#Flume - Go

[honey-dont]

“david why is your current interest turn-of-the-century logging culture” radiation exposure from all those paul bunyan statues

[calicotisane]

[goncharov-propaganda-factory]

how its supposed to feel vs how its going

[toylandtours]

thinking about when my sister went to towers without me recently(screaming crying climbing the walls). But as much as i adore the place i can only be in a car for so long (the journey is like 6 ? hours)………… I’d love to go again… Missing it a lot… maybe next year that would be fun

[imagibunny]

dunkin should close at noon

only because im tired of these fUCK ASS HOURS CAUSE WE CANT KEEP ANY NIGHTSHIFT

[cacodemum]

I see you in the eye of Jupiter Circling through the reactor I still love you and I'm running out of words And I'm watching you stand in the flumes of phosphorus

Nothing ever stays undivided No, nothing ever stays undivided See what remains of love and the acid See what is left of us, how we ended — Reactor, Woodkid

I was. Possessed doing this piece I swear.

I inked all of C.R.A.B. and most of it is black in the painting lmfaoooooo artist life. Very much a wild ride doing all the gas swirls like Jupiter's storm cells into the cold of the water there, and hundreds of bubbles, and all the water webbing. A really fun exercise in value painting for the background, and a lot of horrible pain tbh because this song is painfully fitting for them and I looped it a fair bit when going wild painting.

[thatonegrimm]

Heya Grimm! How about a one-shot of taking the boys to an amusement park?

Hey!! 💖 Omg yes—this sounds so fun. The chaos potential is unmatched.

Here you go!💌

Demon Drop (And Other Attractions)

 Summary: You planned a chill, low-stakes day at the amusement park. Then you remembered: your demon roommates have no chill. Between ride chaos, haunted house trauma, and one destroyed animatronic bride—you might not survive the fun. But you’ve never laughed this much in your life. ----------------------------------

You were only trying to do something nice.

A normal day. A human day. One (1) outing where your demon idol roommates wouldn’t destroy a grocery store or trigger magical alarms at 7-Elevens.

An amusement park seemed like a safe bet.

You were wrong.

----------------------------------

First is Abby.

“Is it supposed to rattle like that?” you ask, watching a coaster do a full inversion.

Abby grins. “It’s better if it does.”

Fifteen minutes later he’s already on his third lap, arms raised, screaming not in fear but joy, like a golden retriever possessed by the spirit of extreme sports.

“Again!” he yells, face lit up. “That one had airtime! I got LIFT!”

You lose count of how many strangers high-five him in line.

He offers you a churro between laps.

“I got you,” he says, holding it up like a medal. “You kept the map. We make a good team.”

You eat the churro.

You agree.

----------------------------------

Jinu brings a color-coded itinerary.

No one follows it.

Romance keeps wandering. Baby vanishes into every food stall. Mystery steps into the mirror maze and doesn’t come back for twenty minutes.

By 2pm, Jinu is holding six maps and sighing.

“We were supposed to be at the bumper cars by now.”

“We’re at the emotional bumper cars,” Romance says from behind a glitter slushie.

Eventually, Jinu gives up and agrees to ride the carousel with you.

You pick a white tiger. He picks a deer. You try not to laugh when it starts spinning and he visibly regrets everything.

“It’s going faster than I thought,” he mutters.

“You’re fine.”

“It’s not dignified.”

You hand him your sunglasses.

“Now it is.”

----------------------------------

You turn around for five minutes.

When you look back, Baby is surrounded by five prize plushies and has a sixth slung over his shoulder like a trophy.

“How did you—”

“I hit the bottle pyramid three times.”

“In a row?”

“Blindfolded.”

He shrugs. “You wanted a normal day. This is me behaving.”

You stare at the pile of stuffed animals.

He picks the ugliest one (a bright yellow crocodile with lopsided eyes) and holds it out to you.

“This one’s yours,” he says. “It looks like it bites.”

“Is that… a compliment?”

“Obviously.”

----------------------------------

You lose track of Romance around the snack stands.

He reappears forty-five minutes later, covered in body glitter, with a flower crown and two extra wristbands that definitely didn’t come from the park.

“Did you go to a different event?”

“It found me.”

He spins, throwing a wink over his shoulder.

“Also I won a dance battle.”

“Romance, we were in line for the log flume.”

“You could’ve called.”

You did. Four times.

“I was in the moment,” he says, dramatically sipping a pink lemonade. “Also I think someone named Skylar wants to start a fan club.”

----------------------------------

You hand Mystery a stick of cotton candy.

He pokes it once. Sniffs it. Takes a small bite like he’s testing a potion.

Five minutes later he’s on a bench, covered in blue sugar, absolutely zoning out with a plush bat in his lap and glitter on his cheek.

You sit beside him.

“Having fun?”

He nods. Doesn’t say a word.

Later, when everyone’s taking a photo at the Ferris wheel, he holds the plush bat out next to his face.

The bat is also wearing sunglasses.

No one knows where they came from.

----------------------------------

You should’ve known better.

But the line was short. The sign was flashing. The guy in the fake vampire makeup was really convincing.

And when Baby raised one eyebrow and said, “Scared?” you had to prove a point.

So now you’re here.

In a dimly lit hallway. Behind a curtain made of bones. Between five demons. And at least three terrible choices.

----------------------------------

It starts normal.

A bit of fake thunder. Fog machines. Plastic cobwebs.

Jinu is focused. He's whispering tactical observations like it's a recon mission.

“There’s a trip wire at the corner. Pressure plates on the floor. Watch your step.”

“It’s a haunted house, not a dungeon,” you whisper back.

“You say that now.”

----------------------------------

Abby’s too tall and keeps ducking through archways. At one point he apologizes to a hanging skeleton prop for bumping into it.

“My bad, bro.”

Then the first jump scare happens—a spring-loaded clown lunges from the wall.

Romance shrieks.

Mystery laughs.

Not a normal laugh.

A low, echoing, demonic giggle like something just amused the darkness itself.

“That’s worse than the clown,” Abby mutters.

Romance is clinging to your arm now.

“I didn’t scream,” he lies.

“I was here,” you reply.

----------------------------------

You reach a flickering hallway with mirrors on both sides.

Mystery walks into one like a ghost gliding through space.

Jinu freezes.

“He’s not supposed to be able to do that.”

“Is he part of the attraction now?” Baby asks.

----------------------------------

Then come the animatronics.

Rotting ghouls, twitchy puppets, fake blood. Cheap, but effective.

Until one lunges too fast and nearly smacks you in the face.

You flinch.

And Baby hisses.

Not dramatically. Not loudly.

Just a soft growl under his breath. His eyes flick gold.

And then he punches the animatronic so hard its head spins sideways.

The sound echoes through the hallway like a thunderclap.

Jinu: “Baby.”

Abby: “Dude.”

Romance: “Kind of hot, not gonna lie.”

“It touched you,” Baby mutters.

“It’s foam,” you whisper.

“It touched you.”

----------------------------------

By the time you reach the last corridor—the one with the fog and the ominous red light—Jinu’s reassessed the situation.

“This is fine,” he mutters. “This is normal. People do this for fun.”

“You’re gripping my sleeve,” you point out.

“I’m anchoring.”

Romance is fully clinging to Abby now. “If something crawls out of the floor, I’m flipping over a railing.”

Mystery reappears from above, dropping in from a fake attic crawlspace like a polite cryptid.

“It’s looping,” he says calmly. “We’ve passed this hallway three times.”

“...Are we cursed?” you ask.

“Temporarily,” he replies.

----------------------------------

The finale?

A haunted bride drops from the ceiling on a wire pulley with a piercing shriek.

Baby growls again.

Mystery bows to her.

Romance screams for real.

Abby—bless him—tries to catch her.

“Let her fall with dignity,” Jinu yells, yanking him back.

----------------------------------

You all stumble out into daylight like survivors.

Your group photo from the ride is horrifying:

Romance is clutching your hoodie like a Victorian child

Abby is mid-reach with wild eyes

Jinu looks like he’s solving an exorcism

Mystery isn’t visible (but the fog in the corner might be him)

Baby is baring his teeth at the camera

And you’re in the middle, laughing so hard you’re crying

You buy the photo.

You’re framing the photo.

And the next time Baby tries to act cool, you just raise your eyebrows and say:

“Don’t punch the bride this time.”

He glares.

Then grins.

----------------------------------

Later

The sun’s setting. The park’s starting to empty. But the Saja Boys are very much not done being menaces to peace and reason.

You’re all crammed into a corner food court table with one giant funnel cake, three forks, and absolutely no rules.

Powdered sugar is everywhere.

Baby’s licking it off his fingers. Jinu is holding napkins like a shield. Romance is sipping soda with the haunted house photo on the table like it’s court evidence.

And that’s when you casually say:

“Okay, but who screamed the loudest?”

The table goes silent.

Jinu clears his throat. “Well, I didn’t scream.”

“You squeaked,” Baby says without looking up.

“It was reflexive exhale panic, not a squeak.”

“Sounded like a teakettle.”

Romance raises a hand. “I think we can all agree Abby screamed the loudest.”

“I said ‘whoa’ very loudly!” Abby defends. “For safety!”

“You tried to catch the animatronic bride,” Jinu mutters.

“I’m polite!”

Mystery, finally breaking his silence, calmly sets a napkin down.

“The answer,” he says, “is Romance.”

Romance gasps like you accused him of high treason. “Me?!”

“We have proof,” Baby says, holding up the ride photo.

Romance squints. “That doesn’t show sound.”

“It shows fear,” you say gently.

He slaps a hand over his heart. “I was performing. It was method acting.”

“You were trying to climb me like a tree,” Abby reminds him.

----------------------------------

Eventually, the debate cools down. Mystery wins by silent vote. You all agree to disagree on whether Jinu squeaked or “whimpered in tactical retreat.”

The funnel cake is gone.

Romance is still pouting.

Before anyone can say anything, you call out:

“Group photo! Now! Before we lose daylight!”

Everyone groans, but no one disobeys.

You cram together in front of a sunset backdrop.

The camera timer flashes.

Click.

One perfect shot.

----------------------------------

M-List

[mattsfavoritestar]

NEVER BE LIKE YOU, chris sturniolo

synopsis… (based on this ask ) or in which you used to treat chris terribly in highschool, now you’ve graduated and matured but you weren’t the only one who’s changed

warnings… mentions of bullying, rough sex, semi-public sex, degrading, edging, overstimulation, mean!chris, former bully!reader, creampie, perv!chris if you squint, unprotected p in v (WRAP IT B4 YOU TAP IT)

@bernardsbendystraws for the dividers <3

you used to tell yourself that you would never go for matt and nick’s little brother. yes, you know that they are triplets but chris always seem’d so childish and annoying in your eyes. he used to trail after you like a pet and make stupid flirty comments or compliments.

you thought that chris sturniolo was thee most aggravating person to walk the planet. yet here you were staring at him from across the room. you nudged your friend, “hey when did chris get so cute?” you whispered. your friend shot you a deadpanned expression then rolled her eyes. “after graduation, guess he decided to do the whole glow up thing” she responds.

chris used to be the scrawny kid with messy short hair. now his curls framed his face in a godly way and whenever he moved a certain way, his muscles and veins flexed. you also noticed that when you walked into the house, he didn’t even acknowledge you like he used to.

“why do you care?”

“hm?”

“i said why do you care anyways, didn’t you used to hate him or some shit?”

you shrugged your shoulders. no secret that you used to practically torture the poor boy as if he was some servant or lapdog. chris used to do literally anything if it ment you would reward him even if the gift was as small as allowing him to hold your hand for five seconds. it was laughable at the time the way he acting like a wounded puppy whenever you got mad at him for the slightest thing.

your heart started racing when he looked up and stared dead into your eyes. those blue eyes that you used to not care for now made your body feel heated and achy. you broke contact as you felt your thighs squeeze for some type of relief. “m’gonna go to the bathroom” you mumbled to your friend as you got up.

you looked over yourself in the mirror. you always took pride into your appearance, a habit that stuck since high school. you turned around and opened the door but was shocked when met with chris looking down on his phone.

“uhm, hey” you quietly say causing him to look up at you. a small smirk appeared on his face as he turned his phone off and leans onto the door frame. “hi” he replied. you tried going past him but was pushed back into the bathroom. chris closes the door behind him with the lock without breaking eye contact.

“what are you doing” you say cautiously ask as you look between him and the door. chris shrugs, “just thought i’d talk to you for a sec” he says. as chris walks closer to you, you walk backwards till your back brushes the sink. chris traps you with his hands on either side of you as he looks down with a mischievous smile.

“never thought i’d see that day where little miss royalty would get so nervous around me” he laughs. your breath started to pick up as he leans down closer and closer till your lips brush. you squealed in surprise when chris roughly turns you around so you were leaning on the sink with your back facing him.

you felt him breathing down your neck as his hands lightly trailed down your sides. you let out a sigh and let your head drop back onto his shoulder while your eyes closed. chris starts chuckling then removes his hands. “remember when you used to make me do your homework just so i could sit next to you?” he asks.

you opened you eyes and look at him with a sad expression. “m’sorry for treating you like that back then” you say in a small voice. chris roughly grabs your waist and pushes you off him. you gasped as you felt him bring your hips to meet his growing bulge. “i saw you staring at me earlier” he says, “didn’t know you let yourself go enough to want to fuck a loser” he sneered. you frowned to yourself at the memory.

“be serious for a second chris. i’d never fuck a loser like you” you laughed.

you couldn’t lie, you were a regina george back then. chris was such a sweet guy to you too, he always treated you like a princess even though you already had the royal status at school. you were his number one priority and you took advantage of that. you used him back then. now it was his turn to use you.

you bit your lip to hide the moan as chris grinded your lower half’s together. “chris everyone’s out there” you reminded him. chris laughs, “don’t be loud then. unless you want them to hear you act like a whore” he taunts. your dress was pushed up and your laced underwear was yanked down.

“who knew your clothes could get even more slutty after high school” chris grumbled. you always wore clothes that would be at the brink of the dress code. now that those bullshit rules can’t effect you, you wore even more revealing stuff whenever you didn’t have any important place to go to.

your breath hitched as you felt his thumb swipe the arousal from your folds. you looked up to the mirror infront of you as you saw chris suck his thumb off with a groan erupting from his throat. “waiting so long to taste you” he whispered. he brought his hand back down and inserted two fingers into your dripping cunt as he bit his lip.

you moaned as you locked eyes with him in the mirror then brought your hand up to cover your mouth. chris smiled as he worked his fingers in a rapid pace, not caring for how hard it was for you to keep your voice as low as possible. you rolled your eyes to the back of your head as you felt a knot forming in your stomach.

but chris saw your pleasured expression. he yanked his fingers out of you and slapped your ass. you whined at the lost feeling then whimpered as you felt chris get a tight hold on your hair, yanking your head back. “you don’t deserve to fucking cum” he grunted in your ear.

chris pulled his pants and boxers down, just enough to release his aching cock. a sigh of relief fell from his lips as he stroked himself slightly. he lined himself up to your wet hole then pushed in with slight aggression. a muffled moan left your mouth as you tightened the hand that covered it .

you heard chris breathing heavily and felt his fingers dig into your skin. he moved his hips slightly as if he was testing the waters meanwhile you were using his delay as time to try adjusting to his size. chris was definitely bigger than any other guy you fucked and you were starting to regret not taking his offer for a date two years ago.

as soon as chris decided that he was ready, he rocked his hips slowly then picked up the pace. his thrust were aggressive. harsh. needy. as if he wanted to fuck his anger into you. but also can’t get enough of you. you had one hand trying to balance yourself on the sink counter while the other still covered the moans and whimpers that fell from your lips.

“waiting so fucking long to stretch this pussy” he groans. somehow the aggression grew more rough and since chris was already a bit too big, it felt like he was abusing your cunt. you took your hand off your mouth then reached back to try to push him away. chris laughs as he roughly pins your hand onto the counter.

“are you trying to run from me? thought this is what you wanted” he snarled, “i always give you want you want, don’t i? fucking spoiled brat” his voice was laced with venom. you felt your eyes water but couldn’t tell if it was from pain, pleasure, or regret.

“mhm chris!” you squealed as you felt him brush your cervix. you caught a glimpse of his face, a smile as he bit his lip while watching you through the mirror. “‘member when you called me a whiny bitch? look at you now, crying on my dick” he laughs. you close your eyes as the vivid memory flashed into your brain.

“but you promised” he mumbled. you rolled your eyes, “don’t tell me you’re gonna cry you whiny bitch” you mocked.

“m’sorry! m’so sorry!” you cried. your knuckles grew white as your grip on the counter tightened. the familiar knot in your stomach reappeared, this time even tighter than before. “ch-chris! gonna cum!” you warned. his cock didn’t stop ramming into your now puffy cunt. “yeah? gonna make a mess on me?” he muttered.

you nodded repeatedly as you felt your self at the brink of an orgasm. your vision went blurry with white splotches as you felt yourself release on chris’s cock. “t-to much..” you tried saying in shaken voice. you couldn’t even breathe properly, it felt like he was rearranging your guts. the overstimulation was overwhelming but fuck it felt so good.

it finally dawned on you that this wasn’t for your pleasure but his. chris was actively using you as a sleeve to wet his dick and to get back at you for all those years. you felt him pull you closer as if he was hugging you from the back. you felt his sweaty forehead touching the back of your neck.

“finally get to fill you up- fuck” he moaned as you found yourself coming to your second orgasm. with the rest of your strength, you slammed your hand onto the counter as you felt yourself somewhat peeing on him. you heard chris whimpering as he tightened his hold on you and tried pulling you closer.

a series of curses left his mouth as his load pumped into you with sloppy thrust. you couldn’t help letting out a loud moan as chris gives you one final harsh thrust before pulling out. you felt your knees buckle after chris removes himself from you. you watched through your wet lashes as he fixes his clothes and pockets your underwear.

as chris exits the bathroom, you tried lifting yourself up with the help of the counter. you felt the thick sticky mixture of your fluids and his load dripping out of you. through the crack of the door you heard matt telling chris that everyone else left to get food then asked why you both took so long to which chris replied by saying ‘you needed help in the bathroom’.

[konigslittleliebling]

CIGARETTES OUT THE WINDOW -> D. DIXON

we’ll find moonlit nights strangely empty because when you call my name through them there will be no answer.

table of contents; set just after the prison falls, mild gore and mentions of death, angst </3

“remember, back at the quarry when we first met, i nearly killed you?” you’re perched opposite him, reclined against the window pane.

“ain’t really somethin’ ya forget.” daryl lights up a cigarette, then cranks the window open. “tried ta stab me between the eyes, crazy bitch.”

he offers you his smoke, you shake your head, he frowns. it’s like a common ritual for the two of you to share a cigarette so the packs last longer. that, and because you like to claim that what’s his is yours, and vice versa—when it suits you.

“you smelled so bad,” you’re grinning from ear to ear, clearly amused. “and you were covered in so much dirt and blood and shit. . . i thought you were a walker.”

he scoffs, blowing a smokey puff into the night air. it curls and twists as it rises and you both watch it disperse into nothing. “didn’t exactly have access ta turkish baths in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere, did i?”

“then merle knocked me on my ass.” you chuckle, the scene replaying perfectly in your head.

he snorts at the memory. “‘cause ya tried ta stab me in my fuckin’ head, woman.”

“in my defence, you were walking with a slight limp and making very walker-ish noises.” you rationalise, holding your hands up.

he rolls his eyes and slides his foot forward to jab you with his boot, only he can’t seem to reach you. “oh, yeah? go on, give us ya best.”

you narrow your eyes, then straighten your back and clear your throat. he watches you with a smirk, cigarette dangling limply from his lips.

with a stone-dead poker face, you do your best walker impression. it’s was actually pretty good.

“that was crap.” he tells you, blowing a flume of smoke at your face.

he expects you to wax lyrical about it. slap, shove, or kick him. maybe even smack it out of his hand. but you do nothing, barely even acknowledge it.

“you do it, then.” you challenge, arms folded.

he lulls his head to the side, eyes drifting beyond you. “nah. don’t wanna show ya up.”

you hum. “uh-huh, sure. killjoy.”

“shuddup.” he grumbles, jesting.

you smile, lopsided and daring. “so. where do we go from here?”

he shrugs. “dunno,” it’s a little darker now. crisper, cooler. “we’re way deep in georgia’s ass crack. can’t tell my ass from my elbow out ‘ere, let alone north from south.”

“would be easier if we were birds.” you comment, only partly serious. “i saw you eat a worm yesterday, so i guess you’re halfway there.”

“natural protein source.” he gruffs.

he’s eaten worse.

“we could stay here.” you suggest, soft. almost whispered. “just until we catch our bearings.”

daryl glances up at you, cigarette burned to the filter between his fingers. you look distant. cold. almost unreal.

“or we could stay here forever.” you add. “just the two of us.”

you’re staring back at him. empty, blank. you seem so far away.

a chill passes through him.

“don’t leave me, daryl.”

he leans forward. “ain’t gonna leave ya.”

the wind whistles outside, stealing his attention only for a second. when his eyes find you again, blood has started to crawl from your mouth. he jerks back.

“it’s okay. i’m not actually here, remember?”

you peel your shirt collar away from your neck, revealing the bite that took you from him.

a shiver rockets down his spine.

you start to weep from the entry wound in your forehead where a crossbow bolt had ended your suffering.

right between the eyes.

“stay with me.” you whisper, now appearing as you were the day he met you. fresh-faced, vulnerable, skittish.

he averts his gaze from you to look across the room. a blood stain—barely dry—inks the floorboards; his crossbow discarded beside it; and just ahead, where flames dance and hiss within the stony foundation of a fireplace, burns the bolt that drained you of your life’s blood. forgotten, abandoned, flooding the cabin with the smell of singed alloy.

and there, beneath the silver of the moon, you rest in the earth’s soil—still warm, still you. a makeshift cross, bound by string, protrudes from your grave—a withered flower sloping sadly from a careless knot.

“just a little longer.” you plead, so close yet so far. he can almost feel you. your breath licks at his neck, your lips ghosting the shell of his ear.

but when he turns to you, you’re not there.

“ya left me first.” daryl murmurs, cigarette falling to the floor.

[archangeldyke-all]

Sevika idea? Modern AU. Sevika and Reader (mostly reader because Sevika just grumbles about it) decide to take Jinx and Isha to an amusement park for the first time. Sevika is..... okay with it? But it's not her thing..

..That is until they get there and Sevika goes into full dad mode when she rides a rollercoaster with the two and now she can't stop because she wants to ride everything with them.

GOD GOD GOD i love fluffy fluffy fluff like this omg

men and minors dni

the girls sit you down one evening, both of them wearing determined looks and wearing one of sevika's old ties around their neck. jinx does most of the talking while isha hands out brochures and drawings.

"ladies, thank you for coming to this meeting." she greets. sevika rolls her eyes.

"you both forced us to come sit on the couch."

"shush." jinx flips sevika off quickly, before clearing her throat and continuing. "you may be wondering why we've asked you here today--"

"dragged." sevika corrects.

"hush!" jinx stomps her foot. isha glares at sevika. you elbow her. she sighs.

"fine, go."

"we have a business proposition for you." jinx announces. "in exchange for a month's allowance, we'd like you to take us to, drum roll please..."

isha pats her lap, giggling as you join in.

"randy's rollercoasters!" isha does a little twirl for emphasis.

sevika groans. you chuckle. isha hands you two brochures for randy's rollercoasters.

"now, hold on a second." you cut in. "we give you an allowance in exchange for your chores. you're telling me you'll clean the toilets without any pay? all month?" you ask.

jinx and isha nod, and isha crosses over her heart as a promise.

sevika grunts beside you. "and what are we supposed to do there while you two go on all the rides? stand in the hot sun and wait around all day?"

"oh, come on, sev! you can ride with us!"

"fuck no!"

"they sell beer." you mutter under your breath, pointing to the drinks and food section of your brochure. "we could just get tipsy and make out in dark corners while the kids ride."

jinx sticks her tongue out at the suggestion, but sevika seems intrigued. isha's blinking up at both of you with her hands folded under her chin, her gold eyes wide and watery as she waits for an answer.

sevika sighs, then groans. "fine."

the girls burst into cheers.

that's what you think will happen-- that the girls will have a great time and you and sevika will make the most of your day loitering around the park.

but then you get there, and isha gets spooked seeing how big the rollercoasters really are, and you and sevika promise to go on her first ride with her to show her it's safe.

but something about the thrill and watching her girls squeal with fear and excitement makes sevika all giddy and excited after the first ride.

it's adorable.

"have you never been on a roller coaster before, babe?"

"it's been almost twenty years!" she laughs, hoisting isha onto her shoulders. "okay, which one are we hitting next?" she asks jinx. isha squeals with excitement. you pout.

"we!? what about me?! i'll get sick if i go on another one of those rides."

sevika turns to you with a pout. your heart swells in your chest.

"c'mon, baby, please? just a few more rides, and i'm yours for the day. i just wanna do the log flume. and maybe the one with the loops."

"and the death dropper." jinx adds on. sevika nods.

"yeah, and the death dropper."

you examine your wife, laughter bubbling up in your lungs as you take in the excited, childlike glimmer in her eye. she's just as excited as isha and jinx. "you kids go have fun. if you need me, i'll be by the funnel cakes and beer." you say, shooing your family away toward the rides.

sevika grins, kissing your cheek and taking off with jinx at her side, isha cackling as they run toward the next ride.

so, you don't get to make out with your wife much. but you get a whole bunch of fun pictures of your family on the rides, a lot of cotton candy, and three million watt smiles from your girls and wife every time they come off a ride.

when the day winds down and the girls get tired, you walk around the carnival booths on the park grounds, letting isha and jinx play games and win bears.

sevika's got an arm slung around your shoulders, a smile on her lips. "'m sorry i abandoned you today." she says. you laugh.

"are you kidding? i had a blast today. getting to watch you three have all that fun, snacking and drinking to my heart's content-- we should do this every weekend." you suggest.

isha and jinx both perk up at that. sevika cackles. "no! no, we can not afford that. but, we can come back for isha's birthday." she suggests.

isha wins you a teddy bear with one of the darts games, then sevika gets jealous and tries to win you one of the strength testers. only, she hits the hammer so hard it's handle snaps in half, and the attendant has to close the stand for the night.

you buy the girls slushies then pile into the ferris wheel.

the sun is setting on the horizon, lighting up the little cart the four of you sit in. isha and jinx are chattering to themselves with their faces pressed against the glass, giving you and sevika some semblance of privacy on your little seat.

"you really had fun today?" sevika asks. you smile and nod.

"it was amazing. i love hearing you all laugh like that. especially you." you say.

sevika grins and swoops in to kiss you, just as your cart reaches the top of the wheel.

the girls 'ooh' and 'aah' and the height and the sights, and then they both groan when they turn around and find you two kissing.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

a singer!reader where she writes a super sexy song and the fans are going crazy because she's never written a song like that. she goes to some talk shows bc she has to promote the album of the song, and they ask her about it and if its about her boyfriend tom blyth!!!!

Never be like you || Tom Blyth x singer!reader

A/n: lowkey need Gracie to do a cover for this song bc I feel like her voice would suit it sm and I wanna see her do this type of vibe!!

Warnings: fem!reader, swearing

Wc: 719

Tom Blyth x singer!reader au masterlist

“Our next guest, is a Grammy nominee for best new artist, performing her single never be like you for the first time, please welcome Y/n Abrams!” Jimmy Fallon announces as the crowd erupts in cheers. You take the stage, the crowd hushed in anticipation. The spotlight illuminates you, clad in a sultry ensemble that's a departure from your usual style

“What I would do, to take away, this fear of being loved, allegiance to the pain,” Your fingers wrap around the mic as you close your eyes. “Now I’m fucked up, and I’m missing you, He’ll never be like you,” The atmosphere shifted, and you began to sing the sultry lyrics in a way that surprised even your most dedicated fans. The audience was captivated, and whispers of amazement spread like wildfire.

“I’m only human, can’t you see? I made, I made a mistake, please just look me in my face, tell me everything’s okay,” Your hands, usually strumming a guitar, were instead in your hair as you tilt your head back almost in a sexual manner. The crowd, initially unsure how to react, soon becomes entranced by your unexpected venture into this new style.

The song's sensual undertones echoed through the venue, and you felt an electrifying connection with the audience. This style of song was something you’ve never done before. That’s why you really enjoyed producing it. It brought you out of your comfort zone; a deliberate choice to express a different side of yourself.

"How do I make you wanna stay? hate sleeping on my own, missing the way you taste," your voice, rich and alluring, wraps around the lyrics with a sensuality that catches everyone off guard.

"Stop looking at me with those eyes," a smile naturally played on your lips as you delivered that line, intentionally fixing your gaze on the camera, fully aware of Tom's watchful eyes. The lyrics, tailored to hit home with your boyfriend, spoke directly to his captivating deep blue eyes – the kind that always left you spellbound, and no amount of time together could diminish the flutter of nerves they induced.

"like I could disappear and you wouldn't care why, now I'm fucked up and I'm missing you, he'll never be like you," Backstage, Tom can't tear his eyes away. The way you command the stage, blending vulnerability with a newfound confidence, stirs something within him.

He had heard snippets of the song before its release, but experiencing it live brings a visceral intensity he hadn't anticipated. The lyrics, once a private exchange, now echo through the venue, leaving everyone captivated.

As the performance concludes, the audience erupts into applause, their astonishment turning into admiration. Tom approached with a grin, desire in his eyes, expressing his awe at your unexpected and alluring rendition. "That was incredible," he whispers, pulling you into a passionate embrace.

Word spreads like wildfire. Fans, accustomed to your previous style, can't believe the transformation. Social media buzzes with speculation, theories swirling that the song must be about someone special.

In a promotional interview, the host, with a sly grin, asks the question on everyone's mind. "Rumors are circulating that the inspiration behind your latest single is none other than your boyfriend, Tom Blyth. Care to shed some light on that?"

A coy smile played on your lips as you glance at the crowd, then back to the interviewer. "My supporters sure are smart, huh?" You giggle softly to yourself. "But, yes, it is about Tom."

"It's quite different to my usual style, but it was very fun to compose," You smile. The revelation sends shockwaves through your fanbase. Speculation turns into fervent curiosity, and they dissect the lyrics for clues about your relationship with Tom. Social media explodes, and you find yourself at the center of a newfound spotlight.

Tom, for his part, embraces the attention with good humor. During his interviews for "The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes," fans playfully tease him about being the muse behind your provocative song. He takes it all in stride, admitting with a smile that he's flattered by the attention.

"So, Tom, we've all heard your girlfriend's new song 'Never be like you' and everyone knows it's about you. What are your thoughts on it?" the interviewer inquired, a playful glint in their eyes.

Tom chuckled nervously, a light blush creeping up his cheeks. "Well, it's certainly an interesting experience," he replied with a sheepish smile. "I'm flattered, to be honest. My girl is incredibly talented, and she expresses herself very well through her music, something I admire,"

As he spoke, his castmates, Rachel and Hunter, couldn't help but interject with mischievous grins. "Oh, come on, Tom! 'Interesting experience'? That song is steamy!" Rachel teased, eliciting laughter from Hunter.

Tom rolled his eyes, feigning annoyance. "Alright, alright. Maybe 'interesting' is an understatement. But seriously, I'm incredibly proud of her. She was worried her new style of music not being a hit, but she nailed it."

The banter continued, but beneath the teasing, there was a genuine camaraderie. Tom's supportive words reflected not only his admiration for his girlfriend's artistic expression but also his pride in you.

As your relationship becomes a public fascination, the dynamics of your performances shift. Fans attend your shows not just for your music but to catch glimpses of the chemistry they've read about online. The narrative surrounding your love story becomes intertwined with your artistic identity.

Tom's become a regular at your shows, grinning from ear to ear as he watches you own the stage. Your private affair has gone all public, and now it's like you and him are this dynamic duo everyone's rooting for. The crazy twist in your music style? It's like you cracked open a whole new world for yourself, and at the same time, it's made you and Tom this inseparable couple in the eyes of your fans.

[agroteraa]

Never Be Like You

Felix Catton x f!Reader

My fic masterlist

Summary: AU where Saltburn's ending never happened. Felix lived happily up to 2016 (and on), where he met you at your new job. Meaning he is around 29 here and you are younger.

Yes, a fic based on THAT Jacob Elordi edit

Using the song "Never Be Like You" by Flume feat. Kai

Shout-out to Kasey @kcsvids ❤️

Tags: fluff, implied slow burn, AU.

Word Count: 3,8K

Early August in London this year was quite rainy, but fortunately, the day you had to go around the city with the documents turned out to be surprisingly sunny and pleasant. It was the second month of your new job.

The bell on the door in the coffee shop tinkled as you went inside in search of your senior colleague, whose errands you had been running for half the day.

"Annabel, hi! I’ve signed the documents, made copies and notarized them. Here are the originals in the folder, and here are the copies," you said, sitting down on the opposite chair and rummaging in your bag, taking out all the necessary papers.

"Oh, thank you, Y/N! I expected that you would only have time to pick up the documents, and you have already done everything! Cool, you're doing great!" the girl smiled at you, and then added, "Our new capable young employee."

She said this to a young man in a colored seemingly expensive shirt who was sitting relaxed close to her on the couch and drinking coffee. He looked at you with a smile while Annabel was having a dialogue with you and complimenting you on the work done. God. This was the guy from your job, whom you saw rarely and from afar, but you really wanted to know more about him. You didn't even know his name because you were too shy to ask, and besides, you didn't talk close yet to people in your new place.

"Felix. Felix Catton," he introduced himself, extending his long arm across the table.

"Y/N," you answered a little timidly, shaking his hand. His fingers were no less long than the hand itself, and his palm was warm, "Um... Y/N L/N."

"Okay, I have to run, bye, Ann," the guy kissed her on the cheek, threw some money on the table and smiled at you again, "It was nice to meet you, a new capable young employee."

Young. Not that young, it was your second full-time job after graduating from the university, but of course you were younger than the two of them. Annabel, as far as you knew, was almost 29 years old. Felix was probably about the same age, it was hard for you to tell. It seemed that he could be aged from 23 to 33, given that he looked so youthful and lively.

"So... does he work for our company? It seems that I saw him in the office, but very rarely..." you tried to find out information about this man from Annabel as casually as possible.

"Yes, Felix has... a more of a free schedule. His father is a co–owner of the company. So, he is not particularly worried about being a worker of the year. However, it's not like I live at work either," Annabel began to tell you openly. It seems you had already realized that she was also a pretty laid-back person, "So… What are you ordering?"

Despite your protests, Annabel ordered and paid for you coffee and lunch anyway, and then continued, "We studied at Oxford together. You could say he helped me get a job here later."

Oh. You got it. It seems that the picture in your head had finally begun to take shape. It became clear to you why some people worked hard from early morning till night in the same office as someone came at lunchtime at best and generally behaved as if they had known each other half their lives. Because that how it was. Many of them were Oxonians, and had known each other since the university, and some even from boarding schools. Of course, you also received a decent education, but it was nothing compared to Oxford. But this was also often not only about education, but also about lifestyle in general. Your family was not any close to be called poor, but still it was not comparable to this level of life, and you were able to get a current job only because of your hard work and probably decent amount of luck.

You felt a little sad at the thought that for them you probably were a girl who came out of nowhere and did the paperwork, and it was very possible that you would remain that way in their eyes. In Felix's eyes, in particular. That was how you imagined his life as a golden boy, who was apparently at this stage of his life employed in his own parents' company, where he did not need to make any effort to stay there and at the same time receive a round sum of money. Usually it also led to a certain lifestyle.

While Annabel was stirring her coffee with a spoon, you noticed an engagement ring on her hand, which you didn't seem to notice before or just didn't pay attention to.

"Oh... can I... congratulate you?" you asked, barely hiding your awkwardness, "Is it... Felix?"

"Yes, thank you… What? Felix?" the girl laughed, "No. We used to date back at the university, and after that… Well, now we are not. I can't imagine Felix as a fiancé or husband. To be honest, I don't think he can either. He's a pretty free spirit, let's put it this way."

You exhaled and nodded, on the one hand satisfied with the answer, and on the other hand you were upset and got into thinking even more. Yes, it seemed that you two were different, too different, and it came to be clear in just a half an hour on a lunch.

But that didn't stop you from thinking about him anyway for the whole next month. He still rarely came to the office, but now he nodded and smiled broadly if he saw you. You even chatted briefly a couple of times in the hallway and over a cup of coffee in the office kitchen. You still didn't know what he really was like, but he seemed nice and friendly, even though he was always in a hurry for somewhere else. Or someone else. You couldn't help but still look forward to these short meetings.

And that how the autumn came.

"Well, lucky you, Y/N – it seems that a small anniversary of three months of your work here coincides with our seasonal party," sipping from her cup, Annabel informed you, "Once in a season we go out somewhere with the whole team. Well, to be more exact – with the least boring group of people here. Come with us? We're thinking of going to a club this time."

You willingly agreed, pleased that you were invited to this party. After all, it was not for nothing that you'd been Annabel's indispensable assistant, helping her out all the time. And, to be honest, you did a lot of her own work for her. And also you hoped that you and her began to get closer in personal level, even though you were quite different, it was still quite a fun.

Week later, you were hurrying along the streets while looking at the navigator where exactly the club that Annabel was talking about was located. You were late because you spent a lot of time on dressing up and doing makeup. You wanted to make an impression and you were a little nervous. Nervous because all this time you were wondering if Felix would come or not. You were worried about both scenarios, but you still wanted him to come first of all, even though you had no idea what and how should happen next.

The place greeted you with loud enough but pleasant music and colorful lighting. Your colleagues were sitting on the sofas nearby. Annabel waved cheerfully, "Y/N! We're here! Hi! Yes, you're not even the last one, so make yourself comfortable."

You greeted everyone who was sitting. You felt quite awkward, because you didn't communicate with everyone at least on the same level you did with Annabel, but you hoped that the evening would go well and that you didn't come in vain. And it turned out to be quite alright, but anyway, part of your thoughts was roaming whether Felix would come or not.

"Okay, guys, and now we'll drink to the Y/N! She's been helping me a lot lately. Y/N, I hope this is just the beginning of your work with us!" Annabel toasted.

"To a new young capable employee!" said a velvety deep voice behind you. You turned around. Felix stood behind, dressed in a white shirt and jeans. He had a shot glass in his hand and he had some kind of red cowboy hat on a rope behind his neck and back.

You all clinked drinks together and then started to sit back down on the sofas.

"Hello, Y/N," Felix smiled broadly at you, "Glad you were invited too."

"Oh, Felix, where have you been?" your colleagues began to ask him as he sat down with them and began to tell about being stuck in another club and then getting through traffic jams here to you all.

"Unexpectedly. I thought he wasn't coming, huh," you said softly to Annabel.

"Why wouldn't Felix come to the party? It's not like going to office meetings, you know," the girl chuckled.

You continued to chat with Annabel this evening. Felix, unfortunately, did not approach you, and seemingly had fun chitchatting with all the people on the couch in front of you, although he kept glancing at you, so it seemed to you. But maybe it just seemed, because you had been drinking for the first time in a long time, and your head was already starting to feel a little dizzy.

But over time, your interlocutor talked more and more about her own with her long-time colleagues and friends, until she almost completely forgot about your presence. You began to feel gradually lonely in this company. Maybe you were right. A girl from nowhere who couldn’t even afford too many drinks in this place in central London, who was helping Oxford graduates who were, are and will be fine, with paperwork they weren’t really willing to do. But it was better to splurge on another drink than to sit and think all these thoughts.

Walking through the crowd to the bar, you stood in line and chose what to take for yourself. Something strong, but not very expensive, if possible.

"You have a small anniversary in our company today. It should be celebrated," a pleasant voice spoke softly almost in your ear. Turning your head to the side, you found Felix, who was leaning almost his entire body against the counter. He had definitely had a drink and was even more relaxed and cheerful than usual, "It's all on me, of course."

You protested a little, but Catton quickly dismissed all objections, taking two drinks for you at once and one glass for himself, "And this is about time you tell me how do you find the work here with us, where you came from and generally about yourself."

You headed back to the sofa with drinks. Since the path was laying through the dancing crowd, and you had two glasses in your hands, Felix held you protectively, placing his hand on your back and guiding you through all the people, making sure that no one would touch you. The feeling of his big warm hand on your back, on your skin, half-opened due to the design of the dress, definitely excited you and gave you goosebumps.

Some people from your company, including Annabel, was already gone to the dance floor, so you sat down on an empty sofa together and started talking. It was very uneasy and unusual for you to see Felix so close to you, also in such an informal setting. His big brown eyes looked at you attentively while you talked a little about yourself, about your education, how you got a job at this company, what you were doing here and who you started communicating with. What dark fluffy eyelashes he had. He was so handsome. You blushed a little and got embarrassed, but still, because of the abundance of information that you had to tell him, your brain was a little distracted and calmed down.

"That's great, Y/N. You're so... hardworking. And, apparently, you’ve achieved a lot on your own. That's very cool," Felix nodded with a serious face.

"Well, I haven't achieved anything special yet that I would really like, but thank you for the kind words. It's great that you're interested in your future subordinates."

"Oh, so you know? Well... we'll see about that. My dad is a co–owner of the company, but not the owner. So, it's not at all a fact that I'm going to manage over here," Felix was a little embarrassed and cleared his throat, "And I don't know what's going to happen next, I don't guess into the future for that long… Maybe I'll go abroad somewhere, like I've already done before, huh."

Then Felix began to tell about some parts of his own life - a little about his childhood, about studying at Oxford, what he did there and where he went later. He was quite modest and obviously tried not to emphasize his fabulously luxurious lifestyle, but this was the kind of thing that could not be completely kept to oneself. This manifested itself even in behavior and appearance, not to mention the stories.

But you liked, you really did like talking to him. With all that said, Felix Catton had a talent for making you feel like you were welcome, that you were no worse than him, that your lifestyle was no less boring or less important when he wanted to grant his attention. Even if you were completely different. You were listened to very attentively.

Due to this feeling, combined with his appearance and charisma in general, you were ready to never get up from this couch, if only your conversations would last forever.

But the forever ended quickly when Felix's friends yanked him onto the dance floor. Friends, and maybe not only friends. It seemed that many female colleagues and just a lot of the girls nearby were staring endlessly and smile charmingly at him in the hope of getting more of his attention. Of course, you could understand that oh so well. But all the same, you were upset that your chances were probably much less than those of all his acquaintances in his circle. Even if it was just about a sort of a close communication.

You finished your second drink and went to get another one. While you were standing in line, one of this year's hits started playing in the hall. A gentle female voice began to tell her story:

What I would do to take away

This fear of being loved, allegiance to the pain

Now I fucked up and I'm missing you

Never be like you

I would give anything to change this like-minded heart

That loves fake shiny things

Now I fucked up and I'm missing you

Never be like you

You couldn't take your eyes off Felix, who was having fun in the middle of the crowd – he was giving himself up to the music, dancing to the beat. Green, blue and sometimes purple spots of light slid across his face and his clothes. How graceful and natural he was now, as if he had been born on the dance floor.

I'm only human can't you see

I made, I made a mistake

Please just look me in my face

Tell me everything's okay

'Cause I got it

Never be like you

Felix completely broke up and went dancing at the pole jokingly. You didn't know if he was already so tipsy or just so relaxed naturally to that extent, but you couldn't look away with your mouth slightly opened. He was holding onto the pole with one hand, and with the other he was waving in the air, also swinging his hips.

How do I make you wanna stay

Hate sleeping on my own

Missing the way you taste

Now I'm fucked up and I'm missing you

Never be like you

Stop looking at me with those eyes

Like I could disappear and you wouldn't care why

Now I'm fucked up and I'm missing you

Never be like you

Your heart sank. Even though this song was about trying to bring back an existing relationship, it still somehow resonated especially with you right now. Particularly the line "Never be like you", which seemed to repeat your thought, which you carefully tried to hide from yourself tonight. You would never be like Felix.

The crowd gathered at the bar gradually pushed the gawking and not moving you closer to the dance floor, where Catton noticed you.

"Hey, Y/N, why are you just standing there so lost? Join me," the guy said cheerfully, slightly pulling you by the hand closer to him.

You started dancing together, he put on his red hat on to make you laugh a little. He was smiling widely, swaying from side to side bewitchingly in front of you.

I'm only human can't you see

I made, I made a mistake

Please just look me in my face

Tell me everything's okay

'Cause I got it

Never be like you

His white shirt was unbuttoned now, apparently, he had been hot for a while. Beads of sweat gathered on his skin and disappeared with him in the rays of the strobe light from time to time, which shone behind his back. In such lighting, it seemed as if he was moving in slow motion, and that was all a beautiful movie in which you accidentally fell into the place of the main character. But it wasn't a fantasy, it was your night right now.

I'm falling on my knees

Forgive me, I'm a fucking fool

I'm begging darling please

Absolve me of my sins, won't you

You wanted this moment to last forever. And unlike the conversation on the couch, it really felt like it was happening, like in a dream that no one dared to break. You were drowning in his magnetic gaze and smile, which he was giving only to you now. He was like Prince Charming of the 2010’s.

I'm only human can't you see

I made, I made a mistake

Please just look me in my face

Tell me everything's okay

'Cause I got it

Never be like you

Baby, baby please believe me

Come on take it easy

Please don't ever leave me... oooh

Never be like you

You mentally repeated the last lines of this song until your face itself took on a slightly pleading look. Felix seemed to catch it and touched your shoulder. His lips parted in the desire to say something, but he just stood there for a few seconds in silence, as if considering what to say and do next.

"... by the way, you look great today. I mean, your office looks are cute too, but this… You're full of surprises, aren't you?" he said after a while.

You smiled sheepishly as you continued to dance, drifting back into a musical and slightly alcoholic trance until it was interrupted by several of Felix's friends and your colleagues.

"Buddy, we've going home," the guys shook hands, and then started talking about some of their business. You moved a little to the side, and as soon as you did that, Felix slowly began to be surrounded by familiar and not so very familiar people. You went for a cocktail, and then headed to the couch, where you started talking to a colleague of yours. You kept glancing in Felix's direction at the same time, but he still didn't come up, engrossed in talking and some dancing.

After saying goodbye to your colleague, who also left, you finished your cocktail and finally decided to check your phone. Oh. You didn't know it was so late. You started looking for a taxi, but it costed a lot right now. Confused, you sat alone, staring at the screen and sucking from a straw a mix of melted ice and a cocktail from the bottom of a glass.

"Please pardon me for leaving you for a while," the hot hand laid on your back and then its owner appeared behind it, who plopped down on the sofa next to you. He looked at you with slightly regretful doe eyes, "Are you... leaving already?"

"Yes, it's very late, and there's a lot to do tomorrow… But the taxi is still expensive, I guess I'll wait a little longer."

"What are you talking about? I'll get you a car right now," Felix took out his phone and began to quickly type something on it.

"Oh, come on, don't..."

"Hey. We're celebrating your anniversary at work, our new best employee. Have you already forgotten?" the guy interrupted you, grinning, "Tell me your address, please."

You gave your address, Catton smiled slightly.

Five minutes later, a business class taxi pulled up to the club. You just went outside, and the warm air of an early autumn night pleasantly enveloped you after the hot and stuffy nightclub.

"Is this really my car?" you were amazed. Felix turned his head to the left and right, and then, leaning over, said in a serious tone, "I don't see any exactly the same beautiful girl waiting for exactly the same taxi, and do you?"

You giggled and blushed noticeably. There was a pause hanged in the night air.

"Thanks for your company, Y/N. I'm glad you're with us now. I hope we'll see each other more often from now on."

You looked him straight in the eye, and then nodded slightly and slowly.

"Good night. Please text when you... Ah..." Felix rolled his eyes at himself, "I don't have your phone number."

He looked down, shaking his head and chewing lightly on his lip. A knot tied in your stomach. Felix. Catton. Asked. You. Your. Number. It might had been more of a common courtesy, of course, but your heart started beating a lot faster anyway. Of course, you dictated your phone number to him, which made him full of ill-concealed joy. Having recorded it in his smartphone, he said, as if nothing had happened, "Yeah, great, now I have a place to text to find out how you got home," and put you in a taxi.

He gently touched your shoulders once more when he put you in the car. He pressed his lips almost weightlessly to your ear, "Good night again, Y/N. Thank you for this evening," his mumble was very warm and pleasant, you felt your hair rising on your skin.

Watching the taxi leave, from which window you looked at him back, Felix lit a cigarette. He was smiling widely and contentedly, exhaling smoke and slightly twitching his whole body on the spot from another surge of energy. He was obviously going to attend the work more often from now on.

[strwbyoons]

MAKE IT RIGHT

STARRING ... EX BF!K. NAMJOON X READER

WORD COUNT ... 6.9K

SUMMARY ... you were the right people in the wrong place. then the wrong people in the right one.

NOTES/WARNINGS ... slowburn. exes to i don’t even know. angst. eventual smut. unresolved everything. she’s a bit shit but i’m reeling a bit from my own breakup so take this self indulgent piece i wrote instead of studying.

playlist : nuts (rm). are we still friends (tyler the creator). love me not (ravyn lenae). athena (so!yoon!). jodie (sza). never be like you (flume). drain me (towa bird). i don’t smoke (mitski). come back to me (rm). white ferrari (frank ocean).

you’re not sure when the train started rocking you to sleep, but it is. slow and steady like the world outside doesn’t exist beyond the window blur. the lights of the city smear into amber streaks across the glass, and you’re tucked into the corner seat, jacket pulled tight around your body, headphones playing soft in your ears.

it’s late. too late for anyone to be here by choice. somewhere near the front, a man coughs. the doors hiss open and shut without anyone getting off. you don’t lift your head, don’t even bother looking.

you’re not all the way asleep, but not fully awake either. floating in that in-between space where your thoughts start to drift into dreams and back again before you can catch them. your cheek is pressed to the cold window, and you think, just briefly, that you should move before it leaves a mark. but you don’t. you just breathe. in, out.

your phone buzzes in your pocket. three times in a row, sharp against your thigh. you don’t move right away. just shift your weight, blink slow. the train lurches around a bend, and the lights outside flicker before you finally pull your phone out with one hand, thumb lazy against the screen.

3 unread.

one from your boss, timestamped four hours ago. “hey, just confirming you’re still set for the morning meeting?”

you’re not. you’d forgotten about it entirely.

the second is from your group chat, something about drinks next weekend, someone sending a blurry photo of themselves in a bathroom mirror with the caption “do we like this top or do we LOVE this top.”

you don’t reply to either. just swipe the notifications away.

the third is from taehyung, sent maybe thirty minutes ago:

“u forgot the oat milk again i hate u 😔”

“also we’re out of soap. and bananas.”

you exhale through your nose. not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh. you’d meant to stop by the store. really. you’d even written it down on the back of your hand in smudged blue ink, sometime between clocking out and having a smoke.

but you forgot. as you usually did.

you open the messages. stare at the blinking cursor for a moment. then type:

“next time i’m making you come with me so i can blame you when we forget everything.”

you add a heart. not because you mean it, really, but because it’s easier than anything else.

the reply comes fast:

“deal. should have known i couldn’t trust you 🤨.”

your mouth twitches and the train jolts slightly. someone gets off two stops ahead of yours, and the carriage feels a little emptier. you go back to staring out the window, back to drifting, back to that half-sleep that doesn’t quite let you go.

the music in your headphones changes. something softer now. something familiar. you let it play, filling the quiet space between your ears while the rest of the train hums with static and the low, tired breath of late-night commuters. you’re still watching the window, but you’re not really seeing anything anymore, just the echo of movement.

your phone is still in your hand. warm now, from the heat of your palm.

you glance at the date.

may 26.

you blink. then blink again.

oh.

you hadn’t meant to remember. hadn’t planned on keeping track. but there it is—quiet and obvious and sharp around the edges.

three years ago tonight you were splitting a bottle of wine in a blanket fort that kept collapsing on itself, laughing so hard your cheeks hurt. now you’re on a train.

your fingers hover over your screen for too long. open messages. scroll down past taehyung, past your boss, past group chats and muted numbers you never saved.

until his name finds you.

kim namjoon

last message: may 26, 2024

happy anniversary, even if we’re not us anymore.

you tap into the chat. the typing bubble stares back at you like it’s daring you to do something stupid. you stare at it right back. then type:

hi.

delete.

wasn’t gonna say anything.

delete.

hope you’re good.

delete. delete.

the train slows. your stop is next. you don’t give yourself time to think about it—just type:

happy anniversary

no heart, no punctuation, just that. you hit send. the screen goes dark.

you tuck the phone back into your pocket like it doesn’t burn a hole straight through you. the doors open, the night air spills in, and you step out.

you walk with your hands buried in your pockets, head low, breath ghosting out in front of you. your boots scuff against the sidewalk, the streetlights flickering like they’re tired too. you’re not in a rush. not really going slow, either. just… moving.

you make it halfway down the block before your phone buzzes. one short vibration. then another.

you stop, standing still under the halo of a streetlight, concrete damp beneath your shoes, and pull your phone out.

kim namjoon

you remembered.

two words. that’s it. you stare at them for a moment too long, not sure what you expected. even less sure if this is better or worse than silence.

another buzz.

i didn’t think you would this year.

you swallow. your thumb hovers again, brain racing to catch up with your heart, and you type.

i almost didn’t.

send. then:

me too.

the wind kicks up, but you don’t move. he’s typing again. then it stops. starts again. stops.

you wait. nothing comes.

so you start walking again. slower this time. like maybe if you drag your feet long enough, he’ll finish the thought.

eventually, your phone buzzes again. you don’t even flinch this time. just glance down, breath catching when you see his name again.

kim namjoon

you should come over.

your heart stutters. one beat, two. then:

scratch that. sorry.

you stop walking. again. right there in the middle of the sidewalk like an idiot.

your fingers move before your brain has a chance to veto.

i can come.

you stare at the words, thumb hovering over send.

then, sent. regret blooms instantly, but you don’t unsend it. you just watch the screen.

he replies fast. too fast.

you probably shouldn’t.

the boys are coming over in a bit. we’re tossing around some demos.

you stare at that one a little longer. then type:

oh. you still make music.

three dots.

yeah.

you don’t know why that hits the way it does. you type, then delete, then type again. you’re about to say something dumb, something you won’t be able to walk back, when your screen lights up.

incoming call: kim namjoon

you just… stare at it. letting it ring once. twice. three times. then you answer.

“…hey.”

there’s a pause. not silence—just him, breathing on the other end, like he’s waiting to see if you’ll hang up on him. you don’t.

“hey,” you say again, quieter this time.

“hi.” his voice is low, rough. like he hasn’t spoken out loud in hours. you tuck the phone closer to your cheek. shift your weight. a car passes by slow, headlights washing the sidewalk in pale gold.

“sorry,” he says.

you don’t ask what for. there’s too much, too many possible answers.

“you still live in the same place?” you ask instead.

another pause.

“yeah,” he says. “same couch. same broken lamp. same weird fridge magnet from when we went to busan.”

your lips twitch, just a little. “you kept that?”

“couldn’t get it off the fridge,” he says, dry. then quieter, “didn’t really try.”

you’re not sure what to say to that. the wind rustles through the leaves above you. you keep walking, just to have something to do.

“you’re close?” he asks.

“couple blocks.”

another pause.

“you really gonna come?”

you chew the inside of your cheek. glance up at the familiar corner ahead. “i’m already halfway there.”

he breathes out. it’s not quite a laugh.

“the boys aren’t coming tonight,” he says.

you blink. “you lied?”

“i panicked,” he says, and now he does laugh. soft and a little breathless. “figured if i gave you an excuse, you’d back out before i could.”

you stop at the edge of the crosswalk. the street’s empty. the light’s red.

“i was going to.”

“i know.”

you both go quiet. like maybe it’s enough to just be on the line, like maybe that’s all this is. then, “joon?”

“yeah?”

“leave the door unlocked.”

“okay.”

the call ends. you cross the street.

the building hasn’t changed. still the same chipped paint by the mailbox, still the same burnt-out porch light that flickers like it’s clinging to life. your feet know the way up the stairs. your hand still remembers how cold the railing is at night. everything feels like a ghost you forgot you knew, familiar in the way old bruises are.

you don’t knock, just test the doorknob. it gives.

he really left it unlocked.

the apartment smells the same. sandalwood and laundry detergent and something vaguely burnt. you toe your shoes off and step inside like nothing ever happened, and then he’s there. in the kitchen, back turned, hoodie hanging loose off his shoulders. he turns when he hears the door shut, and you stop.

he’s got a buzzcut.

your heart trips over itself. it’s stupid, shouldn’t mean anything. but it does. he used to run his fingers through his hair when he was nervous. now there’s nothing to hold onto.

you blink once, twice. he’s watching you watch him.

“when did you—?”

“a few weeks ago,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “felt like something needed to go.”

you nod.

“looks good.”

he huffs a quiet breath. doesn’t quite smile.

“you want tea?” he asks, already turning back toward the stove.

“sure,” you say, even though you don’t.

you lean against the wall, arms crossed, eyes tracing the curve of his shoulders. he looks different. sharper, maybe. or softer. you can’t tell.

he moves like he’s trying not to move too much. like being near you might scare you off.

“you didn’t have to come,” he says eventually, pouring water into the kettle.

“i know.”

“but i’m glad you did.”

you don’t say anything to that.

the kettle clicks on. the room hums with it. you close your eyes, just for a second. just to breathe.

his voice cuts through the quiet again.

“you want to sit?”

you open your eyes.

“yeah,” you say. “okay.”

you follow him to the couch. the one that still dips a little on the left side. the one you used to fall asleep on together when the bed felt too far away.

he sits first. then you.

not close, but not far. just enough. the silence stretches, but it’s not uncomfortable. not yet. just… full. like the space between you is holding its breath.

you stare at the chipped edge of the coffee table. the mug ring stain that’s still there. he taps his fingers against his knees, slow. rhythmic. the same way he used to when he was trying to think of the right words.

you glance sideways. he’s already looking at you.

he doesn’t look away.

“you been okay?” he asks.

you shrug. “mostly.”

he nods because he gets it. and mostly is better than no.

you tug your sleeves over your hands.

“you?”

“some days,” he says. “other days i just fake it better.”

you don’t say same. you don’t have to. the kettle clicks off in the kitchen. neither of you move.

“i didn’t expect to hear from you today,” he says, voice quiet.

“i didn’t expect to send anything,” you admit.

“but you did.”

you nod.

he leans forward, elbows on his knees, head hanging between his shoulders for a second like the words are heavy. “been thinking about what i’d say if you did,” he murmurs. “i mean… if i worked up the courage to actually respond instead of just reading it. like i always do.”

“and?”

he glances up. his eyes are dark and tired and a little bit afraid.

“i didn’t think it would still matter this much.”

your chest aches. not sharp. not sudden. just a slow blooming pressure.

“i know,” you say. “me neither.”

he sits back again. breathes deep. you can see his jaw tighten, then soften.

“you look good,” he says.

“so do you,” you say.

he smiles, just barely, and you look away.

“i don’t know what i’m doing here,” you say.

“yeah,” he says. “me either.”

but neither of you move. you sit like that for a while. still, silent. the tea forgotten. the air between you warm and trembling. and then, quietly, “can i—?” he starts, voice catching.

you turn to him. “what?”

his knee brushes yours. just barely.

“can i hold your hand?”

you don’t think. you just nod.

and when his fingers find yours, they fit like they had a million times before. not tight, just.. there. warm and familiar, thumb brushing back and forth like muscle memory. the couch creaks a little when you shift closer, slowly, carefully, until your shoulder leans into his. until your head finds the space between his neck and collarbone like it always used to.

he doesn’t say anything. doesn’t even move at first.

then his chin comes to rest lightly on the top of your head, and for a minute, everything’s still.

the weight of his hand in yours. the quiet of the apartment. the soft rhythm of his breathing. like nothing broke. like you hadn’t lost each other in the worst, slowest way. like maybe all this time was just a pause, not an ending.

your eyes fall shut and you let yourself pretend. until he shifts, just enough.

his hand slides up, fingers brushing gently against your jaw, your cheek. he pulls back just enough to look at you.

you blink up at him, and he kisses you. or tries to.

your head jerks back instinctively, like your body answered before your brain could.

“oh,” you say. “no… no.”

his hand drops. his face shutters.

“shit,” he says, sitting up fast, already pulling away. “sorry, i—”

“joon—”

“no, it’s fine,” he says quickly, too quickly, like if he says it fast enough it won’t hurt. “i misread that. obviously.”

he stands. paces two steps toward the kitchen before stopping short, hand on the back of his neck. you sit there, still curled into the dip of the couch he just left behind.

you stay frozen for a second, maybe two. the imprint of his warmth is still pressed against your side, your fingers still curled where his hand had been, like your body hasn't caught up yet. like he’s still there.

he’s not.

he’s halfway to the kitchen, back turned, jaw tense, hand dragging down the back of his neck like he's trying to scrape off the moment.

you force yourself to move. stand slowly, smooth your hands down your jacket even though there's nothing to fix.

“i should go,” you say, and it sounds small.

he doesn’t turn around. just nods once.

“yeah,” he says, voice quieter now. “yeah, okay.”

you step toward the door. slip your shoes back on. your heart's doing that thing where it pounds against your ribs but you can’t feel it, not really. just the echo of it. just the ache.

your fingers curl around the doorknob, and you glance back. he’s still standing there, still not looking at you, shoulders drawn tight like he’s trying to hold himself in.

you open the door.

pause.

“…happy anniversary,” you say.

you don’t wait for him to respond. just step into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind you with the softest click.

and it feels exactly the same as the night you left.

not a slam. not a fight. just that quiet sound of something slipping shut. something you don’t know if you’ll ever open again.

it rains the next morning.

not hard, just a steady drizzle that turns the sidewalks slick and the sky a dull grey. you don’t have an umbrella. of course you don’t.

your coat is damp by the time you make it to the corner café, shoes squeaking just a little as you step inside. the barista gives you a knowing look—half sympathy, half amusement—as you order the same thing you always do.

you sit by the window. same spot as always.

it’s early. too early for anyone else to be here. you sip your drink and try not to think about last night.

you fail.

it keeps replaying, over and over. his fingers in yours, the weight of his chin on your head, the way his voice cracked when he apologized.

and your voice, too.

“no… no.”

you hadn’t meant to say it like that.

you stare out the window. watch the drops race down the glass. count them. at some point, your phone buzzes.

you don’t reach for it.

you just sit there, listening to the rain.

the rain starts before the sun finishes rising. soft, steady, unwelcome. it drums against the windows, against the roof, against the mess of dishes he didn’t clean last night.

your mug is still on the coffee table. untouched. cold. he should’ve poured it out.

he doesn’t.

instead, he sits on the edge of the couch with his elbows on his knees, staring at his phone. screen dim. no new notifications.

the message is still there.

i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have done that.

sent twenty-two minutes ago. still unread.

he considers sending another. maybe something lighter, something stupid to smooth the edges. a joke, a callback, anything.

his thumbs hover over the keyboard.

did you make it home okay?

no. too safe. too easy.

i wasn’t trying to push anything. it just felt familiar for a second.

worse.

he deletes both before they can leave his head, let alone the screen. sets the phone face down on the table.

he tries to rationalize it. tells himself you’re busy. that your phone’s on do not disturb. that sleep caught you hard and fast and that you’ll read it when you’re ready.

but the truth crawls into his chest and sits heavy: he doesn’t know where you went after you walked out. doesn’t know if the “happy anniversary” you left behind was a door creaking open or another click of it shutting.

he rests his head in his hands. his hair’s still too short to tug at. there’s nothing to hold onto anymore. he used to hold you.

he breathes in through his nose, exhales slowly. watches the rain blur the window, watches the empty space beside him on the couch.

it’s too early to regret sending the message. too late to pretend he didn’t mean it.

so he stays there, waiting for the buzz that might not come.

the rain never really stops. it just softens. turns from a steady rhythm into a hush that coats the city in grey. he forgets about the phone for a while. tells himself he’s over it, that the silence says enough.

he cleans. or tries to. halfhearted dishes. laundry started but not moved to the dryer. a notebook open on the counter with nothing written down. the kind of restless busy that looks like movement but isn’t.

hours pass like that. the mug’s still on the table. the blanket’s still half-folded on the back of the couch. your name still presses against the underside of his thoughts.

and then a buzz. sharp and sudden against the kitchen counter.

he doesn’t move at first. just stares at it. two long seconds. three. then he wipes his hands on a towel and walks over slowly.

you:

i know you didn’t mean anything by it. i just wasn’t ready.

he reads it once. again. a third time, slower.

there’s no anger in it, no blame. just truth.

he sinks into the nearest chair, thumb hovering over the screen. what’s the right response to that?

he types.

okay.

types again:

thank you for saying that.

sends it.

then nothing.

he puts the phone down, screen still lit, and exhales through his nose. the silence that follows isn’t empty. it’s not waiting. it just… is. he leans back in the chair, closes his eyes, and lets it be.

the rain starts again that night. harder this time. steadier. you hear it tapping against the window, a restless pattern that sounds more impatient than soothing. you’re cross-legged on the floor, bedroom lights dimmed, blanket around your shoulders even though it’s not that cold.

the shoebox sits in front of you. torn at the edges, corner splitting, lid half-hanging off from years of being shoved to the back of the closet.

you hadn’t planned to open it, but your hands reached for it anyway.

the first photo is blurry. someone’s finger in the frame. you, mid-laugh, turned just out of focus.

the second is sharper. joon in profile, head tilted, sun catching the side of his face. one of those rare moments where he let you hold the camera. he didn’t smile, not fully, but his eyes had.

you keep flipping through them.

you in his hoodie, hood up, making a dumb face.

him asleep on your lap, mouth open, a smear of pen on his cheek from where you’d doodled while studying.

both of you on the fire escape, legs dangling, holding iced coffees like you had nowhere else to be. probably taken by taehyung.

they come faster after that. a pile in your lap. fragments of something you used to know by heart.

there’s one near the bottom you forgot about. a double exposure, accidental. your hand over his chest, his hand over yours, both of you barely visible through the light leak.

it’s bent in the corner. you smooth it out.

you don’t cry. you don’t smile. you just… sit with it.

the box is still full.

you take one photo out and set it aside, then close the lid.

not all the way. just enough.

you leave the photo face-down on your nightstand. not to forget it, just to give it a place. somewhere between holding on and letting go.

the rain presses harder against the window now, almost angry. you draw the blanket tighter around your shoulders and lean back against the bedframe, legs still curled beneath you.

your phone’s somewhere on the comforter, buried under the mess you made pulling the box out. you reach for it without looking, fingers dragging until they find it. the screen lights up. no new messages.

but you open the thread anyway.

kim namjoon

okay.

thank you for saying that.

you reread it. not for meaning—there’s no hidden message. no puzzle to solve. just the quiet of someone who heard you.

you consider replying. but you don’t.

instead, you lock your phone and set it next to the polaroid. two quiet things you don’t quite know what to do with. outside, thunder rolls far off in the distance. slow. unbothered.

you stretch your legs out and pull the blanket higher.

you sleep with the lamp on.

the rain keeps falling.

it’s supposed to be a quick snack run.

just chips, maybe some tteokbokki if the corner spot’s still open. seokjin said he wanted something salty, and hobi kept throwing pistachio shells at the trash and missing.

the air smells like wet pavement and fried oil, and namjoon’s halfway through mentally ranking convenience store ramen when he hears a familiar voice behind him. not directed at him. not even that close. just part of the ambient city noise.

but he knows it.

he turns before his body even gives him permission, and there you are.

hood up, earbuds dangling, hands stuffed into your jacket pockets. standing at the entrance of the same store, eyes on the shelves.

you don’t see him at first.

his heart stutters. stupid, sudden.

he doesn’t know whether to step forward or disappear into the instant noodles. but you glance up, and now you’re looking at each other. not the kind of looking that can be mistaken for coincidence. not anymore.

your brows lift, barely. a breath, not quite a smile.

“hey,” you say, quiet.

“hey,” he echoes, mouth dry.

you shift your weight. your hands don’t leave your pockets.

“snack run?”

he nods. “yeah. boys are over. demo night.”

you hum. “classic.”

there’s a beat. then another. you gesture vaguely at the aisle. “i was just grabbing something for taehyung.”

“he still live with you?”

“unfortunately.”

he huffs a breath through his nose. you don’t laugh, but your mouth twitches. and god, it shouldn’t feel like this, shouldn’t feel this easy.

he grabs a bag of chips without looking. it’s the wrong kind. he doesn’t care.

“you look good,” he says, before he can talk himself out of it.

you don’t answer right away. just look at him, eyes softer now.

“you too.”

the quiet between you isn’t heavy. not anymore.

you nod once, like a closing sentence. “see you around, joon.”

“yeah,” he says, watching you walk past, earbuds going back in, steps unhurried.

you don’t look back.

he stands there for a second longer, hand tightening around the bag, then heads to the counter, chips and all. the night feels different now. louder, sharper. more awake.

he doesn’t know if he’ll see you again soon. doesn’t know if this was another pause or something new, but for the first time in days, he lets himself hope.

the two of you keep bumping into each other after that.

once at the laundromat. you’re pulling half-damp sweaters from a broken dryer when he walks in with a basket balanced on his hip and a confused look on his face like he still can’t remember how much detergent is too much.

you hand him the right cap. he thanks you with a sheepish grin. neither of you mention the convenience store.

another time at the bookstore, tucked in the back corner where the philosophy and poetry shelves blur together. he’s crouched down, reading the back of something with a muted blue spine. you almost don’t notice him until he clears his throat—your name, soft, a question more than a greeting.

you nod at his book.

“you gonna read it or just carry it around like a personality trait?”

he laughs, real and low. “can’t it be both?”

you don’t stay long. just enough to see him smile, just enough to remember what that used to do to you.

then again at the café near your apartment. the one you always swore had the best chai, even though he never agreed. he’s already in line when you walk in, beanie pulled low over his ears, one headphone in. he turns like he sensed you before he saw you.

you wave. he pays for your drink before you can reach for your wallet.

“i owed you,” he says.

“for what?”

“don’t know. felt like i did, though.”

you sit by the window again. two drinks between you. not quite facing each other. not quite avoiding it, either.

you don’t talk about what happened. don’t talk about what didn’t.

but you start saving the photo you set aside. not just in your drawer, but in your phone. you carry it now, digitally. you start keeping his brand of milk in the fridge again. taehyung teases you for it. you let him.

and when your phone buzzes late one night;

u still awake?

you don’t wait five hours to answer.

yeah.

you don’t ask why he texts.

you just go.

throw a hoodie over whatever you’re already wearing, slip on the first shoes you see. don’t bother fixing your hair. don’t tell taehyung, even though he lifts an eyebrow when you head for the door at almost midnight.

he doesn’t ask. he never does.

the walk is quiet. cool enough to see your breath if you exhale deep. the rain from earlier has left everything slick, the pavement reflecting streetlights like puddled gold.

your hands stay in your pockets the whole time.

when you reach his building, the door’s already unlocked. you let yourself in. second time now. doesn’t feel strange anymore. doesn’t feel anything. just… familiar.

his apartment smells the same. sage and dust and faint coffee. there’s music playing from the speakers—instrumental, low and looping. something without words.

he’s in the kitchen when you step in, hoodie sleeves pushed up, barefoot, hair still damp from a shower.

he turns when he hears the door close. doesn’t say anything. just looks at you, eyes flicking over your face like he’s checking for bruises you might’ve picked up along the way.

you toe off your shoes.

“wasn’t sure you’d come,” he says eventually.

“you asked,” you shrug, like that explains everything. maybe it does.

he nods once. shifts his weight. then: “tea?”

“sure.”

you lean against the counter while he fills the kettle. your shoulder brushes the fridge. the magnet from busan is still there.

“taehyung still alive?” he asks.

“physically.”

he snorts. “he still steal your hoodies?”

“he swears they’re communal now.”

joon shakes his head. “you should sue.”

“on what grounds?”

“emotional distress.”

you smile, soft and quick. he sees it. you see him see it.

the kettle starts to hum. neither of you move.

“why’d you ask me to come?” you ask, voice barely louder than the sound of the water heating.

he exhales. leans back against the opposite counter. crosses his arms.

“i don’t know,” he says. “i just… wanted you here.”

you nod once. slow and deliberate. then you say, “okay.”

the kettle clicks off. he turns to pour the water, but not before you catch it. the way his shoulders drop, the way his jaw unclenches.

you’re here. and maybe that’s all he needed tonight.

you take the mug from his hands when he passes it to you. your fingers brush. neither of you flinch.

in the living room, the couch is exactly where it was. the blanket’s folded this time. a candle burns low on the windowsill.

you sit. he follows.

not close, but not far. just enough.

you hold the mug in your hands, feel the warmth against your palms, let the steam kiss your face. the music hums softly in the background—same loop, still no words.

he doesn’t speak for a while. just sits beside you, hands in his lap, eyes fixed on a spot somewhere near the coffee table but not really looking at it. then, slowly, “last time you were here…”

your breath catches, but you don’t interrupt. don’t move.

“when i tried to kiss you.”

he says it plainly. not a question. not an apology, either. just fact.

you wait.

“i’ve been thinking about that,” he continues, voice low. tired in a way that isn’t just physical. “not just that moment. the whole… us. all of it.”

your grip on the mug tightens. still, you say nothing.

“i should’ve done things different,” he says. “i would’ve, if i’d known how easy it was to lose you.”

the words hang there, heavy. sharp around the edges.

he runs a hand through his hair, forgetting for a moment there’s nothing left to run through. his fingers skim over his scalp.

“i wouldn’t have ditched you for studio sessions,” he says. “would’ve called when i said i would. would’ve asked you how you were doing and actually listened instead of… nodding while i wrote lyrics in my head.”

you keep your eyes on your mug. steam’s thinner now. fading.

“i thought i was doing all the right things,” he says, softer. “but all i was doing was… making you feel small.”

you blink once, twice. nod, just barely.

he doesn’t expect more, doesn’t press. just leans forward, elbows on his knees, shoulders rounded.

“i would’ve done everything different,” he says. “if I could.”

you don’t tell him it wouldn’t have saved you. that there were fractures long before the big breaks. that love alone was never the issue.

you don’t say anything.

just sit there, in the quiet. shoulder to shoulder with a boy who used to know your dreams before you did. the tea’s gone cold.

neither of you seem to mind.

the silence between you isn’t empty.

it’s thick with everything unsaid. all the words you both carried and dropped along the way. the rain has stopped, but the window still shimmers with it.

you don’t know why you say it. maybe because he’s quiet and still and waiting without asking. maybe because you’ve thought about it a hundred times since that night—how fast you pulled away. how his hand dropped like it was never meant to hold you in the first place.

maybe because you need to know.

“if you kissed me now,” you murmur, eyes still on the floor, “i’d let you.”

his head lifts. not sharply, just slow. careful.

“not because i want to start over,” you add. “not because it fixes anything.”

you finally look at him. your voice is steady.

“just… to remember.”

he doesn’t move at first, but you see it in his face—the shift. something tender, something hollow. the kind of ache that doesn't leave bruises but lingers under the skin.

“just a reminder,” you repeat, softer now.

he reaches for you slow, like he’s afraid the air might crack. his hand finds your cheek. his palm is warm. his thumb brushes the skin under your eye, once.

he leans in, and this time, you don’t flinch.

his lips find yours. soft, tentative. no urgency. no weight. just a memory written in skin. something familiar. something gentle. when he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours. you breathe the same air, don’t move.

for one suspended second, you remember exactly what it felt like to be his and to let him be yours.

your eyes flick open just enough to meet his. something shifts in the space between you. something raw. his thumb grazes your jaw, then your lower lip, the touch barely there, but your whole body responds to it—too fast, too much.

his name catches in your throat. you don’t say it.

you just kiss him. harder this time.

he meets you halfway. no hesitation now, no second-guessing. his mouth crashes into yours with something closer to need than memory, hands already in your hair, pulling you closer, anchoring you to him like he can’t bear even an inch of space.

you drop the mug. it spills against the carpet, forgotten. your hands clutch at his hoodie, dragging him toward you, fingers curling in the fabric like it might hold you together if you grip tight enough.

he groans into your mouth—quiet, guttural. one hand slides down, anchors at your waist, the other cradling the back of your neck like he's afraid you’ll vanish again.

you shift, move to straddle his lap without thinking, knees pressing into the couch cushions, breath caught in your throat as his mouth moves hungrily against yours.

it’s messy. not careful.

it’s desperation. the kind that comes from remembering what it was to be known by someone completely and realizing how much it wrecked you to lose it. his hands roam. your body burns.

his hands are under your hoodie now, warm palms spanning your waist like they belong there. they used to. you let him touch, let him relearn the shape of you, the way your breath catches when he drags his fingers just above your hip.

you kiss him harder, deeper. like you’re trying to erase time, to claw your way back to the last version of yourselves that didn’t feel this broken.

he lets you.

his grip tightens when your hips roll down against him—slow, instinctive. your name slips from his mouth like a prayer, rough around the edges. he presses his forehead to yours, breathing hard.

“this doesn’t change anything,” you whisper, though your voice shakes.

“i know,” he says, lips brushing yours again. “but i still want it.”

you nod. so do you.

you kiss him again. it’s hotter now, breathless, your teeth catching on his lower lip before he groans and kisses you back with everything he never got to say.

you peel the hoodie off in one slow pull. his hands are everywhere now—your back, your thighs, your jaw. you reach under his shirt, fingers tracing the line of his spine, the dip at his waist, the scar near his ribs he got falling off his bike when he was sixteen.

he used to hate it, and you always touched it anyway.

you run your thumb along it for the sake of it.

he exhales sharp and hoarse against your mouth, and when he pulls back to look at you, you feel it again. not safety, not peace. just that unbearable ache.

the kind that says i still know you.

the kind that says please, even if it’s just for tonight.

he breathes your name again, softer this time, like he’s asking permission.

you answer by leaning in, kissing him slow and steady, and guiding his hand under the hem of your shirt. your skin warms under his touch, and he moves like he’s relearning a language he used to be fluent in, fingertips grazing up your sides, tracing familiar lines.

his mouth never leaves yours for long. even when he pauses to pull your shirt over your head, even when he murmurs something, barely audible, against your collarbone. his lips drag down your neck, teeth scraping gently, tongue soothing the sting.

“missed this,” he whispers, like it slipped out before he could stop it.

your fingers are already tugging at the hem of his shirt, revealing the stretch of his stomach and the planes of his chest. you press your palms there, feeling him breathe, feeling how hard he’s trying to keep it together.

when you shift your hips, grinding down against the hard line of him through his sweats, he groans—low and rough—and grabs your hips, holding you there.

“slow,” he says, but his voice is wrecked. “wanna feel everything.”

you nod, heart hammering.

you lift yourself just enough to let him tug his pants down, and you shed what’s left of your own. there’s nothing hurried now. just heat and breath and the quiet desperation of two people who know each other too well.

he sinks into you slowly, carefully, like he’s trying not to break something. your breath stutters at the stretch, nails digging into his shoulders, his name catching on your tongue.

“okay?” he murmurs, nose brushing yours.

“yeah,” you whisper. “keep going.”

he does.

the pace is slow at first—deep, steady thrusts that make your head spin. you cling to him, arms around his neck, forehead pressed to his. the closeness is unbearable. perfect.

he keeps whispering your name like a mantra, like a tether. one hand grips your waist, the other slides down between you, fingers circling your clit with a practiced ease. you gasp, body tightening, and his pace falters for a moment, like he’s trying to hold himself back and let you finish first.

but the tension’s already building in both of you.

“cum with me,” you whisper, voice cracked open. “please.”

he nods, mouth crushed against your shoulder, thrusts growing erratic as you both chase the edge together.

and then it hits. slow at first, then all at once.

your body clenches around him and his rhythm breaks, a choked sound leaving his throat as he follows, burying himself deep, holding you so close you can’t tell where he ends.

you stay like that. tangled. trembling.

his lips brush your shoulder, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. not kissing—just there. soft and endless.

you don’t speak. there’s nothing left to say right now. you just breathe.

and you don’t let go. not yet.

you don’t go back to joon’s house after that night.

not because you regret it. not because it hurt. but because it meant something. too much, maybe.

when you see him in public, you smile. polite, kind. the way people do when they’ve shared something private that no one else knows about. a glance that lingers a little too long, a wave that almost turns into something else before you catch yourself.

sometimes he says hey with that crooked half-grin. sometimes you both reach for the same brand of ramen in the corner store and laugh like the air between you doesn’t ache.

you don’t talk about that night. you don’t talk about what it was or wasn’t.

but the messages come more often now. casual, quiet. never too much. never late at night.

yoongi says this one sounds too brassy. thoughts?

[photo attachment] hobi fell asleep like this lol

namchan playlist update: we’re back on our weird jazz shit.

you send back voice notes. sometimes your laugh. sometimes the sound of you humming along in the background of your kitchen. once, you send a video of taehyung dramatically lip-syncing a song from the demo joon sent you the week before.

he replies with crying emojis and a “god i miss you both in the same room it’s dangerous.”

you don’t say it, but you miss it too. miss him.

but you don’t go back. not yet.

there’s a rhythm now. a new one. unfamiliar but bearable.

taglist : @rpwprpwprpwprw @haru-jiminn @glossdebut @mimi1097 @angellekookie @ggukivrse @annyeongbitch7 @hemmosfear @auroradamned @jimineepaboya

[saltcxrcle]

all maroon ∗∗ s. winchester

summary: your day was long but at least sam's here to make you feel better

pairings: established sam winchester x reader, stanford sam winchester x gn afab! reader

word count: 2.7K

warnings: none really, no use of 'y/n', mentions of periods, no mention of gender besides reader having a menstrual cycle, fluff, kissing, making out, kinda edited

a/n: this was purely a self indulgent fic from the shit show of a day i had yesterday and i wish it had turned out to be like this instead of what actually happened, title is a lyric from flume by bon iver

anyways enjoy! please like, comment, and reblog!! your feedback fuels me loll!

𝘴𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

From the moment you woke up, you knew today was going to be a rough one. First, you had gotten your period as soon as you woke up to your alarm, and it leaked through your underwear, and your sheets were stained with your blood. You cursed under your breath and swiftly tore off your sheets and threw them in the washer before you quickly grabbed new underwear and the outfit that you had picked out the night before and took a quick shower. 

After you were showered and changed, you maybe had fifteen to twenty minutes to make your breakfast and pack lunch and dinner before you had to leave your apartment to find adequate parking and before your class started.

You lived about fifteen minutes away from Stanford since you couldn’t afford housing after your first year there and found an affordable apartment for yourself. Your mom and dad helped pay half of your rent while you worked on campus to help pay for the rest of the rent. You were at Stanford on a scholarship that covered tuition. You had financial aid to cover the rest, like books, school supplies, and groceries, and you put the rest of that money into your savings account. 

You left your apartment on time, but as soon as you hit the freeway, there was traffic that seemed to stretch on for miles. Apparently, there was construction being done in one of the lanes, and you spent thirty minutes in traffic before you made it to the parking lot with only minutes to spare before your class started. You lucked out on finding a parking spot quickly, and you all but sprinted to your class. It didn’t help that today was your busiest day, having two classes before your shift at the library and then one last class that went until nine o’clock at night. 

You were grateful that you had some gaps in between your classes, so you had time to eat lunch and do homework. But today, it seemed like God hated you because you didn’t have enough time to eat lunch since you had to type up a paper that you forgot you had assigned for the class you had tomorrow. You barely finished the paper before you were off to your next class. Once your second class was over, you made your way to the library for your shift, and you scarfed down your lunch, which was just a plain sandwich you had made that morning before you left. 

It felt like you couldn’t catch a break. It didn’t help that today was also the day that your boyfriend was busy with class, so you wouldn’t be able to see him until you were done with your shift. Even then, you would see him for a few minutes before you were whisked away to warm up your dinner and him to his dorm, where he’d study for the rest of the night. 

You were lucky that your shift today was slow, and you didn’t have much to do besides sit at the front desk and help students who needed assistance. Time flew by faster than you could even imagine as you were working on some homework from another class when someone rang the little bell at the front desk, making you look up from your laptop. 

Sam was looking as cute as ever, grinning at you as he gripped one of the straps on his shoulder. “Hey, I was wondering if you could help me look for something?” He said, a playful glint in his eyes. 

Sam’s smile was infectious, and you couldn’t help but smile back at him. “Yeah, what were you looking for exactly?” You smirked, deciding to play along with him. 

Sam leaned down and rested his elbows on the tall check-in desk, getting to your eye level on the tall chair you were sitting on. “Yeah, I need help finding a way out of your eyes.” A cheeky smile grew on his face as he spoke. 

You pursed your lips before snorting loudly. You slapped your hand over your mouth as you laughed, trying to keep down the noise in the quiet atmosphere of the library. You saw a slight red hue begin to grow on Sam’s cheeks as he snickered alongside you. 

“You’re such a dork, you know that?” You told him after you calmed down.

“Yeah, well I’m your dork.” 

You nodded. “That you are.” You leaned over the desk and pinched his cheek like a grandmother would her grandchild. “A really adorable one at that.” You cooed out before laughing lightly when he swatted your hand away and rubbed his reddened cheek. 

“I told you to stop doing that,” Sam grumbled out, acting like he was irked by it, but you could see a hint of a smile on his lips. 

“Awe, but it’s so cute seeing you all flustered.” You pouted before planting a quick kiss on the cheek you just pinched. “All better now?” 

Sam ducked his head down as a bashful smile grew on his face. You grinned at his shyness; you found it so endearing even after the two of you had been dating for a couple of months. 

“So, you’re here early.” You say as you sit back in your chair. 

Sam looked back at you and swiped the hairs that were falling into his eyes. “Yeah, I just wanted to talk to you before your shift ended.” 

“Well,” You glanced down at the watch Sam was wearing. “My shift is officially over now. But what’s up?” You asked him as you started to clean up the front desk of some of the homework you were working on. 

“I just wanted to know if you’re going back to your parents for the weekend?” 

You shook your head as you zipped up your backpack. “No, I’m swamped with homework and studying, so I told them that I’d visit next weekend.” Even if you were craving a home-cooked meal from your mom and wanted to see your parents, you needed to finish the work that your professors had assigned. 

You slung your backpack over your shoulders and rounded the desk to stand in front of Sam. You took a glance at the clock hanging on the nearby wall and winced. 

“I hate to cut this short, but I have to go and warm up my food if I want to eat before my last class.” You internally groaned at the thought of being stuck in a two-and-a-half-hour lecture. 

Sam opened his mouth to say something, but you had pushed up on your toes and pecked Sam’s lips before leaving him, clocking out, and leaving the library. What you didn’t see as you left was Sam shaking his head and smiling to himself as he went further into the library to study for a bit before heading back to his dorm. 

After speeding into the dining hall to warm up the leftovers you had from last night in the microwaves, you sat down at a table to eat but also worked on your homework. You were periodically looking at the time on your laptop to make sure you had enough time to eat and make it to your class fifteen minutes before it started. Once you had finished your dinner and most of the homework you were working on, you made your way to your next class. 

It was a short walk from the dining hall to the classroom where the lecture was being held. You went into the room, and it was empty. You felt your eyebrows furrow. There are usually some people in here already. You thought to yourself as you decided to leave the classroom.

A flash of white caught your eye as the door to the classroom closed, and there was a notice that today’s class was canceled. You let out a sigh of relief, but you could feel irritation brewing in your chest as you closed your eyes and took a deep breath.  

The urge to let out a frustrated scream was at an all-time high, but you managed to turn away from the sheet of paper that seemed to mock you and left the building. The cool September air hit your heated cheeks as you walked through the quad, trying to tamp down the irrational emotions that were bubbling up to the surface. 

As much as you liked that class was canceled, you were mentally prepared to be in the room for a good two hours. Getting that heads up fifteen minutes before class was supposed to start was just the cherry on top of your already long day. You had a feeling that if you checked your student email, your professor would have emailed the entire class to say that it was canceled. If you were going to be honest, you just wanted to be put out of your misery. 

You were so out of it as you walked through the quad, and your feet led you to Sam’s dorm building. You were able to slip in with no problem, as someone had held the door open for you as they left and made your way to Sam’s room.

You tiredly knocked on the door. It swung open, and you didn’t even bother greeting your boyfriend as you brushed past him and into his room. You slung off your backpack, landing haphazardly on the ground with a quiet thud. You kicked your shoes off before launching your tired body face-first onto his bed. 

You felt the bed dip as Sam sat on it and placed his hand on your head. “Uhh, not that I’m not happy that you’re here, but I thought you had class right now.” 

You groaned loudly into his pillow, the noise muffled by the fabric, and you sat up on his bed, his hand falling from your head as you moved. You adjusted yourself so you were sitting in the middle of his bed with your knees pulled to your chest as you looked at your slightly confused boyfriend. 

“It got canceled.” You grumbled out as you picked at the hole in your jeans. 

“Hence why you’re here?” Sam moved his hand from the bed and wrapped it around your ankle, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the exposed skin. 

You nodded, and Sam hummed in response. “Long day?” He asked as he looked you over, seeing how exhausted you were. 

“You don’t even know half of it.” You huffed out before falling sideways on his bed, your head hitting his pillow. 

Sam frowned. He didn’t like seeing you upset. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“I think if I talk about my day, I’ll need you to shoot me point blank.” 

Sam’s eyebrows raised high as he looked at you surprised. “Uh, I’m not going to do that. But talking about it might make you feel better.” 

You shook your head as you reached for his wrist and tugged him towards you. “I don’t wanna. Just want to cuddle right now.” 

Sam huffed a laugh through his nose as a small smile grew on his face. He let you tug him closer and climbed on the bed. Sam settled on the bed next to you as you kicked your feet out from their curled position and shuffled closer to him. Your legs intertwined with his as he wrapped an arm around your waist. 

“Lift your head for me.” Sam murmured to you. 

You did as he said, and he wrapped his other around your head, cushioning it as you laid on his bicep and his hand rested on your back. Once you both were settled, you let out a contented sigh as you stared at Sam’s hazel eyes. Your face was so close to his that you felt his breath fan over your face. 

“Did I interrupt your studying?” You asked him with a quiet voice, realizing that you very much could have distracted him because of your moody attitude. 

He shook his head. “No, I had just finished when you came in.” Sam gave you a half smile before tipping his chin up to kiss your forehead. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about your day?” He muttered against your skin. 

“No, I’d much rather hear about yours.” 

Sam pulled back slightly and raised an eyebrow at you. “You sure?” 

You nodded. You felt marginally better from when you came in as you were in Sam’s arms. 

Sam’s expression was one of ‘okay then’ before he jumped into talking about his day, and you listened to your boyfriend with a slight smile on your face. You snuggled deep into his embrace and eventually moved your head to rest in the crook of his neck. 

“Are you still listening?” Sam asked as he felt you smile against his neck. 

“Mhm. Just keep talking.” 

Sam let out a small chuckle at your antics and continued to talk about what he had seen while walking to his last class of the day. You breathed in Sam’s comforting scent; the notes of citrus, mint, mahogany, and something that was just distinctly Sam filled your senses, and you could feel the tenseness leave your body. 

Sam was still talking, but you weren’t exactly listening, and you couldn’t resist kissing the small freckle on his neck. He suddenly stopped talking as you planted soft kisses on the warm skin of his neck. Sam let out a soft noise as you nipped at his pulse point, moved his hand that was on your back to your neck, and pulled away from you slightly. 

“What are you doing?” You could see the corners of Sam’s lips twitching as he asked you the question. 

“Kissing your neck.” You stated it as if it was obvious because it was. 

“What happened to listening to my day?”

“Can’t I multitask?” 

Sam laughed at the serious face you made as you said it, and you couldn’t help but break your serious facade and laugh along with him. Your foul mood was finally melting away. 

Sam rested his forehead against yours as he calmed down, staring deep into your eyes. “I love you.” He said softly. 

You couldn’t help the tender smile stretching across your lips. “I love you too.” 

Sam grinned before kissing you. Your eyes fluttered shut as you leaned into the warm feeling of Sam’s soft lips against yours. The hand that was on your neck had moved to cup your cheek, and his arm tightened around your waist as he deepened the kiss. The world faded around you as you got lost in Sam as he moved his lips against yours. Sam managed to push you on your back as he was slotted in between your legs. Your hands found themselves in his hair as the soft kiss turned into a passionate makeout. 

Sam consumed your senses as his tongue swiped your bottom lip, and you let him in with a little fight as his tongue played and swirled with yours. A slight noise that was akin to a whine left your lips as his lips left yours. Sam didn’t go far, resting his forehead against yours, but you realized that you were out of breath, and the two of you were panting against each other’s lips.

A blissful smile was on Sam’s face as he hovered over you. His lips were slightly swollen and slick with spit from the two of you kissing, and you couldn’t help but kiss him softly. Sam smiled against you before melting into your kiss. The kiss didn’t last long as you pulled away, Sam chasing your lips for a moment, making you let out a little giggle. Sam’s eyes were alight with joy as he heard your laugh. 

Sam couldn’t hold back and planted soft kisses on your forehead, nose, and cheeks before giving you a sweet but chaste kiss on your lips and pulling away from you. You all but sunk into the affection that Sam was showering you in, but then you started to pout when he moved from on top of you to next to you and pulled you into his side. 

He kissed your temple before the two of you settled in comfortable silence, content with just being by each other’s sides. You had no clue how long you guys stayed like that until you dozed off in Sam’s arms. The last thing you remembered before you fell asleep was Sam's lips on your cheek and wrapping his arms tighter around you. 

[kaciebello]

Trust fund babies

Masterlist Money mail ☼ Slytherin boys x Hufflepuff!reader (fem) Summary: Can you belive it? The solution was there all along Warnings: no use of y/n Authors note: I love fun fairs so much it's unreal word count: 1.7k Song: THIRLL RIDE - THE BOYS

The teens were sitting around the denying table in Theodore's house. Looking at the money they have accumulated over the summer. They have gathered all the coins they could find. However, in front of them stood 4k. Exact half of what they needed for the bouncy house. All their effort was wasted, as they had not reached their goal.

“Maybe we can make the other 4k,” Says Matteo, training to be optimistic, but failing miserably.

“Dude, we have two weeks to start of new term. We made 4 thousand in two months. I don't think we can make it.” Blaise argus back. Demoted they all sat and just stared at the money, as if it could multiply. Enzo was carrying the girl back as if trying to comfort her. They all sat in silence for like ten minutes before the girl shot up.

“I know what we can do!” She yells and shoves all the money to her. The boys watch her closely. Sound in their eyes.

“We may not be able to buy a water bouncy house. But I know a place that has water and adrenaline.” She says. A smirk on her face. She runs to get her bag and comes back just as quickly. Digging into it as if trying to find something. Draco sees a little circular motion next to his head, trying to signal to his friends that the girl has gone a little bit crazy.

“AHA!” She cheers and pulls out a brochure. Smiling on the table. The boys finally have a chance to look at it. A fun fair.

“What,” Theodore says, snatching it and looking at it closely.

Theodore squinted at the colourful brochure in his hands, trying to make sense of the girl’s sudden enthusiasm. The glossy images showed roller coasters, spinning teacups, water slides, and neon lights. The words “Summer Fun Fair” were emblazoned across the top in bold, bright letters.

“A fun fair?” Theodore asked, raising an eyebrow. “How’s that supposed to replace a bouncy house?”

The girl grinned, practically bouncing with excitement. “It’s not just any fun fair! This one has everything—water rides, roller coasters, games, even a haunted house! And the best part is, it’s just a few hours away, and with the money we’ve got, we can get passes for all of us. We’ll have way more fun there than with a bouncy house.”

Blaise leaned forward, intrigued but sceptical. “But we spent all summer scraping together that money for the bouncy house. Are we really going to blow it all on a day at a fair?”

“Think about it, Blaise,” the girl said, her eyes shining. “We’ve been stressing about this bouncy house for weeks. But why do we need it? We wanted it because it was something big, something epic we could all do together before the school year started. This fair has everything we need for that. Water, adrenaline, and fun. Plus, it’s not just one thing; it’s a whole day of crazy adventures.”

Enzo, who had been quietly considering the idea, finally spoke up. “She’s got a point. I mean, we’ve already done so much together this summer. Why not end it with something spontaneous? We’ve got the cash, and it’s better than letting it sit around.”

Matteo, who had been the most disappointed earlier, started to brighten up. “And it’s got water rides, you say?”

The girl nodded enthusiastically. “And not just any water rides—giant slides, log flumes, wave pools, you name it. Plus, they’ve got games, food, and all the fair stuff. It’s perfect.”

Theodore, still holding the brochure, looked at his friends. He could see the excitement building in their faces, the idea of a spontaneous trip to the fair starting to take hold. Finally, he sighed and put the brochure back on the table. “Alright, I’m in. It does sound like fun. And maybe we can win some cool prizes while we’re at it.”

Draco, who had been leaning back in his chair with a smirk, finally spoke. “Sounds better than staring at money all day. I say we go for it.”

Blaise looked around the table at his friends, seeing the shift in their attitudes. He cracked a smile. “Alright, let’s do it. But we’re going to make the most of it. No holding back.”

The girl clapped her hands in excitement. “Yes! This is going to be epic! We’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning and spend the whole day there.”

The room buzzed with energy as the teens started making plans, their earlier disappointment forgotten. The idea of the bouncy house had been fun, but this—this was going to be an adventure they wouldn’t forget.

The next morning, the group gathered at Theodore’s house, buzzing with excitement. The girl had packed snacks, water bottles, and sunscreen into her bag, ready for the long day ahead. Matteo showed up with a huge grin, carrying a cooler filled with drinks. Draco, as always, looked effortlessly cool in sunglasses, while Enzo and Blaise were busy discussing the best rides to hit first.

“Everyone ready?” the girl asked, adjusting the straps of her bag. She was in charge of the money and made sure to enchant a secret pocket in her bag that held all of it.

The boys nodded, their energy infectious. Theodore pulled out his car keys and jingled them. “The car’s gassed up, and I’ve got the directions. It’s about a two-hour drive, so if anyone needs to use the bathroom, now’s the time.”

“Can't we just apparate?” Draco asks, not very fond of the idea of a car. 

“ Wheres the fun in that,” Theodore smirks much to Draco's dismay.

They all piled into Theodore’s car, squishing together with bags and coolers crammed in the trunk. The ride was filled with chatter, music blaring from the speakers, and the occasional off-key singalong, mostly from Mattheo. The excitement in the air was palpable, their earlier disappointment replaced with anticipation.

As they approached the fairgrounds, the first thing they noticed was the massive Ferris wheel towering over the horizon, its lights twinkling even in the daylight. The fair was already bustling with activity, colourful tents and banners stretching out as far as they could see.

“Whoa,” Matteo breathed out, leaning forward to get a better look. “This place is huge!”

Theodore parked the car, and they all tumbled out, eager to get started. The girl led the way, practically skipping toward the entrance as they handed over their tickets.

Inside, the fair was even more impressive. The air was filled with the scent of popcorn, cotton candy, and fried dough. Laughter and screams echoed from the rides, and the vibrant colours of the games and attractions seemed to pulse with energy.

“Alright, where to first?” Blaise asked, looking around with wide eyes.

“There,” the girl said, pointing to a massive water slide that twisted and turned before ending in a giant splash. “We start with the water rides and then hit the coasters. That way we can dry faster.”

“Let’s do it!” Enzo cheered, grabbing her hand and leading the charge.

They spent the first hour soaking themselves on the water rides, laughing as they splashed down into cool pools of water. After the water rides, they moved on to the roller coasters. The thrill of the loops, drops, and high speeds had them all screaming in exhilaration. Theodore screamed like a girl when he was caught off guard by a sudden sharp turn and ended up gripping the safety bar for dear life, much to the others’ amusement. He claims it everyone heard wrong, and it was Draco who let out the scream.

The day passed in a blur of adrenaline, laughter, and good-natured teasing. They played games, won stuffed animals and silly prizes, and stuffed themselves with fair food until they could hardly move. As the sun began to set, the fairgrounds were illuminated with a sea of neon lights, giving the place a magical glow.

By the time they reached the Ferris wheel, the group was exhausted but happy. They climbed into the seats, three on each side, and the wheel slowly lifted them into the air. From the top, they could see the entire fair, the lights twinkling below like stars.

“This turned out better than I thought,” Theodore admitted, leaning back against the seat, a rare smile on his face.

“Yeah,” Blaise agreed, looking out at the view. “Way better than a bouncy house.”

The girl, sitting beside Enzo, looked around at her friends, her heart swelling with contentment. “I told you it would be worth it.”

As the Ferris wheel slowly descended, the group fell into a comfortable silence, each of them savouring the moment. They might not have gotten the bouncy house they’d worked so hard for, but what they’d gained was something much better—an unforgettable adventure, shared with the best friends they could ask for.

As the night came to a close, they all knew that this summer, despite its ups and downs, would be one they’d always remember.

—

Two weeks later all the Slytherins were sitting in the train at their designated space. Hogwarts Express was as crowded as always. New years were walking up and down, trying to find a place to sit. Pansy stopped by and asked them about their summer, before any of them could answer she went on to tell them how she spent hers lounging on some remote island her parents own. Luna has stopped by as well to say hi to Blaise before bouncing off to a different adventure.

Mattheo spots the girl first. Raised eyebrows. None of them expects to see her until Hogwarts, lets her catch up with all her other friends and fellow Hufflepuff. Angry expression on her face, she stops before them and leans on the table.

“ Hello, love.” Enzo sounds, not moved by her face, still gazing up at her lovingly.

“Did you know.” she starts, making her they were listening to her closely. “I have talked to Hermoniey.”

“Why would you do that?”

“ Shut up”

“Okay”

Glaring at all of them, as if whatever she was about to tell them was their fault.

“Did you know, that you can, in fact, exchange galleons for pounds?” The show has appeared on their faces. Disbelief. Sighs of anger and disappointment. Enzo scooches over so the girl can sit down. Squishing Draco to the window a little bit

“So we could-”

“Yep”

“damn,” Silence falls upon the group. all the them complementing life. Empty stares on their faces. It was like the world died. Until Mattheo speaks up.

“At least we have Betsy.” He says and pulls out a Chinese takeout container. Opening it, inside is a small cow ready to be sneaked into Hogwarts.

Previous Chapter

Taglist @klimovatereza-blog , @lafrone ,@enfppuff , @rafegfs , @frogtape , @lovelyygirl8 , @catiwinky, @leeleecats , @ghostgardn , @reverse-soe , @ultramarinetovelvet @jazz-berry , @justatadbonkers , @partnerincrime0 , @schaebickel , @deluluassapocalypse , @adreamingpendulum, @imobsessedwitholiviarodrigo , @happydragonfrog , @harvey-malfoy , @helendeath , @caffeine-addict-slug , @mrvlfanman , @pink-heartz , @feistyfox47 , @nickspotatoesalad , @elltheawkward , @myunperfektstorys . @mxryxmfooty , @hoeforvinniehackerrr