you in closer. The way his lips moved against yours, the little rasp he let out when you kissed him back harder—it nearly sent your heart into cardiac arrest.

And then you ruined it. Because then, like always, that stupid little voice crept in. The one that wouldn’t just let you be happy. Yeah, it was perfect now, in your tiny dorm room where it was just the two of you and the outside world didn’t exist. But next week, you’d both be going home for spring break. And that voice kept whispering what you didn’t want to think about.

Back home, it wouldn’t just be the two of you anymore. No more bubble. Just the island. And everyone on it. All the stupid expectations and labels and… baggage.

Because you were you, the pogue girl who worked summers and knew every corner of The Cut like the back of her hand. And he was Rafe Cameron. Kook royalty. The guy who used to make it his personal mission to remind you of that difference every chance he got.

His friends? They were probably still the same assholes who’d laughed about it like you were something beneath them. What if they still did?

And what if—God, what if—he started to see it like that again too? Realize that all this wasn’t worth the hassle? He was always so sure here, like the past didn’t matter, like he wasn’t even that guy anymore, but… what if being back there, where everyone knew who you really were… changed things?

You pulled back slightly, just enough to break the kiss. He made a low, disappointed sound, eyes opening and immediately locking on yours, his hand still holding your jaw. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you lied, “I’m just… I keep thinking about… going home.”

His brows drew together, “What about it?”

“It’s just… things are different there,” you looked away even though his hand was gently turning your face back toward him.

“Different how?” he pressed, like he needed to figure out what was going on in your head.

“You know.” You bit your lip, taking a shaky breath. “You’re Rafe Cameron, Rafe. And I’m… I’m just—”

His jaw clenched, his fingers stilling against your skin. “No. Stop,” he said softly but firmly. “You’re not ‘just’ anything.”

“It’s true, though! I’m still that pogue girl to them. Your friends, your people—Kooks—they’re gonna look at me and see exactly what they used to. And even if they don’t say it, they’re thinking it. I can feel it, Rafe. And you—” You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. “You can’t pretend that won’t matter.”

Suddenly, he was sitting up, practically towering over you, “Are you kidding me? You think I give a shit what they think?”

You blinked up at him, “Rafe—”

“No, seriously,” he went on, cutting you off, his hand still cradling your face like he was afraid you’d run if he let go. “I don’t care what they think. I don’t care what anyone thinks. I care about you.” He leaned closer, his eyes blazing as he held your gaze. “I’m not that guy anymore. I’m not… that Rafe.”

“But what if—”

“No ‘what ifs,’” he murmured, shaking his head, his thumb brushing over your cheek like he was wiping away an invisible tear. “I’m done pretending. I’m done worrying about who’s watching or what they’re saying. I don’t want to hide this. I don’t want to hide you. I’m not ashamed, okay?”

Your chest tightened painfully. “But what if being back there—”

“Baby, baby, baby,” he cut you off, voice soft but so steady, like he was trying to pull you back to him. “No. Don’t do this. I’m not letting you talk yourself out of this.” He leaned in, his forehead gently bumping against yours. “When I say I want you, I mean I want all of you. Here, home, everywhere. I want to show up with you at every party, every stupid get-together, holding your hand and daring anyone to say a word about it.”

Your breath hitched, feeling stupid tears prick at your eyes, “You—You really mean that?”

“I’m not going anywhere. Home changes nothing. We’re still us. You’re still mine.”

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, and he brushed it away, his lips hovering over yours.

“Promise?” 

“Promise.”

You were a goner after that.

Completely lost in the feel of his tongue slipping past your lips, his fingers teasing at the hem of your shirt. Your heart was practically doing somersaults when you pulled him closer, your nails scraping lightly across his bare back.

“Rafe,” you breathed, your voice barely more than a sigh as his hands roamed up under your top, fingertips skimming along the sensitive skin of your ribs. He made a low, satisfied sound against your lips, his grip tightening just enough to make you want to eat him whole. His thumbs brushed the underside of your bra, and you arched into him, chasing the touch like you were starved for it.

“Baby, you have no idea what you do to me,” he practically cooed, his voice all gravelly and wrecked as his mouth traced down the side of your neck, peppering kisses. “So fucking perfect—”

You tugged his hair lightly, just enough to make him look up at you again, a devilish smirk pulling at his lips. “You know, you’re supposed to be watching the movie,” you teased, breathless, not even pretending to sound convincing.

“Movie’s boring,” he purred, his hands slipping higher, thumb tracing over the lace of your bra. “I’m a lot more interested in you, pretty girl.”

Before you could even think of a comeback, his mouth was on yours again, needier this time. He kissed you like he was desperate, one of his hands sliding back down, gripping your waist as he dragged you onto his lap, and you could feel every lean muscle of his chest, the solid heat of his body pressed up against you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as he grabbed a handful of your ass, holding you to him like you were the only thing that mattered.

You made a small, breathy sound as he explored your mouth, his hand sliding into your hair, cradling your face as he angled you just right, and you instinctively leaned into him, waiting more. He tilted your chin up slightly, and his tongue slid against yours, slick and probing, your mouths moving together in soft gasps and heavy breaths. It was like nothing you’d ever felt before. You couldn’t believe this was the same guy who had been your first kiss just a month ago. You knew—knew—that if you kept this up, if you didn’t stop—

The door burst open.

“I swear, if I ever see that asshole again, I’m going to— Oh. Oh.”

You whipped around to see Ava standing in the doorway, looking like she was ready to throw hands, in all her pissed-off, storming-in glory. She was still wearing her cute little date outfit—red crop top, high-waisted jeans—but her hair was kind of a mess, and her lipstick was smudged, like she’d been fuming the entire walk over. 

Rafe’s lips were swollen, red, a little glossy, and his hair was a mess from your fingers. But did he look embarrassed? Even the slightest bit ashamed that you’d just been caught practically swallowing each other’s faces?

Absolutely not. 

But what made you actually gape was the fact that fact Ava didn’t even blink at the sight of you straddling Rafe, his shirt completely off, your own top halfway up your ribs. Instead, she just waved her hand dismissively, like she couldn’t care less that she’d just walked in on a borderline soft-core porno scene. 

“What happened?” you asked, your voice still breathless as you tried to act like you hadn’t been moments away from letting him do whatever he wanted to you.

“I was saying—this fucker had the nerve to tell me that he thinks women shouldn’t split the bill because they don’t work as hard. Like, what the actual fuck?”

Rafe let out a loud, frustrated groan against your shoulder, his forehead dropping onto your collarbone as he muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You smothered a giggle, trying and failing to glare at him while Ava, completely oblivious, kept right on ranting.

“Seriously, I should’ve just walked out then and there, but noooo, I thought, be nice, Ava, don’t make a scene. And what does this prick do?” She threw her hands up, pacing back and forth as you slowly—very awkwardly—slipped off Rafe’s lap, tugging your hoodie back into place.

“Uh… what?” you asked, doing your absolute best to sound normal while Rafe buried his face against your neck, his shoulders shaking as he mumbled, “She’s such a fucking cockblock,” against your skin. You smacked the back of his head lightly, biting your lip to keep from laughing.

“Shh,” you hissed at him, and he just grumbled something unintelligible, his lips still grazing your shoulder.

“Anyway!” Ava continued, still blissfully unaware. “The asshole pulls out coupons. Like, actual physical coupons. And then he tries to use one to get a free dessert, but surprise, surprise, it’s expired, so what does he do? Blames me. Me! Like I’m the one who asked to go to a place with coupons—”

“Jesus Christ,” Rafe sighed, finally lifting his head from your neck, giving her an exasperated look. “Does she ever stop talking?”

“Shut up,” you murmured, swatting his chest even as you tried not to giggle. Ava’s gaze flicked over to the two of you, her expression still murderously angry—but she still didn’t seem even a little fazed by the fact that Rafe was literally shirtless, looking like he’d been in the middle of something much more interesting.

“Anyway, so then he tries to say that he thinks I’m being too sensitive. Like, are you kidding? Sensitive? I should’ve shoved the damn breadsticks up his ass!”

Rafe let out a sound that was somewhere between a snort and a growl, dropping his head back onto your shoulder with a dramatic groan. “You’re killing me."

You giggled, shaking your head and patting his hair soothingly. “You’ll survive,” you murmured, still trying to keep a straight face. Ava was still pacing, muttering angrily under her breath.

“I swear to God, next time, I’m just bringing a taser. I’m not playing anymore. You think I’m being sensitive? Here, take 50,000 volts and let’s see how sensitive you feel after that—”

Rafe lifted his head again, looking between you and Ava with an expression that could only be described as done. “Can I kill her?” he asked flatly.

You smacked his shoulder again, laughing. “No, Rafe. Be nice.”

“I am being nice,” he shot back, giving you an incredulous look. “I’m suffering, babe. I’m over here, trying to—” He gestured between the two of you pointedly. “—and she’s giving me a freaking lecture on expired coupons.”

“I know,” you whispered, grinning as he groaned and dropped his head against your chest this time.

“Why do I even try?” he sighed, sounding utterly defeated.

“And then he actually thought he could just—”

Ava abruptly stopped mid-sentence, her eyes narrowing as she took in the scene before her. Her attention flicked between you and Rafe, lingering on the way you were still nestled against him.

“Wait a second,” she said slowly, “What the hell just happened here?”

You felt your cheeks heat up as you shot a look at Rafe, who was now smirking like the cat who got the cream.

“Uh, nothing? Just a little... study break?” you stammered.

Ava crossed her arms, her eyebrow arched in that way that always made you feel like she was reading your mind. “Study break, huh?”

Rafe leaned back, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “What can I say? I’m a good tutor. A very hands-on tutor.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, suddenly serious.

“You better use protection, Cameron,” she warned, pointing a finger at him like a stern teacher. “I swear to God, if you get her pregnant—”

“AVA!” you exclaimed, mortified, covering your face with your hands. You could feel the heat radiating off your cheeks, and it was all you could do to not melt into the floor.

“What?” she said innocently, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Just looking out for my girl here. I mean, have you seen him? He’s trouble.”

Rafe, still unbothered, just laughed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Yup, there she is,” he said, glancing at you with a cheeky glint in his eye. 

You shot him a faux glare, then turned back to Ava, throwing your hands up in exasperation. You groaned, half-laughing, half-embarrassed. “Can we not talk about my potential future children right now?”

She just scooted right between you and Rafe, sitting in bed and throwing her legs over the blanket, settling in like she belonged there. You blinked, caught between amused and confused, as she wiggled down, practically cocooning herself.

"What are we watching?" Ava asked, completely ignoring the fact that she had become the ultimate third wheel.

You could see Rafe moving, trying to reclaim some form of contact with you. His arm was awkwardly hovering like he wasn’t sure what to do now that you were out of reach. You turned slightly—he was full-on pouting. His bottom lip stuck out just enough that you had to fight the urge to laugh.

“Uh, nothing now,” Rafe muttered, his voice full of that trademark grumpiness. “Can't even hold my girl.”

Ava just shrugged, completely unfazed, casually throwing an arm over your waist. “Oh, c’mon, you’ll survive one movie without being all over each other.” She glanced between you two like she was the voice of reason, which—let’s be real—she was not.

You shot Rafe a playful look, but he was still sulking, “Gonna start dragging you to my dorm.”

“Shup up Cameron, let me watch the movie.”

TAGLIST: @sxdghxstsbxxkshxlf @goddmie @voqueflms @mattyskies @maybankslover @psychocitylights @sunny1616 @bokutooooo @justafangirls-blog @cl4uus @persiar9 // if you asked me to tagged and i forgot iM SORRY <3 thank you all for the support!

[steveseddie]

up against the wall (with me) @steddiemicrofic prompt: pin, 388 words | rated: t | cw: none apply

Eddie can admit he’s thought about Steve pinning him against a wall at least once.

More like twice. Maybe three times. Four if you count that daydream where Steve pinned him against his car.

He always thought reality would be better than fantasy, and while he can appreciate feeling Steve’s hands on his waist and the length of his body against him instead of just imagining it, reality lacks an important detail from Eddie’s fantasies.

Steve isn’t kissing him.

Sure, it would’ve been confusing if Steve randomly pushed Eddie into an alley and started making out with him, but he isn’t any less confused by Steve dragging him here and then not kissing him.

“Steve?”

One of his hands covers Eddie’s mouth. “Shhh.”

Eddie gets momentarily distracted by the weight of it against his mouth. Before he embarrasses himself by moaning or something, he licks Steve’s hand.

“Ew!” Steve wipes it clean. He should’ve known Eddie would pull that move.

“Why are we here?”

“Kelly Donald was coming our way,” he says, which doesn’t explain anything. “She’s been to the store a few times to ask me out. I turned her down again yesterday, said I’d be busy all day.”

And he had been- hanging out with Eddie.

“Why not take her up on the offer?”

Steve shrugs. “I don’t feel like going on dates with random girls anymore, kinda have my eye on someone.”

Eddie’s face falls. “W-who?”

“Well-”

“Steve! I thought that was you!” Kelly says. “What are you doing here, silly?”

Her eyes widen when Steve shifts and she sees Eddie. He expects her to yell, and maybe so does Steve, who moves to block Eddie from view, shielding him.

“Sorry!” She says, surprising them. “Didn’t see you there. Eddie, right? Sorry to interrupt, I’ll go!” She hesitates, then faces them again. “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything. Sorry I kept asking you out, Steve, whoops!”

When she leaves, Eddie says, “You should go after her, explain this isn’t what she thinks. This is how rumors start, Steve, you don’t want the girl you got your eye on hearing about-”

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re the person I have my eye on, you idiot,” Steve says, and then he’s kissing Eddie! Against a wall!

Eddie takes back what he said- reality is so much better than fantasy.

[2tarbell]

thinking about TRAILERPARK!READER who begs rafe to take her out dancing. it’s a saturday night and she’s feeling antsy, talking to her girlfriends on the phone and giving her boyfriend the best puppy dog eyes she can muster. he can’t ever deny her anything, not when she looks at him like that.

“a’ight fine. stop whinin’ and get dressed, kid. jesus…”

(he loves to see her in her short shorts and going out top, cowboy boots adorning her feet. she always does a little twirl for him that makes him smile.)

once they get to the country bar, she’s all but dragging rafe inside. meeting her girls on the dance floor to do whatever linedance was on when they walked in. rafe’ll say it over and over again: he’s not a dancer. so he’s watching her most of the night glide across the floor, eyes lingering on the sway of her hips and radiant warmth emitting from her. he talks to some buddies but mainly sips on his coke (dd duty), ordering her more vodka cranberries when she asks.

but when she wants to slow dance? rafe is jumping in no hesitation. he’d rather eat nails than watch his girl dancing with some dumb drunk freshly twenty-one year old. so he’s standing tall, hands low on her hips. his face stoic except when looking down at the precious gem in his arms. reader has her head on his chest, gripping tightly to his purple shirt. she’s stepping on his toes a little bit and swaying maybe too much, but he doesn’t mention it. just whispers in her ear that it’s time to go. his voice is low and like a lullaby, her mind goes blissfully blank as he leads her to the truck.

it’s saturday! and what’s there to worry about when rafe will take care of it all?

on the way home, she’s a bit more than tipsy. hanging off him and pressing kisses to his jaw and cheek, just so grateful and happy. she’s a sentimental drunk and he placates her with an arm around her waist and hums of acknowledgment to her drunken rambles. he praises her and praises her, reveling in how she stares at him like he hung the moon.

“jus’ — jus’ had sooo much fun, daddy. and y’look sooo handsome… oh! and was dancin’ and it was s’all wooooo!”

“shhh, i know, sweetheart. you were so good f’dad tonight, you know that? my good girl.”

back at home when he gets her in the trailer, she’s trying to push her hands into his jeans, already on her knees. grabby hands and whines so incoherent, rafe can’t even begin to decipher what she’s actually saying. he just shushes her and helps her fumbling hands remove his belt. smirking at how she immediately dives in with an open mouth. she’d be content to just fall asleep, mouth filled with the most perfect cock ever. eyes looking up at him doe like and she slowly and lazily sucks him off. words garbled as she whines about how much she needed him all night.

“cant ever get enough, huh? jus’ more and more with you, want and want. go on, baby, since you needed it sooo fuckin’ bad…”