#-grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her- WHAT ARE YOU WEARING

[solarhysm]

"what’s your name again?" | JEON JUNGKOOK [FOLLOWERS POLL’s CHOICE]

one shot

> summary: jungkook met you at a costume party for the new year eve. you're bold, drunk and horny.

> pairing: jungkook x reader

> genre: small smut, one shot (shorter than i thought tho)

> warnings: smut, protected sex!!, public quickie in the female restroom (i'm not good with warning)

> word count: 2.8k

*french writer, i apologize in advance for my awful english!

Jungkook never likes masked parties. But when Hoseok suggests going to one where everyone is in costumes, he reluctantly agrees. He has nothing better to do for New Year’s Eve anyway, and it seems better than drinking alone in his apartment. He sighs as someone bumps into him—that’s why he avoids crowded places.

Everyone wears costumes as if it’s Halloween. He’s not surprised to see most of the women in tight, short dresses. Jungkook considered dressing as a character from Squid Game but decided against it—there are already too many of them here.

Instead, he throws on his old Spider-Man costume from Halloween three years ago. It’s been gathering dust in his closet, but it saves him time and money. To account for the cold, he adds gray joggers and an old black sweatshirt. Tonight, he’s not Peter Parker but Miles Morales. He doubts anyone will notice the reference, though.

“Damn, I didn’t expect it to be this crowded,” Jimin says, handing beers to his friends.

Jungkook glances around and nods. It’s New Year’s Eve, so of course, people their age are out celebrating.

“It’s been a shitty year,” Taehyung groans, downing his beer in one gulp before heading to the bar for something stronger. His girlfriend dumped him last month, and he’s still obsessively checking her Instagram, where she flaunts her new boyfriend.

Jungkook shakes his head, amused. It was a rough year. His grandfather was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, none of his romantic flings went anywhere, and the company he worked for went bankrupt. Now, he’s living with his parents –again- and working a terrible job under an abusive boss. He sighs and takes a sip of his beer.

“At least we’re still standing,” Hoseok says, ever the optimist.

As the night goes on, the four friends drink steadily in their corner of the nightclub. Taehyung ends up crying on Hoseok’s shoulder, while Jungkook rolls his eyes.

“I don’t understand,” Taehyung whines. “I’m a good boyfriend! I used to bring her flowers all the time and give her all the attention she wants.”

“She’s a bitch. You’re a good guy,” Jungkook says, leaning closer so Taehyung can hear him over the music. “Stop wasting your tears on someone like her.”

“Maybe I’m bad in bed?”

“Stop it,” Jimin groans, grabbing Taehyung’s shoulder. “With your third leg, it’s definitely not about sex. Some women are just terrible people. Go find someone new tonight.”

“What?” Taehyung sniffles, while Jungkook silently gestures for Jimin to stop talking.

“Yeah, Tae,” Hoseok chimes in. “Find a girl, have some fun, and forget about her.”

Jungkook buries his face in his hands. Taehyung is too drunk for this advice. He’s not a one-night-stand type of guy and will probably end up vomiting on whoever he approaches.

“I need a smoke,” Jungkook mutters, getting up and wiping his hands on his joggers. He weaves through the crowd toward the exit, hating how packed the nightclub is.

“I’m sorry!” a voice gasps as their bodies collide. Jungkook instinctively grabs the stranger’s arm to steady them. Both of them are clearly tipsy, but they look more unsteady than he does.

His gaze falls on the person in front of him—his very own Gwen Stacy. The mask hides all of their face, but the costume piques his interest immediately.

“It’s my fault,” You begin. “I didn’t—” You stop mid-sentence when you look up at him. “Oh, Miles Morales!” You giggle, recognizing his costume. And your laugh makes him smile.

“Hi, Gwen,” Jungkook smirks, the alcohol making him bolder.

“Hi,” you reply as you both step outside into the chilly air. It’s a welcome relief from the stifling crowd inside. Jungkook pulls out a cigarette and lighter.

“I like your costume,” he says, noticing you scanning the crowd inside, probably looking for your friends.

You remove your mask and smile. Jungkook doesn’t expect you to be this attractive—especially the kind of attractive he’s drawn to.

“Thanks. I like yours, even if it’s a little inaccurate,” you tease, making him chuckle.

You pull out your own cigarette, accepting his lighter with a nod of thanks.

“It’s too cold to be Spider-Man.”

“Well, not Tom Holland’s Spider-Man,” you quip, freeing your hair from the costume.

Jungkook’s eyes linger on you briefly before smirking. “Marvel fan?” he asks.

“Hm, you?”

“Hm.”

You’re pretty and a Marvel fan? Jungkook looks up at the dark sky, silently thanking the universe for this coincidence. Before he can come up with something to say, you speak again.

“I almost dressed as Wednesday Addams, but it’s way too cold for that,” you explain, and he nods.

“Wednesday was my first choice, too,” Jungkook jokes, making you laugh.

“I’m Y/N,” you say.

“Jungkook,” he replies.

“Did you come alone, Spiderman?” you ask, and Jungkook shakes his head.

“I came with some friends.”

“Yeah, me too. It was either this or sleeping early. I figured it’d be more fun to get drunk,” you say, tossing the bud of your cigarette. Jungkook licks his lips with a smile. He guesses you’re a yapper, which is a good thing because he’s not drunk enough to talk freely without embarrassment. “Do you drink tequila shots, Spiderman?”

“Are you offering?” he teases, and you nod. “Alright.”

Even though he asks, once you’re at the bar ordering a round of six tequila shots, Jungkook is the one handing over his credit card to the bartender. You scold him, insisting you’ll pay for the next round. He’s just happy that you’re thinking about continuing the night with him, though he’s a little apprehensive about drinking more.

“Alright, on three,” you say with a smile, counting down before you both toss back the first shot and bite into a lemon. “Where are your friends?”

“Somewhere in the club,” Jungkook replies, his head nodding to the rhythm of the music.

You grab his hand and guide him to the dancefloor. Jungkook marvels at how easygoing you are. Most girls he meets play hard to get, but you’re different—just here, vibing with everyone around you. His smile widens as he watches you mimicking the dance steps of a guy dressed as a banana.

You burst into laughter when you mess up the choreography, and the banana-guy spins you back toward Jungkook, probably assuming the two of you came together. You stumble into his arms, your rosy cheeks and bright giggles captivating him even though he can barely hear it over the music.

After the fourth shot, Jungkook has to stop, reaching his limit. He isn’t used to drinking this much, especially tequila. But he chuckles, watching as you confidently take down two more. When you turn to him, he shakes his head in disbelief.

“Already?” you tease, giggling, and he rolls his eyes, amused. You finish the remaining shots by yourself, and he’s genuinely impressed. How can someone as small as you handle so much alcohol?

Jungkook blinks a few times, shaking his head. He’s almost certain you’re going to regret this if you keep bouncing around to the music like that.

“Are you drunk?” you ask, leaning closer, and he nods, patting his chest to settle the burn in his throat.

He grabs a bottle of water he ordered, takes a sip, and offers it to you. But you shake your head, and Jungkook can’t help but feel a strange responsibility to make sure you’re okay. You’ve only just met, but he’s already trying to sober you up a bit—anything to avoid you ending the night sick.

“Do you drink often?” Jungkook asks, grimacing as he takes another sip of water. He’s already done with tequila—probably for life.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you chuckle, your tone playful as you make him smile and shrug.

“Just that you definitely know how to hold your liquor.”

“I just needed to get drunk and forget this year,” you admit, tossing your hair over your shoulder.

“Do you want me to walk you to your friends?” Jungkook offers, his voice laced with concern.

“Are you tired of me, Spider-Man?” you joke, swaying slightly as you both half-dance to the pulsing music.

“W-What? No!” Jungkook stammers, looking adorably flustered, and you laugh at his reaction.

“I’m kidding,” you say, nudging his shoulder with a grin.

“Can… I have your number? Or maybe your social media?” he asks, leaning closer to your ear to make himself heard over the music. You pull back to meet his gaze, your hands resting lightly on his shoulders for balance. Both of you have hooded eyes, softened by the alcohol and dim lights.

Jungkook feels a rush of admiration for your boldness. You don’t care about the people around you or their opinions. His hand hesitates before resting on the small of your back. You tilt your head, your nose brushing his as your lips hover dangerously close.

“Do you want to have fun?” you murmur, your mouth brushing his ear, the music muffling everything else.

“What kind of fun?” he asks, his breath caressing your cheek. He feels himself leaning into the moment, emboldened by your energy. Why not? There’s nothing wrong with a little flirting with a stranger on New Year’s Eve.

You smirk slowly, your hand slipping into his to guide him off the dancefloor. Jungkook frowns slightly in confusion when you lead him into the women’s restroom. Before he can ask why, you cup his face, pulling him into a kiss that sends his heart racing.

He finds it thrilling—kissing someone he just met, in a place he’d never expect. It’s not the kind of fun he was imagining, but he’s definitely not complaining. You guide him blindly into one of the stalls, closing the door behind you as he presses you against it.

“What if someone catches us?” he whispers, his lips trailing along your jaw.

“We can stop if you want,” you reply, threading your fingers into his hair before pulling him into another heated kiss.

“No,” he says honestly, making you smile. “But we’re drunk.”

“Can’t get hard when you’re drunk?” you tease, your lips brushing the column of his neck. Jungkook chuckles darkly, grabbing your hand and guiding it to his joggers. Your eyes light up as you feel his growing arousal beneath the fabric.

Jungkook’s breath hitches as your hand starts to stroke him above his jogger. His mind races—this is new for him. He’s had his share of casual flings, but never with a stranger and never in public. Surprisingly, the thrill of possibly being caught makes the moment even more exhilarating.

He wonders if you’ve done this before—you seem so at ease. But before he can ask, your hand slides under the waistband of his joggers, palming his growing bulge. His eyes close almost instantly, a soft groan escaping him as your touch sends heat coursing through his body. His own hands find your backside, squeezing gently, grounding himself in the moment.

“Do you want to fuck me?” you whisper, nipping lightly at the sensitive skin of his neck.

“What—I—right now?” he stammers, wide-eyed, and you nod. Pressing your back against the door, you reach behind to unzip the bottom of your costume, your movements deliberate and teasing. Jungkook’s gaze remains locked on you, his mind racing.

His eyes widen further as he begins patting the pockets of his joggers in a frantic search for his wallet. He knows there’s a condom in there—he’s certain he hasn’t used it. A chance like this? No way he’s letting it slip by. He’s just a guy, after all, and if a beautiful woman wants him, Jungkook isn’t about to say no.

“What are you doing?” you ask, laughing as his wallet slips from his fumbling hands. He scrambles to catch it, earning another amused giggle from you.

When he finally retrieves the little plastic wrapper, he holds it up proudly. You smirk, pulling him into a heated kiss while he helps you peel off the bottom half of your costume. The black panties underneath match the dark tights perfectly, a sight that makes Jungkook’s breath hitch. His hands twitch at his sides, trying to maintain control.

“I’ve never done this before,” he admits softly, hiking your leg up to wrap around his waist, pressing you against him.

“Yeah, me neither,” you reply with a playful giggle, one hand gripping his shoulder for balance while the other threads through his messy hair. “New year, new experiences, right?”

“You’re really something else,” he chuckles, his tone equal parts admiration and disbelief. His eyes meet yours, silently asking for permission. You nod, and his hand slides between your thighs, fingertips brushing against you through the thin fabric of your panties.

“Fuck,” you whisper, your head falling back against the door as your hips instinctively press into his touch. Your reaction sends a shiver down his spine; he swears he’s never heard anyone curse so beautifully.

Jungkook frees himself from his boxers, giving his cock a few slow strokes while watching your every reaction. His gaze flickers between your face and the way your body trembles under his hand. When he pushes your panties aside, he hesitates momentarily to open the condom.

“Tell me to stop,” he says suddenly, his voice wavering as he tries to cling to the last shred of his rationality.

“Don’t you dare,” you reply with a grin, tugging at his boxers to free him completely. He groans, any semblance of self-control slipping away as he feels your hand stroke him again, this time skin-on-skin.

The muffled music from the club outside only adds to the surrealness of the moment. Every so often, someone walks into the restroom, and Jungkook tenses, half-expecting a knock on the door. But the thrill of being caught only seems to heighten his excitement. When you grab his face to focus him on you, your lips brushing against his, he realizes he’s long past the point of no return.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath as he rolls the condom over his length. His other hand pushes his joggers just low enough to give him room to move. “Are you sure?” he asks one last time, his voice trembling with need.

“Yes,” you answer without hesitation, guiding him to your entrance. His fingers dig into your hips as he presses forward slowly, the stretch eliciting soft gasps from both of you. He stills for a moment, his forehead resting against yours as he adjusts to the overwhelming sensation.

“God, you’re so tight,” he whispers, his voice rough with desire.

“Please, move,” you urge him in a whine, your nails digging into his shoulders. He doesn’t need to be told twice. His hips pull back before snapping forward, setting a steady rhythm that has you biting your lip to keep from moaning too loudly.

Jungkook’s movements grow more erratic as he loses himself in the sensation of you. The cramped space of the stall, the muffled music, and the ever-present risk of being caught only add to the intensity. His hands roam your body, gripping your thighs and waist as he thrusts into you with increasing urgency.

“You feel so good,” he groans, his voice a low rumble in your ear.

“Faster,” you gasp, your hands sliding down to grab his ass and urge him deeper. He obliges, his pace quickening until the sound of your bodies colliding fills the small space. “Fuck –“

You bite down on his shoulder to muffle your moans, and he curses under his breath, the combination of your teeth and the tight grip of your walls pushing him closer to the edge.

“I’m close,” he whispers, his breath hot against your neck. His thrusts grow rougher, the door rattling slightly with each movement.

“Me too,” you manage to reply, your voice shaky as the tension in your body builds. His thumb finds your clit, circling it with just enough pressure to send you spiraling over the edge. Your walls tighten around him as you climax, your muffled cries vibrating against his skin.

“Fuck,” Jungkook groans, his hips stuttering as he follows you, spilling into the condom with a final deep thrust. He collapses against you, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. The countdown outside ends in cheers and shouts of celebration, but neither of you notices, still lost in the aftershocks of your high.

For a moment, the two of you stay like that, tangled together in the aftermath. Then Jungkook pulls back slightly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. The sounds of celebration seep back in as you both begin to steady your breathing.

“That was…” he trails off, unable to find the right words. “Hot.”

You smirk, cupping his face to leave a lingering kiss on his swollen lips.

“Happy New Year,” you whisper, your voice soft but playful.

“Happy New Year,” he replies, his hand snaking behind your neck to pull you into another kiss, this one just as passionate as the last. Jungkook knows he has to go back to his friends soon.

“What’s your name again?” you laugh, your breath mingling with his as he chuckles.

“Jungkook. Yours?”

“Y/N.”

hiiii!! first of all, happy new year to you all. may 2025 be a better year for you. secondly, i know, I KNOW, i'm a little late with the one shot i promised, i'm sorry! i was too busy those last few days. to be honest, the one shot didn't result as i was hoping for. I had a few ideas about it and it doesn't look like... what i expected. but i promise you a jk one shot for the new year so here it is. i'll do better next time, i swear!! but i do hope that you enjoyed reading it <3 I'll see you around, and on that, i'm going back to write the DOU chapter 6 now that i have free time!! luv y’all — Riza

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

It’s My Job

Summary: The reader’s having a rough night but the stranger at the bar decides to offer some assistance when she has nowhere to go...

Pairing: Bodyguard!Dean x reader

Word Count: 1,200ish

Warnings: language, tiny bit of violence

A/N: Enjoy!

______________

Someday you’d have to thank that boy in seventh grade that taught you how to throw a punch.��

Don’t put your thumb inside your fist unless you want to break it. Do a small twist of your wrist right before impact to deliver more momentum. Throw your body weight behind it to make it hurt more. That’s what you got for being lab partners with the class bad boy but at least you had a chance because of him. 

He neglected to tell you your knuckles would ache, your skin would scrape open and bleed, or even that the adrenaline would make you so jumpy you’d nearly trip on your own feet when you sprinted the hell out of there.

It was eleven at night, your feet taking you to the nearest open door, a bar from the looks of it. You took a deep breath when you got inside, nearly groaning when you saw how dead it was.

“We’re closing up. Tuesday is an early night,” said the bartender, the lone man at the bar swigging down the last of his drink, slapping a few bills down and spinning in his seat to stand.

“No, you don’t under-”

“Out,” said the bartender, your head shaking. “Or I call the cops. I’ve had enough shit for one night.”

“No, I need the cops, I-”

“Out,” said the bartender, shooing you out after the man, the door closing up tight behind.

“No, I...” you said, turning your head to catch sight of the man from the alley hanging out by a wall about three stores down.

“Hey,” said the man nearby, scratching his head, the expression not matching his sour face. “Can you pretend to give me directions while you tell me what the fuck is going on?”

“What?” you said, glancing behind him, the guy’s face in a snarl.

“Don’t look at him,” said the man, making shoulder shrugs like he was confused. “You said you need cops and your hand is messed up so I’m guessing douchebag down there did something?”

“W-Was walking and he grabbed me but I hit him and ran...” you said, remembering what he said, fake pointing to an area behind him, wearing a forced smile.

“I see. There’s a black muscle car just up the street behind you. You walk that way and I’ll deal with the asshole back there,” said the man, a dark smile on his face. 

“But-”

“Trust me, kind of my job, sweetheart,” he said, pretending to make a thank you expression, spinning around and walking down the street. You tried to do what he said, not taking too many steps before you heard a thump on the ground, your head turning to find the man shaking out his hand over the out cold alley guy. “He went down like a lightweight. A little proper training and you probably would have gotten him out yourself.”

“Y-Yeah,” you said, the guy pulling his belt from the loops, tying it around the alley guy’s wrists.

“That’ll keep him until the cops show,” said the man, pulling out his phone, giving it a few presses. “Hey Derek...Yeah, it’s Dean. You on duty tonight? Got a pervy assclown down near Chuck’s that could use with an ambulance and an assault charge...he went after some chick in the alley nearby. She got away, bumped into me...yeah, I’ll be sure to tell her what a lucky night she’s having...see you in a few buddy,” he said hanging up the phone. “Cops will be here soon.”

“Thanks...Dean,” you said, the man chuckling.

“You’re very welcome whoever you are,” he said with a smile, squinting his eyes. “You seem super familiar, like extremely familiar. We didn’t go to the same school or something, did we?”

“I’m...I’m in a movie that just came out,” you said, glancing down. “I didn’t realize...”

“Ah, I’ve seen that trailer a thousand times. They won’t stop playing it,” he said, glancing back at the alley guy. “Scumbag like him probably doesn’t give a shit if you’re famous or not. You might want to think about some protection though...maybe a self-defense class at the very least.”

“Maybe...maybe I’ll do that,” you said, nodding your head. “Thank you.”

“I don’t wanna,” you groaned a few weeks later, sitting in a conference room at a protection agency, your manager rolling her eyes at you.

“Okay, your knight in shining armor had a point, Y/N. We were headed down this road anyways,” she said.

“But I took the class. I can kick someone’s ass now,” you said, earning a small laugh from her. “You did too! Anybody messes with us, we got this.”

“Alright Rambo,” she said with a giggle. “Maybe you don’t need one all the time but for events and stuff. Besides, maybe you’ll find a cute bodyguard? Find the Costner to your Houston.”

“I ain’t no damsel,” you said, crossing your arms as the door opened.

“Oh, well that’ll make my job...” said the man in a suit, blinking his eyes at you. 

“Dean?” you said, standing up. “What are...”

“I’m a bodyguard,” he said. “When I said to get some protection, I didn’t think you’d actually take me up on that let alone pick my agency.”

“He’s cuter than you said he was,” said your manager, giving Dean a little wave.

“Sara,” you growled, Dean smirking down at you.

“Would you like to start the interview, Ms. Y/L/N?” asked Dean, nodding to the chairs.

“This may seem entirely unprofessional but why were you drinking at a bar by yourself late at night?” you asked, Dean raising an eyebrow.

“I was supposed to go on a blind date that night but got stood up. I was somewhat pissed off so I had a drink or two,” he said. “You should give her a call and thank her.”

“You think I didn’t have the situation handled myself?” you asked, Dean shrugging his shoulders.

“Maybe, maybe not. I took the guess work out of it for you though. That’s my job. You don’t have to wonder if I’ll kick the guy’s ass. You know I will,” he said.

“You’re kinda cocky,” you said.

“You’re kinda stubborn,” he said.

“You’re hired,” you said.

“Already knew I was,” he said, looking you up and down. “My manager will provide you both with a full work history on myself as well as work with Ms. Saxley over there to determine your needs more specifically.”

“That’s it?” you asked, Dean smiling but all business.

“No, you and I are just getting started. Let’s get a coffee down the street and see how well you can follow a few rules to start with.”

_____________

[threadbearsweater]

one warm day is all i really need | arthur morgan

When you find yourself taken in by a gang of outlaws, the last thing you expect is to grow sweet on one of them- and have the feelings reciprocated. Arthur Morgan doesn't have time for romantic nonsense, but a few memebers of the gang want to make sure that he gets to indulge in his obvious affection toward you. Tags: 3.9k words, an unlikely romance, meddling gang members (with the purest of intentions, one might suppose); female reader, alcohol use, smoking, emotional smut. A repost from a (regretfully) deactivated blog.

Arthur first notices your eyes on him one evening around the campfire at Shady Belle. He won’t accuse you of staring– Lord knows he’s been known to look at you with the same foolish grin you’re wearing now– but he tips his hat to acknowledge you. The heat in your cheeks is suddenly warmer than what the fire has already provided; your grin only grows until your teeth are showing, and you duck your head into your shoulder to hide. Arthur takes a long swig from his whiskey bottle and grimaces as it goes down. He hasn't had a drop of anything in days, and the burn takes a little while to grow numb to now.

“Think she's sweet on you, Morgan,” Sean says in his Irish lilt, giving Arthur an elbow in the ribs.

“Naw, she's lookin’ at you,” Arthur deflects, though he hopes he's wrong. He thinks he knows.

“She told me last week to keep my eyes on my own work,” Sean continues. “I really don't think it's me she wants, Arthur.”

You turn to whisper something to Sadie, who laughs out loud with her face tilted toward the stars. You dare a glance back at Arthur, who is, in fact, looking at you.

Maybe there's some truth to what Mary Beth told you yesterday.

“Arthur's been awful quiet lately.”

The sun shines through the trees and dapples the table where you're seated with bright spots of pale yellow. It's your third round of dominoes with Mary-Beth, and she's whooping your ass, as usual. You don't know how she does it, but each game you play, you're a little more privy to her prowess.

“You think so? I don't know him as well as you.” You hope it isn't obvious that your heart started beating a little faster at the mention of his name. It leaves you breathless.

“Oh yeah,” Mary-Beth continues. “He's been scratchin’ away in that journal of his a lot more, too.” She leans closer, conspiratorial, her eyes twinkling with the gossip she's about to share. “Karen said he went to town twice last week to have a hot bath. If you knew Arthur like I know Arthur, why…you'd know that's highly out of character for him.”

“But you said he'd been quiet. Is that unusual for him, too?”

She hums and purses her lips. “Well you see, Arthur isn't usually a man of many words on a good day. But it's been real bad lately. He don't even give John a hard time like usual.”

You ponder the dominoes for a moment and then make your move. It doesn't earn you any points, but at least you didn't have to draw. “What do you think the problem is?” you ask, nonchalant as possible.

Mary-Beth smiles. Big and bright and sparkling. “Oh, it's not a problem at all.” She lowers her voice and cups her hand to her mouth. “Arthur's in love.”

You gasp, then giggle behind your hand, and Mary-Beth follows suit. Hosea looks on and shakes his head, so you quiet down, reaching across to grab Mary-Beth's hands. “Who do you think it is?”

Her cheeks are tinted pink, and she looks around to make sure there aren't any ears to hear. Word travels fast around camp if one isn't prudent. “I think it's you.”

A thunderstorm rips through Shady Belle a little over a week later. Your little tent that you share with Sadie is ripped straight off its supports in a terrible gust of wind, and you and the others hightail it inside the house to take cover just as it begins to hail. There's quite a ruckus as everyone huddles inside, windblown and rain-soaked. A few of the men hold up lanterns to illuminate the darkness while you watch the lightning and feel the thunder shake the old bones of the house.

“Everyone just calm down,” Dutch calls, descending the stairs, wearing some ridiculous robe with his arms spread wide. “Are we really gonna let a little old thunderstorm keep us from getting a good night's sleep?”

“Says the man with a bed inside the house,” Arthur bites, rounding the corner from what used to be the kitchen, holding a lantern up high in front of him. “Dutch, you better allow these ladies to take cover in here for tonight, or I'll–”

“Or you'll what, Mister Morgan? Pray tell, what kind of man do you take me for?” Dutch's eyes are fiery as he stares Arthur down; a display of dominance. A veritable cockfight.

Arthur's jaw twitches, but he doesn't back down. “The kind of man I should hope would have some goddamn respect for his family.”

There's a tense moment or two where everyone is quiet, then Dutch relents. “Fine, fine! But I expect everyone out there pitching in to clean up in the morning.” He points at Arthur and raises his voice again. “That includes the other man with a bed inside the house,” he sneers.

Arthur shakes his head, then looks away only to catch sight of you, shivering in your wet undergarments, huddled close to Mary-Beth for what little warmth the two of you can share. For a minute, he forgets to breathe, then composes himself enough to cross the room.

“Come on in here. Get yourself warm and dry by the fire.” His hand on your elbow is rough but warm as he leads you toward the fireplace. You nod and look back at Mary-Beth, who shoos you away with a flick of her wrist and a wink; you notice that her teeth are chattering. Despite the humidity that hangs heavy in the air, the temperature has turned chilly with the storm.

Arms crossed over your bosom to preserve any shred of modesty you might have left, you allow yourself to be led away by Arthur. Dutch and some of the others head upstairs while Charles and Javier keep watch from the front porch.

“You alright?” Arthur asks. He covers your shoulders with one of his heavy winter coats, and you pull it around you, grateful for the weight and warmth of it. Another clap of thunder shakes the house and you jump. Arthur chuckles.

“You laughin’ at me?” you quip, placing your palms flat in the direction of the fireplace. You don't even bother to hide the grin you feel curling on your lips.

“No madam, I am not,” Arthur says earnestly, taking a seat beside you on the old wooden crate he's set up as a makeshift bench.

“Then just what do you find so funny, Mister Morgan?”

He scratches the back of his neck, looking into the flames. “Aw, I dunno. I'm sorry. It's just that you're…”

You bump him with your hip, unable to stop the giggles that bubble up from your chest. “I'm what?” you pry.

There's a clatter of something falling on the front porch, and Arthur uses it as a good excuse to get out of this hole he's dug for himself. “I better go see what's going on out there. Charles might need my help.”

“I'm what, Arthur?!” you call, to no avail. He's gone before he can see the proverbial hearts in your eyes.

The saloon in Rhodes is a little nicer than the ones you visited in Valentine, though it's a far cry from the ones you used to frequent in Saint Denis. Still, when Sadie and the other girls decide that it's high time you have a little fun in town, you throw on your best dress and let Karen curl your hair and even apply a little of the makeup you snagged from a homestead up north. For the first time in months, you feel like a proper woman. There isn't time to be melancholy about the past, though, when the boys start whistling and cat-calling upon the sight of you and the other girls.

“Aw, knock it off!” Sadie hollers. She's decided to dress up a little tonight, too, much to everyone's surprise. But she hikes up her skirts to hop into the wagon, calling for the rest of you all to hurry it up. “I've got a bottle of rum with my name on it that's waiting for me to come drink her all down!”

You catch the sunset on the way to town. It's dazzling over the meadows, all golden light and warm, blazing oranges and reds that settle into a brilliant pink by the time your reach the main road into Rhodes. You wish you could see Arthur's eyes, but he's got a handle on the reins next to Charles in the front of the wagon. You've seen him watching the sunset before; he always looks so peaceful those evenings at camp, and you often wonder what he thinks about in those few minutes before the horizon is painted in pastel hues.

Karen starts singing a song that everyone eventually joins, and before you know it, you're pulling up in front of the Rhodes Parlour House. You can already hear the piano and a few voices from outside; the sound of it stirs something in your soul that makes you long for the familiarity of home, but you quickly shove it aside in favor of the company of your new family.

“Madam.” Arthur's voice brings you out of your thoughts and back into the present, where he waits at the back of the wagon with his hand extended to you. You beam at him, and he feels dizzy. And when your soft hand fits into his, he straightens his knees so they don't buckle and betray him.

“Why, thank you, kind sir,” you say, lifting the hem of your skirts to step out onto the dirt road.

Arthur leans in, dangerously close to your ear. You can smell the whisky and cigarettes on his breath, along with the faint tang of gunpowder and hair pomade. “You sure do look nice in that dress.”

You demure and fan yourself with your hand. “Just how much have you had to drink already tonight?” you giggle.

“Ahh, just a little nip to take the edge off.”

“Mm-hm. Sure, Arthur. Whatever you say.”

The night starts off relatively calm, as most nights do. You and the other girls find an empty table to sit and pick up on the town gossip, and the men start a hand of poker. It grows loud and crowded sometime around midnight, and it's hard to have a conversation without shouting over the din of voices, the clink of glass bottles, and the slow drag ragtime music from the piano. The ambiance is charming and lighthearted, and there are even a few couples drunkenly dancing on the porch.

You push back in your chair and find that when you stand, you're a little more wobbly than you thought you would be. The alcohol has loosened you more than you realize, and you grip the table for support until you feel a firm arm around your waist. “Whoa there.”

It's Arthur, who has won the last round of poker and has come to check in on you and the other ladies. You're pulled tight against his chest for one fleeting moment, and you look up into his eyes. He, too, seems drunk, with his eyes gleaming and drooping at the corners, his smile easy and his cheeks flushed.

“My knight in shining armor,” you slur, pretending to faint in his embrace. He only pulls you tighter against him, both of his broad hands splayed across your back. You laugh, and he smiles.

“You weren't getting another drink, were ya?” he questions with a raise of his brow.

“‘m thirsty,” you whine, lifting your empty glass entirely too close to his face. It knocks against his nose, which sends you into another fit of laughter.

Arthur takes your wrist– gentle but firm– and lowers the glass away. “Think you need to drink something that's not whiskey,” he drawls. You can't help but watch the way his lips form around the words; the slip of his tongue between his teeth, the way his mouth turns up into the hint of a smile when you pout. Before you can think too long and hard about it, you lunge forward and kiss him. Hard and clumsy and impulsive. You don't give him time to react. You're far too involved in the kiss to notice, but the girls at the table behind you have all gone silent. Arthur slides his hand along the side of your face and presses his fingers upon the nape of your neck, kissing you back like he really means it. (He really does.)

You pull back suddenly, breathless and reeling, swiping the back of your hand over your mouth. You're still held firm in his embrace, but the playfulness in his gaze has been replaced with an intensity that makes your knees weak all over again.

“What'd ya do that for?” he asks.

“Could ask you the same thing.”

“Well, you started it.”

“And you finished it.”

“Oh, I ain't finished with you, yet.”

“That a promise or a threat?” Your pulse is thumping wildly in your ears.

“Ya know, they got rooms upstairs for that!” Sadie shouts. There's a ripple of laughter across the table. Arthur's hand on your cheek feels like a brand, his arm about your waist an anchor. The rest of the room comes back to you in a woozy blur, and you look around, a little lovestruck and a whole lot drunk. Arthur's lips at your temple make your eyes flutter shut, and the room fades to black as tIt'weight of you slumps against him. He staggers only slightly, but holds you firm, chuckling softly.

“It's a promise,” he whispers.

You come to some hours later. Your mouth is dry as the desert, your head feels like lead, your skin broken out in a cold, uncomfortable sweat. At some point, it seems you were covered with a downy soft blanket, and the pillow at your head is much more fluffy than the makeshift one you made out of a bedroll at camp. At first, you think you're dreaming. Then, you wonder very briefly if you're back at your childhood home in Saint Denis. You almost call out to your mother when you hear a soft snore from the other side of your bed.

The room spins when you turn your head, and you rub your eyes until Arthur comes into focus. He's sprawled in an armchair a few feet away. His arms are crossed over his chest while his chin is tucked into his chest. Off to the side, you spy his boots; his big toe pokes through a hole in his sock and you smile at how vulnerable he looks.

“Arthur,” you whisper, shifting slightly as you pull the blanket up around your chin.

He grunts and lifts his head slowly. He frowns a little at first, but when he focuses on you lying there, so close he could reach out and kiss you again like he did last night, there's a slow, easy smile that spreads across his face.

“Hey there, party girl. You feeling alright?”

You could kick yourself for all the giggling you've done around him lately, but you can't help it. He brings out something giddy and downright foolish inside you, so you toss a pillow at him and bury your face in the sheets.

“Aw, come on now. I'm just messin’ with ya.” He leans forward and rubs your head affectionately. “I'd say you were feeling pretty good last night.”

It's in that moment a white-hot jolt of sheer panic shoots down your spine. Quickly, you check to make sure you're still wearing clothes. Aside from your breasts being a little lopsided in the confines of your bodice, you're relieved to find that your dress is still intact and– more importantly– on your body. You dare another peek at Arthur and notice that his shirt is unbuttoned down to the middle of his chest and he's discarded his vest somewhere, but he, too, is fully clothed. Thank the good Lord above.

You must've said that last part aloud, because Arthur laughs. “Don't worry, nothing happened. Though it weren't for lack of tryin’ on your part,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “Thought I was gonna have to lock you in here like some feral cat till you settled down.”

Oh. Oh Lord. You try to recall what happened that led you to this room, but all that comes to mind is a lot of loud conversation, some dancing, a spilled drink across Sadie's lap, and Arthur's hand on the side of your cheek. “Oh…”

Now you remember it in vivid detail.

“Didn't know you cared for me like that,” he says. It's earnest and tender, a few shades less intense than the kiss you now recall, the one where it felt like he wanted to eat you alive right there in the middle of the saloon. Now, he thumbs your cheek and looks at you so fondly you swear your heart jumps right up in your throat. “I mean, I'd been hoping. Wasn't sure you was looking for a romance.” He huffs a short sigh, frustrated with himself. “Aw, hell, what am I saying? ‘Course you weren't. You're just looking to survive, just like the rest of us, and here I–”

“Shut up,” you say, taking hold of his hand and tugging him closer. He resists until you pull even harder, watching the fire in your eyes blaze to life. “You talk too much, Yankee.”

“I ain't no damn–”

“Kiss me.”

He's over you in an instant; you're pressed flat against the bed, completely and totally at his mercy. This kiss feels different than the drunken one last night. It's sober and honest, if not a little hesitant, as if he's holding himself back from devouring you wholly. The warmth of his body against yours takes your breath away. Or maybe it's the way his tongue laves heavy into your mouth, unashamed of how badly he craves the taste of you. You grip his hair at the roots and tug him down to kiss him harder, lifting your upper body to meet him until he presses down, his chest flush with yours.

Things get heated quickly.

His mouth moves across your cheek, down your neck, and he groans against your skin, rutting his cock against your thigh. You fleetingly wish that he had managed to get you out of that dress before he presumably tucked you into bed and passed out in that chair, because there’s a whole lot of fabric between you and him that really pisses you off right now. Arthur must feel much the same, because he’s bunching your skirts up past your knees while you’re fumbling with his belt buckle, desperate to feel him against you, inside you. It’s clumsy and crazed, rushed and rough, but you manage somehow to shuck off every last bit of your clothes and his until you’re breathless and so, so eager beneath him.

“Need you now,” you whine. You feel insane. Dizzy and dehydrated, impossibly turned on, every nerve ending on fire when his callused hands grip the fat of your thighs and open you to him.

“Greedy little thing, ain’t ya?” One of his hands slips between your legs to find you wet and swollen. He presses the pad of his thumb against your clit and pushes a finger inside you; the sound you make nearly has him finishing there on the sheets, so he wastes no time in getting himself as close to you as humanly possible.

“Never wanted something so bad,” he murmurs into the dip of your shoulder. He wants all of you– all at once– wants to fuse his hands against your skin and sink himself into you so deep that it would be impossible to tell where he ends and you begin. The heat from his body takes away what little breath you have left, his mouth on each part of your body building the buzz in your chest until you feel like you might just burst open. You grabbed at each other like it was the first and last time you might have this opportunity, as if you wanted more than what the other of you was able to give.

Considering the kind of life you’ve both led so far, it’s a good possibility that you might never get to do this again.

“Give it to me,” you plead, opening yourself further to him, fingers wrapped firm around the base of his cock. “Please.”

Arthur Morgan is a man of incredible strength and self restraint, except when it comes to a woman like you.

There’s nothing gentle about the way he takes you. It’s primal, sweaty, filthy, rough. Arthur pushes as far inside you as he can go, then pushes further when you beg for more. He cups your knees with slick palms and presses you open as far as you can bend; you tug roughly at his hair and bite down on his shoulder when the pleasure builds to a blinding ferocity. The wooden bedframe knocks angrily against the wall with each thrust, but you can’t bring yourself to care if anyone hears. You can’t focus on anything beyond the feeling of him filling you with every stroke of his cock, of the taut, corded muscle in his back and shoulders as you grapple to hang on as tight as you can. Your orgasm hits your hard and fast, and he encourages you through it, taking his time to give you long, controlled strokes. It’s as pleasurable for him as it is for you. “‘Atta girl,” he rasps, lips moving against your ear. Your hand flies to your mouth to muffle your cries, but he pulls it away and threads his fingers with yours, pressing it onto the pillow. “I wanna hear it.”

Your moans are what drive him over the edge.

He buries his face against the side of your neck, panting heavily as he comes, driving into you so hard that you can almost feel the mattress beneath you begin to sag under the weight. You cradle his head in your hands and link your legs around his waist, boneless and languid in the aftermath of your own pleasure. When he moves, you move with him, riding out the waves together until you’re both too tired to move another muscle.

Neither of you speak for a while. He lies on his back with an arm around your shoulders while you curl against him, tuned into his heartbeat and swirling little patterns into the hair on his chest. It’s comforting to feel him next to you, to watch his chest rise and fall as he steadies his breathing, to soak up the warmth of his skin against yours.

You’re the first to break the silence. “Did everyone else go back to camp last night?”

Arthur nods slowly. “Something tells me they planned all this.”

“Planned it? You mean…” You lift your arm slowly and flick your wrist to acknowledge the room you’re laying in. “This?” You lift your chin and grin at him. “Or getting us together?”

“Room was paid for before I even had a chance to ask if they had one,” he explains. “Think it was Mrs. Adler.”

You vaguely recall her shouting something about a room after you kissed Arthur last night, and you shake your head. “You complaining?”

He turns to his side, draping an arm across your hip. “Me? Never.” You’re suddenly pressed beneath him once again; from the looks of it, you won’t be getting out of this bed anytime soon. “Specially when I’ve got you here to help me keep warm.”

[djotime-allthetime]

Freaky Redheads

synopsis: interactions between you and fred hechinger at a red carpet event for gladiator ii.

wc: 2.5+

rpf!!! don't like, don't read!!!

a/n: i love that soft, sweet, adorable man with all of my heart. my inspiration is how fred talks about sherry. the monkey. i'm down bad bro.

italics are supposed to be comments under tiktok clips of these interviews. i definitely have more in mind for these two, but we'll see how this goes. feedback is writer's fuel!

cross posted on AO3

The flashing cameras and yelling reporters have started to become the new normal, which was so not normal for you. You couldn't believe how far you'd come.

Granted, your role in the movie was definitely more in the supporting cast territory, but you couldn't deny how massive the production was. But even as a supporting actress, you still had quite a bit of screen time as the unnamed favorite concubine to Emperor Caracalla.

The fans who knew you called out your name from behind the velvet ropes and you smiled and waved as you walked by.

"y/n! y/n! Over here!" A reporter called out. You nodded and smiled as you approached, indicating your acceptance of the carpet-side interview. Your agent had warned you that not every journalist might want to speak with you and that you should accept any interview you came by. Thankfully, as the start of your night would show, that wasn't the case.

"Hello!" You beamed, coming to a stop in front of the camera. The reporter greeted you back and handed you a microphone glued to a mini Romanesque column. "Oh, wow. I love the microphone!"

"Thank you," She smiled. With a quick glance at her blouse, you saw a name tag that said 'MTV UK: Claire'. "It was my idea, actually."

"Incredibly creative! They should give you a raise, Claire."

"If you wouldn't mind saying that directly into the camera..." Claire trailed off with a chuckle and a mischievous glint to her eye.

You shot the camera as serious a look as you could muster. "MTV, if you do not give this woman a raise, I will riot in the streets."

"Alright alright, enough of that." Claire laughed out loud with a few shakes of her head. "You look absolutely stunning!"

"Oh, this old thing?" You smiled bashfully, grabbing at your skirt to twirl it around. The styling department had made sure that all the gowns worn during press had some Roman inspiration behind them. The piece you were wearing was off white in color, representing your character's position in society. Even with your character in mind, your dress was still breathtaking. The gown was composed of yards and yards of fabric, giving it this dreamy, flowy silhouette. The neckline was so beautiful, in the cowl style and draped ever so slightly off your shoulders. To say that you loved it would be an understatement. "Thank you very much, you look amazing yourself."

"But you are on a different level!" Claire gasped, no doubt to return the topic to you. Just like you were media trained, the reporters were too. "What was the thought process behind your look tonight?"

Your eyes lit up as this was something you had wanted to talk about. "Well, the styling department and I actually workshopped this look together. Of course we wanted it to be glamorous, this is the red carpet after all. But we also wanted to show the character through the outfits, you know?" She nodded along.

"Right, your character was quite impactful even with the few lines you had." Claire added, and you smiled in thanks.

"Yeah, thank you." You felt your face heat up at the compliment. "We wanted to still be true to her, under all the glitz and glamour. So that's why we went with the understated color, to not only show her position in society but also her demeanor throughout the film."

"But your jewellery is anything but understated." She laughed.

"Yeah, I couldn't help myself." You laughed with her.

"Give us a quick tour."

You were almost dripping in gold, from your head to your toes. "We've got the hair piece." You brought a hand up to show the gold pins connected with chains littering your up-do. "Earrings upon earrings, all hoops." You pulled a strand back to show off your right ear clearly. Some were clip on earrings as you didn't have quite enough piercings to get them all. "The necklaces, of course. Some bracelets, some rings. But I think this cuff on my upper arm is my favorite."

"And these are all borrowed pieces from different brands?"

"Most of them are, yes." You confirmed with a nod. "But some are from my private collection. And some I might steal." You joked, getting a laugh out of Claire.

"Well, you really knocked it out of the park." Claire smiled, a tone of finality in her voice that showed you the interview was coming to a close. "And before we let you go, we've got one question we're asking everyone tonight. I think we can all agree that the cast of this movie is full of beautiful men." You giggled, a bit surprised at the turn in topic. "But people on the internet have separated them into two categories."

"Oh, have they now?" You asked, unaware of what she was talking about.

"Yes, they have. Gen Z has divided them into the brooding brunets and the freaky redheads." She explained, pulling up two little hand held signs. One with Paul Mescal and Pedro Pascal, the brooding brunets, and the other with Joseph Quinn and Fred Hechinger, the freaky redheads.

You couldn't contain the surprised laugh that escaped you at the sight of their little printed faces. "Oh my goodness!"

"So, as the resident Gen Z-er on the cast, who is your pick?"

"Well, I wouldn't say I'm the only representation of Gen Z here." You mused as you grabbed both the signs from Claire. You lifted up the 'freaky redheads' sign and pointed to Fred. "My friend is right there with me in the Gen Z territory."

"Alright, as the representation of Gen Z women, which team is more your style?" Claire asked as you studied the signs. "People are saying they went into the movie for the brunets and came out converted to team redheads."

"That's actually really funny," You chuckled as you looked down at both signs. "This is hard." You mumbled. A small smirk found itself on your lips as you thought of Fred seeing this clip later. Someone no doubt showing it to him, as he wouldn't find it on his own. "I feel like- yeah." You nodded with determination. "I'm gonna have to go with Fred- I'm going with team freaky redheads." You nodded. "I think it would be treacherous otherwise."

"Good choice. You'd break Emperor Caracalla's heart."

"And then he'd have my head." You laughed, stepping back. "Thank you for your great questions."

"Thank you for your time." Claire waved as you walked away. "We're gonna have a tally going throughout the night, and we'll see who wins. Team brooding brunets, or team freaky redheads." You heard her say to the camera as you moved further down the carpet.

'She looks so pretty!!'

'i love the thought process behind the outfit, you can tell she really loved her character'

'the reporter asked y/n if she prefers lucius and acacius or geta and caracalla and this girl really said FRED 💀'

'i love seeing new faces in hollywood, give young new actors a chance!!' ↳ 'right?? im so sick of them recycling the same actors for every big budget movie'

'she mentioned fred, not caracalla, twice, unprompted. i see you, y/n. you're just like us.' ↳ 'have you seen his interviews? he's literally the cutest i cant blame her 🥺'

A few steps down, another reporter flagged you down. This time, the questions were more centered around the acting itself.

"And was it difficult? In a previous interview, you've said that your character's growth was significant, but she had almost no lines in the movie."

"Yeah, I think in the final cut she only has... three lines?" You winced, looking upwards as you tried to recall what was and wasn't cut. "Though I'm not sure."

"So there were scenes where she could've said more?"

"Oh yeah, for sure! There was a lot of experimentation with my character throughout filming. Ridley's a genius and he was kind enough to truly take in my suggestions. There were times where I felt like she would actually stay quiet during a scene, whereas other times I felt like she would speak up. But yeah," You breathed in and furrowed your brows in thought as you tried to focus your answer back to the original question. "It was definitely a challenge. I had to really work on my micro-expressions. Lots of research, lots of practice. And lots of trust, too. With a character like mine, I really relied on Fr- on my fellow actors in those scenes. So yeah, definitely challenging. But who doesn’t love a good challenge?"

"And did you take any inspiration from other people's work? Any source material that helped you out as you built your character?"

"Of course!" You smiled, a hint of humor in your tone as you thought of your response. "Yeah, I did. Actually, one of the biggest inspirations for my role, believe it or not, was Ferb. From 'Phineas and Ferb'."

"The- The children's show?" The interviewer questioned with a grin.

"Yeah, Ridley thought it was brilliant!" You laughed. "We watched compilations of Ferb scenes on youtube together. And I know that Fred- Fred Hechinger, who plays Emperor Caracalla-, he also brought up Sid Vicious with Ridley, as well as other sources like that. Sir Ridley Scott has great taste, there's no denying that."

'ferb as inspiration for a movie like this,,, gen z in the film industry really are the gift that keeps on giving'

'im just imagining y/n and ridley scott curled up on the couch watching phineas and ferb reruns. that man is 86 years old. this is brilliant.'

'bro didn't even have to say anything and y/n still brought up fred 💀'

'the gen z cast members making ridley scott watch cartoons is sending me'

'not her pretending she didn't mean to say fred when she talked about trust, we all heard you y/n'

Unbeknownst to you, Fred's interviews were going much like yours, only a few feet behind you on the carpet.

"You look amazing today!" Claire, the same reporter you spoke to, told Fred during his first interview on the carpet.

"Thank you, thank you." He replied bashfully as he tried to subtly look around for you, but he couldn't see you just yet. "Everyone looks so great, everyone."

She asked him a few questions and then came time for her ending segment.

"Alright, to close off, we've got a little game here."

"A game?" Fred smiled with raised brows. "I love games." He said softly, not realizing that the microphone would pick it up.

"Yes, a quick one. You just have to choose between team brooding brunets and team freaky redheads. We've asking everyone to join."

"Woah!" Fred exclaimed as he received the signs. "That's me." He pointed out his own face in the picture of him and Joseph. "What are we basing our choice on here?"

"Well, the internet is battling on who is more attractive."

"Oh my god." Fred chortled, not expecting that answer. "Who's played the game?" He asked, still examining the hand held signs.

"As of now, we've spoken to Joseph Quinn, Connie Nielsen, and y/n l/n." Claire recounted.

Fred's eyes lit up and his cheeks reddened at the mention of your name. "And what's the- what's the consensus so far?"

"It's two to one. Can you guess who's in the lead?" Claire asked.

"Let me think... Well, Joseph -my brother-, he definitely voted for us." He pondered aloud as he counted the votes off on his fingers. "Connie... I think Connie went for team brunets. I mean, it's her husband. She's gotta." He grinned when it came to you. "y/n chose me, right? We're in the lead?"

"Yeah, you're right on all counts! You really know your cast members." Claire laughed. "y/n didn't want to anger Emperor Caracalla."

"Oh, she couldn't. I’ve got too much of a soft spot for her." Fred shook his head emphatically.

"So, are you keeping team redheads in the lead? Or will you give us a tie?"

"No, I'm going team redheads!" Fred exclaimed. "I'm not helping out my competition, no way!"

'this man has bewitched me with his beautiful eyes and calming demeanor'

'he always calls joe his brother im CRYINGGG'

'did you see his face when they mention y/n, this man can't hide his crush for the life of him 🥺' ↳ 'neither can she lol'

'what do yall know about fred hechinger 🗣️🗣️🗣️'

'fred immediately knowing that y/n chose him, kill me right now.' ↳ 'mind you the choice was caracalla. she still said 'fred' and he said 'me'. can they be more obvious?'

'the way this man said 'i love games' protect him at all costs'

‘he said ‘i’ve got a soft spot for her’ is this the year of men yearning?’ ↳ ‘it’s just the paul mescal effect’

It was during his next interview that he saw you. He was talking about his experience building the character of Emperor Caracalla with Sir Ridley Scott as well as Joseph Quinn when he finally caught sight of you. You had spent a bit longer with a specific reporter down the carpet, causing Fred to catch up to you. 

“Of course, y/n was a great help as well.” He smiled, reaching over to brush against your elbow to catch your attention. At the perfect time, too, because you had just finished talking to the reporter in front of you.

“Oh, Fred!” You beamed, coming over to give him a hug. 

“Look at you.” Fred spoke against your shoulder. He pulled away from the hug and brought you into his side in front of the camera, almost like he was showing you off. “Look at her, isn’t she stunning.”

“Stop it,” you rolled your eyes as you tried your best not to show how his compliment affected you. “I’m sorry for interrupting, I just had to say hello.”

“No worries,” the reporter reassured you. “Fred was actually saying how you helped with the building of his character.”

“Yeah, we worked really closely during pre-production actually.” You nodded, acutely aware of Fred’s hands on you. He had one hand casually tucked into his pocket while his other arm draped across your waist, his hand resting against your hip. “My character was almost like Caracalla’s sidekick, so the motives for all her actions are really based around him.”

“I’d argue that she was more of a mirror, actually.” You turned to look at Fred, never passing up an opportunity to hear his view on these things. “She’s the complete opposite of Caracalla, but in a way she represents who he truly is under all the pressure of being in Geta’s shadow.”

“And under all the syphilis, of course.” You added, causing Fred to giggle.

“Yeah, and under the syphilis.”

‘he seems like such a sweet guy 🥺’

‘did you see his face when he saw her???  😫😫😫 theyre in love, your honor’

‘him showing her off like that is peak soft boyfriend behavior’

‘they just called me single in seven different languages’

‘his laugh is actually so cute, who is this man and why am i in love with him? 😍’ ↳ 'get in line' ↳'behind y/n, you mean?'

‘the way he’s touching her???? im just gonna go take a nap in front of an oncoming train’

‘im calling it, new hollywood it couple’

‘look at how he looks at her!!! may this love find me 🙏’

[elstattoo]

Closet Fun: Vi x Reader

☆*:.｡.

MEN DNI, MDNI

Summary: A heated game of seven minutes in heaven with Vi.

WC: 3K

Warnings: fingering(r receiving), praise, pet names

Author’s note☆: This is my first time writing for Vi and I went overboard with this idea… lmk what you think and next is pitfighter Vi because I need her internally😋

The smoke from people’s cigarettes and weed made the air thick and heavy. You pushed past the sweaty bodies of ongoing partygoers making your way further into the party. Music roared through the speakers making it impossible to hear yourself think.

Vi was hot on your trail, having no interest in anyone but you at the party. “Fuck I could go for a beer right now.” Vi thought to herself as she followed you like a lost puppy. Her eyes immediately snapped down to your legs and ass when she noticed the view.

A low groan escaped her parted lips as she watched the sway of your hips as you walked. She couldn’t recall you ever wearing something like that to a party, let alone such a short skirt.

The more she stared, the more she felt her boxers lightly dampen, she shook her head slightly trying to snap herself out of the daze. It was hard to shake off your effect on her, she never could even if she tried.

But for both your sakes, Violet kept quiet about her feelings for you. She pursued nothing but a friendship with you, too consumed with the fear of losing you, the one person she cares about the most in the world.

She continued following you into the kitchen, both your eyes scanning the assortment of drinks left to offer.

Violet’s eyes practically sparkled as she saw beer tucked away in a red cooler. “Beer here I come,” Vi muttered, speed-walking over to the counter and grabbing a cold beer out of the open cooler.

A smile spread on your face, “Of course, that’s the first thing you drink. I’m doing vodka and soda,” you shrugged, grabbing an empty clean cup. Easily you poured yourself your drink and took a sip, and the tang of vodka a little too much. The alcohol washed over you, making you feel a little less jittery than before.

Vi let out a little scoff as she watched you pour your drink. “Of course, you’d go for vodka. Me? I’ll stick with the beer.” Her body leaned forward against the counter as you fixed more soda into your drink to lessen the amount of vodka. Her eyes roamed your body quickly again, taking in the way the skirt looked so damn good on you.

You smiled hearing Vi’s little complaints, shaking your head at her. As you mixed your drink to your liking, you caught Vi leaning closely towards you on the counter, beer in hand. “I think I’m ready to see what Jinx, Ekko, and everyone else are up to,” you said. You felt yourself grow hotter the more you felt Vi’s burning gaze.

“Sounds good to me,” Vi agreed with a smile, taking one last swing of the beer before holding it tightly in her hand. “Lead the way, cupcake.”

Your heart swelled a little at the nickname, she always called you different names. Each one makes your heart skip a beat, time and time again. Quickly you made your way towards the living room, the first area you hoped you’d find either Jinx or Ekko. Neither were in sight, you hummed, wondering where either of them could be. Vi reached out and grasped your shoulder.

“I think they’re probably in the next room huddled together smoking or something,” Vi snorted.

You giggled, the sound made Vi freeze for a second as if you two were the only ones in the room. Your laugh was genuine, one that rang throughout the room, and made others smile. Your smile was just one of the many things that made Violet fall so hard for you, not that you knew how you made her heart swell.

“Let me just text her, that's easier,” you said, your free hand already stuffed into your pocket and pulling out your phone.

As best as you could with one hand, you typed out a message to Jinx. It was very difficult, but you managed, too stubborn to hand your drink off to Vi.

You: ‘Where are you?’

Vi turned her head, watching as you put your phone away. “I shot her a text now to await her response, hopefully, it’s fast,” you shrugged, sipping away at your drink.

Violet hummed, “I dunno, sweetheart. My sister is an avid texting but probably wouldn’t be at a party.”

The phone vibrating in your back pocket would say otherwise, and you connected eyes briefly with Vi. A smile made its way onto your face, and swiftly you brought your phone out and read the recent notification. It was from Jinx.

Jinx: ‘Upstairs with a smaller group, meet us losers :P’

“You would be wrong, Violet,” you sneered, “She just answered.”

Violet rolled her eyes dramatically at your teasing tone, “Yeah, yeah whatever, sweetheart. Where are we meeting them?

“Upstairs! Let’s goooo,” you whined, grabbing for her hand after stuffing your phone away. Your hand met Violet’s, her colder hands a stark contrast to your warm ones.

Vi followed you, hand gripping yours as you led the way upstairs. The music drifted with you, people crowded the top of the stairs and chatted away. The pair of you squeezed past more people before reaching a room filled with more people, couches placed about, and a gigantic TV hung mounted on the wall.

You both paused for a moment, taking in your surroundings to look for a sign of Ekko or Jinx. A flash of blue crossed your vision, which had Vi groaning as you tugged her forward.

“Jinx! Over here!” You yelled, trying to raise your voice louder than the booming music throughout the house. Jinx’s head snapped from her conversation with Ekko, towards you, hearing your calls. Ekko himself sees Vi’s pink tufts of hair behind you, and the two of you, hand and hand. Not a surprise at all.

“Hey, you two!” Jinx waves, a grin cheekily on her face. Ekko follows behind her waving at you and Vi. “There’s some people back there playing spin-the-bottle but whoever it lands on goes into a closet for seven minutes and it's locked.” Jinx directed where the people were with the point of her painted fingertip.

Vi let go of your hand, moving from behind you so she can talk to everyone more closely. “Pardon?” Vi quirks an eyebrow, “Seven minutes in heaven and spinning the bottle combined? Alright, fuck it, what do ya say, sweetheart?” Vi’s head turned to you, she licked her lips anticipating your answer. She only would indulge in this silly game if you did.

At the sudden question, you felt yourself grow hot, “Sure! Let’s have fun, what do you guys think?” You ignored the creeping thoughts growing in your head hoping, somehow, that luck would be on your side for once. And… if you played this game, you’d end up, alone, locked in a closet with Vi.

“Hell yeah! I mean, I am the one who told you about it,” Jinx laughed, turning to playfully poke Ekko in the side. He laughed at her, shrugging off her antics.

You all politely asked to join the game, which had the people already playing, clapping, and nodding their heads excitedly. People muttered about restarting the game with the new addition of people, and so a new game began.

“I’m sooo excited,” Jinx whispered, bumping your side as you all watched the people fumble to reset the bottle.

“Wait! Let one of the newbies take a turn,” one guy insisted. His eyes landed on you, “Hey! How about you try it out?”

Your lips parted, not knowing what to say before you nodded. “Yeah, okay,” you breathed, leaning forward to spin the bottle. The time within you spinning the bottle, and then waiting to see who it landed on felt like a lifetime. You felt your stomach doing somersaults, you gulped, seeing the bottle beginning to slow and eventually come to a halt.

The air felt thick, as if time paused at that moment, the bottle stopped and pointed at Vi. A smirk emerged onto her face, your eyes falling from the bottle to her piercing one. Your eyes held contact for mere seconds, the chatter of people drowned out, and you zoned out and only focused on Violet.

Suddenly, you were snapped out of said trance when someone, Ekko, poked your shoulder gently. “Hey, you good?” he murmured, seeing you space out, only mere seconds ago.

You nodded, giving him a thumbs up to reassure him. “Yeah, just surprised. Guess I better go to whatever closet with Vi, at least.”

Ekko smiled, watching you get up as people muttered at you to “hurry up and go.’” Those people were the least of your concerns when you’d be locked in a closet with Vi. The fact it was reality and going to happen had your heart beating wildly out of your chest.

Vi was already standing up, waiting for you and someone to lead you both to the closet. “At least it landed on someone you know, sweets,” Vi added, poking your side. Your head snapped towards her, shooting her a glare.

The girl in front of you, the one leading you to the closet cleared her throat. “Are you guys ready to go now?”

“Yeah, sorry. Let’s go,” you shared a glance with Vi before the two of you followed after the girl. You were brought to a room only a few meters away, the closet tucked in the corner. The girl brought both of you right to the closet door.

“Alright, hurry in, the timer starts when the door closes,” the girl smiled, opening the closet door, and ushering the two of you inside. Vi snuck another glance in your direction, herself still not believing the situation. “Try not to be too loud!” She winked, closing the door, and fiddling with the lock.

The closet was small, the two of you huddled together, trying to sit comfortably within the small space. The darkness of the closet provided another challenge and made it impossible to see or navigate your surroundings.

“Shit, why couldn’t this stupid closet have a light?” Vi mumbled, blinking her eyes to adjust to the darkness. “Where are you even?” Her hand reached out into the darkness feeling for you, her fingertips met your thigh, your breath hitching at the touch. “There you are.”

You could imagine the stupid, cocky smirk on her face saying that. You were on the opposite side of the closet of her, body huddled together, knees against your chest. “Yep, here I am… Weird game for friends to end up in, right?” You joked, the word ‘friend’ making you feel sour.

Vi squeezed her hand against your thigh, the plump flesh squeezing in her firm grasp. You gulped feeling the grip. “Mhm, sweetheart friends are all we are,” she leaned closer, her grip on your thigh still firm. You made no effort to move her hand, which enticed her further and helped prove you did in fact like this. “I think we’re a lot more than friends, and it’s pretty clear at this point. So quit the bullshit and c’mere,” her voice was low and husky.

Her words put you in a trance, you leaned forward, scooting closer to her, to close the distance. Her hand lets go of your thigh, and before you can complain at the loss of contact she cups your cheek and brings your lips in for a fiery, hot kiss. It was messy and filled with passion, you immediately returned the kiss. Almost feeling greedy at how you nipped at her lower lip, gliding your tongue against it, before she eagerly opened her mouth allowing you to overtake her mouth. Your tongues lapping against one another, you moaned softly into Vi’s mouth feeling relieved to finally be kissing her.

Vi noticed your spread legs, allowing her to slot herself between your thighs, and forcing you to twist your legs around her. She mentally noted the time she had left with you, slipping her free hand in between your legs and going oh, so dangerously close to your panties.

Your hands were wrapped around her neck, you pulled away to breathe and felt Vi’s sneaky hand near where you needed her most. “W-what are you doing?” You panted out, still trying to catch your breath from the heated kiss.

“Wanna finger you, right here, right now. Can’t help myself, princess,” Vi admitted, chest rising and falling steadily. If you could see her right now you’d see the way her face was dusted lightly, lips red and blotchy from the kissing.

You whined, gripping the overgrown hair at the back of her head, Vi groaned softly loving the way your feelings felt gripping at her hair. “We can’t do it here..” you said in a hushed voice. You so badly wanted it, but here of all places?

“Please… want to please you, princess,” Vi pleaded, and she kissed your lips. Your panties dampened even more and you felt yourself let go, giving in to her frantic kisses.

You pulled back for a second, nodding, “Please… do it before they come.”

When those words left your mouth that was all Vi needed before she moved her hand to where you needed her. Her fingers moved your thong to the side, sliding two into your wet, aching hole. She cut off the loud moan that almost escaped your lips with her lips sealed against yours, you eagerly returned the passionate kiss.

Vi curled her fingers slightly, angling to get deeper inside of you, and hit the spot that felt so good. You needily swiped your tongue against Vi’s, the two of you exchanging saliva in between the messy kisses. Vi pumped her fingers faster, groaning at the wetness pooling around her sleek fingers.

The two of you only had a few minutes left, Violet pulled back. Hurriedly pumping her fingers deeper, before she stilled for a moment to slide a third one in. Feeling her insert the third finger, then pumping them in and out of you, curling to hit your g-spot, had you craning your head into her neck. You muffled the cry of pleasure, hands still gripping her pink hair, and Vi loved it.

The sounds you were making, the muffled sounds of the music playing outside the closet door were long forgotten to her by the smacking of her fingers drilling in and out of you. Along with your wetness squealing in the small space of the closet. She fucking loved it.

“God, pretty girl… you’re so wet just from kissing and my fingers? Gotta get you home after this,” she sighed, smirking to herself at the ideas popping in her head.

“Please, Vi only have a few minutes left and I’m close,” you mewled against her.

“Yeah? We gotta hurry then, pretty girl,” she pumped her fingers faster, if possible, her fingers hitting your g-spot over and over until you felt your stomach clench up, your vision went white, and you swear you heard yourself whine loudly like never before. Surely, the sound alerted people outside the room, but who the fuck cares? With how your muscles spasmed and clenched as the waves of the moment overtook you.

“O-oh my god,” you gasped, clutching onto her shoulders, pretty painted nails digging in as you tried to roll your hips into her hand to ride out the intensity of your orgasm. Vi softly kissed your neck, leaving small marks along your neck as you clung to her.

“Holy fuck, you just came all over my fingers,” Vi uttered with her fingers still curled tightly inside of your cunt. You whined at the sensitivity from your previous orgasm, Vi begrudgingly took her fingers out of you understanding you were sensitive. Her digits were coated in your slick cum, she brought her fingers to her mouth and moaned at the sweet taste of you. She cleaned the mess away off her fingers before pecking your lips. “You feel alright?”

Your chest swelled, your body still recovering from the post-orgasm. “Yeah, that was… Fucking amazing, Vi,” you smiled, your fingers coming up to cup her cheek and passing over the small tattoo under her eye. The one that marked her name… Vi. Your Vi, the one that you love.

Before either of you could say anything else, there was a knock on the door. “Time’s up, lovebirds!” You hurriedly pulled away from each other, you fixed your skirt, smoothing the material as Vi wiped her mouth and fixed her wrinkled clothes.

The door opened, Jinx being the one to open the door this time. She saw your appearance, both your lips red and swollen from the kisses. She smirked and wiggled her eyebrows, “You guys finally confessed and… did a lot more than that!”

You dashed up and playfully smacked her side, your face feeling hot. “Please shut up! And keep it down,” you pleaded. Embarrassment rushed over you, but Vi got up and coddled your side.

“It’s fine, pretty girl. Nothing to be ashamed of,” she shrugged. She acted as if her sister wasn’t right there and didn’t quickly infer what the two of you did. It also didn’t help that she confidently wrapped her arm around you, a smirk adorning her face as she pushed past Jinx and walked out of the room with you.

You were left speechless even when she led you out of the party and to her car.

“Wanna come back to my place or yours?” She whispered, eyes gazing into yours from the driver’s seat.

“Mine,” you grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “Please, I want you all to myself.”

Vi hummed, starting the car and nodding. “I know, pretty girl and you will, I promise,” she squeezed your hand in reassurance. “Wanted you… long before this.” Vi never thought she would admit it, but now she could care less knowing you both felt the same. She brought your hand up and kissed it.

Your heart swelled, your hand felt warm and clammy, and you almost felt like you were floating. “Me too, Vi,” you whispered. She put her hand back in yours and drove the two of you back to your closer apartment.

The two of you did a lot more than fingering for the rest of the night.

—

Author’s note: I hope you guys enjoyed… please spare me

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

To Those Who Wait 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as non/dubcon, virginity loss, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are tired of being the safe one so you decide to pay for some excitement.

Characters: escort!Ransom Drysdale, Curtis Everett

Note: yeah, I couldn't resist.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Tony loves himself. Take care. 💖

“Busy?” Vivica hums with doubt. “Again.” 

“Sorry, Vic, I just... can’t,” you roll your eyes at your reflection. No, the eye liner is too much. You think mascara’s fine. 

“What’s going on?” Her voice rises from your phone as it rests amid the mess of your bathroom counter. “Ever since your birthday, you’ve been kind of a bitch.” 

She isn’t wrong. You twist the wand of the mascara and pop it from the tube. You sigh. 

“I know, I’m sorry. Better reason for you all to go without me,” you say. “I don’t want to bring you down.” 

“Hm, fine,” she lets her disappointment through. “But you’re getting coffee with me soon. I’m worried.” 

You nod and brush through your lashes. “I’ll let you know what I’m free.” 

You sniff as she tuts noisily. “Fine, I’ll wait.” 

“Go, have fun,” you insist. “Text you later.” 

“Right, sure.” 

You tap the red button and the call ends. You slide the wand into place and twist the mascara shut. You fighting a losing battle here. You drop the tube and throw your head back, heaving out a breath. 

You don’t even know why you’re doing this. It’s a joke. A date? You’ll just be letting down one more person. You hate to waste Curtis’ time. Hence, why you haven’t told anyone about it. You don’t need them to know about another fuck up. 

The phone buzzes. You roll your eyes and press your fingerprint to the screen to unlock. You expect another long lecture typed out by Vivica, instead, it’s Curtis. Is he already here? No, you’re not ready. You bend to read his message. 

‘Hey, if you got em, wear sneakers or hiking boots.’ 

You squint. Huh? Is he taking you on a hike? Wow. Well, you suppose you deserve that kind of effort. Besides, you’re really not in the mood for a crowded restaurant where you have to pretend to know the appetizer sharing etiquette. 

‘I can dig some out’ you type back. 

You step back and sift through your sparse make up. You pick out a shade of lip gloss closest to your natural hue. Is it really necessary? Why are you even trying? You know how this ends. You pop your lips and snap the cap into place. 

Maybe he’s a murderer. Somehow, that doesn’t scare you. Even as the pieces seem to fall into place. He’s taking you out alone. Somewhere he’s kept a surprise, and he told you to bring sporty shoes. You expect you might be running from an axe in the woods soon enough. Not such a dire end considering. 

You shake off the absurd thought. You don’t want to look like you went overboard. Curtis has been so casual about all of this. Yeah, casual. Just put on something simple. 

The black jeans could easily be mistaken for nicer pants. The turtleneck isn’t too much either. Blue cotton with little white daisies. You’ll put a cardigan over it and pull on your hiking boots. Wow, a dream come true. A date in Sorel avant garde. 

Your nerves begin to go wild. You don’t know why. It’s not a real date, it’s a courtesy. He asked so you might as well just go. You grab your phone and wait on the couch, a youtube video babbling unheard from the television. 

Your phone vibrates. You sit up. It’s Curtis. 

‘Here. I think.’ 

‘I’ll come down’. You type back. 

You get up and hurry around. You grab your crossbody bag and your keys. You shoulder out the door and lock it behind you. Your phone buzzes once more. 

‘Right by the door.’ 

You come out and look around, searching the cars parked along the curb. Your attention is drawn back to the motorcycle between an SUV and Honda Accord. You approach Curtis as he hugs a second helmet under his arm. 

“Hope you don’t mind.” He offers the helmet. 

You take it as you process the full picture. The matte black tank, the leather saddle bags in the same shade as his jacket and gloves, the steel gray exhaust and thick tires. You nod. 

“Not at all.” 

“I shoulda warned you,” he says. 

“I’ve been on one before,” you assure him as you pull on the helmet and loop the strap under your chin. 

“Oh?” 

“I know, I don’t look like the type. I’m not.” You flip the visor down. 

“Ah, well, whoever he was, hope he didn’t spoil the ride completely,” he says, “get on.” 

He turns and straddles the bike, kick back the stand. You hesitate then reach for his arm. You climb up behind him and swing your leg over. You wince as you land on the seat. Ouch, you’re still a bit sore down there. 

“Gonna have to hang on tight,” he pats his side. 

“Sure, uh... right.” 

You hook your arms around him. This is an easy gag for a man. Get a woman nice and close under the fear she might become road kill. Slick. 

“You ready?” He rolls the bike towards the street. 

“Ready,” you assure him. 

He starts the motor and revs. He angles around and speeds off down the road. You pull yourself closer as the wind tunnels around you. The smell of leather fills your nose as you close your eyes. It’s not awful, is it? 

When you look again, you’re head towards the town line. You watch the trees grow thicker as he steers along the country roads. That paranoia rises again. It would be just your luck. Look what happened the other night. 

You lift your head and peek over his shoulder. He rides up to a farm and comes a halt. He plants his feet in the dirt and kills the engine. A thrum lingers in your muscles as the roar of the bike dulls your hearing. 

“We’re here,” he proclaims. 

You take his cue. You get off first and he parks the bike with a kick of the stand. You wiggle the helmet off and look up at the farmhouse and the barn further back. Your brows pinch together curiously. 

“It’s not that lame, I promise.” He takes your helmet and hangs it with his on the handle bar.  “Friend of mine owns the place. He let me have it for the night.” 

“Mhm, good friend.” 

“Yeah, he can be,” he removes the saddlebags from the back of the bike and waves you on. “That way, just around the back.” 

You nod and turn away. You stride up along the side of the house. It’s an old-fashioned place. Faded wood and peeling paint. You pause before you can pass it completely. You look back at him as he nearly runs into you. 

“Everything alright?” He asks. 

You look him in his stormy gray eyes, “you’re not going to kill me, right?” 

He snorts and his cheek dimples. “I can’t guarantee no blood but that’s far from the plan.” 

You frown. What a strange answer.

You shrug and turn back to your path. You come out around the back of the house, sown fields in the early stages of growth behind a large board painted with circles. A ply wood target. A picnic table across from it with a clutter over one half. You cross your arms as you near. 

“Hatchet throwing,” he puts the saddle bags on the table. “Thought it would be fun. Something a little less... crowded.” 

“Oh?” You tilt your head like a squawking crow. 

He lifts one of the axes and holds it up. “Good stress relief.” 

“Mm,” you reach for one, less confident in your grasp. 

He turns to the target and extends his arm towards it. “You wanna keep a light but sturdy grip,” he says. “You don’t want it to catch.” 

He bends his arm back and swings it ahead again, letting the hatchet fly with easy. You flinch as it thunks into the target, just off-center. Your lips slant. 

“You got a lot of experience?” 

“Well, I started with darts at the bar but didn’t like all the drunks. There’s a place you can pay to do this in town but it’s pricey and loud,” he says. “So... I put this together.” 

“Yeah, probably not worth the money.” The words hang in the air, a question whether you mean the activity or yourself. 

“Go ahead.” 

“Uh, oh,” push your bag behind you and look at the target. “I...” You raise your arm, try to line up your aim, then drop it down. “I can’t.” 

“You want a few tips?” 

“Think I need them.” 

“Alright, no problem. It’s no biggy. Worst that happens, it lands in the dirt.” He comes close and lightly guides you by your shoulders, standing you perpendicular to the target. “Alright, bring it up.” 

You raise your arm and he helps you line up. He gets even closer and nudges your feet with his scuffed boots to get you in position. “That’s it, just like that.” 

You grip the axe tighter and your eyes widen. Those words hit you like the blade, slicing deep. The body on top of yours, his rasping cooes, and his cruel thrusts. You blink away the vision of Hugh and shudder. 

“Here,” Curtis touches your hand, “loosen up. Pull back. Yeah, you got it.” He steps back, “when you’re ready, let it fly.” 

He stands away from you and watches. You bite down and stare at the target. All your frustration and fear bubbles in your chest. You narrow your eyes and take a breath. You fling the hatchet without restraint. The thunk in the wood is deafening. 

Curtis whistles, “wow, good shot.” 

You turn straight to examine the board. Your shot is opposite of his, right on the line with the bullseye.  

“Lucky,” you say. 

“I dunno, you seem like a natural,” he crosses the ground and pulls out the hatches. “Wanna toss a few more? Build up an appetite?” 

“Uh, sure,” you agree. “It is kind of fun.” 

“I think so. Even more when you have company,” he approaches and offers the hatchet. “I packed a picnic so we won’t have to chew on seeds.” 

You glance at the sprouting fields. You laugh. It was a little fun. 

“Got one,” he spins the hatchet in his hand. “You go first. Since you won first round.” 

“What? No I didn’t.” 

“You were closer so... that’s a win. Champ.” 

“Alright, no need for the sarcasm,” you shake your head. 

“I’m a sore loser,” he winks. “So, take it easy on me and I might lighten up.” 

🎯

The rumble of the engine stays with you as you climb off the bike. Curtis cuts the engine and flips down the stand. He takes off his helmet as you descend back to earth. Literally. Somehow in those last three hours or so, he kept the world from invading your mind. 

“That was nice,” he says. “I think.” 

You hold the helmet in your hands, a good way to keep them still. You look down and crack a smile. He hangs his on the bike. 

“Another one huh?” He says and you pop your head up. “Got another smile.” 

You blush and shake your head, “I don’t know. I guess.” 

“You had fun?” He asks. 

“I did,” you contend and hand over the helmet. “Thanks. For everything.” 

“No, thank you.” He holds the helmet at his side and stares at you. The streetlights cast ominous shadows over him. He shifts so his sole scrapes the ground. “I hope maybe we can do it again.” 

“Er...” you’re struck by the suggestion. Again? Like a second date. That can’t be real. Not after everything. Oh bitter irony. “Sure, Curtis. I think next time I could let you win.” 

“Yeah, next time,” he rasps. He leans in and you realise what’s happening. He’s going to kiss you. Oh. 

“Ugh, oh,” you trip on nothing and hop up on the curb. “Oops, sorry, it’s so dark out here.”  

He recoils and clears his throat, “yeah, uh, you want me to walk you to the door?” 

“Uh, no, no,” you put your palms up. “I won’t take up any more of your time.” 

“Alright,” he says despondently. “Have a good night.” 

“Yeah, you too.” 

“I’ll text,” he mutters. 

“I’ll answer.” 

You spin and cringe at your building. You suck. You're a dork. Ew. Ew. Ew. 

You march up the walk and don’t stop until you’re inside. You blew it. So close but so far. Just like you expected. Well, then you can be that disappointed. 

You retreat to your apartment and slam your phone down. You won’t think about it. He has to drive home and he won’t text tonight anyway. You just hate a date. A date! 

Was it really real? After everything? You think so. 

You sink onto the couch. You hold your chin and pick your lip. Just another day and you’d be in la la land. This would be heaven. One more day and you may have let him kiss you. Before you were used up and tarnished. 

Ugh. Why couldn’t you have just let it happen? Because those things don’t happen to you. Romance isn’t for you. It’s for other people. And people lie. Even Curtis. Maybe he won’t text after all. 

You lean back and turn on the television in resignation. You put on an early 00s sitcom with a sadly departed main star. That’s how life is. When it’s good, it goes wrong, or it’s just over. When it’s bad, that’s when it seems eternal. 

You cross your legs then think better of that. Even with all the lube, there’s a lot of damage done. Nothing serious, just sensitive. It was your first time. You don’t imagine it gets better. 

Your phone buzzes at the end of episode two. You nearly jump off the sofa. Don’t be stupid. 

You get up, patiently, and get your phone. You sit down again before you unlock it. The message that comes up isn’t from Curtis. Or Vivica. Or Mila. Or Jerrod. 

It’s from WhatsApp. You only ever used that for... 

‘You lookin’ for another weekend fling?’ 

You stare at Hugh’s message. You deleted the conversation but you recognise the number. The two checkmarks turn green to show you’ve read the message. God dammit. 

You don’t answer. You can’t. You’re mortified. You crash back to earth with startling speed. You can’t undo that. Worse, you don’t think you’ll ever get past it. 

You clear all your apps and put your phone on do not disturb. 

You stretch out on the couch and focus on the TV. Not really. It just glares in your vision as you stare through it. As you can hear nothing but a distant whistle. You stay like that, fractured, until your consciousness slowly falls away. 

You’re back in the hotel room. Alone one minute then pinned to the bed. The ceilings tear open as Hugh fucks you. You’re gushing around him, the smell of blood fills the air with iron. You meld with the blankets, shrouded in them, then suddenly thunder roars through the space. 

Curtis rides in on his motorcycle. How? A hatchet flies and hit the headboard, glancing by your cheek. You look past Hugh’s writhing body, completely oblivious of the other’s man disgusted glares. 

“Slut.” 

The word wakes you. You jolt up and hold your head dizzily. The windows are glazed over with the soft tones of morning. You groan and turn your legs over the edge of the couch. 

You get up to make your coffee. The dark roast brew and the aroma eases your nerves. You grab you phone out of habit and sit down. You have another message. You put the phone down. 

You go back to the kitchen and fill a mug. You drink in silence. You take the cup into the bathroom and shower before you finish the dregs. As you sit to pee, you wince. It’s been a week. It’s still painful but you’re sure it’s all in your head. After all, your pride hurts worse than anything else. 

You rinse your cup, pick up your phone, and determine to delete the message. As the chat opens, you’re stopped by the image there. You nearly drop it. Instead, you lean on the counter is gasp. 

‘Thot I was ur 1st' the message reads beneath the photo of you and Curtis in the yellow cascade of the streetlight. 

The checkmark fills and three bubbles pop up. Fuck. The next text comes quickly. 

‘How would ur bf feel about u fucking strangers?’ 

‘Not my bf. Leave me alone.’ Your thumbs tap furiously and you hit send. 

He sends a laughing emoji and the dots appear again. ‘I got a discount. Just 4 u.’ 

‘No thx. Not interested’ 

‘Didn’t ask don’t care but think I know who would’ 

You huff and hang your head back. You don’t get it. Why is he doing this? He got his fee and you got what you paid for. 

‘No. Pls don’t message again.’ 

You bring down the menu and delete the conversation and block the sender. It isn’t until after that that you realise. He took that picture outside your building. He knows where you live. How? 

The police? Would they do anything? Would they believe you? You just deleted the evidence. 

He’s bluffing right. He just wanted more money. You’re not stupid. Come on. You are a wallet to him, nothing more. You’re not naive enough to think he enjoyed it any more than you did. It’s business to him. He did his job and he got a pretty penny. If you could get that much for a few hours, you’d be hustling too. 

It’s just a poor attempt at blackmail. A hail mary for any extra pay check. Too bad for him, you don’t have that type of money. You already splurge on regret. 

You’ll keep an eye over your shoulder but you really doubt it’s anything more than greed. He must have a dozen clients. Hm... that thought doesn't make feel you better. You don’t know that you’ll ever really feel good again. Did you ever before? 

📱

“I know it’s cliche but I told you, I’m not exactly the creative type,” you settle in at the table and look through the cafe window. 

“I told you, I trust your judgment. And can’t go wrong with coffee,” Curtis says. 

“Guess not, but I’ve had some shitty coffee in my day.” 

His cheek dimples and he tilts his head in agreement, “me too. I’m not some coffee snob but some of the water they serve around town.” 

“You’re talking about Smokey’s, right? They serve ash-flavoured piss. Oh, sorry, I...” you give a sheepish smile. “I got carried away.” 

“You’re right though,” he snorts. 

“Ha, thanks. Mila disagrees. She keeps trying to convert me.” 

“Sounds like Jensen but with those acid energy drinks. I told him, he’s going to have a heart attack.” 

“Ew, those things are worse. It’s like someone made mountain dew worse.” 

He chuckles. That doesn’t happen often. “Wow, I should bring you in as backup. Then he might actually listen.” 

The barista comes with your drinks and you thank her. You ordered a tea latte, not your usual fare. Curtis eyes it as he cradles his cup of dark roast between his large hands. 

“I’m not much of a tea person but that looks interesting.” 

“London Fog. Just very foamy Earl Gray,” you explain. 

“Ah,” he nods thoughtfully. Your bag vibrates and you elbow it back on your hip. Not right now, Mila. “Not to be socially awkward but you like horror movies?” 

“I like them but they still scare me,” you say. 

“Really? Something actually scares you?” 

“What do you mean?” You scoff. 

He stares at you. “Do you really not know?” 

“Know... what?” 

“You’re terrifyingly hard to read,” he says. “You’re so lock and key that it’s hard to tell what you’re thinking. Easy to assume you want to scoop my guts out with a plastic spoon.” 

“I’m not much for slashers, I’m more into psychological scares,” you counter then catch yourself. You smile. “Sorry. I’m not... you know, I can be a bitch but I’m not really one.” 

“That isn’t what I meant.” 

“I know, I just don’t know how else to say... if I look at you like a rabid dog, I swear, I’m just thinking.” 

“Yeah, Jensen says I have RBF too.” 

“RBF?” You wonder. 

“Resting Bitch Face, although he started calling it Raging Curt Face.” 

You laugh. He does too. The last bit of ice melts away. 

“I’m on a roll today,” he says. “So I may as well ask, wanna come over and watch scary movies?” 

🍿

The mood is set. The curtains are drawn to darken the room and the television glows as the only source of light in the space. Not much of a beacon as the images on the screen remain in shadow as the grinding soundtrack drones from the speakers.

You sit on the couch, enthralled by the manic horror of the character’s shallow breaths. 

You jerk as something brushes over your shoulder. You quickly still yourself as you realise what it is. Curtis stretches his arm over your shoulders. 

“Scared yet?” He asks. 

You giggle, “only a little.” 

He stays close and you don’t push him away. It’s such a weird feeling. To have someone in your space but you don’t mind it. To be honest, it’s comforting. 

You stare at the screen as the tension builds. As a loud noise frightens you, you jolt and lean into Curtis. He curls his arm snug around you. Then the next startling twist comes and you turn your face into his shoulder. 

“You didn’t say you were a baby,” he teases. 

“Oh, hush,” you speak into his shirt. 

“Hey, it’s alright,” he grits and brings his hand up under your chin. “I’ll protect you from the boogeyman.” 

You glower up at him and he sighs, “don’t look at me like that.” 

“How can you tell how I’m looking at you?” 

“I can feel it,” his thumb rubs your chin and he leans closer. 

You swallow as he keeps coming. You don’t stop him. You’re stuck. Your body won’t answer the screaming in your head. He presses his lips to yours and you let out a soft noise. He presses his mouth against yours for a moment then pulls away. 

He’s quiet as you puff you, your heart racing. “Was that okay?” 

You cough, “uh, yeah... sorry, I... I’m surprised.” 

“Can I do it again?” He asks. 

You quiver and nod, “sure.” 

He kisses you again. This time his tongue traces the crease of your lips. You open to him, unsure what you’re supposed to do. He delves within as he cradles your head and squeezes you closer. 

A warmth creeps up your body. Cozy at first. Intoxicating either. But it keeps burning. Hotter and hotter as his hand slithers down your back. His groan triggers a tickle in your brain and nearly bite down.  

You touch Curtis’ chest and urge him away. He reluctantly parts and slackens his hold on you. You stand up without a word. 

“Everything alright?” He asks. 

“I need your bathroom. Sorry.” 

You hurry away, staggering through the dark, and close the bathroom door behind you. You flip the light on and stomp to the tub, sitting on the porcelain as you drop your head into your hands. What the fuck? What is wrong with you? 

That wasn’t bad. It was great. You were getting somewhere. You were having a normal experience. It’s like you just can’t let yourself win. 

You smack your cheek, then your other. You do it a few more times before you sit up straight. God! What a disaster. What a stupid woman you are. You can’t even blame anyone but yourself. You did this to yourself. 

You ran away from Curtis. You came in here to mope. And you hired Hugh. 

No, don’t-- that’s not relevant. You’re forgetting that. It didn’t happen. You’re trying to move on. You can move on. Curtis doesn’t have to be your penance; he can be your antidote. 

There’s a knock at the door. You stare at the wood. 

“Yeah?” 

“Are you okay?” Curtis asks. 

“Yep.” You call back. 

“I’m sorry if... if that was too much. If I went too fast,” he says. 

You huff and stand. You drag your feet to the door. You make yourself open it and face him. He turned the lights on. You ruined the night. 

“I think maybe I should just go. I’m sorry I spoiled the movie,” you say. He doesn’t move. 

“What? I paused it. It’s fine. We can finish it.” 

“No, Curtis, I’m just... I keep... aren’t you tired of me yet?” 

He shakes his head, “no, are you tired of me?” 

You clamp your lips and pop them in exasperation. “No.” That makes this harder. Because you aren’t tired of him. Because you do like him. 

“So why are you running away?” 

He grips the door frame. He’s a big man. He doesn’t have to let you leave but you know if you say you want to go, he will. For a moment, his size reminds you of another person. One who didn’t listen. One who didn’t hear your 'stop'. 

“This is really embarrassing but I’m just going to be honest otherwise you’ll just think I'm insane,” you throw your hands up. “I’ve never, uh, never... had... someone before. You know? Never been on any dates, er, until you.” 

He nods and his expression stays the same, “alright.” 

“So yeah...” 

He narrows his eyes, “is that it?” 

You stare at him. “Yeah, I guess that’s it.” 

“I don’t care about that. I care about us, you know? About right now. So then or whenever, it’s not important. But right now I can be patient. I can take it slow.” He drops his hand from the frame. “We can just watch the movie. That’s it.” 

You look down and slump, “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” he gently touches your arm. “I don’t want you to be sorry because you did nothing wrong. Thank you for telling me.” 

You don’t say anything else. You’re too mortified to muster more than a grumble. You reach for the light switch but he stands as a wall between you and escape. 

“One more thing though,” he says, “I’m not just someone. I'm your boyfriend.” 

You falter and clasp your hands in front of your stomach, “boyfriend?” 

He smiles, “I can wait for my girl. That’s half the fun, isn’t it?” 

He offers his hand and you consider it as your lips curve without a thought.  You accept the offer and latch onto his large hand.  

“Guess I’ll find out,” you say.” 

[mattsobvimyfav]

neighbors (Matthew sturniolo)

pt 7

The morning sun streamed through the curtains as I stirred awake, the warmth of another body beside me pulling me out of my haze. My heart stopped when I realized it was Matt, his arm draped protectively around my waist, his face peaceful in sleep.

Panic coursed through me. What the fuck?

Slowly, carefully, I untangled myself from his hold, making sure not to wake him. His arm tightened for a brief moment before falling slack, and I slipped out of the bed, holding my breath.

Once I was free, I grabbed a hoodie from the back of a chair and pulled it on as I tiptoed toward the door. I paused for a moment, glancing back at him. He looked so… calm. Almost vulnerable. Shaking the thought away, I turned and hurried out of the room.

The second the door clicked shut, I bolted down the hallway, making a beeline for Charlie’s room. I didn’t even knock. I burst through the door, ready to vent—but what I saw stopped me in my tracks.

Charlie and Chris were curled up together, both stark naked under the covers. My jaw dropped, and without thinking, I stormed over and yanked the blanket off them.

“WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED LAST NIGHT?” I yelled, my voice echoing off the walls.

Chris shot up, his eyes wide as he scrambled to grab a pillow to cover himself. 

Charlie groaned dramatically, burying her face deeper into the mattress. “Too early for this,” she muttered, her voice muffled.

“Y/N!” Chris groaned, glaring at me. “Again? Really?”

“Someone tell me why the fuck I woke up laid up with Matt!” I demanded, crossing my arms and pacing in front of their bed.

Charlie peeked out from under her arm, her voice groggy. “You’re too loud.”

“What?” I snapped, my patience wearing thin.

She groaned again, flipping onto her side and propping herself up on her elbow. “Matt carried you to bed, duh.”

“Why?!” I demanded, throwing my hands up. “What even happened?”

Chris sighed heavily, flopping back down onto the bed and staring at the ceiling like he was summoning patience from another dimension. “You barged in here, again, while we were—”

“—mid-stroke,” Charlie added unhelpfully, grinning wickedly as she watched my face contort in laughter.

“CHARLIE!” Chris barked, shooting her a glare.

She just shrugged. “What? It’s true.”

“Oh my god I am so sorry, tell me the details later though. Okay, but what happened after I apparently ruined your nut bust?”

Charlie snorted. “Well, you cried about how Matt wouldn’t touch you, talked about how much you miss him whimpering under you, then flopped on our bed and passed out halfway through telling me about the TSA taking your rose toy.”

My face flushed instantly. “I… what?”

Chris sat up, propping himself on his elbows. “And since you were busy traumatizing us, I went out and told Matt to come deal with you because you clearly weren’t leaving until someone did.”

“Wait,” I said, blinking at him. “So Matt came back in here? Why?”

“To pick your drunk ass up and take you to bed,” Chris said flatly. “Which, by the way, you owe me for. I could have ignored you and stayed in bed, but nooo, I had to play hero.”

Charlie smirked, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Don’t let him fool you. He’s just mad you walked in before he could make me finish.”

“CHARLIE!” Chris groaned, turning bright red.

I groaned too, my hands covering my face. “I don’t remember any of that, I remember telling him at the bar we could fuck on this trip.”

Charlie sat up fully now, her grin growing. “Oh, honey, that’s not even the best part. Apparently, you begged Matt to touch you all the way to your room.”

I froze, my stomach twisting. “No.”

“Oh, yeah,” Chris chimed in, his smirk matching Charlie’s. “You kept telling him how badly you wanted him and how the whole trip you’d been thinking about sleeping with him.”

“Stop,” I whispered, my face burning. “We’ve been here one day.”

“And you even said something about how he could replace your rose toy,” Charlie added, laughing now.

“STOP!” I wailed, burying my face in a pillow.

They both laughed for a moment longer before Charlie scooted closer, rubbing my back. “Relax, babe. Matt didn’t do anything. He just spooned you until you passed out. Honestly, kinda cute. He’s a gentleman.”

“Yeah,” Chris said, his tone suddenly serious. “He told me he wasn’t gonna take advantage of you. Said he’d wait until you were sober and clear-headed.”

I peeked out from behind the pillow, my heart doing a weird flip-flop in my chest. “He said that?”

Chris nodded. “Yeah. He’s mad at you for trying to use him, though but hes not an awful person. Said you’ve gotta figure your shit out before he’ll touch you again.”

I groaned, falling back onto the bed. “Why am I like this?”

Charlie laughed, flopping beside me. “Because you’re messy and chaotic, and we love you for it. But seriously, next time, just get a replacement rose toy before you start drinking.”

Chris stood up, ruffling his hair. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go fix my morning wood, since someone ruined last night.”

“Okay at least make her cum this time” I groaned as I walked out. 

After walking out of Charlie’s room, I found myself wandering back to my own. My heart raced as I cracked the door open, peeking inside. Matt was still in bed, sprawled out on his back, one arm draped over his stomach, the other resting beside him.

Without even thinking, I stepped in and quietly shut the door behind me. My pulse quickened as I approached the bed, climbing up and straddling his waist. Slowly, I leaned down and started pressing soft kisses along his neck, trailing my lips to the spot just beneath his jaw that I knew would stir him.

Matt stirred beneath me, a low groan escaping his lips as his eyes fluttered open. His hands instinctively came to rest on my hips, his voice husky and groggy.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” he murmured, still half-asleep.

I leaned up, my eyes locking with his, my heart pounding but my voice steady. “I meant what I said last night at the bar.”

His eyes widened slightly as my words sunk in. “You’re serious?” he asked, his voice a mix of disbelief and something else I couldn’t quite place.

“I am,” I replied firmly. “Just this trip, Matt. No strings, no expectations. When we get back home, it’s over. But here, I want this.”

He let out a shaky breath, his hands tightening slightly on my hips. “Y/N… you don’t know what you’re saying… don’t you have a boyfriend?”

“I know exactly what I’m saying,” I whispered, leaning down again, brushing my lips against his ear. “Do you care about my boyfriend? We are on a break anyways”

Matt’s eyes darkened at my words, his jaw tightening. For a moment, I thought he might push me off, but instead, he let out a quiet, bitter laugh.

“No,” he murmured, his voice low and raspy. “I don’t care about your boyfriend. You know where home is.”

Before I could respond, Matt’s hands slid up to cradle my face, and he smashed his lips onto mine. The kiss was intense and unrelenting, sending a jolt of electricity through me. My fingers threaded into his hair as I pressed myself closer, matching his urgency.

His hands roamed down to my waist, tugging me against him as his tongue slipped past my lips. My heart was pounding so loudly I thought it might burst out of my chest. One of his hands crept beneath the hem of my shirt, as I grinded into him.

Just as he started to lift it higher, the door suddenly flew open.

“Well, well,” Chris’s voice broke through the haze, his tone dripping with amusement. “How does it feel to get interrupted, Matt?”

I tore myself away from Matt, both of us breathing heavily, my cheeks flaming as I whipped my head toward the doorway. Chris and Charlie stood there, arms crossed and grinning like they’d just won the lottery.

“Seriously?” I snapped, trying to compose myself as I tugged my shirt back down.

Charlie raised an eyebrow, her smirk growing. “Oh, don’t stop on our account. It’s just… payback feels so good.”

Matt groaned, dragging a hand down his face before shooting his brother a glare. “Get out,” he growled.

Chris let out a laugh, slapping the doorframe. “Alright, alright. We’re leaving. But man, this is gold. I’m telling Nick.”

“Don’t you dare!” Matt yelled after them, but they were already cackling as they disappeared down the hallway.

I flopped onto my back, staring at the ceiling and covering my face with my hands. “Kill me now,” I muttered.

Matt chuckled softly, leaning over me. “Well, that was...”

I peeked through my fingers, catching the amused glint in his eyes. Despite my embarrassment, I couldn’t help but laugh. “Next time, we'll lock the door.”

“Next time?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

I rolled my eyes, shoving him playfully. “Don’t push it, Matthew .”

Charlie and I were standing side by side in the bathroom, both of us running through our morning routines. She was blending her concealer while I curled the ends of my hair, the two of us talking about what we wanted to do for the day.

“Beach first, then maybe lunch at that little spot by the water,” Charlie suggested, adjusting her hair in the mirror.

“Sounds perfect,” I replied, reaching for my mascara.

The bathroom door opened suddenly, and Matt leaned against the frame, his hands shoved in his pockets. “Hey, Charlie,” he said casually, his eyes flickering toward me. “Can I borrow Y/N for a second?”

Charlie frowned, her gaze darting between us. “Um… sure, I guess.” She gave me a pointed look before shrugging and slipping out of the room.

I turned to Matt, raising an eyebrow. “What’s up—”

Before I could finish, he stepped closer, his hand wrapping around the back of my neck as he tilted my head up toward him. Without a word, he pressed his lips to mine in a kiss that left me breathless. It wasn’t rushed or desperate like the night before, but slow and deliberate, making my heart pound all the same.

When he pulled back, I blinked up at him, trying to process what just happened. “What was that for?” I asked.

Matt smirked, his thumb brushing against my jawline. “Just getting it all in before the trip’s over.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but he stepped back, shoving his hands in his pockets again like nothing had happened. “See you out there,” he said over his shoulder before leaving the room.

I stood there, frozen, my lips still tingling from the kiss. A second later, Charlie peeked her head back in. “What the fuck was that about?”

I shook my head, snapping out of it and reaching for my brush like nothing had happened. “Nothing,” I said quickly. “Just Matt being Matt.”

Charlie squinted at me suspiciously but didn’t press it. “If you say so.”

I turned back to the mirror, trying to focus on finishing my hair, but my thoughts were consumed by Matt’s words—and the kiss that still lingered on my lips.

Once Charlie and I finished getting ready, we headed out to the living room, both of us feeling the anticipation of another perfect day in paradise. As soon as we walked in, Chris pulled Charlie toward the fireplace, grinning at something he whispered in her ear. She laughed, swatting his chest playfully before letting him guide her toward the fireplace area.

Meanwhile, I felt Matt’s hands find my hips, pulling me onto his lap on the couch. “Come here,” he murmured, his voice low as his lips found mine.

I didn’t resist. His hands gripped my waist as he deepened the kiss, his touch igniting a familiar heat. I was so caught up in the moment that I barely noticed the faint sound of a TikTok audio playing in the background. I figured it was Charlie and Chris scrolling through their saved sounds, as usual, and didn’t think much of it.

By the time we made it to the beach, the sun was high in the sky, and the sand was warm beneath our feet. We set up blankets and towels and Matt and I sat side by side, sharing a quiet moment as we looked out at the water.

It was peaceful—until all our phones started buzzing at once. I furrowed my brow, pulling mine out to see dozens of notifications lighting up the screen. Confused, I unlocked it and immediately saw the chaos.

“Are you seeing this?” Nick asked, holding up his phone.

Charlie and Chris had posted a TikTok an hour ago—a seemingly innocent montage of clips from our morning. But at the end of the video, there was a brief shot of Matt and me kissing on the couch in the background. It was subtle, but not subtle enough for fans to miss.

The comments were already flooded:

“WAIT WHAT???? Y/N AND MATT??????”

“Girl just had a boyfriend two weeks ago… yikes.”

“She’s the problem, clearly. Poor Matt.”

“Slut. Do better, Y/N.”

“Okay but why do I secretly ship it again?”

“Matt deserves better, tbh.”

My stomach churned as I scrolled through the reactions. Most were negative, accusing me of being unfaithful or jumping back to Matt too quickly. I felt my face flush, the weight of the judgment pressing down on me.

Charlie looked up from her phone, her face pale. “Oh my God, Y/N, I’m so sorry. We didn’t even realize—”

“It’s fine,” I muttered, though my voice was tight. “It’s not your fault.”

But their words echoed in my mind, making it hard to focus on anything else. The peaceful beach day I’d been looking forward to now felt tainted by the storm of online opinions.

The buzzing of my phone pulled me out of my spiraling thoughts. I glanced down to see Leo’s name flashing on the screen, accompanied by a flood of text notifications.

“You should probably answer that,” Charlie said cautiously, watching me closely.

With a sigh, I hit the answer button and put it on speaker, figuring Charlie might as well hear this too. “Hello?”

The screaming started immediately.

“Are you serious right now, Y/N?!” Leonard’s voice boomed through the speaker. “You’re a fucking whore! What the hell is wrong with you?! Making out with your ex—and on TikTok no less? You’re embarrassing me, you know that?”

I froze, the words hitting me like a slap in the face.

Charlie’s jaw dropped as she sat up straighter, glaring at the phone. “What the fuck, Leo?” she muttered under her breath.

Before I could gather a response, Matt snatched the phone out of my hand. His jaw was clenched, his eyes burning with fury.

“Listen up, you piece of shit,” Matt growled into the phone, his voice low and venomous. “Don’t you ever talk to Y/N like that again. Who the hell do you think you are? You think you can call her names because you’re upset? Grow up and use your words like a big boy.”

“Stay out of this, Matt,” Leonard spat. “You’ve been nothing but a thorn in my side since I met her. You ruined everything!”

“Oh, cry me a fucking river,” Matt shot back, his voice dripping with mockery. “Newsflash: if you were half the boyfriend you thought you were, she wouldn’t even be here with me. So, take your tantrum and shove it up your ass.”

Leonard stammered, clearly at a loss for words. “You—she—”

“She doesn’t owe you anything,” Matt cut him off sharply. “You don’t own her, and you sure as hell don’t get to scream at her like some entitled little brat. Grow the fuck up.”

Leonard’s voice was shaking now, either from rage or humiliation. “This isn’t over,” he hissed before hanging up abruptly.

Matt tossed the phone onto the blanket with a huff, his chest rising and falling as he tried to calm down.

I stared at him, equal parts stunned and grateful. “You didn’t have to do that,” I said softly.

“Yeah, I did,” he replied, his tone softer now. “No one talks to you like that, Y/N. No one.”

Charlie nodded firmly. “He’s right. Even though you were on a break he had no right to speak to you like that. Fuck him.”

I let out a shaky breath, leaning back against the blanket. As much as Leo’s words had stung, Matt’s defense of me left an unexpected warmth in their place.

The sun was setting as we headed back to the house, the warmth of the day replaced by a cooler breeze. After hours on the beach, everyone was tired, but the plan was to regroup, clean up, and head out for dinner.

As soon as we got inside, Charlie grabbed my hand, pulling me toward my room. “We need to talk to him now,” she whispered.

I hesitated but nodded, grabbing my phone and dialing Leonard’s number. Charlie sat beside me on the bed, her hand on my knee for support as the line rang.

He picked up after a few seconds. “What do you want?” His tone was icy, his earlier rage still lingering.

“You wanted a break,” I said, my voice shaking slightly. “You told me to take time to figure things out, so how is this fair? How is any of this fair, Leonard?”

There was silence for a beat, and then he scoffed. “You figured things out by making out with your ex? That’s real classy, Y/N.”

Charlie rolled her eyes, muttering, “Oh my god.”

“That’s not the point,” I said, my voice firmer now. “You can’t just… blow up on me when you’re the one who told me you needed space. I’m trying to respect what you asked for.”

“I’m coming to LA as soon as you get back,” he said abruptly, his tone sharp. “We’re going to talk about this in person. You owe me that much.”

I froze, panic creeping in as his words sank in. “Leonard—”

But he’d already hung up.

I stared at the phone in my hand, my chest tightening with fear and nerves. “What the hell?” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Charlie frowned, pulling me into a hug. “That wasn’t okay,” she said softly. “You don’t owe him anything, Y/N.”

“I don’t want to deal with this,” I mumbled, my voice cracking as tears welled up in my eyes. “I don’t even know how to handle this. What if he actually comes? What if—”

The sound of the door creaking open made us both look up. Matt stood in the doorway, his brows furrowed in concern. “What happened?” he asked, his eyes flicking between the two of us.

“She called Leonard,” Charlie said quietly, rubbing my back as I tried to hold back my tears. “He’s being an ass. He said he’s coming to LA when we get back, and now she’s freaking out.”

Matt’s jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “He’s what?”

“He said he’s coming to LA,” Charlie repeated, glaring at the floor. “It’s just… too much.”

Matt crossed the room, sitting on the edge of the bed. He gently reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Hey,” he said softly. “You’re not dealing with this alone, okay? If he shows up, I’ll handle it. You’re safe here. With us.”

I nodded, biting my lip as I wiped at my face. His words were comforting, but the knot in my stomach refused to untangle.

Once we finished getting ready for dinner, Charlie flopped onto my bed, smirking at her phone. “Okay, I have an idea,” she said, holding it up.

I raised an eyebrow. “What now?”

“You and Matt should make a TikTok,” she said casually, scrolling through sounds. “Just… clear some stuff up without actually explaining anything.”

Matt leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. “What kind of TikTok?”

Charlie grinned, clicking on a sound. “This one.”

She played the audio: ‘Oops, got your girl, should’ve treated her right. Now she’s with real, she love it over here. Yeah, I love it over here!’

Matt snorted, looking at me. “You’re down for this?”

I hesitated but ultimately shrugged. “Why not? If it gets people off my back, sure.”

We set up my phone on the dresser and rehearsed it once before recording. Matt took the first line, pointing at the camera with his usual smirk: ‘Oops, got your girl, should’ve treated her right. Now she with a real, she love it over here.’

Then Matt turned around with me over his shoulder and I leaned closer and finished: ‘Yeah, I love it over here.’

We watched the playback a few times, laughing at how ridiculous it felt but my ass looked good. “Okay, it’s perfect,” Charlie declared, taking the phone. Matt grabbed it back before she could post anything.

“I got this,” he said, typing in a caption. A second later, he showed it to me: ‘She’s been single. And she knows where home is.’

My jaw dropped, and I lightly shoved his shoulder. “Really?”

He grinned. “What? It’s true.”

With a tap, he posted it, and within seconds, the notifications started rolling in.

Charlie and I sat on the couch, scrolling through the comments.

“Wait, they’re back together?!”

“Home? GIRL, WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?!”

“The way this is so messy, I love it.”

“Poor Leo, but Matt’s always been endgame.”

“Y/N a whole clown for going back to him 🙄.”

“She needs to stay away from him.”

“He don’t even want her he prolly just feel bad.” 

Some comments were sweet, but others were downright brutal. Charlie nudged me with her elbow, giving me a reassuring smile. “Don’t let the haters get to you.”

I shrugged, leaning back into the couch. “Im the one fucking him, theyre just mad.”

Matt walked into the room, leaning over the back of the couch to peek at the screen. “Oh, yeah?” he said casually. “Wanna prove that to me later tonight?”

Charlie laughed and stood. “Alright before yall rip each other's clothes off, go put on something that’s not a T-shirt, and maybe we’ll believe you’re classy enough for dinner.”

Everyone was dressed and ready for dinner, piling out of the Airbnb earlier than planned so we could explore the area before eating. Nick had his vlogging camera out, already recording as we strolled down a cobblestone path lined with shops and palm trees.

Matt walked up to Nick showing the camera, a glass soda bottle. Without missing a beat, he tilted his head, clamped the bottle cap between his teeth, and popped it off effortlessly.

Chris froze mid-step, pointing at him dramatically. “Woah, he can do it with his mouth?!”

The group burst into laughter, and before I could stop myself, I smirked at the camera Nick was holding. “Trust me, he can do a lot with his mouth,” I quipped, throwing in a wink for good measure.

Nick immediately turned the camera to capture everyone’s reactions. Chris keeled over, laughing, while Charlie joined him.

“Y/N!” she laughed.

Matt, however, seemed unbothered. Instead, he just raised an eyebrow, smirking as he took a long sip from the bottle. “She's not wrong, She knows all about it” he smirked, making Chris and Nick howl louder.

Nick turned the camera back to me. “This vlog just got demonetized, thanks to Y/N!”

I shrugged, grinning. “What can I say? I like to brag”

As we strolled toward the restaurant, the golden glow of the setting sun bathed the streets. Chris had his arm slung over Charlie’s shoulders, their fingers intertwined as they walked hand in hand. Naturally, Matt grabbed my hand too, lacing our fingers together with a smirk that said he was trying to get a reaction out of me.

Nick had his camera out, panning from Charlie and Chris to us. “The happy couple…” he narrated dramatically, pausing before turning the lens toward me and Matt. “…And then there’s Matt and Y/N.”

The group erupted into laughter.

“Oh, fuck you, Nick,” I said, grinning as I playfully shoved his shoulder with my free hand.

Nick laughed harder. “What? I’m just saying what the people are thinking!”

Charlie wiped tears of laughter from her eyes. “He’s not wrong.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at my lips. Matt, however, played along, pulling me closer and wrapping his free arm around my waist.

“Jealous, Nick?” Matt quipped, raising an eyebrow at the camera.

Nick gasped in mock offense. “Yeah, Y/n is sexy.”

“Fair,” I chimed in, earning another round of laughter.

The restaurant was tucked into a corner of the waterfront, its warm glow inviting as the waves lapped against the nearby docks. The host led us to a private outdoor patio strung with fairy lights, giving the space a magical ambiance. We slid into a large round table, Matt sitting beside me and Chris on Charlie’s other side, with Nick opposite us.

The night started lighthearted.

Nick had his camera set up discreetly on the table, catching candid moments of us all. “Okay, before we even order—best and worst moment of this trip so far. Go.”

Charlie grinned, leaning back in her chair. “Best moment? Definitely the beach yesterday. Worst moment? Trying to wrangle all your suitcases into the car at the airport.”

“You’re welcome,” Matt cut in, sipping his drink with a smirk.

Nick rolled his eyes. “What about you, Y/N?”

“Best moment?” I tilted my head, pretending to think. “Probably cock blocking Chris by accident… Twice.”

“Yeah fuck you big time for that.” Chris laughs. And Charlie nudges him.

When the server arrived, we placed our orders. Charlie and Chris shared appetizers, their playful banter a steady hum throughout the table. Nick teased Matt mercilessly, accusing him of only ordering steak to seem manly.

“Please, hell probably cut it with his teeth like the bottle earlier,” I joked, earning another round of laughter.

As the night went on, the jokes gave way to deeper conversations.

Chris shared a story about a prank he’d pulled on Charlie during one of their earlier dates in college, leaving her laughing so hard she nearly peed her pants. Nick talked about his upcoming projects and teased us about featuring heavily in his vlogs.

And then Matt turned to me, his voice softer as he leaned closer. “What about you? What’s been on your mind?”

Caught off guard, I hesitated before answering. “You.”

Matt nodded, his gaze lingering on me. “Can confidently say you’ve been on mine the past four years.”

As his words hung in the air, something inside me snapped. Four years. Four fucking years. My chest tightened, and I felt my heart pounding in a rhythm that matched the anger bubbling beneath the surface. He said it so easily, like it wasn’t a big deal. Like it didn’t matter that he’d been living rent-free in my head for just as long—except, for me, it wasn’t some sweet little daydream. It was a goddamn battlefield.

How dare he? How fucking dare Matt think about me like that—like it was some wistful memory or a quiet longing—when he was the one who left me to pick up the pieces? When he was the one who wrecked me and walked away like it was nothing? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair for him to sit here, leaning closer, saying words that had no right to sound so soft, so genuine, when they came from him.

I stared at him, my jaw tightening as I fought to keep my expression steady, even though my mind was spiraling. I wanted to yell at him, to ask if he’d even considered what those four years had been like for me. Did he ever think about the nights I spent trying to forget him, trying to piece myself back together when he was the one who broke me in the first place?

And now he says this—like it’s supposed to mean something. Like it’s supposed to make up for everything.

I felt my nails dig into my palm beneath the table, grounding myself in the pain because it was better than the storm brewing inside me. This wasn’t reality. It couldn’t be. I’d told myself I wasn’t going to let him—or anyone—pull me back into that. Not after everything I’d done to move on, to be okay again.

But fuck, it felt good to hear it. And that’s what scared me the most.

I had to remind myself that this wasn’t real. That whatever moment we were living in now would dissolve the second this trip ended, and I promised myself I’d stick to that, no matter how good it feels now because he doesn’t deserve me that easily. 

I swallowed hard, my anger simmering just beneath the surface. My voice was steady when I finally spoke, but there was no softness left in it. “Must’ve been nice,” I said, meeting his gaze with a sharpness I hoped would cut through him. “Thinking about me for four years. Too bad I didn’t get that time in real life, huh?”

Matt’s jaw tightened, and I could see the flash of surprise and frustration in his eyes as I threw the words at him. He leaned closer, closing the distance between us, his voice low and sharp as he spoke through gritted teeth. “Don’t do this now.”

Before I could respond, his hand gripped my thigh under the table—not hard, but firm enough to send a jolt through me. His touch burned, the contrast between his tense grip and the slow, almost absent-minded way his thumb started rubbing small circles against my leg making my head spin. 

I glared at him, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst out of my chest. “You don’t get to tell me what to do,” I hissed, my voice low enough that no one around us could hear, but filled with the venom I couldn’t keep in anymore.

Matt’s other arm came around me then, pulling me closer, almost as if he were trying to shield me from something—or maybe himself. His grip on my thigh didn’t loosen, but his body pressed against mine, warm and steady even as tension radiated off him. His jaw clenched, and I could see the way his chest rose and fell, like he was trying to steady his breathing.

Matt’s grip on my thigh stayed firm, his thumb brushing slow, deliberate circles against my skin. His voice dropped lower, almost a whisper, as he leaned in even closer. “Stop,” he said again, through gritted teeth. “Just… cut it out. Please.”

The word "please" hit me harder than anything else he’d said. It wasn’t just the frustration in his voice—it was the way it cracked slightly, like he was holding something back. It was enough to snuff out the fire in my chest, leaving behind a heavy ache that I couldn’t push away.

I didn’t fight him this time. I couldn’t. My shoulders sagged slightly, and I let my gaze fall to the table, avoiding his eyes. The weight of his hand on my thigh, the slow, steady rhythm of his thumb, and the warmth of his arm around me all worked together to chip away at my anger.

It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. But in that moment, I didn’t have the energy to argue anymore. So I stayed still, letting the tension hang between us like a fragile thread, waiting for it to snap.

By the time dessert came, the energy shifted back to playful despite me and matts moment of tension.

Nick ordered the largest slice of cake on the menu, claiming it was “for the table” but proceeding to eat most of it himself. Matt stole a bite, earning a loud protest from Nick, and Charlie and Chris were too wrapped up in their own world to notice.

As we left the restaurant, the night air was cool and refreshing. Charlie hooked her arm through mine as we walked back to the airbnb. 

“This trip’s been pretty great so far,” she said quietly, glancing at me with a smile.

I nodded, my thoughts briefly flickering to Matt walking a few steps ahead, laughing at something Chris said. “Yeah,” I agreed. “It really has.”

When we walked up to the house, everyone dispersed quickly. Charlie and Chris headed for the kitchen, Nick grabbed his camera, and Matt… Matt grabbed my wrist as I tried to follow Charlie.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice hoarse. “Can we talk? Upstairs?”

I hesitated, the lump in my throat making it hard to answer, but I nodded.

Matt led the way, his steps heavy as he climbed the stairs. He didn’t say a word as he opened the door to his room, holding it for me before shutting it behind us. The click of the lock sent a shiver down my spine.

I stood awkwardly by the bed as he ran a hand through his hair, pacing a little before sitting heavily on the edge.

“Why do you keep doing this?” he finally asked, his voice cracking on the last word. He looked up at me, his eyes red-rimmed, and the sight made my stomach churn.

“Doing what?” I asked softly, though I already knew.

“This… this thing where you pull me in and then push me away,” he said, his hands gesturing helplessly. “Where you make me feel like maybe, just maybe, I didn’t fuck everything up, and then remind me that I did.”

I swallowed hard, my fingers fidgeting at my sides. “I’m not trying to—”

“Yes, you are!” he interrupted, his voice louder now. “You think I don’t notice? You think I don’t see the way you look at me, the way you let me touch you, like I still mean something to you? And then you say things like… like what you said at the bar. Like it’s just some vacation fling, like none of this matters.”

“Because it can’t matter, Matt!” I snapped, my voice breaking under the weight of my emotions. “It can’t. Not after what you did.”

His face crumpled, and he pressed his palms to his eyes, his shoulders shaking. “I know I hurt you. I know I left. And I’ve spent every single day since then wishing I could take it back. But I can’t, Y/N. I can’t change what I did. All I can do is try to make it right, but you won’t let me.”

Tears blurred my vision as I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to hold myself together. “You don’t get to just come back and act like everything’s fine. You left me, Matt. You broke me. And now you want me to forget all of that because you’re sorry? That’s not how it works.”

He stood abruptly, his chest heaving as he closed the space between us. “I’m not asking you to forget. I’m asking you to let me prove to you that I’m not the same guy who walked away. I’m asking you to give me a chance to fix this.”

I shook my head, a sob escaping my lips. “I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to trust you again.”

Matt’s face crumpled, and for the first time, I saw tears streaking down his cheeks. He reached out, hesitating before his hands landed gently on my shoulders. “Please,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Please, Y/N. I don’t care if it takes years. I’ll wait. I’ll wait for as long as it takes because you’re it for me. You’ve always been it.”

His words broke something inside me, and before I could stop myself, I was crying harder, my hands clutching at his shirt as he pulled me into his arms. His sobs mixed with mine, and we stood there, holding onto each other like we were the only thing keeping the other from falling apart.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you, The funny thing is I would have married you if you had stuck around.” I whispered into his chest.

“I’ll never stop trying.” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

tag-

@tbfaptbfae @ch0llies @2muchofaslvt @rockstarchr1s @simply-a-simper @mattscore @watercolorskyy @urfungi @sturnsvelocity @mattsturnii @christmastreecake @izzylovesmatt @larnieboox88 @christophersstar @realuvrrr @namelesssav @matts-girlfriend

[jessiexflem]

– oh, baby | jessie fleming x reader

content: pregnancy blurb, fluff, based on this request!

word count: 820

Blankets, car seat, clothes. Blankets, car seat, clothes. Diapers? No, they have diapers at the hospital. But, what if they run out of the size we need? No, they won’t, they have so many. It wouldn’t hurt to bring some of ours, though, right? You toss a few newborn diapers in your hospital bag, just in case. Do we need bottles? Shoes? Babies don’t even wear shoes. It’s January, though, what if her feet get co–

“Babe?” Jessie interrupts your thoughts, “Why did I find the television remote in the fridge?”

Your eyes land on the remote in your wife’s hand. You were flipping through channels this morning when you had gotten a craving for a mug of hot chocolate. But, if the remote was in the fridge, where was the carton of milk?

“Oh, I was looking for that earlier,” you frowned.

Jessie chuckles, placing the remote on the dresser as she steps toward you. She wraps her arms around your waist belly, her chest pressing against your back. She rests her head on your shoulder, “How are my girls doing?”

You groan, motioning at the half-packed hospital bag and pile of baby supplies strewn across your bed. You were eight months pregnant, and your doctor instructed you to be prepared for your baby girl to make her appearance at any point between now and your actual due date. 

“What if I forget to pack something?”

Jessie bites her lip, holding back a laugh, “Sweetheart, I think you’ve packed the entire house.”

You sigh, turning around to sit on the edge of the bed, “I just want to be prepared.”

This was your and Jessie’s first pregnancy, and the stress of the unknowns of parenthood were growing and growing the closer you got to your due date. Your friends had been supportive, giving recommendations on what you did or didn’t need, and things that you could expect during each trimester, but you were terrified for what was to come once it was time to take your baby home. You and Jessie had enrolled in pregnancy and parenting courses, but you couldn’t help but worry about everything the classes didn’t cover. 

You stare down at your feet belly as the back of your eyes begin to sting. “I don’t want to mess anything up,” you whisper.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Jessie frowns, kneeling on the floor to look up at your face. She grabs your hand, giving it a squeeze, “You won’t mess anything up.”

“I’m scared, Jess,” you use your free hand to wipe away a few stray tears, “What if I don’t know what I’m doing?”

“I know you’re scared, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t also absolutely terrified,” your wife admits, “but I also know that you’ve done everything you can to learn about what to expect, and what we need to prepare for.”

You shake your head, “What if it’s not enough? What if I’m a bad mom?”

“My love,” Jessie frowns, “I promise you there is no way that you will ever be a bad mom. Absolutely no way. Dare I say you’ll be the best mom. I won’t pretend like we’re going to know everything, but I know that even if we don’t, we’re going to figure it out.”

You take a deep breath, biting your lip as you mull over her words. Jessie had been amazing your entire pregnancy, from caring for you when morning sickness kept you in bed most of your first trimester, to running to the store at odd hours of the night for that one specific ice cream that you needed right now. If anyone was going to be the best mom, it was going to be your wife.

“Promise we’ll figure it out?”

“I promise.”

You give Jessie a meek smile, “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” 

“Hush,” she rolls her eyes, moving to sit next to you on the bed, “I love you so much, and I can’t wait to watch you become a mom.”

“I love you more,” you press your lips to hers, “Are we sure she’s going to like her name, though?”

“Y/N.”

“I don’t want her to not like her name!” you giggle.

Jessie shakes her head, but a laugh escapes her lips, “Then we change it. I think little Miss Amelia will like her name just fine, though.”

As if on cue, you feel a foot start pushing into the side of your belly. You shift Jessie’s hand to where your baby was kicking and watch her face light up. 

“I think that’s a resounding yes,” your wife’s grin pulls from ear to ear, “Isn’t it, Amelia? You’re kicking hard, aren’t you? Auntie Janine’s going to have you running shooting drills with her as soon as you’re out here, huh?”

You smile, your fears pushed out of your mind, “She already takes after her Mama, doesn’t she?”

[madebycloud]

pt 2 | Not Even at All

jinx/powder x female reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: vi is off limits until her sister gets a date that doesn't end within the first ten minutes. eager to date vi, a certain girl approaches you with a proposal. date jinx. win her over. and for your efforts, she's willing to be generous. (10 Things I Hate About You AU) warnings/themes: fluff and slight angst, kinda enemies to what, one sided fake dating, highschool, modern au, parties, drinking & vomiting (jinx), kat!jinx, patrick!reader words: 4.8k notes: R wears combats boots for the plot...

— ✩ part one, part two, part three, part four, part five

Mrs. Kiramman escorts you out of her office, clicking her tongue. “I thought we agreed that you wouldn't show your face here for at least a week.”

“Guess I just couldn't stay away from you, Mrs. K.”

Jinx stands outside the guidance office, waiting for her turn. When the door opens, her gaze lifts, landing on you. One arm folded over her chest, a lollipop sticks out of her mouth, which she's quietly sucking on.

Mrs. Kiramman glances between you and Jinx, her eyes narrowing under her glasses. “You two know each other?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Mrs. K shakes her head before grabbing Jinx's elbow and shoving her into the guidance office, spinning around to point a finger at you. “For the love of God, stay away from her. If you two ever decide to have children, we'll have an evil incarnate walking around school.”

With a sigh, Mrs. Kiramman closes the office door, the sound of the latch shutting ringing through the hallway, leaving you alone. You glance through the glass window, catching Jinx giving you the middle finger.

You chuckle and blow her a kiss, not missing the way her jaw clenches.

—

You knock three times on the door, looking behind your shoulder as you wait. Footsteps approach, and you’re about to be greeted—

And a pink-haired girl opens the door.

“Who are you?” Vi asks, looking you up and down. You open your mouth to introduce yourself, but Vi cuts you off before you can get a word out. “Hold up, I think I recognize you.” She snaps her fingers, pointing straight at you. “You're one of Caitlyn's friends, aren't ya?”

You nod. “Yes,” you reply, with a gulp.

“So, what are you doin' here?”

You give a shrug. “I'm here for Jinx.”

Vi snorts. “Hah, figures.” She looks up, calling out behind her shoulder. “Jinx!” she yells. “Someone's here for you!”

You hear some shuffling above, and then the sound of footsteps stomping down the stairs.

Vi turns back to you, raising an eyebrow. “Sooo, are you and…”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Jinx interrupts, appearing behind Vi's shoulder. Vi just snorts again at her sister.

“Nine-thirty right? I'm early.” You grin, but it is wiped out by Jinx's groan.

“You're going to Caitlyn's?” Vi asks, turning to look at her younger sister.

Jinx shakes her head hastily. “No-”

“Aw, come on. Your friend came all the way here for you.”

Jinx grits her teeth. “She's not even my-”

“Please?” Vi grins, looping an arm around her sister's shoulder. “Besides, I'll go to the party anyway.”

Jinx crosses her arms. “Seriously?”

“Pleeeeease,” Vi pleads. “You know how boring I get when I have to go somewhere alone.”

Jinx looks at you before dropping her arms to her sides. “Fine. You owe me.”

Vi smirks, ruffling her sister's hair and earning a glare in return. “See? she said yes.”

“I said fine.” She scowls and turns away. “Let me get ready first,” she grumbles, disappearing upstairs.

“Don't take too long!” Vi calls after her.

Jinx's only response is a door slamming shut from upstairs.

Vi rolls her eyes before turning to regard you. “Sorry 'bout that. She's a bit of a handful.” She scratches the back of her head awkwardly. “She'll come around. She's always hated Cait for some reason, but she'll come around.”

Upstairs, you can hear muffled curses and sounds of thudding and banging coming from Jinx’s room. From the sound of it, her room is now a total disaster… not that it wasn't before.

“It's fine. It's not like it's your fault.”

“Still, she could be a little more… pleasant,” Vi mutters, leaning against the doorframe. “She wouldn't want anything to do with Caitlyn,” she continues. “Whenever Cait visited, she would hide in her room until she left.” Vi sighs, rubbing her face. “Even when Cait was just mentioned, she would roll her eyes and throw stuff at me.”

“Do you know what she has against Cait?” you ask.

“Not a damn clue,” Vi grumbles. “Caitlyn's never done anything to Jinx, as far as I'm aware. The hostility comes from Jinx's end.”

Jinx's door slams open upstairs, and stomping footsteps can be heard heading back down the stairs. 

She’s no longer dressed casually in sweatpants and a band shirt, instead wearing a black pleated skirt with a studded belt snaking around her waist, ripped fishnet tights covering her legs, and ending at her combat boots with the laces loosely tied. Her cropped tank top shows off her stomach, a leather jacket hung over her shoulders, and multiple leather bracelets and necklaces. Her eyes have smudged eyeliner, and her lips are painted with dark lipstick. 

This is far different than the normal Jinx you’re used to seeing at school all the time. Seeing her dressed up and looking like that was…

Damn. Damn.

You realize you’ve said something.

Then you realize you've said something out loud.

“Damn…” Vi repeats, taking a glance at her younger sister. “You look good!”

Jinx grunts, snatching her car keys and heading for the door. “Whatever. I'm driving.”

—

The Kirammans' house is like a beehive of activity. A full-blown party for all of Caitlyn's friends from her college. If Mrs. K found out about this, she'll be pissed as hell. Thankfully she's out of the house—otherwise you'll be kicked out before the party even properly begins.

Inside the house, there's a crowd of college students, probably twenty of them, maybe more. The only people from high school were you and Jinx.

Vi turns towards you, leaning in to speak in your ear over the loud music. “I'll go find Cait.”

You nod back, watching as she disappears into the crowd.

Jinx heads up the stairs towards the balcony, pushing her way past the numerous students.

There are about seven college couples making out on the steps and the walls of the hallway leading to the balcony. What the hell were they putting in the drinks here?

You try to follow behind, but it’s difficult to keep up with her in the crowded staircase.

A very, very drunk woman rushes up to you out of nowhere, her cheeks flushed red and her eyes glassy. She throws her arms around you with a sloppy grin on her face. “Kiss me!” she exclaims, stumbling and bumping into you.

“Nah, not tonight,” you laugh awkwardly, pushing her into the lap of some lonely guy sitting in a chair who blushes at her. “Kiss him,” you instruct, making a shooing motion with your hands.

She giggles, turns to him, and then begins smothering him with sloppy kisses, her drunk hands clumsily pawing at his clothes.

“T-thanks,” the guy stutters, grinning at you over the drunk girl's shoulder as she begins showering the side of his neck with sloppy kisses.

You grimace, turning away to look at where Jinx was standing a few seconds ago.

Oh, crap.

She's gone.

—

“Jinx!” Caitlyn grins, approaching her as she walks past. Her cheeks are rosy and her eyes glassy.

Jinx groans.

Caitlyn's eyes flash, taking in Jinx’s outfit. “Looking good!” she says, clearly trying to be nice. She looks around, searching for any sign of her sister. “Where's Vi?” she asks, her eyes scanning the dancing students.

Jinx smirks. “Hell if I know. Off trying to hook up with someone, probably,” she jokes, snickering to herself.

Caitlyn's smile drops instantly. Her eyes narrow, and her shoulders tense. “What's wrong with you?” she mutters, bumping her shoulder roughly against Jinx on her way out.

Jinx stumbles, nearly losing her balance. She quickly turns, watching as Caitlyn storms off. “What the hell crawled up her ass and died?” she says to herself, frown pulling at the corners of her mouth. She brushes off the shoulder that took the hit, then heads back into the living room.

—

The party is loud, cramped, and way too hot. People kept running into you. Spilling drinks that reeked of alcohol all over your clothes. Not to mention the fact that a lot of them kept getting too flirty for your taste. 

Finally, you manage to spot her in the living room, chugging down a glass of amber-colored liquid into her mouth.

“Right on, sister!” says the guy who gave her the glass, giving Jinx a high-five and then disappearing into the sea of people.

Before she can take another sip, you snatch the half-empty glass from her fingers before she can finish it. “What's this?” you ask. “I've been looking for you everywhere.”

“I'm getting trashed, maaaaan,” she mocks, smiling lazily at you. “Isn't that what you're supposed to do at a party?”

“I dunno. I say do what you wanna do.”

“Funny, you're the only one,” she replies with a scoff, pushing her way through the crowd of loud strangers. “Later.”

She's gone before you can even respond. You swear you can still hear the sound of her muttering and grumbling to herself, but it's completely drowned out by the loud music and drunken yelling.

It's honestly annoying how many people there are, most of whom are completely drunk and high out of their minds, bumping into you like a bunch of toddlers and spilling their disgusting alcohol all over you as you try to squeeze through them.

This party sucks.

—

You pass by the same drunk girl and the guy from earlier, who are still feverishly sucking face. The guy grabs your clothes, stopping you from walking away. “Really,” he says between sloppy kisses. “Really! Thank you!”

You roll your eyes and give him a pat on the shoulder before wrenching yourself free from his grip, continuing your way through the horde of drunk students.

You made your way down the stairs, hoping to find Jinx to be less drunk and more coherent, and you wouldn't have to deal with the crowd of idiots and drunk frat boys upstairs.

Of course, your hopes were quickly dashed when you saw Jinx swaying back and forth on her feet, her hand gripping a fresh shot of god-knows-what.

“Hey, why don't you let me have this one, huh?” You grab the glass to try and pry it out of her tight grip.

“No! This one's mine.” Jinx clenches her grip on the glass and scowls at you, refusing to let it go. “Find your own.”

You manage to take the glass from her, and she lets out a sigh before stomping off. You try to follow after Jinx when suddenly, a strong hand grabs you by the shoulder.

“Where's Caitlyn?!” Vi yells over the blaring music.

“I don't know!” you yell back, just as loud.

The crowd in the next room suddenly goes wild when someone turns on the radio and blasts it at an eardrum-rupturing volume.

You and Vi glance at each other before turning to look at Jinx dancing on a table in the next room. Her leather jacket has fallen away, exposing her stomach and arms, leaving her in just a cropped tank top.

Her braids slap against her back, sticking to her skin from all the sweat. She swings her hips back and forth and twirls her arms in random movements. The crowd cheers, and a group forms a circle around her table, clapping and laughing wildly.

“Jesus,” Vi mutters, her eyes wide. “I didn't think Jinx could dance like that.”

Jinx is completely drunk, absolutely drunk. She has her eyes closed, oblivious to the attention and the amount of alcohol running through her system.

You push a few people out of the way as you get closer.

Her body moves on its own, to the music, to the beat. Her hands travel up her body and into her hair, her skin slick with sweat.

She spins her head around, and BANG.

She headbutts a chandelier hanging on the ceiling.

You watch as her body sways and her eyes roll back in her head. Before she can fall, you manage to catch her just in time.

The drunken and rowdy crowd starts to cheer and clap, thinking that this is all part of her drunken show.

You set Jinx down on her feet, your hands grasping her arms tight to keep her steady. “Are you okay?”

She groans and opens her eyes, looking up at you through half-lidded eyes. “I'm fine.” She tries to pull away from you, trying to swat your hands from her arms, but as soon as she tries to walk on her own, she stumbles on her own feet. You grab her again, holding her steady.

“You're not fine. C'mon.” You sling her right arm over your shoulders, wrapping your arm around her waist as you guide her down the hall.

“I jussssta needa lie down somewhere,” she slurs, leaning heavily against your side.

“The minute you lie down, you'll be passed out,” you respond as you keep her moving. 

“I know, just let me go to sleep. Sleep is good. Good, good, good.”

“Yeah, well, not if you have a concussion,” you retort, grabbing her tighter around the waist to make sure she doesn't just fall face-first onto the floor.

“Okay, I'll just… sit on the floor,” Jinx mumbles, trying to plop down onto the ground right in the middle of the hallway.

“Nooooo, we're not doing that.” You grab her by the arms, hauling her back up to her feet.

“But I'm tired. I'm sleepy. So sleepy.”

“I know.” You guide her to the garden, where you manage to find a bench. You help her sit down, keeping your arm around her side in case she accidentally tips over. “Come on,” you say, slowly lowering her down. “Lean back, lean back. There you go. Just... keep your head up. Hold your head up.”

Jinx reaches up and touches the spot where she hit her head earlier, wincing as her fingers touch the lump that's already starting to form.

You're just starting to kneel down in front of Jinx when suddenly, a hand grabs your arm. Glancing over your shoulder, you see Caitlyn standing behind you.

“We need to talk,” she says, sounding strangely urgent.

“Right now?” You look back at Jinx, who is still slumped against the bench, one hand on her head while the other is propped up on her knee. “I have my hands full at the moment.”

“Can you give me a second?” she insists, pulling you further away to the side. She lets go of your arm and runs a hand through her hair. “It's off. The deal is off.”

“What are you talking about?”

Caitlyn sighs. “Vi never wanted me, okay? she's... she's got eyes for someone else. I know it.”

You have neither the time nor the patience for this. You glance back to check on Jinx. She's starting to drift off to sleep, her chin dropping down towards her chest, before a sharp shake of her head brings her back to alertness.

“Cait,” you start, turning back to Caitlyn. “Do you like her or not?”

Caitlyn nods, looking down at her feet. “Yeah…”

“Then is she worth all this trouble?”

She hesitates. “Well, I thought she was, but...but I....”

You cut her off before she can finish. “She is or isn't. See, first of all, are you going to give up on her over a bit of competition? And secondly,” you poke her on the chest with your index finger. “Don't ever let anyone, ever, make you think you don't deserve what you want. If you want her, then go for it.” Then, you turn away from Caitlyn. “I gotta go.”

Jinx starts to fall off the bench, and you quickly catch her before she face-plants on the ground. “Okay, that's it,” you murmur to yourself as you hoist her up and begin walking away.

—

You march Jinx through the streets, her arm around your shoulder to keep her from falling over.

“Ughhhh.” She groans. “This is so patronizing.”

“Leave it to you to use big words when you're shitfaced.”

She shoves you, trying to walk on her own. “I don't think so.” Unsurprisingly, she falls to the ground.

You reach down and try to bring her back to her feet, pulling her up the small hill until you reach the playground outside of Caitlyn's house.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me?” Jinx asks, leaning against you for support.

“I already told you.” You lift her arm a little higher up onto your shoulder. “You might have a concussion.”

Jinx breaks free of your grip and walks a few steps forward. You keep a close eye on her and continue to walk at her side, making sure to be within arm's reach in case she trips and falls.

“You don't care if I never wake up,” she mumbles, stumbling over her own feet.

You chuckle, catching her from falling. “Sure, I do.”

The two of you reach a pair of swings, surrounded on all sides by thick vines.

She stops in front of the swings, turning to face you. “Why?”

You take her hands in yours, keeping her straight and steady. “Because then I'd have to start dating girls who actually like me.”

“Yeah, like you could find one."

“See that, there?” You gesture with one hand to Jinx. “Who needs affection when I have blind hatred?”

“I hate you.”

“I hate you too.”

She rolls her eyes and sighs. “I just... I wanna sit down for a while.”

“Alright.” You lead her over to the swingset and sit her down in one of the swings, guiding her hands to hold onto the metal chains. “Don't fall off.”

She grins, her eyes locking onto yours.

And then, she suddenly falls backward, only to be caught, again.

“Jesus,” you mutter, propping her back upright. 

Jinx chuckles but doesn't say anything.

You move to sit on the swing beside her, the two of you swinging back and forth. The chains of the swing creak awkwardly. “So…” you start. “Why do you hate her?”

“Who?”

“Caitlyn.”

Jinx's face wrinkles up, and she frowns, glaring straight ahead. “I hate her.”

You nod. “I know. You don't look like the type to chug shots of tequila. Must be serious.”

She turns to throw you a glare. “Hey, I can be 'cool.' I can be 'laid back' like everyone else.” She snickers, half to herself. “You don't think I've got it in me?”

“Thought you were too good for that.”

“Well, you know what they say…”

“Nope. What do they say?”

You turn, only to find Jinx fast asleep, her head resting against the swing's rusty chains.

“Shiiiiiit!” You spring out of the swing and rush towards her. “No, no, no, no! Jinx! C'mon, wake up!” You kneel down, grabbing her by the shoulders. “Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells!” you sing loudly, patting the side of her face.

Her eyelids flutter as she responds to the sound of your voice, slowly and groggily blinking her eyes open.

You exhale, feeling your shoulders relax. You stand up at your full height, releasing your hands from her shoulders. “Thank fuck.” You sigh, looking down at her.

Her gaze lingers on you, her mouth slightly agape. “Hey…” she murmurs. “Your eyes are pretty.”

...

What?

Jinx just... complimented you?

You're floating up into cloud nine—no, no. This has to be some kind of trick.

But... that smile on her face. An unfamiliar, genuine smile. You're floating higher and higher, about to touch the clouds...

Jinx is actually complimenting you. Jinx is-

HRRRRRK!

HRRRRRK!

...and that's when the evil dragged you back to earth.

Your mouth turns down in a grimace, and you look down at your combat boots, which are now covered in a mixture of bile, alcohol, and... wait, is that bacon?

What. The. Hell.

“Oh for fuck's sake!” you exclaim, backing away to avoid the vomit. “Seriously? Seriously?” You shake your boots, splattering globs of puke onto the grass. “Did you have to urp puke on my boots?”

Jinx leans back against the swing, regaining her breath. “Sorry,” she mumbles, wiping her mouth with one hand. “I guess I should've said, 'Pretty. Pretty gross.'.”

You glare down at your boots—ruined, stained, and completely disgusting.

You shake your boots again, trying to get rid of as much of the gross liquid as you possibly can. “Damn it, Jinx!” you yell, kicking off your boots and standing barefoot in the grass. “These are my favorites!”

“Not anymore.”

“UGH!” you shout, throwing your hands up into the air. “I'M GOING TO CURSE YOU, CAIT!” You look up at the sky, yelling at the moon, the stars, and whatever god might be listening. “YOU HEAR ME, CAITLYN?! I'M GOING TO CURSE YOU FOR THIS!”

—

Caitlyn, the benevolent goddess from the heavens above, kindly let you borrow her shoes.

You, being the kind and humble person that you are, graciously accept her offer but insist that you would return the shoes back when you can. But she insisted back, saying that the shoes were your size after all, so you may keep them.

You thank Caitlyn once more before accepting your new pair of shoes, thanking the gods that you have such a generous friend.

Blessed be Caitlyn Kiramman.

You now stand outside Caitlyn's house as the students who attended the party begin to drive away or head home. Jinx is currently in the bathroom, washing herself up and preparing to leave.

Vi walks up beside you and speaks up. “Can you give Jinx a ride home?”

You look over at Vi, giving her a nod. “Yeah, sure thing.”

She gives you a tired smile, her lips red and swollen.

“Wait—you're not gonna come with us?”

She shakes her head, giving a vague gesture with her hand. “Nah, I'm gonna... hang out a bit more. I'll get a ride home later.”

You raise an eyebrow curiously but shrug. “Got it.”

“Well, I'll get going then.” Vi pats you on the shoulder before turning away and walking back towards the house. Then, just as suddenly, she stops and turns back to you with her finger pointed in your direction. “And don't you do something stupid to my sister.” 

You laugh it off. “Don't worry,” you reassure her. “I would never do anything stupid to Jinx. I'll make sure nothing bad happens, I promise.”

Her expression softens. “Good.” She gives you a pat on the back. “I know you're not a bad person. But I still gotta look out for my little sister, y'know?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “I get it.”

You watch as Vi turns around and walks into the house without another word, leaving you standing alone outside. You stand by yourself, watching the remaining people from the party head home one by one.

Suddenly, Jinx's voice snaps you to attention. “Let's go. I'm driving.”

Spinning around, you find Jinx standing behind you, and you frown. “Hell no. You're drunk. I'll drive.”

Jinx waves a hand dismissively. “Pssh, I'm fine. I can drive. I'm not that drunk.”

“Bullshit.” You open the passenger door, gesturing for her to get inside. “Get over here.”

Jinx groans but obliges, walking over to the passenger door. She reluctantly gets into the passenger seat. You head around to the driver's side and slide in, taking the car keys she hands you.

Starting the car, you take one last glance at her face before putting the car into gear and pulling away.

—

Jinx fiddles with the radio dial, flipping through various stations until she finds a song that suits her taste. But you quickly change it before she can get too comfortable.

“Hey!”

“I'm driving, so I get to pick the song.”

She scowls, reaching back to change it back to her preferred station. “It's my car.”

You reach over and change it back again. “And I'm in control of it.”

“But it's Letters to Cleo!” she protests. “I know you like them! I saw you there.”

You swallow hard, and with a sigh, you let her listen to her song. 

“So, tell me,” she says, turning to face you. “Where were you last year?”

“I was busy.”

She squints at you, her intoxicated brain trying to interpret your response. “Were you in jail?” she asks again.

“Maybe.”

“Pfft, no. You weren't.”

“Then why'd you ask?” you retort, shooting a side glare at her.

“Why'd you lie?”

You don't answer, instead grabbing the volume knob and cranking it up to keep her occupied. She starts to bob her head drunkenly, singing along to the lyrics like she's in a concert, headbanging wildly with a grin on her face.

Despite yourself, you find your fingers starting to tap against the steering wheel to the beat of the music.

“I should do this.”

“Do what?”

“This.” She points to the radio.

“Start a band?”

“No,” she replies, rolling her eyes. “Install car stereos.” She laughs, then sighs. “Of course, start a band, dumbass.”

“Why don't you, then?” you ask, keeping your eyes glued to the road.

“As if anyone would want to hear me play.”

“And why's that?”

“Everyone thinks I'm scary. No one would want to be in a band with the girl that makes all the other students crap their pants.”

You steal a sidelong glance in her direction. Right now, she is far from 'scary'. “I'm no picnic myself,” you reply, looking back at the road.

Jinx glances up at you, then laughs. “True. You're no walk in the park either.”

“Pot calling the kettle black, huh?”

She grins, leaning back in her seat. “Fair enough.”

You park the car in her driveway and shut off the engine. You can feel her gaze on the side of your face, and you look over at her. “What?”

“Nevermind,” she replies quickly, looking away. She bites her lower lip, trying to hide her smile. You catch her looking at you in the side-view mirror, but she quickly averts her gaze when you notice. There's a tint of pink in her cheeks... It wasn't there before.

You look away, focusing on the road.

Was that... a blush?

No way.

She's probably still feeling the effects of the alcohol. Don't overthink things, that's stupid, you tell yourself, ignoring how your own body starts to warm up.

“You know…” Her voice interrupts your thoughts, and you look over to see her fully facing you. You watch as she runs her tongue over her lower lip, the tip just barely touching the corner of her mouth. “...you're not as vile as I thought you were.”

Your eyebrows shot up at her words. Where is this coming from? “What changed your mind then?”

“Eh, you weren't bad company,” she says with a shrug. Her tongue darts out of the corner of her mouth again, her lower lip caught between her teeth.

You notice how... soft her mouth looks, even with her lips curled in a half-smirk.

Get it together.

You stare at her, your brain taking a second to process what she just said. Must be the alcohol talking.

She doesn't think you're good company for real, she's just saying random crap.

“Not bad, huh? and here I thought you hated my guts.”

“I did.” Her eyes dart down to your mouth for a second, almost too quick for you to notice. “Or at least I thought I did.”

It must be the alcohol.

It's definitely the alcohol.

Because there's no other reason for why she's leaning in, her eyes fluttering shut, lips parting slightly, moving closer and closer...

Wait, what.

She's...

There's no way she's actually leaning in right now...

She is.

She's leaning in.

You can feel her breath on your face, the smell of tequila mixing with the smell of her perfume. Your body is on fire. You're going to explode. You're going to combust.

Oh, hell no.

This is not happening. She's still tipsy.

This isn't right, this isn't right.

You forcibly tear your head away from hers, your stomach twisting. “Maybe we should do this another time.”

Her eyes snap open. She looks pissed. She looks like she's about to murder you, and honestly, right now, you'd let her. Her brow creases together, and she frowns, looking away. She mutters a few swear words before getting out of the car, shutting the door behind her with a bang that makes the whole car rattle.

She stomps up her driveway, disappearing through the front doorway as the door slams hard enough to nearly shake the glass window.

Your head is spinning.

 What just happened? how did things go tits up so quickly?

This is not what you signed up for. Five minutes ago, things were fine, then the mood suddenly shifted, and she was all up in your personal space.

And then things got all weird and awkward.

She's drunk. She'll forget this even happened, and everything will be fine.

Yeah, no biggie.

She'll probably wake up tomorrow morning with a hangover, but nothing else. Right? Right.

“Fuuuuuckk.”

taglist: @axolotl-arsonist, @crvcified-kinx, @axoluxy, @dyslexic-dreamer, @urdeadpoet, @iluvshifting, @shootingc, @freementallyillkid, @tr3nzit444s, @powderbomb-jinxed, @chickennuggetsaresootasty

[tension4mari]

hey this is random but would you write for woo-seok (the loan shark guy in squid game 2) I know he’s a bit of a random character but if you are willing to do something fluffy with him that would be so cute. Thanks :)

You ask? You receive!

ִֶָ࣪☾.`Paring- Woo-Seok x Fem!Reader

ִֶָ࣪☾.Summary- Woo-Seok comes home from a long day at work and sees you paying around in his clothes, but this wasn't the only time he did catch you. Deciding to teach you a lesson he decides to put on your clothes for a change.

ִֶָ࣪☾.You were peacefully in you and your husband room, bored out of your mind you decided to mess with your husbands' clothes like you have before.

ִֶָ࣪☾.You threw on his favorite pair of denim jeans with one of his many randoms shirts. Whiles you sitting around in his clothes you decided to make a snack , Walking down the stairs you hear the front door knob started to shake

ִֶָ࣪☾."What the hell" you mutter as you see the front door open, revealing your husband. He stares at you and your shocked expression before having his eyes travel down your body.

ִֶָ࣪☾."Seriously 'y/n'?" he says looking at your face seeing you break down from laughter "O-oh my... Omg, babe you should totally see your fucking face right now" you say looking at his with teary eyes from all the laughing "Haha so funny" he says putting his work bookbag down and taking off his shoes going into the living room.

ִֶָ࣪☾."What? you don't like my outfit? took me forever to put together! " You reply walking into the living room sitting down beside him on the sofa

ִֶָ࣪☾. Getting comfortable beside your husband you speak again, "Well? do I look good?" staring at him already knowing what his reply was going to be. "Yes. You look stunning like always" and he meant every single word when he said that. He can't help it when his heart flutter every time he sees you wearing his clothes... You look amazing in them every time!

ִֶָ࣪☾."ahh! I thought so." you smile now looking at him with your pretty eyes. "Yea yea whatever, go take my clothes off" you laughed once again smiling while getting up.

ִֶָ࣪☾."Wait, 'y/n'. you turn around "Are those my favorite jeans" you shake your head side from side while hiding in a laugh "Ik you're lying 'y/n.' he says with a deadpanned expression "Ok!.. ok you've caught me.." you turn back around changing out of his clothes

ִֶָ࣪☾. "Tch, ill teach her..." he whispers before getting up leaving to the kitchen

Getting up for work you kiss your husband goodbye before leaving for an awfully long day, and your only thought was coming home to your husband with dinner already done..

Clearly that wasn't the case when you walked in your house to see your husband on the couch in one of your one of your crop tops and black leather skirts.

ִֶָ࣪☾."HEY! What the hell do you have on!??" you say in disbelief dropping your stuff at the door and walking into the living. "Hm??, 'y/n'.. You're back from work early" he says smirking looking at you "Early or not you have on my damn clothes! oh gosh, you properly already stretch them!" you say thinking about how much that skirt costed...

ִֶָ࣪☾."Ah!" "You don't think I look nice?" He say's getting up, all you coud do is stare at him like he's crazy. "You know what.. Yeah! you look fantastic.." you stare at him smiling hard, turning around to pick up your work bag "What are you doing 'y/n'?" "hm? oh.. Nothing" you say with your back still turned to him

ִֶָ࣪☾."Finally found what I was looking for" you say, he try's to peak over your shoulder to see what you were doing. "What do you have 'y/n'?" he asks

ִֶָ࣪☾.You turned around with your phone out recording. "HEY? WHAT THE HELL!" he yells grabbing pillows throwing them at you "NO, YOU WHAT THE HELL YOU HAVE ON MY CLOTHES!!" 'Give me a break! you just had on my clothes yesterday." he says covering himself with the pillows

ִֶָ࣪☾. "Thats so different!" you say throwing your phone and yourself on the couch, your husband makes his way over to you "Agh ok, if it makes you feel better ill buy you a new skirt." he say sitting down beside you rubbing your lower back

ִֶָ࣪☾."Aw you'll do that for me?" you say looking up at him "Well of course I'm you your husband!" he says looking at you stupidly "Yeah... don't make me remember." you mumble under your breath "I can hear you y'know." he says "Yeah, good now go take off those clothes... you're giving me an eye sore." you mumbling say rubbing in between your eyebrows.

ִֶָ࣪☾."Gosh you're so mean" he gets up "I hope you cooked dinner because I'm starving" you look at him "well of course, anything for my wife!" "Yeah good." you throw yourself back onto the couch.

Lmk very anonymous person.. Did you like this! 😓🤔

Im proud of actually finishing this... Wth?!!

[e4rth-to-myl0]

Vi loving Caitlyn no matter what

Vi noticed something was off with Caitlyn, since the war and losing her eye. Caitlyn would always have her eye patch on, Vi only saw what her eye looked like once when she initially lost it. Even when she didn't wear her eyepatch like in the shower her hair would always be covering her eye, Vi saw her once moving her hair on purpose to hide her eye. 

He never said anything, not wanting to push her in any way but, he couldn't help but feel hurt by Caitlyn not wanting to be vulnerable with him and trust him. One night he walks into her (their) room and hears something coming from the bathroom, he freezes and listens closer and hears soft sobs from the other side of the door. Concerned, he goes over and knocks on the door, “Cait?” He calls out softly. He hears some rustling and sniffling before she responds, “Yes?” She tries to sound like she wasn't just crying but Vi can hear it in her voice; he's always able to see through the mask she puts on when she's in pain. 

“I'm coming in,” he says as he opens the bathroom door, Caitlyn is standing at the bathroom counter in front of the mirror in her silk robe, her hair freshly washed and her eyepatch on in a way Vi can tell she scrambled to put it on before he opened the door. She's looking down, trying to hide her face but Vi can see that she'd been crying, her face slightly wet and red. “Cait,” he says in a voice so soft it makes tears well up in her eyes, he reaches out, cupping her face gently. She leans into his touch, like she always does, “What's wrong?” He asks in a voice just barely above a whisper. She shakes her head, “Nothing” she mutters, Vi doesn't buy it and tilts her head up slightly. 

He meets her eyes, searching them, begging silently for her to tell him what's wrong. She looks away and pulls away from his touch completely and rests her hands on the counter top, head hung, “Just, my eye,” She mumbles in a small voice. “Are you in pain?” He asks her with concern as he leans closer to her, “No, it's not that,” she mutters as she shakes her head slightly. “Oh, then what's wrong?” He asks, he really doesn't want to pry but he can't stand seeing her hurting. She sighs, gathering the courage to speak, “I- it makes me feel…undesirable,” She mumbles, her head hung as she refuses to meet Vi's eyes, knowing she'll break down if she meets his steel gray eyes. He moves close, draping an arm around her shoulder, “Undesirable? What do you mean?” He understands a bit but wants her to fully say what she means, “It makes me feel ugly and- and weak…this scar, this reminder that I wasn't strong enough and that I'll never be good again at the one thing I could do,” As she speaks, hot tears stream down her cheeks and drip onto the counter top as her grip on it tightens. “The one thing that made my mother proud,” Caitlyn whispers, her voice broken and almost inaudible. 

Vi's heart shatters as she speaks, he doesn't say anything and just holds her tighter. Caitlyn lets go of the counter and grabs onto Vi, burying her face in his shoulder as she sobs softly. He lets her, just holding her and comforting her until she stops and lifts her head, sniffling. Vi meets her eyes, his hand on her cheek again, wiping away a tear that drips down her cheek before his other hand moves up and gently brushes just under her eye patch. The love and hurt for her showing in his eyes, he doesn’t believe anything she said for a second and Caitlyn can see it just by how he’s looking at her. 

As she sees that look she raises her hands and slowly lifts her eyepatch up and off her head before looking up and meeting his eyes. His heart swells at the trust and vulnerability Caitlyn is showing him and she can tell by the look in his eyes when he sees her. Her eye is mostly white due to the scar across it, but that beautiful blue can still be seen underneath, those blue eyes Vi fell so hard for. Now instead of a bright ocean blue it was more of a pale sky blue, but Vi still loved it nonetheless. 

Those beautiful blue eyes Vi could get lost in, like a sailor lost at sea. They are silent as Vi looks at her like she’s this otherworldly being, this beauty that no mere mortal can have; all love and care spoken through his gaze and the hand that’s still on her cheek, directly under her eye. 

“Cait, you’re so beautiful,” He tells her in a voice that is so soft and quiet it causes a few tears to start falling down her cheeks again. “You are so strong in so many ways and amazing at anything you do,” He says, trying to pour his heart out as best he can as he still struggles with his own past, emotions, and ability to truly let someone into his life again. “Don't feel like you need to hide from me, I love you no matter what,” he says softly. “I know, I love you too… I didn't mean to make you feel like I don't trust you or care,” she mumbles “I'm just so used to dealing with things by myself, but I know you're like that too,” she says, her head tilting up and meeting his eyes. “We have each other,” she says and leans in and kisses him softly, this outpour of emotions: love, trust, care, unspoken promises, and words of comfort.

[rinabin]

it's ok i'm ok

“do you like this?” ningning asks, holding up a black long sleeve. looking down at the top, you inspect it for a second before telling her it’d look great and to put it in the “to try” pile. your eyes drift back to the clothing rack, a sigh escaping your lips. you’ve been here for over an hour with ningning, yet you’ve only found one thing you liked, while ningning has practically filled her basket.

after another 10 minutes of browsing through the clothing rack, you finally spot an off-the-shoulder grey sweater that has potential. picking it up and walking towards ningning, you drape the top over the clothes you’re wearing.

“what do we think?” ningning stares at you with a smile for a couple of seconds too long. growing concerned at her silence, you look down at the top. as you question if it wasn’t as cute as you initially thought it was, you hear a soft boo! in your right ear. slightly jumping, you turn your head towards the sound, seeing a giggling wonbin next to you.

“holy shit, you scared me,” you whisper-scream, as you stumble back after realizing your faces were a bit too close.

“you need to pay attention to your surroundings,” he teases, as he looks over to ningning. “hey, ningning.”

shotaro appears next to wonbin, giving both you and ningning a warm smile as a greeting. “hey guys, this place is so cool,” shotaro mentions in awe while looking around.

ningning mirrors his behavior, looking around herself. “i know, i have no idea how yn just stumbled upon it.”

shrugging, you say, “maybe i’m just blessed like that.”

as ningning and shotaro continue to admire the place, you look back at your grey sweater, frowning as you decide to place it back on the rack. before you can, wonbin interrupts. “no, no, wait, what are you doing? lemme see that.”

you reluctantly hand him the top as he inspects it. then he holds it up to you for another 5 seconds as you awkwardly stand there. “get it,” wonbin says.

“really? you don’t think it’s ugly?” you mumble as you take the top from his hand.

wonbin shakes his head. “no, i think it’ll look cute. you’re pretty; you can pull it off,” he casually answers. doing your best to not delve too deep into the implications of wonbin thinking you’re pretty, you mumble out an agreement as you take the top back in your hands.

“hey, ningning and i are gonna go check out the pants section. you guys wanna come?” shotaro asks.

you shake your head. “that’s okay. i’m just gonna check out this section a bit more.” wonbin also declines, saying he’ll help you out.

after ningning and shotaro leave, you raise your eyebrows at him. “you’ll help me out?” wonbin laughs. “yes, i am a fashion god. come on, let’s look.”

after successfully finding 3 new tops for youself, you decide to look for some hats. walking over to the hat section, you see wonbin picking up a hat and trying it on.

“ew, you’re gonna get lice.”

“eh, have some fun, yn,” wonbin wiggles his eyebrows. grabbing a winter hat, he hovers it over your head. “can i?” he asks playfully but softly. 

begrudgingly, you say, “fine, but if i get lice, i’m making you shave my hair.”

wonbin stupidly grins as he places the hat on your head, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin as he ties the strings under your chin. he stifles a laugh.

"what? does it look bad?" you worry.

"noo, it’s just covering half your face," stepping back, letting his chuckles out.

“you just don’t know how to put on a hat,” you grumble as you reach for the strings.

wonbin’s fingers wrap gently around your wrists, stopping you from reaching the strings. “no, wait, let me take a pic. you look so silly right now.”

he pulls out his phone, snapping some pictures. once he’s satisfied, he reaches under your chin and fixes the hat so it lays nicely on your head. “hmmmmm, i like it,” he says.

looking into the mirror again, you examine yourself in the hat. “it is cute, but i don’t know. maybe there’s something better.” you place the hat down and look for something else.

as you sort through the hats, you hear wonbin asking for your opinion about the hat he’s wearing. your gaze flickers to wonbin, his silky hair pushed back beneath a black snapback. your heart skips a beat. fuck, why is he the prettiest guy on the planet.

“i like it,” you say. 

adjusting the snapback as he glances at you,  “okay if you like it, then i’ll get it.”

ningning and shotaro catch up to you guys, asking if you’re ready to check out. nodding yes, the four of you head over to the cashier. once everything is paid for, the group heads out of the store, you walking alongside wonbin. out of nowhere, wonbin hands you the hat you tried on before.

“here, it looked good on you.”

you glance at him in shock. “i can’t take this.”

“shhhh, just take it,” he says, placing it on your head again.

you hesitate for a moment before taking off the hat and carefully tucking it into your bag. “thank you, wonbin. you really didn’t have to.”

a playful grin tugs at wonbin’s lips at your gratitude.

masterlist

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a/n: HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! first update of 2025... sorry it took so long. #lifecaughtup but i hope everyone enjoyed their new year and has a good 2025!!!

taglist [send an ask or comment to be added] : @antosaurius@jkeydiary@cherrytaesan@dorritoni@profoundruinsunknown@daegale@choc0br3ad@yuzuksi

[out-there-tmblr]

Young Zaundads wip (23)

***

Silco's a little standoffish the next day, keeps a bit more space between them as they work, but it's a small tunnel and it's not big enough to keep his distance for long. By the afternoon they're working side-by-side again, shoulders brushing as they clear rubble.

"I've been thinking about last night," Vander says, using the gauntlets to break a large boulder into manageable pieces. He picks up the largest rock and takes it to the cart.

"You want to talk about that here?"

There's a loud metal clang as Vander drops his rock and it bounces off the side of the cart. He gestures at the tunnel around them, the grey-brown rock fading into black at the edge of the lantern's light. "What? You wanted to discuss the amazing views instead?"

Silco rolls his eyes but he smirks. "Point made."

"I was thinking. If we wanted to try that again," Vander holds up a hand to stall Silco's inevitable complaint, "maybe we could try it the other way around. Like… Swap who's doing what."

Silco glances down and seems to remember that he's carrying a chunk of rock. He takes it over to the cart and drops it in. Then he cautiously says, "Is that something you want?"

"I'm curious." Vander shrugs. He's never been great with words. "It's not… you know. A big thing but… yeah."

Silco watches him with those clever blue eyes. "Hmmm."

Vander doesn't bring it up again. He's quite happy to spend that night enjoying the comfort of their new bed, soft mattress beneath his knees and Silco sprawled out on the sheet, his thighs hooked over Vander's shoulders and cock warm in Vander's mouth. He likes the way Silco digs his heels into Vander's back. He likes the way Silco arches off the bed, fingers clawed into the sheet. Likes the way Silco chants his name, over and over, like there's nothing else in the world but them.

***

"Where are you off to?" Vander rumbles as Silco stands up from the table. Across from them, Felicia and Benzo keep recounting the story of the day, how Mattis dressed in a hurry and forgot his belt, and had his pants threatening to fall down all shift long.

Silco wraps a hand around Vander's neck, thumb sliding beneath his collar as Silco leans down to talk quietly. "I want to check something with the harbour master. I'll stop at Babette's on the way back, see if there's anything her workers need."

"Want me to come with?" Vander offers, but he suspects he already knows the answer. Silco's been restless tonight; he probably wants a break from the noise of the mess hall.

Silco shakes his head. "No need. I'll be back by curfew."

Vander turns back to the conversation and gets to hear how Mattis' pants fell down while he was swinging a pickaxe, giving everyone a view of his underwear.

"He didn't realise," Felicia says, grabbing her ale. "Not until he tried to step closer and nearly fell on his face!"

"Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy," Benzo adds with a mean grin. "I think there were a dozen miners reminding him to wear his belt tomorrow."

It's a good night. They don't talk about anything important – just little moments in their days, stupid jokes made at each other's expense – but it feels good to drink and laugh. Vander likes Silco, likes spending time with him, but Silco's not big on smalltalk or storytelling. Not unless it's a story with a clear message of how bad the mines can be.

It's not that Silco's wrong, because he's not. Vander gets it when he points things out, that things are unfair and more cruel than they need to be, but he lives it everyday. He doesn't want to spend every conversation talking about it as well.

"So," Felicia says, tossing her hair over her shoulder and then leaning in, "is the honeymoon over? Have the sex chems worn off? Are we going to get to see our friend Vander again?"

"Without Silco glued to your side?" Connol adds.

Vander frowns. "Do you not like him?" he asks, and there's a long look between Benzo and Connol that he really doesn't appreciate.

"I wouldn't say that," Benzo says.

"We don't know him very well." Felicia shrugs. "We like him enough but we really like you. And you're… different when he's around."

"Dopey," Connol says.

"Lovestruck," Benzo adds. "You spend more time watching him than talking to us."

Connol laughs. "And it's not hard to guess what you're thinking."

"Well, if I'm so missed, I'll make more of an effort to spend time with you," Vander promises and Connol gives him a sarcastic thumbs up gesture. "But I might get busy again. Silco's got a new project in mind."

"What?" Benzo asks. "Smuggling in every gas mask in the undercity isn't enough for him?"

Vander shrugs. The gas masks really have been popular. "He wants to set up a market."

"We already have the company store," Felicia replies. She sounds confused but it's better than being dismissive. "What would be the point?"

"We could buy goods that we'd never afford in Piltover. If they'd even sell it to us in the first place." Vander's never tried it himself but he's heard stories of stores that refuse to accept bronze. That will only sell if you have the exact price in gold and silver, while the miners and cannery workers are always paid in bronze. "It could be between here and riverside. Where there's space to build and land that no one cares about."

"Sounds Iike a lot of work."

"Yeah, well, the sex chems tell me he's worth it." Vander swallows the last of his ale and gets up to order another. When he gets back, the conversation has turned to teasing Benzo about the girl at the counter who keeps smiling at him.

When it's half an hour to curfew, Vander decides he'll surprise Silco and meet him at Babette's. It's the kind of idea that seems brilliant after too many ales.

It's pay week again, so Babette's tents are set up outside the mine gates. There's a colourful string of lanterns glowing in the dark, linking the tents together. He steps inside the biggest one, in the centre of the colourful cluster, and Bani and Wave nod at him.

"I'm looking for Silco," Vander says, doing his best to stand upright and not look like he's spent the last three hours drinking.

Bani laughs but Wave is more helpful. She leans a hand on Vander's wrist, her bangles clattering as she moves. "He's in Kane's tent. Under the blue lantern."

Vander doesn't know all of Babette's Workers. He can't picture what Kane looks like but he follows the instructions, and finds Silco sitting with his back to the door and a solid, blonde woman tilts his face up and swipes a tiny brush at his face.

"Sorry, honey," Kane says with a sweet smile. "I'll be with you in a minute."

"I'm here for Silco," Vander explains. "I'm just here to–"

Vander snaps his jaw shut when Silco turns around. His eyes are lined with something dark, making his eyelashes look thicker and darker. There's a streak of electric blue under his eyes, making his blue eyes mesmerizing. His lips are red and shiny, like they've spent half the night kissing. His skin is pale and flawless, and he looks too beautiful to be real, like some fairytale creature back when gods appeared to mortals.

Vander takes a few steps forward and then doesn't know what to do.

"I think he likes it," Kane says in a loud whisper.

Silco stands up and slowly walks towards him. He looks incredible. "Do you like it?"

Vander swallows. "I'd kiss you right now if I wasn't scared of messing it up."

"Let's go home." Silco smiles, looking very pleased with himself. "You can mess me up there."

***

[gingerteafairy]

veins of the forgotten (dean winchester x reader)

⟵previous chapter

tags n warnings: cursing, jealous, smut so please mdni, happy ending bc they need it. word count: 5.5k

The sun filled up the room. The smell of blood, forgotten by the adrenaline, lingered on your body, which was the motivation to get out of bed and leave Dean’s warm embrace. You glanced over your shoulder, turning to admire the sight of Dean Winchester, so peaceful, lost in dreams.

“You know you can tell what he’s dreaming about, right?” A thin voice echoed in your head, which you ignored. Maybe you were still asleep.

You grabbed the clothes you were wearing, and God, they really needed to be washed. Then you had the idea to rummage through Dean’s bag, finding a shirt that wasn’t exactly fresh, but better than the sweaty one you’d traveled in. Your jeans weren’t too bad, so that would be the outfit of the day.

After a quick shower, you brushed your teeth and stepped out of the bathroom already dressed, finding Dean’s sleepy and sweet gaze. “Good morning, champ.” you sansong playfully, tying your hair into a tight ponytail. 

“And put ‘good’ in that…” he smiled, getting up and walking toward you for a warm hug, sniffing your neck tenderly and lifting his head to meet your eyes. “Looks better on you than on me. You should keep that one.”

You smiled goofily as he pulled away, heading to the bathroom, probably for a shower; you both needed it. While Dean was in the bathroom, you decided to call a delivery service for a decent breakfast, getting frustrated as each attempt failed due to the hotel being far from anything civilized. 

“Worried?” he asks, stepping out of the bathroom with a relaxed expression, wiping his hands on a towel as he leans casually against the doorframe. 

“Who doesn't sell breakfast at 2PM?”You throw your phone on the bed with a frustrated sigh, your fingers brushing the sheets absentmindedly.

“I was thinking of taking us for breakfast, what do you think? It's not out fault we spent the whole night awake and our bodies decided to wake up now.”

“You just took my worries away.” You chuckle, sitting up and swinging your legs off the bed, your feet touching the cold floor. You stand up, stretching your arms over your head, feeling the ache in your muscles. He grabs his jacket from the back of the chair and tosses yours into your hands with a smirk, the weight of it making you look up at him in surprise.

He opens the door for you, his hand on the handle, and gestures for you to walk ahead. You give him a quick smile and head out, but his eyes linger on your figure as you pass. The hallway lights cast soft shadows, and you feel a flicker of warmth on your skin when he walks up behind you. At the parking lot, the receptionist gives you both a wide smile, her eyes sparkling as she waves. 

But before you get in the car, he stops, stepping out and exchanging a few words with her. His words seem to be teasing, and her laugh is loud and genuine, causing something sharp to twist inside you. The sour taste of jealousy creeps up your throat. But what could you do? He wasn’t even your boyfriend.

You cross your arms tightly, leaning against the car, your eyes narrowing just slightly as you watch him. The thought makes your chest tighten, but you push it away, trying to focus on something else. You shake your head, telling yourself it’s ridiculous to feel that way.

“Alright, ready to go.” He slides into the car, slamming the door shut with a soft thud, and the engine purrs to life. As he presses the button to roll up the windows, the soft sound of The Only Exception by Paramore fills the air. You glance at him, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as you recognize the song.

“Sam’s songs.” You point out with a playful grin, nudging his shoulder, and he laughs, raising his hand like he’s about to change it. But before he can, you slap his hand away gently, a teasing glint in your eyes. “I wanna hear it, I like this one.”

He chuckles, glancing at you, his eyes softening a bit, then he shrugs dramatically, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he accelerates. “Good thing, I wouldn’t know what to do if I admitted it before you did. You lean back in your seat, relaxing as the familiar melody fills the space between you, the tension slowly fading away.

The Impala smoothly cruised toward a small diner in town, the engine’s hum fading as Dean parked near the entrance. You both slid out of the car, making your way inside where the air smelled of fresh coffee and sizzling food. 

You sat at a table near the window, the sun’s gentle warmth filtering through the glass, casting soft rays across your skin. You sighed, feeling the warmth seep into your bones. Dean ordered pancakes with black coffee, and you couldn’t help but smile at your usual choice. When you told him, his eyes lit up with a grin. He mentally noted it down, thinking he might order it for you next time—or even take a risk and cook it himself one day.

“You know,” you started, taking a bite of your meal and savoring the taste that made your heart feel warm, “I think I’m not going back to Buckley’s.”

“I’m not gonna let you,” he teased, spearing a piece of pie with his fork. You chuckled at the way he ate, his mouth full but still managing to shoot you a grin. He had such a carefree way of doing everything that made even simple moments feel lighter.

“Then I was thinking…” you trailed off, and his eyebrows shot up in curiosity. “I should go shopping… you know, get some new clothes. This one is practically glued to my body by now.”

He smiled with his mouth full, swallowing before responding, “Good idea, but where are you gonna find the cash? I wish I could pay for it, but this life isn’t exactly great for making money.”

You leaned back a little in your chair, a smirk on your lips. “I still have his card.” You said it casually, but he nearly choked on his coffee, laughing uncontrollably.

“You’re really from another world,” he grinned, pointing his fork at you in mock warning. “You should be arrested, young lady.”

“I’m not. I’m just taking advantage of the perks of having a terrible dad,” you said with a mischievous smile, but the moment it left your lips, it faded. The smile didn’t quite reach your eyes anymore. You poked the fork into your food, the clink of the metal against the plate echoing in the silence between you two.

The playful atmosphere in the diner felt heavier now. As you pushed your food around absentmindedly, you caught a glimpse of Dean looking at you, his expression softening. The playful glint in his eyes was replaced with a touch of concern, but he didn’t press further. It felt like there was something unspoken between you, something that had shifted when you mentioned your father.

“Waitress!” He called out, and a young woman approached with a bright smile, ready to take his order.

“How can I help you, sir?” she asked, and Dean shot you a grin that bordered on madness. You narrowed your eyes, already sensing this wouldn’t be a normal request.

“Do you know where there’s a fancy, outrageously expensive store for this young lady to buy some clothes?” he asked, and you rolled your eyes, adjusting your posture as the waitress beamed at you. “She’s a bit picky, you know? So, everything has to be super expensive. Her dad’s a big shot, and I’m dating his daughter.”

You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks as the waitress gave you a wide, almost approving smile. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, half-annoyed by his playful teasing.

“I think we have just the place.” She added, then gave you directions to the stores where you could find pieces that no one in town would dare spend money on. You both paid for the coffee before heading out to the high-end shop.

Walking into the store felt like entering a different world. The spiral staircase and crystal chandelier made it look like something out of a luxury magazine. A refined lady greeted you and guided you to the casual wear section, where Dean insisted on picking out outfits for you to try on. He slipped a few of his own preferences into the mix, grinning at you like a kid in a candy store.

After trying on what seemed like a pair of jeans covered in tiny skulls and a basic black top, you stepped out of the fitting room, stifling an amused laugh.

“Come on, you look amazing,” he said, leaning back on the couch in front of the changing rooms, casually munching on a pack of peanuts. As usual, he was making a mess, bits of the snack scattered around him.

“I look like a ridiculous emo going to an MCR concert.” You grinned, twirling in front of the mirror, adjusting the pants uncomfortably.

He raised an eyebrow, still munching away, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Emo are not that hot, they don't make me wanna take off their clothes,so… You nailed it.” He flashed that mischievous grin that made it hard to argue with him.

“I'll take them all.” You stated to the old lady, turning your eyes to a happy Dean grinning. “And I'll take this one too… my boyfriend loved this one.” 

“Oh, lovely.” She chimed, taking your choices as you got inside the changing room again to get your normal clothes. “Hey, dear.” She called you again.

“Yeah?” You uttered, coming out again. 

“You can use this one before paying, I just need to remove the tag and assure the cashier youre gonna pay for it.” she spoke lightly before coming closer to whisper. “And you gotta make your boyfriend happy, huh? He seems like he's planning a sorta surprise for you.”

You felt your cheeks burn. Clothing. Boyfriend. Surprise. The gears turning in your head. It was a date. Maybe, just maybe, you had the thought that moment with the hotel attendance wasn't a flirt. And that made you go straight to the cashier to pay for all your choices, grinning with all the packages he insisted on carrying. 

“There's one more store.” He shared, after closing the trunk carefully for not messing up your things. 

“I'm sure I broke my dad right now.” You stated, smiling for the butterfly necklace he chose on the previous store that was expensive enough to bang the limit. 

“This one I'll make sure to pay for.” He demanded, getting in the car again to start the engine. 

The sight of a white and pink wall appeared and your smile was replaced by a disbelief reaction contrasting to Dean's impossibly enormous grin. “Here we are.” 

“You're disgusting.” You gushed, a smile growing even more when he stepped out of the car to open the passenger door for you. “Being a gentleman to see my fashion show? Dirty trick, Dean.”

“Can't help it.” He declared, stepping closer. “And I'm eager to see it.” 

He took your hand and led you out to the delicate store. Which had nothing delicate with those lewd products where Dean found himself in paradise. He asked for information to the attendants like he was at school and he was a dedicated student. 

He emphasized a lot of things with you and you laughed at all his amused reactions to toys, special liquids and overall sex shop things. The learning lesson stopped as soon as he saw the pretty, just perfect lace bra with a cute pink bow and matching panties. 

“No.” you guffawed, frowning as he pouted his pretty pink lips at you. “Dean!” 

The excitement in his eyes was almost childlike. You hesitated, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “Please… I just... I want to see you in it. For me? Just once."

Your cheeks flushed a deep crimson as you shook your head, glancing away. "Nooo. What if it looks... weird? I’m not really good at this kind of thing."

He stepped closer, holding out the lingerie like something precious. "You could never look weird. Trust me, okay? You’ll look amazing. You always do.”

You glanced up at him through your lashes, seeing the hopeful gleam in his eyes. "But—"

"No buts," he interrupted, his lips quirking into a grin. "If you absolutely hate it, I promise we’ll never talk about it again. Deal?"

After a long pause, you sighed, taking the fabric from his hands. "Fine, but only because you accompanied me today and I'll wear it at the hotel, okay?”

You got back to the motel early in the evening, and, once again, Dean exchanged looks with the girl at the front desk. That damn smirk of his, paired with the way he tilted his head, was enough to make your blood boil even more than it had that morning. You’d had a great day together — too good, really. It had to be fake.  

“What’s wrong?” he asked, grabbing your hand, only to look surprised when you pulled it back. “Hey, you okay?”  

“I’m fine… totally fine…” you muttered, crossing your arms. But you know what? You were way too irritated to let it slide. “Actually, why don’t you go finish your little chat with the receptionist, huh? Bet she’d love that.”  

Dean stopped mid-step, blinking at you like you’d just grown a second head. Then, to your utter frustration, he started to laugh — a low, gravelly chuckle that felt like it was mocking you.  

“What’s so funny?” you snapped, shifting your weight uncomfortably as he stood there, clearly enjoying himself.  

“Well…” He ran a hand over the back of his neck, trying to suppress his grin. “I think the receptionist…” He laughed again, shaking his head as he opened the door to your room. “I think the receptionist’s gonna be too busy bringin’ up the champagne for us.”  

“What champagne…” The words caught in your throat as you stepped inside and took in the scene. Rose petals were scattered across the floor, and a sleek box sat neatly on the bed.  

“Dean…” you breathed, covering your mouth with your hands. “Oh my God, Dean, I’m such an idiot… I thought…”  

“You thought I was hittin’ on the receptionist?” he asked, one eyebrow raised, a smirk tugging at his lips.  

Your hands flew to your face, mortified. “You’re such a jerk,” you laughed, playfully hitting his chest.  

“Ow!” he yelped, clutching his chest dramatically. “That hurt! Do you know how hard it was to keep you busy all afternoon? But man, it was worth it.”  

You stepped further into the room, your eyes darting around as you took everything in. It wasn’t extravagant, but it didn’t need to be. It was perfect. Simple, but full of meaning. Dean closed the door behind him and slid an arm around your waist, pulling you closer.  

“Why all this?” you asked, looking up at him. He was so close, so handsome, and somehow, so… yours.  

“Dunno,” he said, flashing that boyish grin of his. “Guess I just wanted to impress a certain witch I know.”  

Though his tone was playful, there was something in his eyes that carried so much more. He hesitated, then continued:  

“I asked Janette to wrap a little somethin’ for us. Honestly, no idea what’s in it.”  

“Janette, huh? Gettin’ real cozy with her, are ya?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.  

“Janette Williams. Blonde. Twenty-one. Cute, huh? Sweet girl.” He winked, but before you could get too annoyed, he added, “But she’s got nothin’ on you.”  

He said it softly, his gaze dropping for a second. The weight of his words hung in the air, and suddenly, it was like the world had stopped spinning.  

You felt your chest tighten, a rush of air escaping as you tried to breathe evenly. Instinctively, you stepped closer, your heart hammering in your chest.  Dean swallowed hard, his throat dry. He licked his lips, visibly nervous, like he was searching for the right words.  

“Look, I…” He cleared his throat, his voice failing him for a second.  

“Yes?” you prompted gently, your heart practically in your throat. He stared at you, his hazel eyes full of emotion, and it felt like he was on the verge of saying something that would change everything.  

“I love…” he began, but before he could finish, the shrill ring of the motel phone shattered the moment.  

“I love…” He sighed, glaring at the phone. “I love phones. They’re great.”  

“Yeah, real important,” you quipped nervously, scratching your head as you let out a soft laugh.  

Dean muttered something under his breath as he grabbed the phone. After a brief, annoyed conversation, he hung up, shaking his head.  

“What was that about?” you asked, trying to read his expression.  

“She said the champagne’s in the box,” he explained, gesturing toward the bed. “Go on. Open it.”  

You couldn’t help but smile as you practically skipped over to the bed, opening the box to reveal a bottle of champagne, two glasses, and an assortment of sweets.  

“Wow…” you whispered, glancing back at him. “Dean, this is amazing.”  

He smiled at you, a mix of pride and relief, but then his expression shifted to something mischievous.  

“Now that I made you real happy…” he started, moving toward the bag he’d brought in earlier. From it, he pulled out a neatly wrapped box. The lingerie. “How about you try this on for me?”  

“I promised, didn’t I?” you said, a bit shy, twirling a strand of hair around your finger. “All right, gimme that.”  

A few minutes later, you emerged from the bedroom, your arms crossed self-consciously as you stood in the doorway. The lingerie hugged you in all the right places. “You look…” Dean froze, his mouth dropping open. "You look... incredible."

You quickly turned your head, unable to meet his gaze. "Stop saying dumb stuff like that! I look ridiculous."

"Ridiculously amazing!" He spun around, grabbing his phone. "Hold on, let me call NASA. I need to report that a star landed in my living room."

"Shut up!" You snapped in a high-pitched voice as you grabbed a pillow and threw it at him.

He caught it easily, grinning from ear to ear. "I’m serious, darling. You look beautiful. But you don’t have to take my word for it. Just look in the mirror."

You hesitated, glancing toward the mirror. Your reflection stared back, a shy smile tugging at your lips despite herself. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling you gently into his chest. His warmth enveloped your waist steady and solid, just as his pecking on your neck, reassuring. Your hands slowly moved to rest over his, fingers curling around his own.

"You’re such an idiot," you whispered, voice cracking in laughter when he sniffed your neck, shaking his head on the crook.

"I know," he replied, the faintest smile in his tone. "But I’m your idiot."

A shaky laugh escaped from your lips, leaning back into him. You couldn't help but feel uneasy. Yours. This word tossed and turned into you. So It did to him. 

“Now… Can you turn and make a little spin while I take at least 37 pictures?” He teased and you scoffed in disbelief, turning to face him. 

“Absolutely not.” 

Then he knelt on the floor, clutching your hand in mock desperation. "My love, my muse, my beacon of light in this dark world. Won’t you grant me this one birthday wish?”

“It's not even your birthday, Dean.” You laughed, pushing him back on his feet as you feign a slap on her shoulder. 

“How’d you know? I didn't tell you.” he chimed, his eyes roaming all over you, focusing on the curves and the pieces where the lingerie made little for the imagination. 

“Guessing.” You shrugged, pressing your lips in a thin line. “Can I get changed now or you want more fanservice?” He rolled his eyes, biting his lips. “Stop doing it.”

“Doing what?” He scoffed, looking you up and down. He had a way of making anyone feel hot just by one sight of him. 

“This!” You pointed again, laughing. You weren't sure if you could handle more days with this teasing role coaster. Giving up, you lay on bed and he ran to lay by your side, casting glances at you as you grabbed the remote to turn the TV as a distraction. 

The quiet felt heavy, almost tangible. The TV was casting flickering shadows across your faces, but neither was paying attention to the screen anymore.  

You stole a glance at Dean, your heart hammering against your ribs. His profile, sharp and serious in the dim light, seemed unfairly attractive. You bit your lip, trying to focus on something—anything—other than how close he was. Praying for him not see the forming slick on the fabric. 

Dean, on the other hand, was painfully aware of your presence, just as the bulge on his pants. The warmth radiating from your barely covered chest made his own feel tight. He ran a hand through his hair, pretending to be interested in the TV, but his thoughts were nowhere near the movie playing out.  

The silence stretched, awkward and electric.  

"So..." Dean started, his voice breaking the stillness but faltering halfway through. He wasn’t even sure what he’d planned to say.  

You turned to him, startled. For a moment, neither of you moved, caught in a strange limbo where words seemed unnecessary but unbearably important. I love you.  

the edge of the couch for dear life. "Uh..." You mumbled.

"Yeah," he replied, though it wasn’t a response to anything. His throat felt dry, palms sweating. He couldn't be like this. No. 

Then, he heard his inner voice and kissed you. Thank God Dean heard his instincts because the way you kissed was near to a religious experience. 

In a split second, he had you laying on your back with him on top of you, one of his legs between yours as his body laid against yours. As he looked down at you, he felt his stomach twist with both nerves and anticipation.

His hands moved to your sides, digging his fingers so hard that you were sure it was reddened at this point. He couldn't stop himself from touching. As you scratched his chest, he felt like his body was on fire, in the best way possible. You grab the hem of his shirt, pulling back from you but only so you could take it off.

"It's not fair, you're too hot." you commented slightly flustered, amused by his toned almost unrealistic beautiful body under you. 

"You're not so bad yourself, sweetie." He murmured back, chuckling quietly, his hands resting on thighs, drawing invisible circles on them.

"Not bad? Oh you're gonna pay for saying that." You shake your head, catching his lips again.

"Oh really? What're you gonna do about it?" He teased, biting your bottom lip.

"Nothing, because i have no fucking idea of what I'm doing." You burst into laughter, resting your head on the pillow. His hands snaked back and forth from your waist to hip. You swallowed, meeting his gaze. “Guide me?”

"Are you sure?" He whispered, his green eyes flicking from yours down to your lips before moving back up.

You nodded and he kissed you again, a little noise leaving the back of his throat when your lips met, his hands moving behind you, squeezing your hips. 

When he saw the bra being discarded to the floor, he was speechless.  His pupils were blown a little as he watched you, biting his lower lip as his fingers followed the curve of your breasts, cupping them delicately, feeling the skin, memorizing the sensation. 

His head was spinning, and he had to slow his breathing, his hands resting beside your head for support as he stared down with a flushed face. “You’re beautiful.”

His lips trailed down from your neck to your collarbone, slowly down and following the curves of your body, until he was kissing along your belly. He could feel your breathing get a little more shaky, and he looked up at you while he kissed along your stomach, enjoying the taste of your skin.

When his fingers downed the tiny lacey fabric off you, he paused, staring your sticky fluid forming a strand glued to the fabric. A proof of how truly aroused you were. 

“Please…don't look at it.” You pleaded, attempting to close your thighs together, prevented by Dean's spreading apart again. “It's embarrassing, Dean…”

“It's beautiful.” He sighed, glueing his eyes on your core again, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine, increased by his fingertip tracing a small pattern all along your intimacy, snaking to your entrance to collect more fluid just to come back to your pearl, teasing it.

“Dean… you…” your patience was running thin as his unconscious teasing expanded, slowly torturing your aching bud by admiring it. 

“Sorry, it's just…” he paused, licking his moistened finger. “I've never had time or concentration to enjoy the moment.” 

You smiled, plopping your elbows to see Dean genuinely smiling at you, his eyes full with a true happiness he hasn't felt in many years. Not because of sex, no. It was love. 

“D’you mind if I…” he chuckled, flustered. “You know…lick?”

You laughed, throwing your head back, back to his eyes again. “you really asking me this?”

“Yeah, you know, consent.” he shrugged, smiling. You nodded, suddenly being aware of how his body seemed hot judging by his blushed shoulders and desireful eyes. 

It was the sign Dean needed for him to get what he craved and didn't even be aware of that. He swallowed and slowly placed his face on your pussy, pressing a brief kiss on the center. He groaned, flicking a soft flat tongue on your core, your back arching with the new sensation. 

“Hmmmm…you taste so fucking good.” He grunts, boosting your temperature. You knew about arousal and masturbation, you weren't dumb, but feeling it, feeling Dean, was a completely different thing. 

His tongue licked all your extensions, kitten licking your bud and sucking on the right moments when you wanted and didn't even need to say. He knew in his veins what you wanted. He lifted his pointer, as a silent warning he was about to prepare you, carefully pressing against your entrance.

“Dean, oh my…. Jesus…” The moment his finger popped inside, you whimpered, curling your toes as he pumped in and out, preparing you. 

Catching your reaction, Dean inserted another finger, burying it deep on you in a fast pace, matching with his smart tongue, where he ate you out like his last meal and all you could think was grinding on his face, longing for more contact. 

The first shockwaves of your climax grew, he could feel you contract inside and convulse out, grasping your fingers on his hair to secure you, holding on him while you release the peak of pleasure on him, trembling by Dean prolonging your orgasm working you up. His true desire was overstimulation, seeing you possessed and crazy on his tongue all over the night, but it was your first time. He had to make a good guy pose for once. For you. 

His tongue licked you for a last time before he raised, kneeling to unbelt, his eyes never leaving you while he peeled off the jeans of his body, leaving somewhere forgotten on the floor. You opened your eyes for the first time when you cooled down, eyes meeting his cock tantalized behind those boxers. 

You plopped on your elbows again to get up. “No, no, no…” he shushed, laying on you again by gently pushing your shoulders. “This night is about you. You can touch me another day, okay?”

“Will it have another day?” You whispered, your eyes igniting more than just carnal, it was hope, longer, everything, everything feeling existing in the world that got Dean lost in that emotional maze of yours. 

“Forever, if you wanted to.” He replied, pursuing your lips on the most passionate kiss you ever shared with him. He pushed back slightly to push his underwear down, kicking off to the floor. “Oh,almost forgot.” He remembered, crawling on the bed to reach out his jeans and take a condom out of his wallet. 

Dean positionated one of his forearms next to your hair, securing him while he wrapped his cock on his hand. His eyes searched yours, blissed out, longing. You conceded, intoxicated by the excitement. Dean licked his lips, dressing his length. Your eyes shutted when he gently pushed in, splitting you open, scratching your nails on his back. 

“You alright?” He panted, a bloom across his cheeks decorated his erotic face, waiting for you getting used to his size. 

“Yeah… it's…” you muttered, dizzy. “It hurts, but… it's not painful as everyone said. It 's good.”

“Good?” He echoed, mouth opened with your disheveled face, memorizing you in his mind. 

“Good.” you confirm, humming. “Is it…all? Like…you…”

“No.” He chuckled, getting closer, his weight pressing deliciously on your core as he took your hands, interlacing your fingers on him. “I need to push a little more, can you take it?”

“Yeah.” You concur, gasping, feeling his slide his length once more. “move, I… I can take it.”

He nodded, rolling out, grunting with you. He bounced back, filling. You moaned when he popped out once more, pain replaced by pleasure faster than you thought. “hmmm-more…” you whine, panting.

“what?” he croaks silky, sliding back easily. 

“More…i want more…” you beg, ordering your eyes to open to emphasize. He felt in heaven, thrusting confidently. “this- Dean…”

You kept moaning, crying out his name like a prayer with each stroke he pumped. Your arms reached his neck, pushing him for a kiss while he rocked his hips frantically, digging his fingers on your waist. Closer.

Your cunt clench and unclenching sequentially with his cock kissing your cervix and all the right spots inside you. 

“Dean… I love you…” the truth is revealed by moaning, falling over for your approaching peak again. 

“Fuck.” He grunts, shutting his eyes as a smile creeps on his face, pulsing inside you. “I love you, i love you. I love you so much.” 

“I love you.” you sob, gasping, rolling your hips together, reaching for your climax and somehow you knew he was close as you. “Dean…m”

“Me too, fuck, me too, darling.” His lips devoured you once again, feverish. Your moans became desperate, coming undone simultaneously to Dean spasming with shutted eyes as he spilled his cum. 

He pumped a few more times, stopping only when he softened. You open your eyes, watching him open his slowly. His hands reached your face, wiping the excess sweat off your face with his hands, planting several kisses on you. Dozens, thousands kisses on your skin. 

His body flipped around you and yours felt like he never really left, his scent, moist, everything, you felt him, even when he got up to throw the condom on the bathroom’s trash can. 

“So… how d’you feel?” He asked, laying on your side again, pushing your boneless-like body for a cuddle.

“I don't know… deflorated?” You joke, giggling, admiring his eyes as you get closer with your chests almost touching. 

“Ha ha ha, so funny.” He mocked, giving up for a low chuckle with your playful free behavior, tugging a strand of hair behind your ear. “But, for real… you okay?”

“It couldn't be more perfect.” You confess, feeling goosebumps with his innocent touch, a contract with the last minutes. “But seriously, it was perfect. Thank you.” 

He lit up, his hand moving to the back of your head to kiss your lips again, your hand resting on his chest. He broke the kiss, gazing at you for a moment before opening his mouth. “Is it serious?”

“What?” You dash, eyeing him. You knew damn well what he was talking about, you couldn't help but hoping to hear him saying again. 

“About…” he paused as the vulnerable electricity came back like a wave. “About love.”

You swallow, biting your lip. Being naked wasn't even close to how exposed you felt. “Yeah…sorry. I didn't… I guess I messed up things, right?”

“I love you.” He cut off tenderly, his grin widening with your smile. “Well, loving a witch wasn't exactly on my plans but… you know, things happen.” 

“I love you.” You repeated, tasting how every word felt leaving your lips. It was sweet. Sweeter than everything you tasted before, and all you could do was say it again, as repeating was a state for reality. You loved him.

[theanoninyourinbox]

I am suddenly consumed by the urge...to draw my ancient (like made when Winx Club was in its OG run...2004) Kamen Rider themed magical girl coach...she who gets those frilly foofy magical girls some self defense skills and core strength...heaven help me I would have to design her bug armor...but it means I could draw her teensy Mongolian Death Worm pal...I gotta...the hyperfixation strikes now

[lizziesangel]

thinking about rafe cameron getting reader her job back…

rafe spotted you as you stepped out of the diner, still wearing your uniform and clutching your bag tightly. you didn’t notice him at first, leaning against his car, arms crossed casually. his smirk grew as he watched you, but it faded when he noticed how your shoulders sagged, the way your head was down.

“yo, y/n,” he called out, his voice carrying over the quiet of the parking lot. “rough day? you’re giving off serious ‘spit in someone’s food’ vibes.”

you froze for a second, then started walking past him without so much as a glance. “not now, rafe.”

his brows shot up. you usually rolled your eyes at his teasing or snapped back with some sarcastic comment, but now? you brushed him off completely. that wasn’t like you.

rafe pushed off the car, his smirk replaced with confusion. “what, no comeback? did someone finally manage to piss you off more than i do?”

“go away, rafe,” you muttered, keeping your pace brisk.

he frowned, stepping in your path. “okay, hold up. what happened?”

“nothing,” you snapped, trying to sidestep him. but he moved with you, his blue eyes narrowing as he studied your face.

“doens’t look like ‘nothing,’” he said, his tone softer now, the teasing edge gone. “talk to me.”

you exhaled sharply, looking anywhere but at him. “if you really need to know, my boss fired me. happy now?”

rafe blinked, his brows furrowing. “fired you? why?”

“because some kook came crying to him about something stupid,” you said bitterly. “she made a scene, and he decided it was easier to blame me than deal with it. so, now i’m unemployed. satisfied?”

he stared at you, his jaw tightening. “that’s the dumbest thing i’ve ever heard. you’re the only reason that place doesn’t completely suck.”

you laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “well, apparently, that doesn’t matter.”

rafe’s eyes darkened, a dangerous edge slipping into his voice. “what’s this guy’s name?”

“don’t even think about it,” you said quickly, pointing a finger at him. “i don’t need you getting involved, rafe.”

his lips parted to protest, but something in your tired expression stopped him. instead, he rubbed the back of his neck, glancing away. “that’s seriously messed up,” he muttered. “you didn’t deserve that.”

“yah, well, life isn’t fair.” you shrugged, but your voice wavered. “anyway, i just want to go home.”

rafe nodded slowly, his chest tightening at how defeated you looked. “you need a ride or something? i don’t mind.”

you blinked at him, surprised by the gentleness in his tone. “no. i’m fine.”

“okay,” he said softly, watching as you walked off toward your house.

that night, rafe couldn’t stop thinking about you. the way your voice broke when you talked about getting fired, the way you’d tried to hide how upset you were. it gnawed at him, and the longer he sat with it, the angrier he got.

grabbing his phone, he called his father, pacing his room as the phone rang.

“rafe,” his dad said tiredly. “what is it now?”

“i need $500,000,” rafe said, not bothering with any pleasantries.

there was a long silence. “excuse me?”

“you heard me,” rafe said, his tone firm. “i need $500,000.”

“for what?” ward asked, his patience clearly wearing thin.

“i’m buying the diner, the one by the lake,” rafe said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

ward’s laugh was sharp and incredulous. “why the hell would you do that?”

“because the guy who owns it is a prick,” rafe snapped. “he fired someone who actually cares about that place just to save his own ass. so, i’m buying it. end of story.”

ward was silent for a moment. “this wouldn’t have anything to do with that girl you’ve been sniffing around, would it?”

rafe rolled his eyes, though his heart raced at the mention of you. “whatever. just send me the money.”

“fine,” ward sighed. “but don’t come crying to me when this blows up in your face.”

the next day, you got a call from the diner’s owner, informing you that there had been a “change in management.” you were being offered your job back—along with a raise.

confused, you walked back into the diner later that afternoon, only to find rafe leaning against the counter, looking far too pleased with himself.

“what are you doing here?” you asked warily.

he grinned, holding up a set of keys. “oh, you know. just checking on my new investment.”

your jaw dropped. “what do you mean, ‘new investment’?”

“i mean i bought the place,” he said casually, like it was no big deal. “figured someone needed to fix the mess your old boss made. starting with giving you your job back.”

you stared at him, completely floored. “you bought the diner?”

rafe shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. “i mean, it’s not that big of a deal. but… yeah. you deserve better, y/n.”

“you’re worth it, okay? so don’t argue with me.”

you blinked, nodding slowly. “thanks, rafe.”

“anytime,” he said, his smile turning into something softer. “now, go ahead and take the rest of the day off. boss’s orders.”

MASTERLIST