#I have water next to me like at all times!!!!

[seeliemansi]

Mr. Crawling hated Bath Time and Showers

Warnings: 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, hint of SMUT, ghost revenge. It's not that bad.

my first post was flagged. dunno if it was reported but seriously?

🧼

No thoughts but forcing Mr. Crawling to take a shower. He has been crawling around since you met him and you have noticed his dirty and tattered clothes. There wasn't a problem when you two were still in that old abandoned building. But in your apartment? Being unclean is a no go. Just like a dog who hates baths, Mr. Crawling hated the idea to the point that he refused to go out of your closet. He had been repeating the same words as you try to pry the doors open.

"You not love me?" "Why bath?" "Not love me that's why bath?" "I like you but you not like me."

You admit it was kind of adorable. It was the same when he panicked when asked if he wanted his hair to be cut short.

You are getting out of nowhere and so with a promise, you told him that he can ask you of anything if he takes a shower. Just like offering a dog a treat during training. It took a lot of reassurance, but in the end, he allowed himself to bathe. If it was that easy.

And just like a vengeful dog that shakes its fur, to spray the excess water on its owner - Mr Crawling did the same.

He flinches, and he jerks, splashing water all over your already small bathroom. And ultimately drenched you, when he strongly pulled you down with him after he freaked out when the hot water turned cold because he was taking too long. You have no choice but to take a shower as well or you'll get a cold.

You can't help the tick of annoyance when he sighs in content as you help dry his hair. His head is on your lap, and he seems refreshed and peaceful. If he wasn't so cute, you will probably get back at him. But he looks so clean, comfortable, and glowing with happiness.

Maybe next time.

Showers always make you feel drowsy. You blink slowly and feel relaxed as he looks up with a wide grin. You can't help but give him a peck on the lips and kiss on his forehead. Such a good boy.

You chuckle when you hear his infamous giggle. You were about to continue drying his hair when he quickly moved, grabbed your shoulders and forcefully pushed you down the couch.

"Done! Me treat!" He declared.

"What?"

He didn't even give you enough time to think when he suddenly held both of your legs and pulled you closer to him. You remind yourself to apologize to the neighbors if they complain about the noise.

He didn't even give you enough time to raise yourself using your elbow, when he raised both your legs up, put it on his shoulder, and giggled as he was face to face with your clothed core. You can feel his hot breath and you gasped when he sniffed you down there. His giggles reverberate as he teases you with an experimental lick.

"Shower here too. Wet."

Is all you remember him say as you felt a full blown shiver of want from your head to your toes. It will be a long night for sure.

He may be cute but Mr. Crawling can be extremely vengeful because you had a hard time walking the next day. He made sure that it wasn't only him who would crawl around. And weirdly enough, after that, he was the one who reminded you that he needed a shower.

[304files]

you don’t understand how mc is literally me and i am here. she’s me to a molecular level. no joke, i never read an mc that was so deeply similar to me it hit me like a gut punch.

reading this while listening to the playlist was truly an experience (which was so good btw i LOVE your music taste). can we talk about how absolutely gorgeous your writing is for a second??? the way you craft your sentences are so satisfyingly beautiful it’s insane!! some of my favorite quotes:

“It flutters frantically in it, making a grand fight to reach that false moonlight, only to drop away when it realizes that it’s being burnt. You watch it rinse and repeat, relentless and sure, for who knows how long. It’s no special moth—no luna moth or the ones with the pretty pink wings—but the light falls down on it and colors it a pleasant stardust silver.”

“Taking those steps, the massive and terrifying ones from adolescence into adulthood, meant agreeing that this form of your life was over.”

“That passion and love wasn’t gone from you, it blazed strong in your veins. This blaze wasn’t the kind that kept you warm and excited to push forward into life, though. It had morphed into something that scalded you when you got too close or started imagining yourself pursuing its call. It’s a taunting silvery glow, no longer a guiding north star.”

“You clutch childhood to your chest like a wild animal guarding scarce food; you refuse. You refuse to acknowledge its end.”

“‘You don’t get it. You are the music. Every single song is about you. Every single fucking song is about you. I want you to come with me, please. I love you, I have always loved you, and I will always love you, and I thought you’d loved me too, and I don’t want to do this alone. I can’t do it alone.’”

i don’t know if you’ve ever read this book, but the vibes of this fic reminds me a lot of the starless sea by erin morgenstern!! literally my favorite book EVER. if you haven’t read it then i think you would like it a lot!! ^^

this is truly one of those types of stories that you come across and it just makes you absolutely fall in love with reading. the type that makes you want to pick up a pencil and feverishly write out the story that’s been in your head for years. if this story was a song, to me it would be dog days are over by florence + the machine. it just gives you that feeling that everything will work out and everything will be okay and this too shall pass. i love it so so much and i’m so happy that you decided to share it with the world so that people like me and so many others could come across it and read it for themselves! ♡♡♡

𝑯EART 𝑊ORM ⸺ hueningkai ℘˒´ˎ˗

  ⨾𓍢ִ໋ ˒˒ 𝚑𝔢art𝚠𝔬rm

[𝑛]. a relationship or friendship that you can't get out of your head, which you thought had faded long ago but is still somehow alive and unfinished, like an abandoned campsite whose smoldering embers still have the power to start a forest fire.

⸺ listen to the playlist .ᐟ ‧˚

〝﹙ 📼 ﹚“I was just... wondering,” you say, blood roaring. "Well, Yeonjun wants me to come over to his place this weekend, and... I’ve never...” Sucking in a quick breath, you just spit it out to get it over with, “Would you be my first kiss, Kai?”  ˛ ､､

wc ➛ 17.9k

𝔭airings childhood bsf!kai x reader (lowkey soulmates?) ⤷ ft. asshole!yeonjun x reader

𝒢 ‎; smut ˒ angst ˒ some fantasy

𝔴arnings angst, family issues, fingering, jealousy (i’m sorry i just love ts), yeonjun really is an asshole, orgasm denial, thigh fucking, unprotected sex (they're stupid!), strength kink a lil bit, breeding kink, possessiveness, creampie, choking... i think that's all, lmk if i missed any

✎୭ ashlynn's note omg. this was such a fun palate cleanser to write. this wasn't supposed to be as big as it is, but it just kept getting bigger and bigger, and i got super into the story. this kai is SOOOO!! yeah. i’m so nervous posting this because i’ve only ever posted TSFAWC, but…. here you areee (^^;; this is not proofread, so if you see a mistake... give me a sec. i'll get to it. hehe

Though you fan your hand furiously over your face, the little breezes washing over your clammy skin are not enough. The air is thick and heavy with summer’s heat. So thick that you almost feel it each time you swallow. It’s better than just letting yourself melt away, though. The cushion at your back doesn’t help much. It holds your warmth and returns it to you the longer you sit slumped back into it. You suffer it though—you’ve gone too sluggish to move.  

You let a leg dangle over the arm of a chair, watching a hopeful moth dance in the light of the buzzing porch light overhead. It flutters frantically in it, making a grand fight to reach that false moonlight, only to drop away when it realizes that it’s being burnt. You watch it rinse and repeat, relentless and sure, for who knows how long. It’s no special moth—no luna moth or the ones with the pretty pink wings—but the light falls down on it and colors it a pleasant stardust silver.  

You delight in letting your conscious brain turn off to watch it. It lets you forget the sweltering under your skin, and also that Kai had drug you out here. His dad gives him shit when he plays inside, but it’s way too hot to be out here. Isn’t it supposed to cool off after the sun goes down? It doesn’t feel like it. The deep acoustics are drowned out each time a car whirrs by. Playing outside should be the best option, but you and Kai live right on a busy road.  

When the roar of some car going ten miles over the speed limit doesn’t obscure his playing, though, you admire the intricacy of it. His fingers work up and down the neck, jumping frets that you imagine would be impossible to anybody without those long fingers of his. You had always been a loud supporter of his playing, even way back when the most he could play were simple chords, but you became especially so when a few years back he put a guitar in your hands and tried teaching you. Even with his fingers guiding yours, it was quick to learn that the effortlessness with which Kai handles the instrument is hard earned.  

He practices on the acoustic guitar, but that’s not his domain. With houses just a dash across the street from each other, Kai had grown up at your home more than he had at his own. So vividly, you remember the stars in his eyes when he’d listen to your dad’s music. Metallica, The Smashing Pumpkins, Linkin Park, any of it. He had fallen in love with it a long time ago. Your whole life you knew that it was only a matter of time before he was in his own band, chasing his dreams with a boundless mind and an indelible vision of himself on stage. How had that time come so soon, though? You don’t know if the notebooks full of inky lyrics that live wherever he deems inspiration might hit him make you proud or nervous. He’s making good on his dazzling aspirations, and you? 

You speak finally into the air, cutting through heat waves and his music and the night. “Isn’t it weird that we’re not going back to school after this summer?” 

He doesn’t have to even stop playing to answer you. Playing comes to him as a second nature. “Kinda,” he answers, brown eyes flitting up to you. “But it’s not like you won’t be back to it in September. College is the same shit.” 

The leg you’d been dangling and bouncing pauses. That’s right; you’re supposed to be going to that college you’d chosen because it was only a three-hour drive away from here. You pluck at the seat’s threadbare fabric, and the moth, still there, becomes oh-so-interesting once again. When his playing stops, you drop your head back with a cushioned thud and a groan that you wrangle in your throat. 

“Why are you acting like that?” he says, voice gone sharp like accusation. He doesn’t even know the truth, but he’s known you too long.

Can’t you just keep secrets for yourself, sometimes?

Kai, arms clad in a well-loved hoodie even in this dreadful weather, lays the guitar down. You maintain your silence. “Seriously, what?” 

Some secrets have timers, though. This one could only last you until about September, or even August when he realizes that you’re not preparing to return to school. A controlled sigh from your chest isn’t enough to soothe the nerves that sparks. “Nothing.” 

“Secrets, huh?” Kai says. When you do finally look to him, black spikes of hair frame his eyes and the accusation in them. 

It’s a simple poke, but it gets under your skin as sharp as any thorn might. It’s not like you don’t keep secrets from him, and you’re sure he keeps some from you too. But those are the little kinds, the inconsequential ones—like I ate already when asked why you’re not eating or like Yeah, I’m fine when it’s been a bad day. You don’t hide this kind of stuff from each other. Usually, you’d run over to his place to tell him whatever’s bothering you. Why not, when he’s known even the worst details of your life for almost the entirety of it? You’ve been holding this one close to your chest since somewhere around the end of senior year, though. The longer you let it fester, the worse your nervousness snowballs. “C’mon, Kai. Let’s not do this. Can you keep playing?” 

He doesn’t like that, of course. But you watch recognition dawn over his chocolate brown eyes, helpless to stop it. “You’re not going,” he says. It’s not a question nor a suspicion, it’s a bone-dry fact.  

Well. There that goes. You want to tear every hair on your head right out. Why had you even thought you’d keep him in the dark about it? When he’s not out in some garage making music, you two are together. The conversation was going to stroll by at some point; this was only inevitable. His disappointment radiates off him in waves and blisters you. He hasn’t even said anything yet, but you know exactly what he thinks of it. It’s why you kept it from him in the first place.  

Your silence is enough confirmation for him. “Why?” he says. “I thought you were excited to move out.” 

Wincing, you nod slowly. You were. Even went through the whole application process, along with most other kids your age. Ultimately, you never went through with declaring a college. You don’t exactly know why, but somewhere weaseled down in the shadowy recesses of your soul, you know. Taking those steps, the massive and terrifying ones from adolescence into adulthood, meant agreeing that this form of your life was over. It meant that at some point, you’d be moving away from here to where living your days away in Kai’s room would not be a choice. Everybody has to do it eventually, you know that. Kai’s music gig could take off any day, too. He’s going to make it happen. And then what? All this stalling and wishing on just a bit more time would mean nothing, he’d be off and chasing that dream. As excited as you are for it to finally become reality for him, there’s a nasty bitterness that’s budded in your chest, infecting your person.  

Can’t things just stay like this? 

“I was,” you say. It comes out of your mouth heavy.  

“Then why aren’t you going?” he says. Crickets, never seen but always heard, sing their song into the night’s darkness. “You didn’t get rejected. You’re too smart for that.” 

An ache sits heavily somewhere near the center of your chest, maybe over your heart. All those good grades, nights spent bent over a desk and AP paperwork—you’re wasting it. You shake your head. “No... just...” It’s an effort to dress your thoughts in a way that might appease him. A quiet moment stretches with your thinking before you continue, “I don’t know what I want to do.” 

He doesn’t like that, the yellow wash of the overhead light dancing over his taut lips and hard eyes. “Don’t know what you want to do?” he says, bringing his legs up onto the seat to crisscross them. He wears his favorite jeans. They’re heel-bitten and baggy enough over his legs that he can wear them around the house without any bother. “You’ve wanted to be an artist your whole life. You know exactly what you want to do.” 

Your chest only seems to ache harder. When the both of you were only young and hopeful, you both had big dreams. Kai was going to be the face of a metal band, and you were going to be an artist. A painter, potter, sculptor, even doing animation for those big companies like Dreamworks and Disney. You wanted any of it, just as long as you were doing art. You’d even promised him that you’d do the cover art for his albums with interlocked pinkies and flushed, hopeful cheeks. That passion and love wasn’t gone from you, it blazed strong in your veins. This blaze wasn’t the kind that kept you warm and excited to push forward into life, though. It had morphed into something that scalded you when you got too close or started imagining yourself pursuing its call. It’s a taunting silvery glow, no longer a guiding north star. Taunting words of family members stamped down on that hope hard. When you were little, it was said lighthearted and in passing. The older you got, though, the more serious their faces became. They wouldn’t say it outright perhaps, but you hear what they think well enough. Art is a dead-end career.  

Shifting in your seat, you tell him, “I don’t know.” 

“What do you mean?” Kai says. “There are good colleges for that.” 

“I just... don’t know.” 

Shaking his head, he tells you, “But you love it.” 

You do. In its every form, you love creating. But loving it doesn’t mean that it’s right for you, or that you should trust your future in its hands. “I think I can do it in my own time,” you say, finally pushing yourself upright from the cushion. “Don’t wanna kill the passion by doing it for a living, you know?” 

He thinks on that for a moment. “If you love it, you should do it,” he says. 

An awful frustration bubbles in your chest. Kai has always had a clear life path, the steps ahead of him set in stone and waiting for him to follow in them. It’s hard for him to see why you might not want to do the same. There’s nothing that makes you as happy as the fact that he has it all figured out, that he knows just where he’s going and that he’s so incredible at it that he doesn’t have to worry about meeting the requirements, but your path seems obscured and untrodden. Punctuating a deep, resonant sigh, you say, “It’s not that easy, Kai.” 

“If you’re not doing that, then what are you going to do? Are you just going to settle for a nine-to-five?” he says full of accusation, the tapping on his knees gone still.  

A dry laugh, you say, “Maybe I’ll marry a super rich guy and just do my art for a living. No nine-to-five.” 

His face flashes. He’d always been a bit reserved, especially around others, but he bared his emotions freely around you. You hold them dearly to your chest and made sure to do your best to make good on that trust. He says, “You’re more than some guy’s housewife.” 

Cheeks radiating in the heat, you snort. “I know, dork. I’m a rockstar’s best friend. It’s my personal favorite achievement.”  

His face sours when you reach out and pinch hard at his cheek, but he doesn’t pull away or brush you off. The skin there is warmed and clammy. Really, the two of you should go meet the cool AC inside before you suffer heat stroke. But this moment feels so nice—your shoulders feel tons lighter without something to hide. If you had it your way, things would stay like this forever. Just the two of you, sat here like you have so many times before, just taking for granted the time you’ve got together.  

His mouth opens to banter, probably something about how he’s not a rockstar yet or to get you back for calling him a dork. Wingbeat and sterling dashes about your face send the image into a blur, though. You’re a quick mess of limbs and a whipping head, as if it’ll chase the thing away from you. 

“Seriously?” Kai says. You’d climbed halfway over him, elbows digging into him and knee doing a number on his thigh. “It’s a moth. You’re not scared of moths.” 

Lingering for a few moments later to ensure the flying thing was nowhere on you or around you, you hold back a laugh before you climb off him and fix your hair with undignified tucks behind your ears. “He was in my face,” you say around a laugh, because you know it was a bit too much. Nobody likes wings in their ears and spindly legs in their face, though, and you’re in no control of what you do when anything with six legs tries and get too friendly. Even moths.  

“You just wanted me to protect you,” he says. A sarcastic, shit-eating smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.  

“Oh,” you scoff, batting your eyelashes and clasping your hands together all saccharine-sweet. “Yes, Romeo, won’t you kill that bug for me? This girl’s heart just can’t take it!” 

Kai’s nose crinkles, and the playful light twists into a glare. “Nasty.” 

“That’s how you sounded,” you say. “I only reacted accordingly.” Laughing, you kick your legs out over his lap and sprawl back out. He takes the guitar back into his hands. 

As much as you want to escape the mugginess, you’ll survive it for just a little while longer—if only with the force of an indulgent heart. The eternal moments are those you allow to linger.  

⚝⭒ 

Some things, you forget when you’re older. Maybe it’s time’s hand, eroding memories down and stuffing more in the longer you live to experience them. But also maybe because they’re the sort of things you can’t say in the adult world without a laugh in the face and a look from down their noses.  

This memory is one of those forgotten things. It’s moth-bitten and dusty, something you one day folded up in a moving box and decided to never revisit. 

You’d been down at the creek. Kai and you had spent so many summer days there. It wasn’t too far from home, just past the filbert trees and into the shallow neck of the backwoods, but there you were out of sight and free to get up to nothing good. It was a wonder your mom ever let you do it. Kai’s dad didn’t care too much where he went or what he did, but your mom dug her claws in deep. You like to think that she imagined you two would have each other, if anything ever happened. 

Usually, you’d be there holding your jeans up from the stream and Kai would be letting his jeans go dark with it. The bite of water was nice as it washed over warm skin. Fun was a simple thing to find, then. You dug your fingers into the mudbanks and tossed stones way too big to be throwing at each other, just because you two remembered how much the adults hated it when you did. Then, you’d drag tired limbs home avoiding sweetgum tree spikes that had fallen to the ground and dug splinters out from your feet.  

This day, you had been in the blackberry bushes. It was maybe late July or early August, and they’d gotten heavy on their branches. You’d waited until the smell of them, summer-warmed, was sweet and cloying in the air to pick them. With buckets in your hands, you plucked only the fattest berries from their bunches. Your fingers were stained a delightful purple and perhaps a bit thorn raw, but you didn’t mind much then. You plucked for hours, and it was dusk before you could catch it. Dinner was no doubt waiting for you back home. 

“There’s a bunch over here,” Kai had said. He reached a long boyish arm, still awkward and lanky with puberty, up high for ripe bush. You finished off picking before climbing around thick branches sticking out to take a peek. A bunch, there was. 

When you went to drop a handful of them into your bucket, Kai hissed. He’d been snagged by a vicious looking branch, those ones as thick as a finger with thorns to match and you’d warn each other tongue-in-cheek to watch out for that one. He’d worn those ridiculous shorts that day, the ones that looked half pants half shorts with how long and baggy they were, and the claws of the bush had jumped at the opportunity. At first the scrapes were white, but then red blood crawled out and down his leg.  

“Kai,” you said, some parts chiding and some parts just wondering how he’d managed that. You surveyed his leg for a bit, and then determined that he should wash his leg off in the stream. He walked there strong, but of course you noticed the hobble beneath his acting. When you squatted down into the dry grass and cupped water to wash off his leg, you laughed. 

“What?” he had said, holding the shorts up. You covered your laugh with a hand, but it erupted past your palm. You remember the glare on his face very well.  

You still laughed. “You’re stupid,” you had told him. 

“I didn’t see it,” he said. “I tripped over it because it was sticking out.” 

That time when you brought your hands to catch some water, there was a twinkle in its surface. You didn’t notice it for a second. The creek moved fast and you could see a lot of things in its reflection. When it lingered, that’s when your brows furrowed. It seemed to twirl, dancing around like alive over the stones. 

The sound of Kai’s voice remains with you. “Hey,” he had said, strong to call your attention but also wavered with uncertainty. 

When you looked up, there was silver dust dancing around you. 

It was fluffy and whorling, fine silver stardust. It’d moved weightless in the air, as though it barely existed. In the center of it were a few moths. They seemed to be made of sterling powder just as the dust was, and they glowed against dusk’s backdrop. If your memory serves you right, there had been a sweet hymn of coos from them. They beckoned you. Summer’s heat felt lighter, and so did your chest. You wondered where they had wanted you to go. 

Almost afraid that if you spoke they might have fluttered away, you whispered soft and low to Kai. “What is that?” He was stood frozen there, pant leg still scrunched up in his fist. Stardust glowed soft in his brown eyes while he took it all in, you remember. It wasn’t a scared frozen. You weren’t scared, either—rather, it was as if that lightness had found its way into the core of your being and brushed over it with mending hands. 

He whispered back, “I don’t know.” How could he have known? It was absurd. 

Those whisps had beckoned you, flowing toward the deeper woods. The soft moths, their murmuring brushing up against your ears, seemed to wait for you to follow. You remember a pull, soft tendrils wrapping themselves around your heart and the yearning it planted there.  

But there was also this reluctance, a bone-deep answering that had told you: No. You’re not ready. 

“Kai, I wanna go,” you told him. 

You didn’t even need to tell him twice. Berry buckets forgotten; the journey home was a stranger one. When your dad asked why you returned from berry picking emptier handed than you had left the house, Kai and you only shared a look. You pair kept that evening at the creek hidden so well that it became more forgotten than shared secret.  

⚝⭒ 

Once, you had been the type of girl that loved being around family. Some of your favorite days of your life were spent in this living room, T.V. roaring over bouncing conversation. Some of those nights ended in rosy cheeks and laughs, and some ended with words thrown angry like fireworks. You never knew which you’d be getting, but you endured the fear of not knowing because it was a simple love—the basic kind built with biology into you the moment your infant skin touched your mother’s. You endured it because eventually, sleep washed away the bad taste left in your mouth and you forgave them quick, sometimes quicker than you ought to, and things would go on as if it hadn’t even happened. You endured it because you could handle its burden, if only to feel the warmth you feel when it’s a good day.  

Kai was always there—his dad was hardly home, so he found family in yours. When you were younger, you’d been embarrassed he was there for caustic, spitted words and intimate fights. Now, you’re just grateful for his shoulder.  

So, yes. Once, you had loved being around your family. But things feel tenser now, nights spent all together less frequent and when they do happen, they’re tainted by a strange air. You think that this strangeness is new, but an awful worry also makes you think that it’d always been there, that you only feel it now because you’ve grown into your adult mind. A hollow ache stakes its claim in your chest, declaring that it won’t leave until you find that youthful ignorance and joy once more. You think that it might stay there forever. 

Bare feet bounding down the stairs, you make a rare appearance downstairs. The cupboard is only half open to make way for a snack raid before your mom’s voice cuts through the air. You know quickly just by the look on her face that you should’ve stayed upstairs. 

“Hey,” she says, gathering laundry into a basket. “You’ve been applying to jobs?” 

With an anxious belly, you tell her, “Yeah. A few. They’re not really, like, ideal, but I sent applications.” You don’t remember when it got hard to look into your mother’s eyes, but you can’t bring yourself to do so now.  

“Not ideal?” she says. “It’s not like you can be picky. Mcdonalds or wherever, I don’t care, you’re going to need to get a job if you’re staying here.” 

“I know. I applied,” you reiterate around a mumble. You close the cabinets, not so interested in a snack anymore. “I just... I don’t know, ma. I don’t want to do that for a living, going between those sorts of jobs.” 

Face hard and abrasive against the truth you bare, she does that awful taunting smile that makes you feel small. Stupid. “You’re not going to college, so that’s what it’s gonna be. You can’t sit up there and draw for a living. You’ve gotta get into the real world, get some real experience.”  

There’s a burst of hurt in your chest, dazzling and gnawing. She’s getting closer to saying how she really feels about your dreams out loud every day. Your face burns and so do your eyes, knot thick in your throat. “Yeah, okay. Got it,” you say, nodding. You’re at the front door before you even know it, slipping on shoes and fighting the greatest internal battle to will back tears. She’d use those against you, no doubt about it. “I’m going to Kai’s,” you throw over your shoulder.  

Whatever she barks back at you, you’re glad you don’t hear. Bells on some old Christmas decoration hung on the door that had yet to be taken down, even into summer, jingle and wash it away for you. 

Kai’s brows shoot up when he opens the door to your face crumpling. You’d done so well at damming it up, but the wall cracks and the water crashes through once you see him. If it were anybody else, you’d feel icky and attention seeking, but you’d held Kai to your chest through gut-wrenching sobs as much as he’s done it for you. Without question, he takes you into his arms, warm hand running up and down your back. The warm soothing is so familiar. You melt right into it.  

He keeps you there for a long moment. Then, his chest rumbles as he tells you, “Come on.” The walk through the AC to his bedroom is nice. Having a house like Kai’s to come to where it can just be you is nice, too. You step around the mess of clothes and scattered belongings on his floor like you have a muscle-memory roadmap of his room. Boxsprings creak and hard mattress welcome you back home. His room is dark as always, a night-dweller you call him. The array of peeling band posters plastered over walls you two had painted blue some years ago, when it’d been his favorite color, don’t help to lighten it up. He keeps a low lamplight on.  

“She never listens to me,” you say, crying gone to occasional sniffles from your chest. You rest your cheek on your bent knee. 

“I know,” he says. “But at least she cares about you. Pays attention to you.” His voice is soft and deep and right next to you. Always right next to you, there for you even when you might not appreciate it as you should.  

His dad cares too little what he does, and yours care too much. The grass is always greener on the other side, you know it. Still, you hold a fantasy where you’re able to do teenager stuff. Where you’d allow yourself to do bad things, because you weren’t so intent on painting yourself with their will. You two hold eyes for a long moment, your twinkling ones caught in that steady brown. “I just want to get away. Be my own person.” Your words are muffled in the softness of your skin. 

“You had the chance to do it,” Kai says, hand playing with your fingers. “But you didn’t.” 

Holding your legs closer, you lick your lips. What do you say to that? Would it ever be the time to tell him that you did it because you think that your soul is pathetically intertwined with his, and that it might snuff your lifeforce out to even try pursuing life without him? Without this? How do you tell him that you’re so frozen and unwilling to pursue any sort of future because it means accepting that this chapter is over? You clutch childhood to your chest like a wild animal guarding scarce food; you refuse. You refuse to acknowledge its end.  

“Kai,” is all you say, trembled and thick. It’s not just your mother’s words that dig at you and tear to shreds the last bits of what dreaming you had left in you, but so many other reality checks too. This isn’t the first time you’ve heard those sorts of words, urging you forward. You can only dig your heel into the ground for so long before you’re swept away in time’s ruthless, endless moving.  

He understands. Lifting your face with warm fingers against your cheeks, he says, “Hey. How about we go get ice cream, or something?” 

Ice cream does sound nice. “Dairy Queen?” 

Smirk tugged over his mouth, he says, “Yes, Dairy Queen. A blizzard. C’mon, let’s go.” Sliding off the bed, he offers you an urging hand up. 

But you falter. “I don’t know if we can. She’s mad at me. I don’t think she’ll let me go.” 

“Let you go?” he says, eyes narrowed. “She doesn’t have to let you go. You’re an adult now, you go if you want to.” He offers his hand to you again. 

It’s so him, freely going wherever he ordain it. The bullheadedness is very him, as well. Always the devil on your shoulder, he was the root of any rebellious thing you’ve ever done. He could never understand your apprehension, or why getting in trouble was such an awful thing to you. “I have to ask to get money.” 

Brows pinching, he says, “You think I’m not gonna pay for you? You don’t need them to give you money, I’ll pay. I’ll take care of it.” He drags you up from the bed this time. “Live a little. Do you want to go?” 

It was never the punishments or the getting in trouble that you were scared of, though. Disappointment was a scarier word than grounded. Sneaking out and those sorts of things, it’s not like you had angel wings at your back and never considered them. It’s that you are deeply, utterly terrified of changing how they look at you. You begin to tell him, “I do, but—” 

He cuts you off, adamant. “Then do it. Let’s go. If you want to go, then go,” he says. “At some point, your life needs to become your own. It’s not sneaking out when you’re graduated and eighteen years old, it’s going wherever the hell you want. You’ve... You’re gonna end up stuck here, in this town, forever. You don’t deserve that.” 

That sounds like both the best and the worst thing you’ve ever heard. You take his hand.  

⚝⭒ 

Your frozen fingers nurse your ice cream. The cup itself is cold, but the Dairy Queen on your side of town is always thirty degrees below what it should be. It’d always been that way. Even way back when you two couldn’t drive, you’d get dropped off here to escape the melting weather and get a frozen treat with a handful of dollars. Each time, you’d start off sagging with the relief of summer’s weight off your shoulders and left the place shivering and sugar-mouthed.  

It’s really only you two in here. You crinkle your nose when he takes a spoonful. “Out of all the flavors...” 

Unbothered and no doubt expecting you to say it, he offers you a flat, “You get your flavor, I get mine.” He makes a point of taking an extra-long bite. His lips linger around the red plastic of the spoon and his brows rest high in silent challenge.  

The corners of your lips twitch up. “Hmm. Well. I just have a hard time believing that Oreo... or, like, brownie fudge, is right there, and you actually want M&M. I don’t get how M&M your favorite.” A familiar banter falls over your tongues. Your heart buzzes and your cheeks radiate. This is the first you’ve done this all summer, and it’ll be weaning off into fall soon. Any other summer, you would’ve been here on all the hottest days. You hate that Kai’s been so busy with his music; you hate that you can hear the resounding ticks of the clock counting down your time. You also hate that the stubborn depths of you still believe that if you freeze yourself here in stasis that the world will relent and stop along with you. 

You look over the sharp lines of Kai’s jawline as it feathers with his chewing, and the broadness of his shoulders where his jacket stretches around it, and the starkness of his collarbones against his chest and the bobbing of his adam’s apple when he swallows. No, time doesn’t stop. Some of him remains the same, though. In it, you see the boy that had love creeping up on you so long ago, with all its aching and all its hope. That freckle on the column of his neck, the bump in his nose leading down to the button tip that beckons your lips to steal a quick kiss.  

And, those lips. They’re as soft as ever around the discontented grimace he pulls. “M&M isn’t my favorite.” 

With a pursed mouth and patronizing brows arched over your eyes, you say, “Oh, huh. That’s funny, because if my memory serves me right, it’s the only flavor you’ve ordered for the past... six years.”  

Kai husks a laugh at that. “That’s because they haven’t had my favorite for years,” he tells you, scooping up the final bit and then pushing it off to the side. “It was a blizzard of the month that they discontinued. The blackberry cheesecake one. I made peace with it, though. It lives on in my heart.” He grins, arms crossed over his chest and his back settled into the booth seat to let you finish your cup.  

“Blackberry cheesecake,” you say, voice made taunting. Your nod is slow and taunting, too. “Well, forget M&Ms.Why would blackberry cheesecake be your favorite? Ever?” 

His face falters, a moment where something flows over his eyes as if reliving a memory in a few short seconds. Then, he shrugs. “It just is.” 

You roll your eyes. “Whatever,” you laugh. “Maybe my palate is unrefined.” Imagining the tarte fruit in purple swirls of ice cream, you’re taken back to a humid July day and the scent of churned mud.  

The strange memory unfolds itself quick. As if it were waiting for you to find wherever it’d hidden itself away. With a sharp gasp, you say, “Oh my god, Kai. Do you remember that one day? That weird stuff we saw down at the creek?” 

He nods. “Yeah. I was just thinking of that the other day, actually...” 

Less interested in finishing your cup now, you let the spoon rest. “What?” you say, the word peaking in the middle. That day hadn’t crossed your mind once since it’d happened. “How weird is that?” 

Scoffing a laugh, he says, “Weird, yeah. Just as strange as two kids high on fermented berries.” 

That draws a breathy laugh from you. “Is that what you think it was?” you ask him with knitted brows. The berries had been fresh, and you two had popped plenty into your mouth. But no doubt, you’d have spat them right back out if they were that ripe. “I mean, we saw the same thing.” 

“It happens to animals all the time. Squirrells, and stuff.” He lends you a gallic shrug. “We just freaked ourselves out. Like that one time you said you saw the shape of something in the dark and we freaked out. And it was clothes.”  

Well, hallucinating, in tandem, a glowing mist because you two by chance ate fermented berries is a very long shot. However nonchalant he acts about it, he seems to have thought long and hard about it. Enough to reason it away with some far cry explanation. Would you have even been able to get drunk off a handful of fermented berries? And, god, you’re really sure that you’d have noticed. That taste isn’t really one you just don’t notice.  

Whatever. Maybe you were just drunk idiots. That’s a lot easier to swallow, anyway. 

“Okay, but you saw that. Did it not look sinister?” you say. With your spoon back in your hand, you punctuate the sentence pointing it at him. “You freaked out with me, too.”  

An unsatisfied scowl on his lips, he steals a spoonful of your dessert. You don’t even swat him away—your phone buzzes in your pocket. 

Catching sight of who’s calling, you share a long look with Kai. It’s funny, how fast those three white letters scramble you up. When you hesitate to answer, Kai tells you, “Answer.” 

You hope she can’t tell you’re not at Kai’s by the refrigerators’ dull buzzing. It’s an effort to tussle that invasive worry back. You’re at Dairy Queen. Getting ice cream with the boy she’s known since childhood. She should clutch her hands and thank the sky that you’re here, not out in some nasty frat house like you could be. You thumb the green button. 

Her voice comes through the speaker crackled and asking you to run over to do a quick dish load. For a heartbeat you consider telling her that you will and then start rushing home. Instead, you fork out the truth through resistant lips. 

The hangup tone sits heavy on the air between you and Kai. Having listened to the whole thing on speaker, he says, “What was so hard about that? The world didn’t end, did it?” 

The plush of your lip takes a hard gnawing. No, it hadn’t. “I know she’s not going to get mad at me for just going here,” you say as you rest your elbows onto the table. “It’s that they’re supporting me right now. I still live under their roof. The more I go around and insist I can do whatever I want, they’ll start reminding me of it.” 

His face drawn, he lets his mouth twitch to one side. “Yeah,” he muses. “I never thought yours would be the type to kick you out.” 

Kai’s dad had started threating him with getting kicked out years ago, when he first started telling him that he wanted to do music. How many times had he let reluctant tears flow into your shoulder over it? Because music wasn’t a real job? Back then, you’d whispered in his ears that he’d become everything he’d dreamed of and more as your fingers carded through shaggy locks of hair.  

“I don’t know,” you say, humming it out noncommittally. “Is your dad still... y’know?” 

Nodding slowly, his eyes tell. “Yeah. Always.” 

“Because you’re taking the band seriously, now?” you ask.  

“Probably. I don’t give a shit what he thinks about it. If I’m just his goddamn problem, I’ll give him what he wants soon enough.” His eyes blaze with promise of it.  

It takes a bit out of you to not wince. Kai living anywhere but in the house across from yours is wrong. “I don’t think he necessarily wants that, Kai...” You take his hand in your icy ones, the urge to reach out to him thinly veiled under the guise of searching out warmth. He’d always run warmer than you—your personal heater. “It’s probably because he can see that you’re doing it for real. Not just saying it anymore.” 

“Yeah, well,” he spits, “I can’t fucking wait to see what he’ll say to me when I make it. That piece of shit, though, he wouldn’t even care. It’s not like he ever gave a shit about me enough for it to matter.” 

But, it matters to you, you want to tell him. You understand his need to throw it all in his face. Though. “Is that one label going to sign you? The one you were talking about?” 

His tongue darts out to wet dry lips. “They haven’t yet. I don’t know. But I don’t need that money to get out of here, I’ve been working on it.” 

“They will,” you say. “But, where would you go? Not too far?” You try and keep it light and playful, even as your heart aches. 

“Come with me,” he says. It’s painfully blunt, as if it were that simple. “Let’s go get and apartment; you and me.” 

“Kai...” you say. “You don’t have to drag me along because you feel bad.” 

The idea doesn’t sound half bad, though.  

“What?” His face tightens, as if somewhere under the surface your words had scraped somewhere tender. “You don’t have to stay here forever. Please. I want... I want you to come with me. You wouldn’t have to even tell them; just bring all your stuff and go together. We could do it together. Like we said we would.”  

“We were like, five. Everybody tries to pretend running away at five,” you deadpan. It’s a washy attempt at lightening things back up. 

Living with him, moving out together, should feel like everything you’ve ever wanted. And, maybe it is. But, he’s not asking you to live with him the way you want him to. Not in the way that your aching heart wishes he would.  

Kai doesn’t share the laugh you give him. “Yeah, okay,” he says, leaning into the table.  

Perhaps you should consider the potent disappointment he’s terribly masking with a face of indifference, though. 

⚝⭒ 

Slowly, the knots in your belly have worked themselves out. When Kai had dropped you off, they’d been so awful that you felt borderline sick. You sat the whole ride there in his old beat-up truck picking at your nails and rambling to him. He listened to you the whole time. And then when it was time to walk in, it had least felt a little easier to do so with his eyes on you, watching to make sure you made it in safely. 

You’d gotten a job. It’s not too bad, folding clothes out on display. It would be nice if they kept the lights a bit brighter, but you’ll get used it eventually, you hope. 

Most of your coworkers are around your age, but the one showing you the ropes... your heart had fluttered. 

“You’ll get it,” Yeonjun says. The smile you find on his lips once he straightens up from placing product on a display is smooth and smug. Sleek strands of black hair fall over his eyes. You fluster under his gaze.  

With arms crossed over your chest you say, “Yeah, probably.” You reach into the cardboard box for stock to practice on. 

“Where’d you work before this?” he asks, leaning back into a wall to watch you. Suddenly, you make sloppier work of your folding. “Your first retail job?” 

Some obnoxious pop song falls down from the speakers over the store. Nobody’s in here yet, thankfully; you’ve got some time to try and get a handle on everything. “No, this is my first job. I was so nervous walking in.” 

Interest catches in his eyes. It encourages that smooth smile on his lips further. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll show you the reins.” 

Your mind stalls. The suggestive, sly flicker to it—are you looking too much into it? Maybe that’s just how guys like Yeonjun act. It’s hard to pretend that you don’t see how he’s looking at you, though. It has your belly twisted up in fluttery knots. It’s not like you hadn’t had your share of his type. But, for some reason you’d rather not address, he’s got your heart thumping in your chest. 

He laughs at your fifth attempt to fold up the shirt. When he takes it from you to help, he smells of musk and vetiver. “You going to college near here?” he continues.  

“Nah, just doing this, I guess,” you answer, watching him fold it up to try and soak it up.  

“Really? Why not?” he hums, crossing his arms about his chest. “You seem like a smart girl.” 

Buffering, your blood buzzes in your veins and your cheeks burn. “Dunno. Not really sure what to do. Are you in college?” 

“Nah. I’m trying to figure things out, too.” 

The both of you pop your heads up when the bell rings to announce the arrival of a customer.  

“Yeah,” you say, eyeing him. He’s a few years older than you, no doubt, and yet his life hasn’t fallen apart because he’s not done anything grand yet.  

Time’s hand around your neck loosens. Just a little bit.  

⚝⭒ 

You sit crisscrossed on top of Kai’s bedsheets. He’d thrown the windows open because the AC died, but it’s no help. The hot air wafting about the room sits heavy on your skin. You’d dressed in as little material as possible to let it breathe, bare thighs clad in a pair of loose shorts and a thin tank top, but it’s still miserable. 

Perhaps you two should be going over to yours, but you haven’t had time alone with him for a few weeks now. You hate this busier life, where you struggle to make room for this. 

Your new job isn’t so awful, though. Especially with Yeonjun there. A bout of nerves flows up through your stomach. That reminds you. 

Sitting up a bit straighter, you consider not doing it. In fact, you really shouldn’t. But your mouth moves before you can put a stopper on it. 

“Hey, Kai,” you say. The thickness in your throat makes you believe that your heart’s jumped up into it, caught. God, what are you doing? The unsure waver in your words has you regretting. 

His eyes flicker up to yours. He hums out a, “Huh?” 

No, this is wrong. You mess with the thin cotton strap of your tank top where it’d slipped down. “Never mind,” you tell him, trying to shrug it off.  

That piques his interest. “No, what?” His brow pinches.  

You lick your lips and shake your head. “Nothing, never mind. Really.” 

His eyes search you from where he sits up against the wall. “Tell me,” he demands. 

Really, you shouldn’t have said it in the first place. It was a ridiculous idea. But now you know he’s not going to let it go. And, ridiculously, you say it. “I was just... wondering,” you say, blood roaring. "Well, Yeonjun wants me to come over to his place this weekend, and... I’ve never...” Sucking in a quick breath, you just spit it out to get it over with, “Would you be my first kiss, Kai?” 

Insects buzz outside as he looks at you, frozen in spot. You reject the urge to dart away or throw up. You’re honestly just as shaken as him. But really, who else could you trust with something like that? You don’t want Yeonjun to be disappointed if he kisses you, or to seem inexperienced to him. 

And, perhaps, the hopelessly in love part of you hopes to at least feel his lips on yours at least once. If you’re going to be alone forever in your longing, you just wish that you can have this. 

“What?” Kai says. He looks rattled.  

Of course, he’s shocked. You shift. “Forget I said that,” you tell him, unable to meet his gaze.  

String-roughened fingers wrap around your upper arm. “I didn’t say anything,” he says, voice strained and face less shock-fallen and more darkened. “But... I mean, you want me to teach you to kiss for some other guy.” He spits out the last bit as if bitter in his mouth.  

“You don’t have to do it,” you say. “I just... thought that I might ask you to do it. I don’t know, I’m sorry I said it. I’ll just wing it or something.” His room’s grown ten degrees hotter, if that was possible. Especially where you feel his eyes on your face.  

Almost imperceptibly, his hand tightens around you. He swallows hard. “You want to learn how to kiss?” he says. “Fine. I’ll teach you.” 

In a heart-stopping moment, your eyes snap to his. Brown and familiar, they hold you with an intensity that turns your limbs into jelly. The air is stifling. “What... do I do?” you ask when the silence becomes too heavy.  

A muscle feathers in his jaw, reflected in the low light of his room. It’s quick and so easy to miss, but it tells you everything you need to know about how this is making him feel. How much disbelief he’s in. “Come here,” he says, stilted around the absolute absurdity of it. He pats on his lap. 

You make a hesitant crawl across the bed toward him. It seems as though your elbows might buckle beneath your weight, but you make it despite the odds. A fog settles over your brain when you rest your hands on his shoulders and bring your legs to straddle his lap. 

But you shove it back; you want to live and breathe every last second of this. No matter how unbelievable or blistering it is.  

Breaths fan out over your face. It’s seizing your mind like undiluted liquor. “Where do I put my hands?” you ask him. It’s breathless, the air stolen right from your lungs though your mouths haven’t even touched.  

“There is fine,” he says. His words sound breathless, too. The weight of his touch on you as he runs his own up to support your back is unsure. “And then...” he says. It falls out on your mouth slowly, and then he’s taking your lips onto his. 

The walls melt away, sound does too. All that is real is the taste of his lips and how they move against you. Your lips start tentative, but you try his mouth movements yourself. It feels like a timid dance—it feels like deep, deep down, finally everything is right. That mist, thick and blinding, falls back over you. 

Something changes. Something in it, where you two meet, changes. He becomes hungry. Softly locked lips turn biting and nipping, shaky breaths exhaled slow through your nose. His hands on your back become surer, and one even ventures off to grab your chin. The other holds you to his chest, melded together despite the intense smoke and flame rolling off your bodies. You wonder if he can feel your heart beating a mess there. 

Reluctance paints you both when you pull back. You’re panting deep drinks of air. It’s hard to think; your mind’s run off and sits just out of reach. Licking your messy lips, stained with illicitness, you can only manage to brush your fingers against it to form words. “How... was that?” you say, searching his eyes. You find his pupils blown so wide that they consume the warm brown. You’re ready to jump out of your skin with that look pointed at you.  

Kai doesn’t answer, though. He slams your mouths back together as if starved by just the brief moment you’d parted for air. Nips on your bottom lip and emboldened hands—he moves like roaring water through a dam. A dam that he’d worked hard to fortify, and yet, at a crack it’s all falling down. Fingertips digging through the fabric of your shorts down to your soft hips, his chest rumbles. You feel it reflected in your core, electricity charging there and shooting up your spine and down your thighs. 

You kiss him for all the times you wish you would’ve, but didn’t. The slight rolls of your hips down onto him come easy. You love how it has him making a sound into your mouth and taking the fat beneath his fingers harder into his hands. He helps you. 

He drops his head into your neck. Your head swims for air and he has you shuddering with just the brushing of his nose against the column of your neck. The walls of his room spin around you. “Kai,” you whine, every bit of friction his jeans provide, even clothed as you are, just enough to rile you but not to give you what you need. 

“God,” he growls, thumbs hooking under your waistband. “You always fucking run around dressed in nothing,” he says, letting his fingers linger like a suggestion of undressing you. “Did you do it on purpose? Expect to make me crazy, knowing I couldn’t touch you?” 

And, in those words, it seems that he steals every last bit of breath from you. How often had you gone braless or worn something like this around him? Laid here, in his bed, like that? 

Grown tired of your fruitless grinding, he brings a hand down to support your lower back and says, “Turn around.” 

Though you explode with the prospect of what he might be intending to do or what’s next, if you’re really going to do this, you do so in a flash of eager limbs. His chest is solid against your back, you melt against the feeling of it. He’d become such a man lately, filled out, and you watched it happen. It was hard for your eyes not to catch on muscle-corded forearms while he picked at strings or to not appreciate the timbred rumble of his voice when you’d feel it come from his chest. How could it not do things to you? Now, he’s dragging your shorts down your legs and you’re in disbelief.  

“Fuck,” he breaths out. His fingers find your panties soaked through. “So, you’re the type to get dripping wet.” 

An embarrassed blush decorates your cheeks. Kai drags his index finger in circles around your clit through the fabric as if enamored with how much of a mess you’d made of it. Your hips twitch every time he rolls right over it. It’s strange how he’s got your body acting on its own volition with his touches. Even stranger that it’s your best friend doing it. “Sorry,” you tell him, wavering.  

He continues those terribly slow circles. “Sorry?” he says, chin on your shoulder. He’s got you wrapped up in him, with nowhere to go but to melt back into him and let his fingers work. Free hand on one of your inner thighs digging divots into the plushness there to hold it still, he tells you, “It’s nothing to be sorry about. It’s hot as fuck. You’re so excited for me to touch you, huh?” 

The words wreak havoc on you, feeding the flame that has your belly twisted up tight and the ignition point between your thighs pounding. To hear them coming from him, reserved Kai, has you digging your fingers into his forearm to prove that it’s real. You’d never have imagined him being so... filthy. You imagine him behind falsely nonchalant eyes, devouring you with a perverted mind all the times you’d spent innocently sitting together in this room.  

Your cheeks squish beneath his fingers as he takes your face and turns it to him. He wants to make sure you’re look at him as he asks you, “Do you want me to finger you?” 

Like a record, your brain skips. Between the blunt, lewd question and his hand on you, it’s in overload. How could ask something like that so simply? Stunned as you are, of course you want him to. You want him to do anything to you. You nod.  

Every last nerve and neuron in your system, just below the skin, cry out when his fingers slow down to nothing. “Hmm?” he says, ignoring the chasing of your hips and the opening of your thighs to invite him into paying your poor pussy the attention he’d ripped from it. He wants to hear you say it.  

About ten minutes ago, you lost your mind. It does not return to you now. “I want you to,” you say, chest beating in tandem with your cunt. 

“You want me to, right? Not some dumbass you met a week ago, huh?” he says. “Because you know that this is what it’s meant to be. Me, doing these things to you. Not some twenty-five-year-old piece of shit. He doesn’t deserve you, baby. Understand?” 

His fingers slider under your panties. Dumb brained and cognition gone muddled, you nod. All you can really think about is the moment his fingers slide over you. Fire licks up your lower belly and your insides as he brushes calloused finger tips finally right against your clit. 

Puffed breaths of a scoff raise goosebumps over your skin. “Teach you to kiss so that you can go over there and get his hands on you,” he says, middle two fingertips prodding at your entrance. “As if you were ever anybody’s but mine. You’d come crawling back to me, baby, because it was always meant to be us. He could never satisfy you.” 

His words might alarm you or have you asking questions if he hadn’t pushed his fingers into you and begun curling them with strong, pointed presses, pulling soft mewls and hums from you until he finds a spot that twists up your insides. Even through the palm you press over your mouth, your moans come out more like wavering grunts and croaks. Your thighs quiver and twitch, threatening to snap closed against your own will with each. Only your feet stay planted to the mattress. Like a cone of soft serve under the sun’s blistering attention, you melt down him. Just his frame keeps you upright. 

“Right there, huh?” he says. The smirk on his mouth filters his words into something taunting. “That’s where you like it.” It’s like he’s learning your body step by step, fulfilling all the questions he’d been forced to only guess at before this.  

“Uh-huh.” It comes out whiny and cracks in the middle, but you can’t find even an ounce of you to care right now. If this moment had been a long spiral, a fall from grace, down into a dark pit of forgotten inhibitions, you’ve just hit the bottom. Cheeks blazing cherry blossom pink and with your fingers curling into his pant leg, you don’t doubt that you are a picturesque mess. The kind of mess that’s beautiful because it’s dirty. Your teeth are not gentle on your plush bottom lip. It stings, tugged back and bitten and still a bit swollen with kisses. Perhaps you taste the tang of metal on it, but you pay it no mind. 

Kai redoubles his efforts. Now that he knows exactly how to play you, he’s fucking you on his fingers without mercy. The sounds coming from your cunt were wet, but now they’re different— nasty squelching. The only noises coupling with your pathetic keening. Forget anchoring yourself on his thigh, forget muffling your sounds. Instead, your hands fly to encircle his flexing forearm. Under your nails, angry red crescents dig into the muscle there. What had been a languid, building pleasure suddenly becomes everything. Your breaths run away from you, and you chase them frantically. Deep down in your core, the muscles spasm and rage against his fingers. “H—oh god,” you groan. Even the muscles in your thighs and tummy tighten up. 

“So whiny...” Kai mumbles, voice taut with the effort of eroding you down into pure, blinding-white pleasure. 

And then, in a swoop of mercy, your belly tightens. You hover here, on the precipice of something so consuming and voracious that your muscles and bones reject it, and yet your heart sings. Your eyes and cheeks and lungs and belly burn, the flame charring the edges of you in a beckon. You answer its call. Kai doesn’t mind the snapping of your legs shut around his arm, nor does your bucking or shaking deter him. He just holds you through it, arm like a metal bar around your waist. He’s everywhere, in this moment—the smell of him, leather and utterly familiar, his mouth dusting hot kisses over your skin, his fingers guiding you through orgasm. Where you’d gone silent in the initial crash of it, you devolve into mewls and grunts as you come down.  

He holds you even as you slump against him boneless. Afterglow simmers in your veins and has your brain all lethargic and lazy. Neither of you speak for a while, your pulse thumping a rhythm. His breaths rise and fall against you; it grounds you in this moment where you feel all spacey and gone. You become aware again of how disgustingly sweltering it is in his room, your skin sheened. 

That brainless bliss only lasts you for so long, though. When rational mind returns to you, no matter how you wish it wouldn’t, you’re hit in the chest with regret so hard it knocks the wind out of you. 

How will anything ever be the same after what you��d just done? Stricken still by the thought, you barely register him pulling his fingers out of you. After all your worrying about making sure no wedge comes between you two, look what you’ve gone and done. No; nothing ever will be the same again.  

⚝⭒ 

A couple of weeks ago, you ruined the one friendship you were supposed to have forever. It presses down heavy one you while you sit sprawled out on Yeonjun’s couch, his arm around your shoulder. His phone casts a glow over his features with all the lights out. 

It doesn’t smell like home. He, pressed against your side, doesn’t smell like home.  

Some stupid movie that he’d picked out, yet somehow you’ve ended up the only one still watching it, weaves a hum into the quiet of his apartment. Tangy hurt wells up in your throat. Even the moments when you and Kai would sit in mutual silence on your phones never felt like this. This is different.  

You haven’t seen Kai since that night. He’s been busy getting ready to move out, and you’ve been here most days. How fast all of it had changed. You wish you’d feel whiplashed, left empty, by the drifting that you’d been so terrified of. But you don’t. It’s just been you, locked on land, watching him being taken away by the ocean’s tide with no way to change its course. You tried and screamed to call him back, but now your voice has gone hoarse.  

And instead of watching him go, you choose to look elsewhere. It’s all you can do to protect yourself from the hurt. 

“Hey,” Yeonjun says, finally addressing you rather than whoever’s he’s got in his phone. “Did you bring anything to change into?”  

“I brought stuff to sleep in,” you say, eyeing him. You know that’s not why he’s asking. If it came down to it, you could just steal something from him and pull it on. He means going out clothes. Your jaw tightens. “But nothing nice. Why?” 

He stretches his arms behind his head in a flaunt of long arms and tanned muscle. Hours spent at the gym lent him those; you appreciate the look of it with a watering mouth. Kai had earned his build by hours spent outside with your dad, because his own could care less, helping him fix up cars and vehicles of all ridiculous sorts. You remember when Kai had first gotten his truck—junk on wheels, honestly—he’d spent so much of summer out there getting it running. And, well... the sun-kissed bronze of his skin and frame that came with it, you had no qualms with. 

But those memories only sit heavy in your chest as you’re sat here beside Yeonjun. You banish them elsewhere; you need to let him drift off. If you can’t have each other, and your feelings won’t permit just being friends, then you have to. You want him to do amazing things, and you fear that it’s your presence in his life that will interrupt that. As much as your feelings are real, they are selfish. You, your unsure direction and all your dead weight, should let him go. Because you love him. 

“The guys want to come over,” he tells you, pushing off from the couch. “You should probably into change into something less showy.” 

Less showy. Your mouth drops into a scoff of disbelief, looking down. A pair of shorts and a shirt, showy? You have to laugh, or else you’ll succumb to the strange embarrassment crawling at the back of your skull. What’s he trying to say? Is that what he thinks of you? “What’s that supposed to mean?” you say, face tilted up to him in a twist of distaste. “I’m wearing something comfy.” 

He shrugs, hands shoved into the pockets of his black sweats. “Don’t want to give them the wrong idea about you, that’s all, baby. They’re guys; I just want to protect you.” 

“No,” you say, the word falling out in a barked laugh. “Why would you even be bringing over dudes that you think will look at me like that? Why are you even friends with people that you think are gonna make moves on your girlfriend?” He holds a hand out to you, but your hands stay right where they are: crossed solidly over your chest. 

Throwing that hand up in audacious exasperation, he gives you a look that makes you feel small and petulant—like you’re throwing an overblown fit. And, maybe you are. You should probably just do it; him seeing you as some overbearing or high maintenance girl has that embarrassment flaring like wildfire that’s found dry brush. “C’mon, baby,” he says, a lazy smile on his mouth that gets under your skin. “Let’s just have an easy night. Don’t make it a big deal.” 

Let’s just have an easy night. As if you’re the one ruining the night. Something snarky tries to seize your tongue, but you hold it down. “I thought it would be just us. We wanted to watch the movie together, Yeonjun. Can’t you wait to hang out with your friends? Let’s enjoy our time together; you’ve got your shift tomorrow.” 

“My fucking god,” he groans, running a hand through his hair furiously. “You’re needy, you know that? The neediest I’ve ever had to put up with. I don’t put up with needy, baby. Can’t you just chill out a little? My last didn’t mind when I’d have friends over.” 

Your eyes burn. Your cheeks burn. He’d been with plenty of other girls before you; that, you’re well aware of. It’s been a corrosive source of self-doubt for you. You don’t want that title: the neediest he’s ever had. Don’t want him to think of you as some prude that won’t let him have fun. Just... hearing him bring up the other girls he’d been with before you stings and leaves welts no different from a slap in the face. Feelings of inadequacy shackle you and have you saying, “Fine. I’m gonna borrow some of your clothes.” 

Heavy resentment blooms on your skin where he bends down and presses kisses to your cheek, and then mouth, and then down your neck. “Thank you, baby.” 

And, where those ugly, wilted flowers of it bloom, you hear echoes of something. Something that tells you that Kai wouldn’t treat you like this. But you’ve made your bed, decided to do it yourself, and now you’ve got to lay on it. 

⚝⭒ 

The frat parties are the worst kind of social outing that Yeonjun insists upon. The smaller kinds, more intimate gathering with just his closer friends, you tolerate much easier. You’re not fond of the circles he chooses. Breathing in thick, smoked-out air surrounded by alcohol-coated breaths is not your type of fun night. Somehow, you end up doing that more than date nights. But that’s better than being here. The base rumbles up through your feet and makes your stomach sick, and it reeks of grinding bodies and body odor, and condensation coats your fingers from the red solo cup as full as when you’d first gotten it. 

But, still, you come along. Not every time, but when you don’t, you lay in his bed sickening yourself with images of what he might be doing here. How pathetic is it to attend parties with your boyfriend because you fear that otherwise, he might stick his tongue down the throats of other girls? 

You’re looking for him right now, awkward and left alone. He’d promised to stick around; you had begged him to. That was pathetic, too. You know that you put up with too much. If he loved you, or honestly even liked you, you two would be in the thick of the throngs dancing or off somewhere talking with others. Together. The frantic skimming and weeding of your eyes through the blur of faces is not right. That’s not how he should make you feel. It’s not how Kai would make you feel. 

Well, Kai would never have you here in the first place. 

Venturing out from your little corner, you sift between the bodies of people have a hell of a lot better time than you. Drunken, some you bounce off of like bumper carts. You press your palm over the round face of your cup to spare the floor from spillage threatening to pour over the lip. It’s not like a splash from yours would matter much, though. The linoleum has already been made a fetor mess of dirt off shoes and the sticky sugar of liquor. Your shoes peel from it as you walk. God, what would your parents think of you being here? 

You peek around corners and eye big groups. He’s not in the kitchen when you look there, either. Your stomach feels sick in a knowing way—a gut feeling that doesn’t justify anger or tears just yet, but you know. Right in the center of your chest, you know. 

It’s in some room that you find him. Sat on the floor along with a few faces you don’t know, he pulls from his bottle. And on his shoulder, he lets a girl with shining curls and pink cheeks rest her head. At your busting in on the intimate gathering, Yeonjun’s eyes slide to you. Recognition flashes over them and wars with bleary drunkenness. 

“Hey, baby,” he says. Their gazes all fall on you, but you can hardly see them through blurry eyes. 

The girl lifts her head from his shoulder. She’d caught the memo. 

“I think I’m gonna go.” You make it sound resigned, try to not let them see your shame, but your voice betrays you and crackles. Maybe it’s better to pretend it doesn’t feel like you’ve just been kicked in the stomach and left to reel against the force, but you can’t. You’re nowhere near shocked, nowhere near blindsided, but still you hurt. 

He follows you down the hall. “What’s your problem?” he says, the few, plain words mending and waving into a slurring. 

You’ve got one goal: get to the front door, away from the shitty music and him. His words, sharpened, fall off your skin despite his efforts. What good would fighting do you, anyway? It was always going to end up this way. This is just who he is, and he doesn’t give two shits enough about you to want to change that. 

“Baby, seriously? That made you this mad? I didn’t even fucking do anything. Stop being insecure,” he says. At the gritting of your teeth, he sees an opportunity and pounces on it. “You don’t need to be jealous. I don’t do jealous shit. We can dance, or something. Shit, I don’t know what you want! Just stop throwing a fit.” 

Didn’t do anything? You have to laugh. Maybe you didn’t walk in on him fucking someone else, but that’s not what this is about. Not even a little bit. You’ve checked out, and the fact that he thinks he can make you believe that it’s your fault this time only drives the killing stake in harder. 

Maybe you’re bitter. It claws at your insides—turns your face hot and screams in your face that you’ve been used. But beside it sits a sadness. Not the slow kind, but the quick sadness of hurt. Why hadn’t you been good enough for him to love you? To like you? You’d left behind Kai and rested your new life on Yeonjun’s shoulders. You’d wanted so badly for his approval, or for him to want you. You did your best to try and make this work out because you needed it to. You needed so desperately proof that you could fall in love with somebody else. But your best was not what Yeonjun was interested in.  

Pins and needles prick your skin as you step outside, like jumping into an ice bath. It shocks you out of dizziness. Words surge up and out in a flash flood like hard reality. You spin on him. “Jealous?” you say, choking out a scathing laugh. “The last thing I’d ever let myself suffer over you is jealousy. Get over yourself. I’m going, stay here if you want. I don’t care.” 

“How are you gonna do that, huh?” he says. The flickering yellow of the porchlight paints his features. The shadow of something fluttering around it cuts dark spots in the light, and then a small little moth comes down and jumps around in his face. He waves it off. “Gonna have bitch boy come pick you up? You can’t leech off him forever; he’s gonna get sick of picking up another man’s girlfriend.” It seems like you walking in on that had sobered him up, but his breath still curls out onto your face with the reek of alcohol. “It’s not a big deal. You’re making this a bigger deal than it has to be. Do you not trust me?”  

“You are such a piece of shit,” you grit out. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Ever. I don’t know how I let this go on for so long.” You don’t like him having Kai in his mouth, don’t like him trying to act like you’re conflating things, and especially don’t like that face he’s making. As if you’re acting crazy and overblown. “No, I don’t trust you. You didn’t fuck her, but come on, Yeonjun. Seriously? You think I’m stupid, and I’m sick of it. You thought this would be easy because I didn’t have the experience you have, but I’m sorry. I don’t like being walked over.” 

“If you’re gonna be so goddamn jealous, then maybe we aren’t gonna work,” he says. 

That moth, floating light in the air, is right back in his face. Yeonjun takes two hands and smashes it between a clap of his hands. He shakes its flattened, broken body off his hand. Looking down at it laying there on top of dirt-caked concrete, you get this... feeling. A tickling around your person.  

“See if I care,” you snap, throat aching against the onslaught of emotion and held back tears.  

⚝⭒ 

Rivulets of raindrops dilute the tears on your cheeks. Your hair plasters to your face and your clothes to your body.  

For a week, you’d went about it all as if it hadn’t happened. And then you came here.  

It’d not been this rainy when you first got down to the creek—just a gentle trickle, really. You hadn’t been crying then, either. But, watching the water work at babbling over stone, you let yourself feel it. Here, where you’d had so many good memories. You’ve gone and tainted it, now. But for whatever reason, you’d just wanted to be here. Arms curled around yourself and fingers digging into drenched sleeves, you don’t wipe away the tears or cover the sounds of your crying. You let the stream hear it; it’ll sweep it right up and down the way. Somewhere far off, where you don’t have to feel it anymore. 

You realize that, usually, you’d be over at Kai’s right now. The fact that his room was not the first place you thought you could go to anymore is a punch to the gut. You drop your face into your hands and cry harder. Really, you’ve got to stop doing that to yourself. Thinking of sad things—putting your hurt under the microscope to see it closer. It’d be easier to just fold it up and tell yourself that it’ll pass, and that relationships end all the time. 

It’s not him that you cry over. Well, maybe some of it is. Rather, it’s that you have absolutely no idea where you’re going. Where you are. Finally, you’d built yourself a raft to get off the shore and go out to sea, because that’s what you’re supposed to do, and it’s breaking apart right beneath you. And, stranded and alone in the water, you’ve got no way to get back to shore to build yourself another raft. You’re stranded, and the scariest bit is that you’re doing it all alone. You weren’t supposed to do this alone. You two made promises back then. 

You suppose that a promise is one of those things you were supposed to leave faith in back on shore. 

The raindrops are heavy over you. The fall of it roars against the ground, a torrent downpour. It’s not coupled with whipping wind or flashes of lightning—just straight, still falling. It’s a somber feeling no different from the gnawing in your chest. 

Like chimes, there’s a distant, gentle sound. Maybe water falling over creek rock, but it’s more like suggestion. A sweet sound that you shouldn’t even be able to hear over the rest of it, it’s as if it’s right in your ear. A whisper.  

You fix your blurry eyes with a wet sleeve. Rain falls right back into its place, but you see it: a silvery, whimsy haze. And the moths. They jump and call you, this time. Their glow bounces off the rainy mist against the grey of night’s arrival. Then, all you can hear is the whispering. Where you stand frozen, your feet beg to move. To follow them. 

So you do. 

Their entourage of moondust trails them where they go, wrapping you up and weaving between raindrop and space. You don’t worry where they’ll take you, or even try to wrap your head around this happening again. You just follow, mind glossed over and entranced with how beautiful it is. When you’d seen them before, it’d made you uneasy. Mostly because it looked so unearthly and unbelievable. But this time you just follow. 

A far-off voice, one oh-so-familiar, peaks through the haze. It’s not enough to stop you, but then you hear it again, louder and closer. 

You blink a few times. Once to break away the fog, and then twice to focus your eyes on Kai stood in front of you. His hair lays in wet spikes over his eyes and beads of rain trace the planes of his face. He’s as soaked as you. 

“Kai?” you say. Looking around you, you’ve ended up somewhere in the field between your houses and the creek. But you’ve got no recollection of walking here. Whatever that mist is, sentient or not, had swept you here.  

His voice is strained, but you appreciate hearing it. “Break up with him,” he tells you. 

In his eyes, as you search them, there’s stardust glowing like reflection. Your face twists up. “What?” you say, breath a puff of smoke ahead of you. Summer had come and gotten away from you so fast, and now it’s gone all cold again. 

“Break up with him,” he echos, face solemn. He looks ruffled. 

“Why?” you ask, “And why are you out here?” 

“Because I’m moving out today, and I think I deserve to at least see you before I go.” His eyes look over you. “And... your dad said you went down to the creek.” 

He’s moving out today, and you had no idea. And really, it’s your fault. You’d driven that wedge between the two of you. “I did break up with him.” 

Downpour fills his quiet for a few moments, his face swirling with emotion like the clouds above you. He nods. “Good.” 

There are a few more long minutes between you; just you two searching each other's faces, antsy to say so much that it bunches up in your chests and stalls. It’s what a summer of longing does to you. Even with Yeonjun, even trying to slowly chip away the stitching that had connected the two of you at the hip, you were helpless to stop the gnawing of the love you bear for him. Even just seeing him now, you feel those threads mending back up. God, why does it have to be so hard? 

He just looks at you. For a few beats, he just looks at you. There are so many questions in his eyes. They flit across and turn over, but all he settles on is, “Why?” 

There’s so much you want to tell him. Words pile up to the top, some threatening to spill over. But you know that if you tell him some of it, just to make up for all the time you’d missed out on together, it’ll all come crashing out. And you don’t think you want him to know just how much you accepted, the way you let yourself get treated. So, you shake your head and say, “It doesn’t matter.” 

Kai looks like he wants to push that issue, but whatever look he finds on your face deters him. “Come with me,” he pleads. “I want you to come with me.” 

Your throat tightens. Curling your arms around yourself harder, the rain only coming down on you harder, you say, “Kai, I want to. I want to. I just... I don’t want to freeload off you, because you’re doing great things, and I’m just...” Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, but they’re already as soaked as the rest of you. “I’m just going nowhere. And I don’t want to be a burden, or ever be the reason that you can’t do what you dream of. If staying here means that you become everything that you’re destined to do, then I’m happy with that, Kai. I am.” 

He shakes his head, stumbling toward you. “No, no you don’t get it,” he says, frantically taking your shoulders into big hands. Under his touch, every taut muscle goes slack. You melt. “You don’t get it. You are the music. Every single song is about you. Every single fucking song is about you. I want you to come with me, please. I love you, I have always loved you, and I will always love you, and I thought you’d loved me too, and I don’t want to do this alone. I can’t do it alone.” 

He loves you. Kai loves you. The enormity of it rumbles the ground where you stand on legs you fear might just give in. You flex your fingers to combat the tears pricking your eyes. It doesn’t work; they brim and well up, spilling down over your cheeks. “What?” you say, voice softly breaking. “Kai, I didn’t...” 

“And just when I thought I finally had you, you left me,” he says, throwing a hand up beside him in a big gesture. “You left me! I woke up thinking you’d be there, and that maybe you loved me too, and you had left me. And then you threw me away for some piece of shit, and you stopped coming around.” His chest heaves for breaths. 

Your face contorts. That night, the one where you two had slipped up, you’d fallen asleep curled up against his chest on undiluted contentment. When you woke up, you had panicked. You thought he’d wake up and pretend it hadn’t happened, or he’d be uncomfortable, or even be disgusted and regretting. You couldn’t handle that, so you slipped out before he woke up. It’d been an attempt to protect your tender heart, but looking at the twitching of his lip now, you begin to think it’s the most selfish thing you’ve ever done. He thinks you used him and left him. Your stomach twists. Voice thick, you say, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left you, Kai. I thought you didn’t... I thought you didn’t see me that way. I was scared. I’m sorry I hurt you.” 

Brows knitted together, he says, “Thought I didn’t love you?” His hand cups your cheek, warm against the soft frozen skin he finds there. “I’ve... I’ve dreamed of you almost every night of my life. In my sleep, I see you, and you’re happy and glowing, and that damn... mist is all around you. I couldn’t get away from you even in my sleep.” 

Darting between his eyes, soft and reflecting your face back to you, it’s hard to breathe. Kai’s dreamt of you; he’s as sickly in love with you as you are him. Thunder claps, and the ground shakes, and the heavens open up above you, the trumpets belt, and you two are in love. Somewhere deep in your center, you feel it—your soul nodding yes. 

The mist. You know exactly what he’s talking about. “I saw it. That stuff, those moths. The stuff we saw back then.” 

“I did too,” he says, wet spikes of hair bouncing with a nod. “Not that long ago. It was the first time I saw it out of a dream since that day.” 

Back then, you two had only budding, innocent love for each other. Things hadn’t become mangled and lost to confused hearts or expectations. When they’d appeared to you, you hadn’t needed it. This time, you’d followed it. And it had led you here—somehow had led you right to the very spot you needed to so that every last piece might fall into place. For this moment to happen. You know why it did. 

“I’ll go with you, Kai. I’ll go wherever you go; I love you. I’ve loved you since forever,” you say, each and every word massive and lovely on your tongue. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it earlier.” 

So unlike the last times your mouth had met, he brings his mouth to yours with a dazzling clarity. No longer is it confused kisses; he locks his lips against yours with the urgency of so many years being unable to. Kai’s hands cradle your wet cheeks, hold you so tenderly into his kiss. His touch grounds you, makes the moment real. You melt into him—your fingers curled into his shirt as if holding him there so that he won’t disappear like something of an incorporeal dream. He sighs through his nose, kissing you harder. Even if it all were fake and this was nothing more than a feverish figment of your imagination, you think you could die happy just knowing this once. 

But it is utterly real, and utterly yours. You kiss him harder, too. 

When your lungs start to burn and plead for breath, you two pull away from each other. Your eyes flutter open to capture his. Warm and brown and the same ones you’ve stared into so many times before, but not like this, you sink into them. He runs his thumb over your cheek as he sinks into yours. His tongue darts out to lick lips painted with you. In the inches between you, space no longer feels heavy or charged with grievances. Every last unsaid thing had been answered. 

“I have my stuff up in the truck,” he says, breaths soft. Brown eyes dart around your face. “I’ll help you add your stuff to it.” 

You shudder out a breath. Add your stuff to it. A nervous energy settles down over you, but it doesn’t seem so bad if you’re doing it with him. Together.  

“Okay,” you whisper, a balmy secret just like the ones you used to share in small, giggly voices so many years ago. “Okay.” 

⚝⭒ 

Shivers seize you like jittering bones, all wrapped up in a blanket. The velour cushion seats beneath you have soaked up water and become damp, but Kai’s got the heater blasting. You wind around back roads, headlights illuminating the way ahead of you. Stray droplets whip in them, but nothing much. Isn’t it funny how the rain had just stopped like that? That’s just how the weather is, out here. You wonder how the weather might act wherever you’re headed. 

Your teeth chatter as if your jaw had its own will. The two of you had the windows down thinking that the wind might dry you off, but all it’s done is lap at your bitten cheeks. You reach down for the handle to crank it up. You’ve got a long drive ahead of you—either you’ll eventually dry off, or you can pull off at a rest area to change in a bathroom. The wet clothes are really not helping. 

With an arm up on the steering wheel, Kai turns his attention on you. You know that smile. “Cold?” he asks, eyes darting between your face and the road. With the hand he’s not got working the steering wheel, he runs fingers over your thigh. Soft, gentle massages, yes. The number it does on your core is absurd. Each mindless digging into your thighs and brush of his thumb, sparks sputter there. You’ve sat here, right in his passenger seat, so many times before. Day trips up to the lake, the one he’d joined your family camping at for so many summers, all the times he’d driven you to school in this truck, and even just a quick run down to a convenience store for a late-night snack. You’d deemed it your seat. But never once had you sat in it like this. Your heart does a flip. All those times you’d wish he’d reach over and do just this—a small gesture that would’ve been so big then. And it’s your reality, now.  

“Freezing,” you say. A brush of his fingers nearer the apex of your thighs sends you pressing them together and shifting in your seat. “But not everybody runs as hot as you, though, so.” 

His eyes catch the movement in just the split second he looked over to you. “Huh,” he says. He turns to look at you, his gaze flickering with something anew. Something that you’d only ever seen once before. “Is that it?” 

It’s hard to swallow. His fingers brush higher, and higher, feather-dustings of calloused fingertips that sends tingles shooting up your spine at the slightest suggestion of where he’s headed. “Yes,” you say, feigning indignance to cover the shiver that threatens to overtake you. When his fingertips dance at the waistband of your bottoms, it does so anyway. “Kai,” you say, blood hot in your veins. “You’re...driving.” 

His eyebrows pinch into a taunting furrow. “I am,” he says, nodding. “Don’t worry about it, baby. I’ve got us.” 

And he does; fingers slipping under the band of both your bottoms and your panties, he doesn’t even tear his eyes off the road. He’d driven these roads so much, you think he might be able to do it asleep. Even drawing a mewl from you with a brush over your clit, he doesn’t look away more than a quick glimpse at your pinkened cheeks. 

Two fingers dragging up your folds, right over the source of the mess. “You get excited so easily, huh?” he hums. “You like it when I play with you.” 

When he presses those fingers at your entrance, you can’t help but be taken back to that night. It echoes and reverberates through you. Long fingers, strong and punctual brushes against the sweet spot—he was criminally good with his fingers. Playing guitar did more for him than just music. He seemed to know exactly how to utilize those roughened fingers and trained flicks. Your muscles flicker as he abandons your hole for more brushes at your bud.  

Those teasing, sly touches turn to something more serious. His fingers roll over your clit, slow but enough to have you sighing and rolling your hips against the seat belt. But last time had gone just like this, him touching you and receiving nothing. He should feel good, too. “Shouldn’t you pull over?” you sigh, muscles taut. Your breaths come out shuddering and half-controlled, interrupted by the tightness that each delicious swirl provokes. The door takes the brunt of your grip, white-knuckling the interior. 

He laughs, a husky sound that is tinder to fire. He knows what you mean. “Maybe,” he says. “But I think I’m enjoying this plenty. I think I want to see you cum on my fingers again.” 

Fingers pinching and flicking faster, you grow breathy and whiny, hips rolling against the seatbelt and back into the seat. Your muscles, all the way down your thighs and deep in your belly, jump and twitch each time his fingers run over your clit in just the right spot—that tender spot that’s so good that it teeters on overwhelming. The kind that makes you hiss and then want more. “Shit, Kai,” you whine. “Right—there, keep going."  

He doesn’t answer with any teasing words. No, he just doubles down right at that angle and pressure, leaned back into his seat and driving as if he wasn’t fingers-deep in your panties right now. His sculpted profile at total ease—it does something for you. A delicious tightness curls its fingers over your center, promising a sugary ecstasy that you can’t help but chase. Bucking into his hands as best you can, you go quiet. Right there—right there, you feel it. The cusp. Your fingers brush over it, clenching around nothing and squeezing your thighs tight around him. Every last drop of blood in your body reaches for it, singing and dancing through your veins and making you dizzy. 

And then he stops. Your mouth drops open, whiplashed and helpless to its slipping away from you. You whittle your gaze into something sharp and turn to him. “What—why?” you complain. The tide slips further and further and further back, but you still taste sea salt on your tongue. Frustration sets in its place as you feel it go. Seriously, you’d been right there. “You’re so mean.” 

He slows and then with the clicking of the turn signal, he’s off the road and pulling the truck into park on a little secluded side road. Where the headlights pierce the pitch black, nothing but gravel and field surrounds you. He doesn’t kill the engine, instead pulling his hand free from you. 

Your heart, still stuttering with your lost orgasm, kicks back to life as he smears your slick over your mouth, dragging it over your lips and then taking his thumb to run it right over the plush of your mouth. “Am I?” he says, fingers taking your chin to meet your eyes with his. Endless hunger, pupils so blown that his eyes look black, pins you. “I don’t think you’ve seen mean yet, baby.” 

Darting your tongue out to clean your lips, you look at him through your eyelashes. “Show it to me, then.” 

Something dark passes over his face. It has your skeleton jumping out of your body. Then, he says, “Is that what you want? You want mean?” 

Brain gone to mush that can only really think about him touching you, a slow nod is all you can manage. 

The engine’s hum prevails for some long, thick seconds. And then, he tilts his head in a gesture. “Get in the back.” 

Holy shit. You want to sit there frozen in an overwhelming sort of excitement, but his seatbelt clicks undone and you’re set into motion. In a flurry of giggles and clumsy limbs, you climb up over the center console and into the backseat. He slips out of the front seat, not bothering to even kill the engine. 

The door beside you opens in a swirl of cold wind. In nothing more than a blink, a strong hand has both your wrists pinned to the cushions and your back flush against it. Nose-to-nose, his breath hot over your face. “I’ve got plenty of ideas as to how I can warm you up.” 

You appreciate each other’s faces for a beat more, you looking up at him big-eyed and waiting. Kai breaks the moment to attack your neck in a procession of bites and kisses. Your mouth falls into a silent sound. 

“You know,” he says, free hand working your pants off. His eyes are trained on you, though. “I thought about doing this to you all summer. Touching you again.” He moves on to your top, pushing the fabric up until your chest is freed, clad in soft cotton. He eats the sight up. You want to reach down and cup the back of his head or feel his hair between your fingers as he presses his mouth against the soft beginning of your cleavage, but he’s got your wrists firmly planted. So much so, that you wonder exactly how he’s got you so secure with just one hand. Kai is strong, but maybe you hadn’t seen just how strong. Your skin aches under the purple bites he decorates you in. The sight of him—face in your chest and marking you up so lazily—has your teeth abusing your bottom lip. Whatever sounds you might make otherwise would be embarrassing. Kai lifts his eyes to you. “And I think you thought of me, too. Didn’t you?” 

“Oh, god, yes,” you say, writhing beneath him. He’s going so slow. You want him all over you. “So much.” 

He likes that. He takes your pebbled nipple into his mouth through the fabric. Soft grazes of teeth and sucks, you’re burning all over. When he pulls back, he’s left you dark wet patches when the bra had only just dried against your body heat. “Good,” he rasps, taking his big hands demanding and hungry over your torso. They swallow your frame up, soothing skin but lighting it aflame all the same. “Good girl.” 

You never thought just words could unravel you, but those did the job. Not a gasp, nor a sucking in of breath—no, you go silent and brainless, fumbling for rational thought. 

The dropping of your jaw has Kai delighted. “You’re so pretty,” he says. In a swift and powerful hoist, he’s tugging you down the cushions toward him with greedy fingers. He’s got your thighs pressed up to your chest. You’re bent right in half. 

Out of breath, you huff out, “You too.” 

A quick laugh falls from his mouth, lips pulled into a smug tilt. He nips at your calf up by his face. “So sweet, it almost makes me feel bad for what I’m about to do to you.” Reaching down for your panties, he pulls back on the suffocating press for only enough time to drag them up your legs. Those get discarded somewhere on the floor. Who cares about that right now, though? All you can register is the metallic clinking of his belt being undone. It’s got your nervous system twisting up. 

And, those words. Electricity shoots bolts of pure, sizzling revery into your core. What I’m about to do to you. You imagine a great deal of things that he might mean, but still, you think that none could hold a candle against the promise his voice held in saying it. 

Kai presses his body to your thighs and hooks your calves over his shoulders, and it all becomes real. The press of his heavy cock to your folds, the digging of his fingers into your outer thighs, his pretty eyes sparkling with something feral. As real as it gets—more real than anything you’ve ever felt in the entirety of your life. Your hands find perch flattened to his broad chest. 

The position leaving you two no option but to look right into each other, he holds your gaze and begins slow drags of his hot length up and down your slit. Tantalizing, awful, awful drags. When his tip nudges your eager clit, you jolt. And then he does it again. And again. 

“Kai,” you mewl. A press against your hole has you hopeful, and he lingers there for a moment, but doesn’t give it to you. Can’t he just fuck you? You’ve never been more pitifully in need of something in your life. 

“Shh.” His ruts get more daring, smearing your slick up onto your belly. “Take it.” 

You wiggle your toes in the air and make passes at arching yourself into him in search of better friction. He’s got you pressed so suffocatingly into the seat that it does absolutely nothing for you. In fact, he holds your harder and changes tack so that your thighs press together. At the very apex of them, his weeping cock slips through the seam. 

Pressing his cheek into your calf, he watches you. Every gasp and shaky inhale, he watches. It spurs his rutting on, sticky sounds and pants eating up the air. Your nails claw at his hands as, finally, a knot tightens in your core. 

“Yes, please,” you breathe. He fucks your thighs harder. Faster. Every nudge at your clit and hole becomes euphoric. “Kai, baby—I’m gonna—” 

Just as furiously easy as last time, he rips it all away from you. The rushing away of the buzzing and promise of shaking thighs—he takes it from you again. It brings prickling tears to your eyes. “Kai?” you hiss. “Again?” 

His eyes aren’t playful. He pulls your calves back over his shoulders, handling your hips into a better position to press his cock right at your entrance as if you weigh nothing. Face utterly straight, he says, “I don’t think you deserve it, do you? Not after what you did with Yeonjun.” 

A swallow goes down your throat hard. He presses himself just a bit harder into you. Not in yet, but right there. 

When he does begin sliding in, the stretch of it... You cling to him and squirm between him and the warm cushions behind you. Each inch is a heady feeling, all the way up to the hilt of him. He shudders a controlled breath. “You’re so fucking tight, though,” he grits out. “Did he not fuck you right?” 

Slaps of skin bounce off the car interior and between your bodies. He starts off at a brutal pace; you know it’s meant to make your brain go foggy. Squeezing your eyes closed, you manage, “I... didn’t fuck him.” It comes out strangled, voice bouncing as he fucks you into the car seat. 

Thumb tugging your bottom lip down and then dipping into your mouth, he watches the show of your ecstasy down to every last detail. “Yeah?” he says, voice shaking and almost desperate. “Always thinking of me, huh? Such a good little princess. You know exactly where your heart belongs.”  

You want to answer him, even just with a whine or moan. You try to. But with his thumb pressing down on your tongue, enough to pin it to the floor of your mouth, it’s not gonna happen. He tastes salty in your mouth. 

His truck consists of his grunts and whines, and your taut groans for some moments that seem to stretch forever. The planes of his groin grind against your clit when he delivers occasional pointed rolls, but mostly it’s just an animalistic, feverish dancing of your two sweaty bodies, holds growing more frantic the closer you get.  

Thumb wet with saliva; he frees your mouth. The hand trails slowly down your face and your chin, brushing feather touches, until he finds your neck. 

Your eyes fly open, wide. He pressed his fingers into your neck—no real pressure yet, he looks at you through damp strands of dangling hair and says, “Want my fingers around your neck?” His thumb brushes over the buzzing pulse point there. 

“Yes,” you grit out, body bouncing and back raw with friction against the coarse cushion’s surface. Your breath stutters, your mind stutters. Even your blinks stutter, eyelids too lazy to keep up. “Please.” 

The pressure of his fingers there—it frightens you and has you tightening around him at the same time. But you would trust nobody more with your life than Kai. 

He presses his cheek to your calf to indulge in the sight of you like this: underneath him, folded in two, nowhere to go but to take his pistoning hips, cheeks blazing, and his fingers pressed into your windpipe. If the way he becomes sloppier and more desperate in his tempo has anything to say for it, it does something for him. 

“Gonna be my pretty little girlfriend, huh?” he says. His voice is tight—so is your belly. You’re both so close. Hopefully, this time he’ll let you cum. “Take you to every show; show you off to everybody. Fuck.” 

Brain like static and swimming with a pinched flow of oxygen, you slur your words. “You’re—hah—gonna have other girls all over you.” 

The taunting, split-second raise of his brows flips your belly. You tighten him again. If he keeps hitting that spot, tip ramming into the soft spot deep inside you that he’d taken such delicate care of finding last time, you’re going to burst into sparkling flame and firework. He growls, “Well, I’ll just have to knock you up so that they know I’m yours, huh?” 

Holy shit. You like the sound of that. Your nails dig into his wrist around your neck, but you cry out a pitchy, “Yes!” 

“Oh, you like that?” Kai releases your throat to take both your hips. You gulp for air, finding nothing but the thick air of sex and humid breaths, at the opportunity. He’s ramming into you like he’s found a purpose. “Isn’t this the perfect position to do it? Get you pregnant?” 

With every last bit of brain power you’ve got, teetering on the edge excruciatingly close to salvation, you groan a long, hoarse sound. “Fuck, yes! Please, Kai, inside—” A hot trail of tears roll down your temples. 

It’s all he’s got to hear to still inside you. His growl rumbles deep in his chest, holding you in place and filling you with his hot cum deep in your cunt. That feeling, coupled with his short grinds against your clit as he fucks his seed deeper, takes your soul by sinful claws and crumbles it down into nothing. You burst into a shaking, whimpering peak, sucking your lips into your mouth to bare through the sheer twisting of your insides and the flame that consumes up your thighs and cunt. 

He falls on you heavy, face in your neck. Warm kisses against your clammy skin meld with your slow floating down, the two of you a beautiful, nasty picture of fucked out. He stays right inside you—the absolute stillness of him, you think he has no plans of pulling out any time soon. His long fingers card through your sweaty locks of hair. 

Finally, he presses himself off you. You get a glimpse of the window behind him—fogged up and filthy with your affairs. Anybody to see the truck from the outside would know exactly what went on inside, but right now, you don’t care. Not one bit. Your panted breaths drag in nothing but musk and thick, hot air. The drumbeat in your chest tells you that, despite how you feel ripped straight from your body, you are very much still alive. More alive than ever. 

“Warm?” he says, pushing sticky hair off his forehead. He’s a mess, too. His hair is ruffled with your touch, his clothes rumpled the same, beads of sweat rolling down the planes of his cheeks and neck, and his eyes a lazy smolder. As much as he looks like sex personified, a soft smile twitches at his lips. 

You snort. You can’t help but feel giddy, here with him. You’re with him. Nothing has ever felt more right. Unplugged when he pulls out of you, your mess trickles down onto the seat below you. “Yeah,” you say. “Very.” 

Warm is not enough to begin to describe how you feel. In your ears, you hear whisperings. Soft and gentle. Perhaps it was divine intervention, or the fates lending you their word, or maybe just rational thought. It says: 

Home. You are home. 

✎୭ ashlynn's note how do we feel about this pair? i really didn't mean for this to get so long, but i ended up RLLY liking their chemistry. i had to do their story justice. also, i finished this with kai as a guitarist and then his drummer performance came out... hmm.

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[moonlight-prose]

“please don’t make me say it if you aren’t going to say it back” with a desperately in love with joel reader would hit so much…

weaved around your finger like yarn

a/n: me writing for joel again?? this has sat in my inbox for over a year and i never meant to actually take this long with it. but i finally figured out how to write this concept. and now i am actually obsessed with the small world of softness i created for these two. this is yes jackson joel, but nothing bad happens ever to him because why would it? it's all fine right?

summary: he never made space in his life for love in the aftermath of destruction. the after of his life he once thought would extend past decades of gray hair, smile lines carved in around his mouth now set in frowns and sneers. but snowfall and alcohol blur the lines for both of you when winter comes to jackson.

word count: 1.6k+

pairing: joel miller x reader

warnings: not explicit, love confessions, heavy makeout sessions, alcohol consumption, tipsy joel, sad joel, laughter at the end of the world, hope.

He can't remember laughing until his stomach hurt. The ache that spilled into his chest, warming his insides with a sun like quality that left him shivering. He can't recall the feel of his cheeks pulled so wide the sensation became a phantom pain seconds after. He knows it happened. He can distinctly recall the jokes, the joy. But the laughter lingers like a ghost at the back of his mind—translucent and gray and distorted enough to feel false.

Alcohol simmers in his stomach with a rueful intent. A malignant aftermath that would hit him in a few hours after two months of attempted sobriety. Ellie insisted, he accepted. Easy enough to say. Difficult to follow through with.

He had his days where whiskey sounded better than the flavor of bacon Tommy would bring him in the early mornings. But the dismay in your eyes helped him hold off, regain his awareness of a world not yet shattered. For once in quite a long time...he finally lived. For you, for Ellie, for Sarah.

He lived to see his hair grow longer and the grays appear more frequently. To drink coffee in the mornings on a porch you were already settled on. To help you fix small things here and there in your cabin next door. He lived for your smile, the light in your eyes. The curve of your lips as they pulled up into bolstering peals of laughter—the furrow in your brow as you frowned from endless frustrations on long hard days.

Joel Miller lived to love you.

He existed to dig his heels in and wait shit out—it's what he was good at, what he knew how to do. But for you he relented quicker than ice on a hot asphalt driveway back home in Texas. His mind became sand that slipped through your giving hands—heart a fluttering mess that sang a tune he could never get right on the guitar stashed in his living room.

Days bloomed into weeks which grew into months. Eventually a year passed and what used to be difficult and awkward to be around people again, felt like breathing the fresh winter air. The jackets he managed to find hung on hooks by the door, a pair of heavy boots beside the small table Tommy crafted him.

The mornings were nice. When hot water hit ground coffee and the aroma plagued his kitchen for hours at a time. The evenings called you towards him—simple cooking skills shared in the confines of a home he pined for you to reside in.

Life was a sliver of peace he never imagined he'd get again. But the hole in his heart never faded, the pain still rang out sharp enough to have him clamping down on the inside of his cheek. And your smile made his stomach ache with a longing deep enough to scar.

Tommy told him to buck up and do something. Ellie called him a fucking idiot.

You...gave no indication you felt the same way. So silent and reserved he would remain.

Your feet slid on icy, fingers gripping tightly to his jacket with a yelp in a quick attempt to save yourself from slamming to the ground. Joel snickered loud and brash and a wash of embarrassment burned under frozen cheeks. Dragging you up, his arm looped tightly around your waist—hand pressed harsh and insistent to the small of your back. You swallowed the butterflies at the sight of his face flushed red—eyes shining from the effect of too much whiskey.

"We were bad tonight," you muttered, breath forming a cloud between your faces.

He grinned—skin buzzing at the close proximity of your form. "Only a little bit."

"You're not supposed to drink Joel."

Leaning in he traded his smile like a secret; you tucked it into your chest with a sharp breath. "I won't tell if you don't, darlin'."

"Joel..."

"C'mon. No one's gettin' in trouble here."

A blade pierced your heart brutally—spilling crimson along pale white snow. Even as Joel remained entirely unaware of how you clung to him. How your body called his name—your mind plagued with thoughts of his being, with images of his smile, with the sound of his raspy voice. He'd never know the way you cherished each moment with him. The mornings tucked away from an unruly world—the nights shared between friends who might one day be more.

Your teeth scraped along the cracked skin of your bottom lip, eyes cast up to the curl of his lips. The words sprang forth faster than you could drag them back. Your chest of secrets unlocked and bared to the man who drowned you in his small flecks of joy. Later you'd blame the alcohol. When the headache ravaged your head and an ache lingered between your thighs.

Later you'd comb over every small glance and breathy word.

"I like spending time with you Joel," you breathed, fingers toying with the front of his leather coat. "I like...um..."

The breath caught in his throat, gaze desperate to catch yours. "Yeah sugar?"

"It's a hard thing to say." Another cloud of your whiskey tinged breath filled the air.

"You can tell me anythin'. You know that right?" Even as hope flared bright and scorching through the width of his chest. "I'll listen."

Hesitation spilled into the night, your voice a soft whisper he barely caught. "Please don't make me say it if you aren't going to say it back."

Oh didn't you know?

Did you not see how his gaze dug beneath the layers of flesh and bone, of tendons and veins that clung to your form? Did you not understand he would take a bullet for you? That he'd bear the wound of a warrior's death to keep you alive? How could you not know that his love stuck to his tongue with a saccharine bitterness he swallowed down like the drugs he once took to numb his mind?

You healed pieces of his soul you never broke. A marred and fucked puzzle that was meant to find a home six feet underground. By his own hand no less. He was destined to die—born to suffer—yet you swathed him wool with the promise of a peaceful life.

A future etched by the hands of love.

"Say it," he pleaded, frozen hand cupping your cheek.

"It's more than just that." The breath you took shot adrenaline down his spine. "I like our mornings. I like our dinners and conversation. And even when you come into town with me. But I...I love..."

The glossy nature of your eyes created by unshed tears that pooled at your waterline dug the knife deep enough to meld it within his heart. You didn't know. You couldn't have. His silence, his hesitation, swallowed every emotion he might have told you—every secret uttered in the shadows of night that told only half his story.

He told you about Sarah. About their life together, about her smile. That in itself felt like a proclamation of love—a key to the heart he thought stopped beating long ago.

"I knew it would freak you out," you muttered, pulling away from his hold.

Only for him to panic. His hand gripped the back of your jacket, pushing you towards him hard enough for your feet to slip again. But your gasp was swallowed by the cold press of his mouth to yours. Lips chapped by the winter air slid against your parted mouth as you froze against his chest. Your hands hung listlessly at your sides. He kissed you tenderly, attempting to wake you from the spell of shock, but to no avail did it bring you back.

"'M sorry." His words were muffled against your chin, forehead pressed to yours and eyes squeezed shut. "I shouldn't have–"

The press of your fingers into his cheeks jolted him back—eyes wide as you dragged him back with a stifled moan. Your mouth found his tongue hot and wet along his bottom lip in a pleading motion he complied to instantly. Stepping forward he fell into you with a deep groan. One that echoed and vibrated right down to your stomach—one you savored with a lick along his back teeth.

Hands cupped your ass with an insistent need to mold you closer, fingers digging into the plush flesh he longed to bite and taste. You tasted like whiskey. You smelled like him. It made him dizzy with want, anxious to lead you back to his porch—to seat you on his kitchen counter in the mornings while the coffee went cold.

"Fuck I wanna take ya home sugar," he grunted, biting at your lower lip with a grin.

Your breathless reply made the hair stand on the back of his neck. "You can."

"No." He shook his head, stealing another kiss with a gritty moan. "Not tonight. 'M gonna do this proper."

"Proper," you smiled, tugging on the longer curls you refused to let him cut. "You're such an old man Miller."

The large breadth of his hand cupped your chin, pushing the cheeks he lightly bit into together. "Won't be sayin' that tomorrow when I ain't got all this fuckin' alcohol in me."

"Yeah?" The droop of your eyelids—the darkened iris now filled with lust—set his teeth on edge. His body hummed with a new buzz he craved since meeting you. "Prove it."

"Oh I will." He grinned sharply, licking his teeth like a wolf waiting to pounce. "Don't you worry 'bout that."

A glimmer in your eyes caught his attention, the grip on your face loosening. "You know I love you right darlin'?"

You smiled—big and bright—and Joel felt another piece of his soul set back into place. "I love you too Joel."

[gravegoer]

Hii!! Could I request Council member sevika x reader (established relationship) bathing her after a stressful day or even her first day 🙏🏽💕

Late night care ―୨୧⋆

hi anon ! and yes i love this, she definitely deserves it, i went with after her first day :) its kind of suggestive in a few parts but nothing explicit so be warned !

Sevika had just gotten back from her first meeting, it was quite obvious she didnt have a good time

On the way home, she ranted about how the topsiders on the council treated her, they werent too happy about Zaun being represented.

This was obviously bound to happen as the council wasn't very open-minded. It would take a while for them to adjust to this change.

She needed some time to relax and you knew just how to help her.

You pulled her into the bathroom as soon as you got back home, sitting her on the toilet lid next to the bathtub.

She groaned at the soreness in her legs when she sits down, rubbing at her thigh with calloused hands. You got on your knees in front of her, beginning to tug at her laces, hand wrapped around her ankle. Her eyes widened in shock at what she thought was your boldness.

Pulling her booted foot from out of your hands, she raised her leg to rest her sole on your inner thigh. "So this is your idea of helping me relax?"

Your face flushed, not realizing the implications of your actions and pushed her heavy leg away. "It's not the time for that," you pointed towards the bath, "I was going to run you a bath.",

You looked up at her, and her expression was beaming in amusement. "You can't just drop to your knees in front of me so fast," She teased while you continued to tug her boots off. "But I guess it's not the time for that yet."

You rolled your eyes at her words and tossed her dirty boots to the corner of the room and stood up between her legs. Before you could move, she was wrapping a thick arm around your waist, putting her face into your torso.

"I appreciate you doing this for me." She mumbled into the fabric of your shirt.

You let out a small chuckle at her affection and ran a hand through her hair, slightly scratching at her scalp. After a few seconds, you pushed her away to turn to the bath. She let out a grunt when you escaped her grasp and eyed you as you bent over the tub to turn on the water.

You could feel her piercing stare from behind you as you tested the water that was now flowing into the tub, making sure it was hot just how she liked it. You had bought some cinnamon and sandalwood bathsalts a few days ago from a nearby shop, knowing Sevika would like the scent.

Reaching behind her, you opened a cabinet near her head, your arm brushing against her hair. She turned slightly to plant a kiss on your forearm, looking at you with soft eyes.

You giggled at her forwardness, feeling a blush settle on your face as you pulled some small jars out. Her eyes chased your form as you moved back to the tub, pouring in (what you think) is the perfect measurement of salts. After adding in some rosemary to help relax her muscles, you sat them on the corner of the ledge, swirling your hand in the half filled tub.

Sevika found this endearing, that you are working hard to please her. Even though the past few days have been nothing but stress, she felt as though this moment had already taken it all away. You did so much to keep her worries at bay, and she recognized it.

She shook her head and smiled to herself inwardly, getting up from her spot and stepping beside you, putting a hand on your lower back. You started to stand up, and she grabbed your chin on the way, pulling your cheek to her lips. Her thick lips were heavy on your face, and you could feel her hot breath fan your cheek as she pulled away.

"Ready?" She asked, finger still on your chin.

You nodded, putting your hands on your hips to stare proudly at her. She chuckled at your confidence and pulled her shirt over her head.

You stared, flushed, at her happy trail that climbed up her toned stomach. The dim light highlights the muscle of her arm, and your eyes trailed up to her black bra that concealed her chest.

"You're staring damn hard for someone who said 'its not the time for that'," She cocked an eyebrow down at you.

You cleared your throat and turned around, pretending to search for something. At that, she let out a throaty laugh and nudged your back lightly. You realized you needed to grab her a bathrobe and shook your head as you stepped out to get to the closet.

Grabbing a black and red silky robe from the closet beside the bathroom, you hummed in approval. You could hear her clothes dropping to the ground from within the bathroom and stood outside a little bit longer than you probably needed to, clutching the robe to your chest.

When the sound ceased, you took that as a queue to step back in. You were greeted with the (yummy) sight of Sevika layed back in the tub. Her toned back pressed against the wall, and her arm rested on the ledge. Her hair was splayed out on the wall, moist with condensation. The sight of her head thrown back and her eyes closed in genuine pleasure made you stare for a few seconds before closing the door behind you.

When you turned back, her grey eyes pierced through you, now smirking in your direction. She made a 'come hitler' motion with two fingers. You obeyed and stepped towards her, setting the robe down on the counter.

You knelt down to run your hands up her arm to her neck, slightly scratching the base of her scalp. She groaned at the feeling and relaxed (if she could be more relaxed than she already is).

You pumped some bodywash into a rag near the ledge by the previously discarded bath salts with your other hand. Tapping on her back to get her to learn forward slightly, you rubbed the rag gently over her back, letting soap drip down into the water.

You now sat on the ledge, leaning on the wall parallel to her back. She groaned occasionally at your massage, coming undone under your touch. Gritting her teeth at a particularly tense spot that you tore through.

Her skin felt hot underneath your fingertips, running your nails down her back and across her scars. It was rare to see her so vulnerable, but you weren't complaining.

Suddenly, you realized how slick the ledge was with condensation when you shifted a bit. Before you could process this you went toppling over.

Not onto the floor.

Into the bath.

Sevika jumped in suprise, getting pulled out of her trance and moving her legs upwards to catch you. Her arm held onto the front of your shirt. But this didn't do much. Water was already up to your bellybutton and overflowing onto the ground.

Immediately, your eyes flew to Sevikas face, worrying that you ruined the moment. But what you were met with was her delighted and teasing smile. Her thick lips were stretched upwards.

"If you asked to join, i would have said yes," She laughed, "Ya didn't have to jump at me."

You both laughed at your situation, trying but failing to pull you out of the tub.

Eventually, you both gave up, having no more energy, and you pulled your wet shirt over your head as a last resort and settled between Sevikas legs, back pressed against her chest.

And this is how you opted to stay for the rest of the night.

Sevika was pleased.

cute ending because i said so

[littlelamy]

Rafe x Reader request: They’ve been going on a few dates, with Rafe in the hopes to get in in her pants. Rafe has been more of a fuckboy, lots of experience, kicks girls out as soon as it’s done and have they been inexperienced – he’s kicked them out straight away before anything happens, not having any energy to ‘’teach’’. Cue to Reader and him about to get intimate, she confesses to being a virgin and he kicks her out. HOWEVER……he this time feels like absolute shit about seeing how sad she got and realizes he has fallen for her….and he tries to fix it (happy ending)

a/n: thank you for request, hope you like it!!💗

rafe cameron was never one to think much beyond the moment. he didn’t overanalyze his hookups, didn’t question why they always left with messy hair and no promises of a second date. he had a rhythm to his life, and it worked for him. girls came and went, his phone a revolving door of contacts he didn’t even bother saving half the time.

until you showed up.

it wasn’t just that you were beautiful—plenty of girls were. but you had this quiet confidence about you, a way of looking at him that didn’t scream take me home now. you made him work for your attention, your time, your smiles. and god, he wanted to work for it.

the first few dates were surprisingly normal. no wild nights, no sneaky excuses to get you alone in his room. you made him laugh, made him feel something he hadn’t in years—light, easy, like he could just be rafe without any expectations. but tonight, as you sat on his couch, sipping wine and smiling at him in that way that made his chest ache, rafe couldn’t ignore the tension humming between you any longer.

he leaned in, testing the waters with a soft brush of his lips against yours. when you didn’t pull away, he kissed you again, deeper this time, his hands sliding to your waist. you melted into him, your fingers tangling in his hair, and that was all the invitation he needed.

rafe pulled you closer, his hands wandering beneath your shirt, his kisses growing more urgent. but just as his fingers brushed against the clasp of your bra, you stiffened, pulling back suddenly.

“wait,” you whispered, your voice shaky.

rafe froze, his hands stilling as he searched your face. “what’s wrong?”

you bit your lip, looking anywhere but at him. “i… i need to tell you something.”

his heart sank, the worst possibilities flashing through his mind. “what is it?”

“i’ve never done this before,” you said quietly, barely audible.

the words hung in the air, heavy and unexpected. rafe blinked, his mind struggling to catch up. “you mean…?”

“i’m a virgin,” you clarified, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

the room suddenly felt too small, too quiet. rafe sat back, running a hand through his hair as he tried to process. a virgin. you were a virgin. he hadn’t expected that. he hadn’t planned for that.

“shit,” he muttered under his breath.

you pulled your knees to your chest, your voice small. “i’m sorry. i should’ve told you sooner.”

“no, it’s not…” rafe trailed off, shaking his head. “it’s not your fault. it’s just… i don’t think i’m the right guy for this.”

your eyes shot up to meet his, wide with confusion and hurt. “what do you mean?”

“i mean… i don’t think i can give you what you deserve for your first time,” he said, his voice hollow. “you should be with someone who can… i don’t know, make it special or whatever. someone who knows how to handle that.”

the words tasted bitter as he said them, but he convinced himself it was the right thing to do. he wasn’t the guy for you, not for something this big. he couldn’t risk screwing it up.

you stood abruptly, grabbing your bag. “i see.”

“wait—”

“no, it’s fine,” you interrupted, your voice trembling as you headed for the door. “thanks for letting me know where we stand.”

rafe didn’t stop you. he didn’t know how. the door clicked shut behind you, and the silence that followed was deafening.

the guilt hit him almost immediately.

rafe spent the next few days trying to ignore the gnawing pit in his stomach, but it was useless. every time he closed his eyes, he saw the hurt on your face, the way your voice cracked when you said thanks for letting me know where we stand.

he tried to tell himself he did the right thing. he wasn’t equipped for this. he wasn’t worthy of this. but that reasoning felt thinner with every passing hour.

by the third sleepless night, he couldn’t take it anymore.

you weren’t expecting to see rafe when you opened the door. he stood there with a sheepish expression, holding a bouquet of flowers that looked suspiciously last-minute.

“hi,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

you crossed your arms, leaning against the doorframe. “what do you want?”

“i came to apologize.”

“for what?” you asked, your tone sharp.

“for being a fucking idiot,” he said, his words tumbling out in a rush. “i handled things wrong, and i know i hurt you. i didn’t mean to, but i did, and i’m sorry.”

you stared at him, your defenses still firmly in place. “why now?”

rafe sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “because i haven’t stopped thinking about you since that night. because i was wrong to push you away, and i hate that i made you feel like i didn’t care.”

your heart softened despite yourself, but you weren’t ready to let him off the hook just yet. “and what happens if i let you back in? do you just push me away again the second things get complicated?”

“no,” he said firmly, stepping closer. “i won’t. i swear. i just… i freaked out because i’ve never felt this way about anyone before, and it scared the hell out of me. but i’m done running from it. from you.”

the vulnerability in his voice, the sincerity in his eyes, made your resolve crack. slowly, you stepped aside, letting him in.

rafe didn’t rush you after that.

he was patient in a way you hadn’t expected, taking the time to get to know you in ways that had nothing to do with sex. he remembered the little things you told him—your favorite coffee order, the song that always made you cry, the way you liked your eggs in the morning.

and gradually, the walls between you began to crumble.

it was weeks later, on a quiet friday night, that things came full circle. you were sitting on his couch again, your legs tucked under you as you watched a movie. his arm was draped casually over your shoulders, his thumb tracing absentminded circles on your skin.

when you turned to look at him, he was already watching you, his gaze soft and warm.

“what?” you asked, smiling.

“nothing,” he said, his lips twitching into a grin. “you’re just really fucking cute.”

you rolled your eyes, but your cheeks flushed. “shut up.”

he didn’t. instead, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was slow and deliberate. his hand cupped your cheek, tilting your face to deepen the kiss.

this time, when his hands wandered, you didn’t stop him.

“are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and husky.

you nodded, your eyes locked on his. “i’m sure.”

rafe didn’t rush. he took his time, every touch, every kiss deliberate and reverent. he didn’t just want you—he wanted to make you feel safe, cherished.

and when it was over, he didn’t pull away. instead, he held you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you as if letting go would mean losing you all over again.

for the first time in his life, rafe cameron didn’t feel the need to run. he didn’t feel the need for anyone else.

he just wanted you.

and he wasn’t going to mess it up again.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl l @evermorx89 @aariahnaa @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog

[aikoiya]

I mean... The scary thing is that it's actually motherhubbin' possible. And you wouldn't even need to make any flippin' changes to OG Greek myth either!

Btw, holy cats! Like, I'm not sure ya'll really get just how very weird Greek myth is because there is LITERALLY a freakin' myth for this!

Then again: Oedipus, the Minotaur, how some myths say Ares was born, how Despoina was conceived, Chronus & Zeus... just Chronus & Zeus, honestly. They're both sacks of shit.

Just keep this in mind, ya'll. Greek myth is all kinds of effed up!

I won't go into detail because it's super freakin' weird, but I will tell you to look up the legend of the Spring of Salmacis & leave you with this.

Worst part? This specific myth is thought to have taken place around 100-500 years before the events of the Odyssey is believed to have taken place. Which means that if Penelope is being legit about this, then for all we know, she had someone go & retrieve a hydriai (clay pot that runners used to carry water) back from there & that's what worries me!

Consent is key, ya'll!

Edit: So, anyway, I was curious, so I looked some stuff up as far as a plausible travel time.

To start off, I'm just giving a day to account for the travel between Ithaca & Peloponnese, which is where Amàliada is located, as well as breaks because no one can be on the move 24/7.

Next, the distance from Amàliada to Athens is 209 km. The average Greek horse could reach something like 40-45 mph (64.37-72.42 km/h). So, 2.9-3.3 hours or 3-3.4 hours. Which means that a round trip on horseback would be about 5.9-6.7 hours.

Distance from Athens to Bodrum is 182 nautical miles. Provided the vessel used has an average cruising speed of 5 knots, then a one-way trip should be something like 3 days. And, though sail speed varies depending on vessel, I've got 2 possible candidates & both are at least that fast, if not faster.

A Tririme was a 15th century ship (around the time that it was believed that Odysseus' quest took place) available to Greek royalty & they're believed to be able to sail at 7-9 knots depending on if they were using the sails or the oars available to them.

Meanwhile, the penteconter was a 50-oared galley with 25 on each side. And it was said to be capable of 5-7 knots, with a top-speed of 9 knots according to Homer.

So, somewhere within the ballpark of 38.33-49.3 to 69-70 hours. Meaning between 2-3 days, times 2, so 4-6 motherhubbin’ DAYS by boat! But, again, that isn't including the time it would take to locate the spring.

So, 20.2-36.4 hours one way. Making it 40.4-72.8 hours going both ways.

46.2-79.4 hours.

That's around 2-4 days. Of course, that isn't counting what time it would take to locate the spring itself then return to Bodrum proper. And, upon looking real quick, the believed location of that spring is Kaplan Kulesi, which is around… Oh my gosh… I'd bet money that it's in the freaking military base surrounding Tiger Tower & civies aren't allowed on the premises…

Anyway, it's around 1.1 km from Milta Marina & around a 16 minute walk from point A to point B, so I wouldn't be shocked if the spring weren't too far from there either. Regardless, Bodrum Castle is about 180 by 185 meters & the general location wouldn't be much larger, meaning that it could take anywhere from a few hours to a number of days to thoroughly search the area. However, I'd maybe give it between a day & a week at most. Add back in the day of time needed to get to Amàliada & that totals things to around 4-12 days. Less than 2 weeks.

That's freaking nothing, dude. Of course, this is all locations that exist today & this is only provided that Penelope did her research beforehand. Possibly even smoozed Ody's great grandpappy into squealing on the location. But that isn't the point.

The point is, this crud isn't just possible. It's downright achievable. And that terrifies me.

...

Oh, & also. I just wanted to let everyone know that either Hermes or Aphrodite has a seriously crappy naming sense. If you look up the legend of Salmacis, then you will know exactly what I mean.

One final warning: THE LEGEND IS FLIPPIN' WEIRD!!!

kesha song app requested i do a penelope version who am i to say no to a request (design cred: gigi)

[vibeswithdivs]

You are not alone anymore

pairing: reader x max verstappen

The thermometer beeped, its sharp tone cutting through the quiet of the room. Max frowned as he glanced at the small screen. 38.9 degrees Celsius. He sighed heavily, setting it down on the nightstand and turning back to her.

“You should’ve told me,” he said, his voice a low murmur that carried both concern and frustration.

She barely opened her eyes, her face flushed from the fever. “It’s just a cold,” she mumbled, her tone defiant despite the weariness in her voice. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

Max crouched beside the bed, his tall frame folding awkwardly, but his gaze was steady as he studied her. “Not worry me?” he repeated, a small crease forming between his brows. “You’re burning up, lieverd. You’ve been running on fumes for weeks, and now look where that’s gotten you.”

Her lips quirked up faintly at his Dutch endearment, but she quickly tried to sit up. “I just need to—”

“Stay. In. Bed,” Max interrupted, gently but firmly pressing her back against the pillows. He shook his head, his hand lingering on her shoulder as his blue eyes softened. “For once, can you let someone else take care of you? Please?”

Her lips parted to argue, but the warmth of his hand against her arm and the uncharacteristic vulnerability in his expression made her stop. She exhaled deeply, leaning back into the pillows with a reluctant nod. “Fine. But only because I don’t feel like fighting you right now.”

Max chuckled softly, leaning in to press a light kiss to her forehead. “That’s what I thought.” His lips lingered for a moment before he pulled back, his frown returning. “You’re too warm.”

“It’ll pass,” she said, her voice barely audible.

“Yeah, with rest, food, and water,” he replied, standing up. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

The clinking of glass and the low hum of the kettle drifted into the room as she lay there, too tired to do more than close her eyes and wait. The mattress dipped slightly when Max returned, a steaming mug in one hand and a bowl of soup in the other.

“Here,” he said, sitting beside her and holding out the mug. She took it reluctantly, the warmth seeping into her cold hands.

“You didn’t have to go through all this trouble,” she murmured.

Max raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a half-smile. “Trouble? Meisje, this is nothing. You’ve been the one holding everything together while ignoring your own needs. If anything, I should’ve noticed sooner.”

Her cheeks flushed, though whether it was from the fever or his words, she couldn’t tell. “I’m fine, Max.”

“No,” he said softly, his tone firm but filled with affection. “You’re not. And that’s okay. You don’t have to be strong all the time.”

She looked down at the mug in her hands, her fingers tracing the rim. It was hard to let go, hard to admit that she couldn’t do everything on her own. But Max’s hand on her knee, warm and steady, grounded her.

“Drink,” he urged, his voice gentler now. “Then we’ll work on getting some food in you.”

She obeyed, taking slow sips as he watched her carefully, his eyes never leaving her face. The concern etched into his features made her chest ache, but it also filled her with a warmth that had nothing to do with the tea.

Over the next few hours, Max stayed by her side, tending to her every need despite her half-hearted protests. He adjusted her blankets, made sure she took her medicine, and even coaxed her into eating a few spoonfuls of soup, his patience unwavering.

At one point, she woke to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling through his phone while his other hand rested lightly on her thigh. She blinked at him, her heart squeezing at the sight of his familiar profile softened by the glow of the bedside lamp.

“You’re still here?” she asked, her voice rasping slightly.

Max looked up, his lips curving into a small smile. “Where else would I be?”

“I don’t know,” she said, her throat tightening. “Racing? Sim practice? Anywhere but stuck in here with me.”

“Hey,” he said, setting his phone aside and leaning closer. His hand slid up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing against her warm skin. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be right now. You’re my priority, remember?”

Her eyes stung, and she quickly blinked away the tears threatening to fall. “I just… I’m not used to this. Being taken care of.”

“I know,” Max murmured, his forehead resting lightly against hers. “But you’re not alone anymore. You’ve got me. So let me take care of you, schatje.”

She nodded, her eyes falling shut as his words wrapped around her like a cocoon.

The fever broke by the following morning, leaving her weak but significantly better. When she finally managed to sit up without help, Max was already there, propping her up with pillows and offering her another mug of tea.

“Feeling better?” he asked, his voice laced with relief.

“A little,” she admitted, her lips twitching into a small smile. “Thanks to you.”

Max grinned, his usual confidence returning. “Told you I’d get you through it.”

She rolled her eyes, but the gesture lacked any real bite. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me for it,” he quipped, leaning in to kiss her. His lips were soft and lingering, a quiet reassurance that he wasn’t going anywhere.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers, his hand finding hers beneath the blanket. “Promise me something,” he said quietly.

“What?”

“Next time you’re not okay, tell me,” he said, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against her palm. “Don’t wait until you’re falling apart to let me in.”

She swallowed hard, the sincerity in his voice breaking through the last of her defenses. “I promise,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the emotions swirling in her chest.

“Good,” Max said, his lips curving into a soft smile. “Now, finish your tea. You’ve got some recovering to do.”

As she sipped the warm liquid, her heart lighter than it had been in weeks, she couldn’t help but think that maybe—just maybe—leaning on someone else wasn’t so bad after all.

[yan-randomfandom]

Hii! Could I request a yan! Jinx with a darling who is on hunger strike? (Bacically, darling got kidnapped and so she decided to stop eating till she gets freed...is that even a word?)

Anyways, ty 4 reading my request and I would be really happy if you were to fuffil it <3

Make sure u drink enough water!

Yandere!Jinx x GN!Starving!Reader

a/n: thank you for your kind words anon! 😺 i just realized how much energy i gave mc here omg 😭🙏

tw; starvation, kidnapped MC ermm

💧 ;

Stubbornness is something both you and Jinx share. It's built into your very core. She knows this, and yet, here we are.

You're tied to a chair, looking away from her with a deep frown on your face—unwilling to eat.

"My sweetest," Jinx groans, dragging out her words. "Darling, baby, angel..." She places her hands on the back of your chair, her breath brushing the tip of your nose—"beloved."

...

You roll your eyes. "It stinks."

With an offended gasp, she recoils from you, her eye twitching. "I— You— Come on! At least I had dinner, but you? You haven't eaten anything for days!"

As if the Gods have a sense of humor, your stomach lets out a loud, drawn-out rumble. It goes on for a few moments... like her hideout wasn't quiet enough already. You have half the heart to glance at Jinx, who's watching you with an unimpressed expression.

Against your better judgment, and despite the deadly stomachache, you don't say anything.

Jinx pushes the bowl of food in front of you. "...Your, uh, stomach's hungry. Please. I just want you to eat—"

"I want you to let me go," you snap, glaring at her. You emphasize your point by rattling the chair with your frail limbs in frustration. "It doesn't help that you tied my arms and legs up. Honestly."

She returns your look, almost clueless. "It didn't have to be that way! You kept trying to escape!"

"I wonder why!!"

An annoyed groan. You can't even tell if it was from you, or her. Maybe both.

...

...

"...I told you I can't," she mutters softly. Not when she started a war.

You scoff and turn away. "Not that you can't. You won't."

Jinx does not reply.

Then, she chuckles. "Still amazin'. All this energy, even in starvation."

...

You press your lips together. Truth be told, you're barely holding it together. You're simply not giving up. Even if it's out of spite. Especially.

She starts walking. The sound of her booted footsteps grows fainter and fainter until, finally—the exit closes.

Jinx left you.

Nothing else accompanies you but the quiet humming and faint lights in her hideout.

Your body seizes the chance to collapse, eyes closing in one blink.

...

The next time you wake up, you grudgingly rub your eyes. A yawn escapes you.

You stretch your body. Your joints pop, relief spreading all across—

Wait.

You sit up from the softest surface you've ever been on in a while. It takes a moment to clear your vision, but once it does, you fall in disbelief.

Lifting your hand, you eye your wrists suspiciously. The patterns of the rope is still visible. But faint. It must have been a while since they were removed.

The chair you've been stuck in for days is gone. Your limbs are untied, finally fucking free from the numbness. A small fan offers a refreshing breeze next to you.

Your heart starts racing.

A whiff of your favorite scent. You perk up.

There's a glass of water filled with ice on the table. Beside it, an irresistible array of food. All your favorite types.

You don't even think twice.

either u try to escape or eat the food—your choice. do both tho cuz u might idk die

[lovegalor333]

lord please save her for me

paige bueckers x fem oc

hello! welcome to my new fic, i hope u like it! please let me know what y’all think, i have each chapter planned out but i’m not sure when i’ll update again. probably soon lmao 💋👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩🪽🌟

chapter one:

leni knew the first time she saw paige again it would feel like a kick in the stomach but to say she felt winded was an understatement. the sight in front of her had her breath stuck in her throat, heart beating out of her chest and her head spinning, she had to rest on the wall to balance herself. it wasn’t out of character for paige to be here. it was frat party at the beginning of the semester. paige was almost guaranteed to be here. but leni would have betted her life that the blonde would’ve come with her friends not the red head, wearing barely any clothes that was latched onto her arm currently.

“you good babe?” leni’s girlfriend, riley asks from beside her. she reached out a hand to rest on lenis back but the curly haired girl shrugged her off, “im fine. just feeling hot. can you get me some water?” leni asks in hopes to have a moment alone with her thoughts to process what she just saw. paige with a girl that wasn’t her. her paige with a girl that looked nothing like her.

despite having a girlfriend herself, leni was far from a hypocrite. a year ago leni was bearing her heart, all but begging paige to turn thier friends with benefits deal into something more serious. they already spent evenings laid together in bed. weekends walking around target or studying together. off days lounging around each others apartments. they were only fucking each other too. what would a title change? apparently a lot to paige.

leni tried for days but paige could not be swayed, shaking her head and furrowing her brow each time leni brought up the idea of them being girlfriends.

“i just don’t do that kind of thing len.”

“what we have right now is good. why change it?”

“i’m focused on basketball, i don’t need distractions.”

leni reached her breaking point, telling paige it was either they make it official or they never see each other again. she couldn’t continue in ‘will they, won’t they’ cycle. leni had caught feelings for paige. feelings so deep she wanted to shout it from the rooftops and it felt like her entire world crashed down when paige said it was best if they didn’t see each other again.

leni cried for days on end. buried under her duvet, waiting and wishing for paige to call or text and say she was wrong. to say she cared for leni they way leni cared for her. but no call or text came and eventually leni had to pick herself up and dust herself off. life doesn’t end when a blue eyed girl breaks your heart.

paige saw leni as soon as she walked in. of course she did. paige would spot leni in a sea of a thousand people. her bouncy curls, longer than the last time paige saw them, her brown skin, still showing the remnants of summer, her dark brown eyes, deep as ever as they flitted around the room. paige also saw the blonde girl next to leni, the way her hand touched her back, the way her lips pressed to lenis temple. paige wanted to punch that girl right in the face.

“where are you going?” camilla, paiges girlfriend asks as paige begins to walk away from her, “just to find a toilet. i won’t be long.” paige lies and she hurries off before camilla can say anything in response. paige wasn’t going to find a toilet. paige was going to find leni and she knew exactly where she would be.

“let me guess. you needed some fresh air.” hearing paiges voice made lenis hairs stand on end. she hadn’t heard that raspy drawl in so long she had forgotten what it sounded like. “you never did like parties.” paige says standing next to leni on the front porch. leni refused to look at paige, staring straight ahead, she focused on a street lamp in the distance that flickered. “i still don’t.” she says and in her head, her voice was strong and brave but her lips betrayed her and her words came out shaky and low.

“why are you here then?” paige asks, ever the curious girl. “i came with my g- a fri-” leni couldn’t bring herself to say the word girlfriend to paige. it was stuck in her throat threatening to choke her. “your girlfriend. you can say it len. you came with your girlfriend.”

“yeah. i did. i came with my girlfriend. looks like you did too. never knew red heads were your thing.” leni all but spits at paige, finally building the courage to look at her. and when she does, the past twelve months of healing and moving on completely unravel and leni feels as though she about to faint.

paige looks the same but simultaneously so different. her hair is still blonde but it’s shorter and a lot brighter, like she’s just had highlights. her skin looks smoother, in fact she’s glowing. leni was sure she’d grown a few inches too, paige was always taller than her but not this much taller. and as bad as leni was trying not to look, it was clear paige had been in the gym. the crop top she wore exposed her toned stomach and muscular arms and leni’s heart rate quickened as memories of those very arms being wrapped around her not so long ago flashed in her mind.

“are blondes your thing or just girls that look like me?” paige retorts and leni scoffs, “get your head out of your ass paige. girls that don’t treat me like i’m nothing is my thing.” paige feels limp as leni says that, did she really make leni think she was nothing?

paige had a difficult time with relationships. she branded herself as ‘not a relationship girl’, blaming her focus on basketball as the reason but paige knew that was bullshit. paige wanted nothing more than to have a girl in the stands cheering for her, to come home after practice and her bedroom not be empty but growing up all paige knew was turbulent relationships and broken homes and she vowed to never hurt someone the way she watched her parents hurt each other. and the only way she knew how to do that was to avoid relationships altogether.

“you weren’t nothing to me, len.” paige defends herself but it feels pointless, lenis feelings were written on her face, she always found it hard to mask her emotions and nothing had changed.

“i’m sorry. what i did wasn’t fair. i was stupid, so fucking stupid. letting you go-” leni couldn’t hear this. not here, not now. not ever actually. leni had gone through hell and back trying to get over paige, just ask her friends who had hugged her while she sobbed, forced her eat when she refused, literally picked her up off the floor multiple nights in a row after she drank enough wine to make her forget paige ever existed.

“paige, stop. this conversation is futile and one year too late.” leni holds her hand up to stop paige from saying anymore. to stop her from saying the words she was begging to hear last year.

“i’ve changed len. i promise. i tried so hard, i worked so hard to change for you. i want to show you that.”

“have you lost your fucking mind? i have a girlfriend paige and so do you. i’m happy. someone loves me, cares for me and it’s not a secret. it’s not behind closed doors. i’m someone’s girlfriend and they’re proud of that. and it’s fucked up of you to say all this stuff now, all this time later. i wasn’t enough for you and that ripped my fucking heart to pieces!”

“you were enough. you are enough. i was just blind and scared.”

leni was fighting the tears that threatened to spill, she didn’t want to cry in front of paige, give her the satisfaction of knowing she still affected leni.

paige couldn’t bare to see leni cry, the way her eyes glossed over and nose turned red, the way her lip quivered made paiges heart pang with guilt because after all, she was the reason leni was crying. “please don’t cry. i meant what i said. i really am sorry. and i know it’s complicated but i couldn’t not tell you this. i couldn’t not at least try it would feel like i’m robbing us of a chance.”

leni has averted her gaze again, there was something about holding eye contact with paige that felt like two hands around her neck squeezing every last breath out of her. it was suffocating and all consuming. when she was around paige, leni didn’t feel like she was in the same realm as everyone else, she felt transported to somewhere far away but she had to bring herself back down to earth before she did or said something she regretted.

“a year ago you looked me in my eyes and said it would be for the best if we never saw each other again and you were right paige. i shouldn’t have come to this stupid party and you shouldn’t have followed me out here. from now on, we go back to how it was before. you don’t know me. i don’t know you.”

“but i do know you len and you know me. so well.” paige does what she’s been dying to do since stepping outside with leni and she reaches out and touches her cheek. wiping a stray tear but her hand lingers and lenis eyes flutter closed at the feeling of paige. a feeling she’s craved for so long now, a feeling she’s dreamt about experiencing again.

paige has always felt a magnetic pull towards leni. the first time she met her, she was intrigued. she wanted to know more about the dark, curly haired girl. they sat for hours the first time they spoke then they ended up in paiges bed and paige got her wish of knowing more about leni. she knew leni so well it was as if she’d studied her. she knew what made her tick, how push her buttons, how to make her feel good. paige could read leni like a book, answering her questions before leni even asked them. that’s not what scared paige though. she knew she could control her feelings. what scared paige was the fact leni knew her in the same way. if paige bueckers was a book, leni had every word committed to memory.

leni placed her hand over paiges, still cupping her face, “paige, i can’t-” she begins to speak but paige cuts her off. “tell me you love her more than me. tell me what you have feels realer than what we had. tell me that and i’ll leave you alone.”

leni couldn’t say that. she couldn’t say any of it because it wasn’t true. she’s never loved anyone the way she loves paige and she doubts she ever will. but leni needed to protect herself. paige hurt her and leni couldn’t cope with that again and she had no reason to believe paige when she said she’d changed.

“don’t do that.” leni says looking at paige, her eyes as blue as ever, round and soft, pulling leni in. “don’t make this my decision. you walked away from me.”

“and it was the biggest mistake of my life.” paige says, eyes flicking down to lenis lips. she wanted to kiss her so bad. push her up against the wall, press her body into hers, one hand on her hip, the other in her hair. she wanted their lips to be on each other’s, she wanted to taste lenis cherry lip balm, tongues moving in sync as they meshed into one being.

“a mistake you’ll have to live with. i care about myself too much to risk being destroyed by the whirlwind that comes along with you paige.” lenis voice breaks as she turns away from paige as much as she believed paige was the reason they never worked out, she couldn’t help but feel like she walking away from what she’s always wanted.

“leni please-” paiges voice also faltered as she tried to pull leni back but the girl was strong and determined, “goodbye, paige.”

leni had no time to ruminate over the conversation and just about managed to wipe her tear stained cheeks before riley appeared in front of her.

“there you are! i got your water. who were you talking to out there?”

“no one. no one at all. let’s go dance.” leni says, plastering the fakest of smiles on her face. she didn’t worry that riley would notice because riley rarely noticed anything.

leni spent the rest of the night knocking back drinks and willing herself to stop glancing at paige but it was near impossible. the six foot, one hundred and sixty pound girl was alluring to say the least and with her also staring back, leni was beginning to lose composure.

“kiss me.” leni asserts, grabbing on to rileys shirt collar, pulling her down. riley looks confused but she would never deny kissing her beautiful girlfriend so she presses their lips together, leni deepens the kiss, her tongue slipping into rileys mouth but it’s not right. it doesn’t feel right. it’s not paige. and that makes leni feel sick. she’ll never kiss paige again and she’ll search for her in every girl but it’ll be pointless because no one could compare. no one could even come close.

now breathless from a phoney, drunken make out session that left nothing but the sour taste of beer in her mouth, leni pulls away from riley but her eyes immediately go to where paige was stood just minutes ago. but the athlete is gone. the only sign of her once being there was her girlfriend, now left holding two drinks. “i’m going to the bathroom.” leni mumbles and she slips away from riley, leaving her too, with a drink in each hand.

the multiple drinks leni had consumed in quick succession were catching up to her and her body swayed as she walked around the frat house looking for paige. she swung open random doors, bursting in on one too many explicit activities that she wish she never saw. “sorry, my bad.” she muttered quickly closing another door. she continued her search and by the time she reached the end of the hall, with no sign of paige, she actually needed to pee.

the bathroom was occupied but leni couldn’t wait, she knocked on the door over and over, “if you’re in there fucking, get out! i’m about to piss my pants!” she shouted over the music and she heard the lock click before the door slowly opened, “you never were very patient.” paige emerged from the bathroom and leni felt like this was fate. “i was looking for you.” she slurred, glancing up at paige. “you were?” leni nods, her eyes are glassy from intoxication, “i hate you for hurting me.” leni mutters but her actions do not resemble hate, they are needy and frantic as she pushes paige backwards into the bathroom, knocking the door closed with her foot.

“you hate me?” paige asks, hearing those words hurt but feeling lenis touch on her chest as she shoved her against the wall overrode any of that. “uh huh.” leni nods again, her hand now travelling down paiges chest and gripping her waist. “how much do you hate me?” paige tucks a piece of lenis hair behind her ear and leni leans into the touch, “so fucking much.” lenis breathing is ragged now as she pushes herself against paige, the craving she had for this woman was carnal and she doesn’t know how she managed to stay away from her for an entire year.

“you know im sorry. im different now len. hurting you is my biggest regret.” paige caresses lenis cheek, rubbing her thumb in small circles, she missed the feeling of her soft skin under her fingertips, “and this might just be mine.” leni says as she stands on her tiptoes to reach paige, crashing their lips together for the first time in over three hundred and sixty five days.

the kiss is sloppy and heated and influenced by the copious amounts of alcohol both girls had in their systems. paiges hands found lenis waist and she moaned into her mouth as her fingers explored every dip and curve on her body. leni felt like she was drowning and paige was air, she needed as much as she could get, nipping at paiges bottom lip before slipping her tongue into her mouth, saliva mixing to create the concoction that both girls missed so much.

“leni, are you in there?” there was a knock at the door and the voice of riley made leni jump away from paige, “it’s riley.” she whispered, eyes wide, “just be quiet.” paige whispered back. “leni?” rileys voice called out again and leni was violently brought back down to earth.

what the hell was she doing? in a frat house bathroom with her ex friend with benefits, kissing her when she had a girlfriend. when they both had girlfriends. this wasn’t leni. it wasn’t who she was and she wouldn’t hurt someone. she wouldn’t allow herself to.

“no. this was a mistake. we’re drunk.” leni fixed her appearance in the mirror, smoothing down her tossled curls that paige had messed up, wiping the smudged lip liner from her cupids bow and re-adjusting her shirt that had been pulled down exposing the lace of her bra.

paige watched her silently, blue eyes several shades darker as they glared into the mirror at lenis reflection. leni caught her gaze and for a split second she considered listening to paige and staying silent but riley called out her name again, “im coming!” leni responded and without so much as a glance at paige she unlocked the bathroom door and closed it tight behind her. leaving paige alone and confused, wondering what the fuck just happened.

thank you for reading baddies!! let me know if you want to be added to my tag list for future updates. ILY 💋💋

tag list: @heart4caitlin @jadasogay @avvwritesstufff @bueckersp

story info

[loveesiren]

Baby Daddy (Pt. 1)

Rafe Cameron x Reader

A/n: Wrote this a while back and got a lot of requests for a part 2 so I will post it as well! Along with a blurb I've written. Never really planned to make this a series but if you guys want more just let me know! :)

Warnings: Light smut, language, cocaine, angst, pregnancy, mention of abortion, fluff at the end

Word Count: 2.7k+

Rafe thrusted into you one final time before finishing. Cumming deep inside of you for the fourth time tonight. "Fuckkkkk," He moaned before pulling out of you and laying on his back. "You're so fucking tight."

"Yep," You said dryly as you pulled your panties and shorts back on.

"Where are you going?" Rafe asked as he turned to look at you.

"Uhhh, home?" You tell him. "Why would I stay?"

"Whatever," Rafe said before rolling over and pouring a line of coke out on his night stand.

You rolled your eyes and grabbed your bag before leaving his room and storming through the house out the front door.

The walk home was boring. You put your headphones in and slowly danced your way back to the Chateau. As you did every fucking night.

After your mom split and John B's dad went missing you were John B's legal guardian. You were step siblings but his dad raised you when your mom left and for that you were forever grateful. Even though you were a little older, you were really close with John B and his friends. You guys did everything together. Told eachother everything. Except for this.

You'd been sleeping with Rafe for 6 months now. It all started after a Christmas party last December. You were working your shift at the club, way more tipsy than you should have been for being on the clock. A drunk Rafe Cameron started talking you up and you flirted back. The boy was handsome enough. Granted, he was a fucking dick. But you just wanted to get off.

He took you into the bathroom on your break and absolutely rocked your world. No one had ever made you cum like he did. The way you could feel yourself release around his cock made you both fucking dissolve into the earth.

From that day forward, you guys fucked constantly. But you never told a soul and neither did he. Kooks and Pogues don't hook up.

______________

Your eyes flickered open. "Ugh," You groaned as you tried to sit up. You were in your room, Kiara asleep next to you. She slept with you every night since her parents kicked her out. She was your closest girlfriend.

A wave of nausea washed over you and you hopped out of bed and booked it to the bathroom. You expelled the contents of your stomach into the toilet. Gasping for air in between heaves.

"Are you okay?" Kiara was at the door now, crouching beside you to hold your hair back.

"Must be the flu," You said before vomiting again. "I didn't even drink last night."

"Alright let me get you some water and a pillow. You're probably gonna stay in here today."

You rested by the toilet and drank your water but by 11am you were feeling 100%.

You walked out into the kitchen and greeted everyone.

"Don't get us sick," John B said, stepping back from you.

"I feel fine now," You said. "I'm actually hungry!"

Sarah and Kiara eyed you for a moment. "Y/N?"

"Yeah?" You said as you popped some waffles in the toaster.

"Are you pregnant?" Kie asked.

You paused for a moment. You and Rafe never used condoms. And had you been taking your birth control lately? You were always bad at taking meds.

"Aha, no. No way." You responded.

John B, JJ, and Pope sat awkwardly.

You looked to the floor as you pressed your hand to your stomach. Thoughts racing through your head as you tried to remember the last time you had your period. "Fuck."

"Do you have a secret lover?" Sarah teased.

"John B, give me the keys to the Twinkie." You demanded.

John B fished them out of his pocket and handed them to you and you rushed out the door.

"Y/N, where are you going?!" Kiara called after you but you ignored her.

You hopped into the van and drove off quickly. When you pulled up to the drug store you ran inside and and bought five pregnancy tests and a gallon of water.

You leaned back in your seat and sighed after chugging as much water as you could.

You considered texting Rafe but you voted against it. You needed to be sure.

You drove back to the Chateau, grocery bag in hand as you locked yourself in the bathroom.

Two hours later you were standing over the counter, staring at the five plus signs set before you.

You couldn't help but cry. "Fuck..."

"Y/N?" You heard Sarah and Kie outside your door. You leaned back and swallowed. You had no idea what to do but telling a friend might be a good start.

You open the door and yank them into the bathroom. "Y/N! What's going on?" Sarah asks.

You pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh before nodding your head towards the bathroom counter.

Sarah and Kie look at eachother before slowly walking towards where the five pregnancy tests sat. Five. And they were all positive.

"Oh shit, Y/N..." Sarah said.

Kiara swallowed. "Uhm...is this like a congratulations or a 'we need to go to the clinic right now' situation?"

"I don't know," You said, joining them by the sink. "I should probably talk to...to..him." Your eyes fell to your feet.

"Who, Y/N?" Kiara asked. "We can take you there, we're here for you."

You laugh and throw your head back.

"Y/N...Who is he?" Sarah asks.

You bite your lip as you look down to meet her eyes.

She was confused and concerned. She wanted to help but her and Kie were both nervous about what was going on.

"Rafe," You said softly, barely a whisper.

Kiara and Sarah looked at you with wide eyes. "Wait..Rafe? My brother?? Rafe's the dad?!" Sarah was practically screaming now.

"Shhhh!" You said as you ran and covered her mouth. "Yes, it's Rafe's okay! Can we please not scream it to the whole world?!"

Sarah was silent as you backed away from her.

"Since when have you been fucking Rafe Cameron?!" Kiara asks.

"Y/N, he's a piece of shit!" Sarah added.

"Okay, listen! We've been hooking up since Christmas and...I don't know. I thought it was a one time thing but it just kept happening."

"Is that where you go every night?!" Sarah asked.

You sigh and press your tongue to your inner cheek. "Yeah."

"So you're fucking my brother," Sarah scoffs.

"You're fucking mine!" You hiss back.

Sarah rolls her eyes and shrugs. "Touche. But Rafe's a fucking dick!"

"Yeah, I'm aware." You sigh as you lean back and sink to the floor. "Should I even tell him?"

"He'd wanna know," Sarah said softly. "As much as I hate him, he loves hard."

You feel your phone buzz and pull it from your pocket. "Fuck, it's Rafe."

You coming over tonight?

"I can't do this." You begin to cry, placing your head on your knees. "Rafe doesn't even care about me. I'm just pussy to him."

"I don't know, Y/N...He's always sucked at showing his true feelings."

You shake your head before Sarah can say anything else. You grab your phone and respond.

No. We shouldn't see each other anymore.

You hesitate but press send. It breaks your heart but you know this is the right thing.

Your phone buzzes again but you ignore it.

"I'm gonna call the clinic," You say as you excuse yourself from the bathroom and go sit on the porch, lighting up a cigarette.

Your fingers hover over the screen of your phone, not being able to bring yourself to do it.

"Fuck this!" You yell as you toss your phone across the patio.

"Y/N-"

"What John B?!"

"Are you okay?"

You were pacing now, taking drags off your cigarette as you tried to catch your breath.

"You shouldn't be smoking." John B says.

You turn to look at him. "Doesn't matter," You mutter.

"You're pregnant." John B states. You turn to look at him again. Annoyed the Kie and Sarah said anything. "And no, Kie and Sarah didn't tell me. I'm just not stupid."

You sit down and sigh, dragging your cigarette again.

Your phone continues to buzz from the other side of the porch. John B goes to pick it up. When you notice him staring at it you quickly snatch it from his hands.

"Rafe?" His voice is almost a whisper.

You sigh as you take your bottom lip between your teeth. "Yeah." You respond.

You look down at your phone to see the five messages Rafe had sent you.

What? What do you mean? Why?

Y/N, I'm sorry I was a dick last night.

Please talk to me.

I'm sorry...

I need to talk to you. Please.

"Are you gonna tell him?" John B asks.

You put your head in your hands as you try to choke back tears. You had not intended to find out you were pregnant today. Nor were you prepared for your brother and all your friends to find out you'd been fucking Rafe Cameron. It was all too overwhelming.

"I don't know," You respond honestly.

John B sighs. "Look, never been a fan of Rafe. I had no clue you two were.....close." He says, motioning towards your stomach. "But I think you should think about it a little more and talk to him before you make a final decision."

You chewed on his words for a moment before nodding in agreement.

_________

You locked yourself in your room for the rest of the night. Curled up under the covers as your phone continued to vibrate.

Nonstop calls and texts from Rafe. Since when has he cared so much? He was probably just coked out and horny.

You decided to shut your phone off. He'd have to find another girl to get his dick wet. Sex was the last thing you wanted right now.

You cried yourself to sleep that night, completely unsure of what to do.

The next three days were awful. Throwing up all morning, crying all afternoon. Your friends tried to be there for you but you continued to barricade yourself in your room. You'd come out once in a while to grab some food and water and instantly go back to your bed, binge watching Jersey Shore on your lap top under the covers.

You'd kept your phone off. You really just couldn't bring yourself to talk to anyone right now. And the people you would need to talk to were right outside the door.

_______

"Oh shit," Sarah said as she stood up from her spot on the porch, getting a better view of Rafe's truck pulling up to the Chateau.

The rest of the Pogues stood up too, not fully prepared to handle this situation.

"John B!" Rafe said as he hopped out of his truck. "John B, look man, I don't have any beef with you, alright? I just really need to see Y/N."

"She's not feeling great right now, man." John B responded.

Kiara slipped away and rushed to your bedroom.

You heard knocking on your door and you groaned. "What?"

"Y/N, uhm..." Kiara begins.

"What is it, Kie? I'm sleeping."

"Rafe's here."

Your chest tightens at her words.

"I don't-I don't think he's going to leave without seeing you, Y/N."

"Fuck me!" You whisper as you pinch the bridge of your nose. "I'll be out in a second!"

Kiara goes back to where Rafe and John B are arguing on the porch. "She'll be right out."

The boys shut up and look at her.

"Thank you." Rafe said.

You hop out of bed and open your door. The light of day almost blinding as your eyes adjusted. You instantly missed the dark warmth of your bed.

You slowly make your way to the porch. Your plaid pajama shorts clung loosely to your hips while your tank top hugged you tightly. Your hair was a wavy mess. You hadn't done anything to it in days. But you really couldn't care less at this point.

You shyly step outside. Rafe's eyes flicker to you, a small smile on his lips before taking in your appearance. Concern instantly washing over his face. "Y/N, are you okay?" He asked, taking a step closer to you and reaching for your hands.

You quickly pull away from him and he frowns. "Uhm, could you guys give us a minute?" You ask the group. They all nod hesitantly and head inside.

"Why are you here, Rafe?" You ask once the two of you are alone.

"I haven't heard from you in days. I-I got worried."

You sighed and looked down to your feet.

"Look, Y/N, I'm really sorry I've been such a dick. I'm trying to quit the blow it's just so hard, ya know?"

"It's fine, Rafe. I knew what this was from the beginning." You shrug.

"I like you." He admits. You look up at him. "I like you a lot. I suck at showing it and I get why you're probably sick of me. But I need you to know you're more than just sex to me."

"W-what do you mean?" You ask confused.

Rafe lets out a slow, shaky breathe and scratches the back of his head. "I'm not good at...at showing emotions," He begins. "I don't like being vulnerable. That's why I do coke, I guess. I've just-I've never been good at the whole feelings thing and I just really didn't know how to tell you how I really felt. But when you said you didn't want to see me anymore...." He trails off, looking down to meet your gaze. "I-it hurt me..."

Your expression softens and you give him a sympathetic smile.

"And if you don't want to see me anymore, I get it. I just wanted to tell you-"

You cut him off by wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning your head into his chest. He was stunned for a moment but moved to wrap his arms around you tightly, nuzzling his face into your messy hair.

"I like you too, Rafe." You admit. "And I don't want to stop seeing you. I was just scared. There is something we need to talk about..."

"Anything, sweetheart," He says as he runs his fingers up and down your spine.

You swallow and squeeze your eyes shut. "Rafe, I'm pregnant." The words leave your lips without warning and you brace yourself for whatever is coming next.

Rafe stops moving. Your body tenses as you still cling to him. After a moment, he places his hands on your shoulders and pulls you back to look at him. "What did you say?"

"I-I'm pregnant. I was going to call the clinic but I thought I should talk to you about it first and I'm sorry I ignored you the last few days I just-"

Rafe starts shaking his head. "No, no, no, no, no, baby, shhhh." He says. "I just uhm...do you want to keep it?" He asks nervously.

"I-I mean...I've just never really thought about being a mom before."

"We can move you to Tannyhill," Rafe starts. "And I'll tell my dad I need more work and we'll save up and Wheezie can babysit and-"

"Rafe!" You stop him. You can't help but laugh. "Are you saying you want to keep it? I was only going to call the clinic because I thought you wouldn't want to..."

"Yes, yes!" He says, picking you up and twirling you around. When he sets you back down he takes your face between his hands and kisses you deeply. The kiss was passionate, filled with love, unlike the hungry make out sessions that usually stole your nights.

"I'm gonna be a dad!" Rafe yelled as he jumped off the porch, full of energy.

You laughed, tears of joy filling your eyes as you heard the Pogues come back out on the porch. This went way better than you had expected.

"I take it that went well?" John B asks as he watches Rafe run around in excitement.

"I don't think I've ever seen Rafe so happy before," Sarah chuckles beside you.

"Whoo! Okay!" Rafe says as he comes back over to you, practically out of breath. He gets on his knees and places kisses along your stomach. "I'm taking you to lunch. What do you want to eat? You can have whatever you want, baby, on me."

"Rafe," You laugh, running your fingers through his hair as he keeps his lips pressed to your belly. "Can I at least shower first?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course baby. You wanna shower here? Or we could go to my house,"

"Oh God, please go to Tannyhill." Sarah says, the rest of the group agreeing with her. "This here is a shared shower."

You laugh. "Let me just grab some things and we can go,"

"Okay," Rafe agrees, smiling as he watches you disappear into the Chateau.

"You gonna take care of her? And that baby?" John B asks as he stands next to Rafe.

"Definitely," Rafe responds. "She has no idea how happy she makes me. But I'm gonna show her."

John B nods and offers a small smile.

"Ready!" You say as you come back out, duffle bag over your shoulder.

Rafe takes it from you immediately and goes to put it in his truck.

"Congratulations," John B says, pulling you into a hug.

"Thanks, JB," You smile. "I'll call you later, okay? Stay out of trouble!" You command as you walk towards the truck.

"Aye-aye," He says, saluting you.

You smile as Rafe helps you into the passenger seat. "You ready to go, Mama?" He asks, brushing his hand over your still flat stomach.

You smirk at the gesture. "Definitely."

Tags: @torturedtypewritersdept @bigenergy777 @outerbankspov @purplerose291 @shayofandoms @mirellef2001

[chithereader]

losing my cool / aaron hotchner

part 2 to playing it cool !!! hope you like it word count: 1.6k pairing: aaron hotchner x f!reader genre: angst at first, but fluff!!!!!! cw: more sickeningly sweet and soft aaron x reader, mentions of insecurities

The smile on Aaron’s face slowly fades as he takes in your frozen stance. You’re staring at him like he just shot you in the back and worry starts to fill him, “Honey..?” waving his hand in front of your face, hoping it would be enough to break you out of your stupor. 

 “Hello?” Still waving his hand in your face, your eyes darted to his. Your body is in a state of shock– in your mind, there’s a tiny version of you desperately digging her way out of a landslide of disbelief. Waves and waves of doubts and insecurities hindering you from processing what is happening. 

Aaron watches as your mouth moves with barely any sound coming out. Like a fish out of water, you’re scrambling, “W-what?” That’s… a bit too shaky to be good. 

He pauses to think. The doubts are starting to creep up on him. 

Maybe he was too rash with his question. 

Maybe that wasn’t the best way to spring it on you. 

Maybe he should have waited for a better time.

Maybe he should have planned something. 

Maybe she isn’t ready.

Maybe she just doesn’t want to marry me. 

He tries hard to swallow all these dark thoughts, clearing his throat to fake the confidence that’s slowly diminishing, “I said, ‘Marry me.’” After he says those words again he stills, hoping that this time he’ll get an answer. And that.. it would be the answer he so badly wants. 

But time slows down and his heart soon follows as he watches tears start to pool in your eyes. You’re shaking your head– they’re tiny shakes and you look panicked. This isn’t good. Not good at all. 

He really wasn’t expecting this. It never occurred to him you’d say no. Or ..not yes. Aaron’s mind is running a million miles per hour. He doesn’t know what to do, or say. He barely even knows how he feels. And so he defaults to doing the one thing he does best (as a prosecutor at least): object. 

This is triggered by your movement. You move around him, leaving the kitchen towards your living room. Your goal was to sit on the couch, craving some stability as your legs get weaker the more you’re processing what was asked, how you reacted, and how it could be coming across. 

But Aaron’s legs are longer than yours. Before you even reach the couch, he’s holding your arm firmly and gently at the same time. He’s got that furrow in his brows that makes him look stern, but his eyes betray him as you can clearly see the worry in them. 

“Well yes!” he says in disagreement. He doesn’t understand why you haven’t said yes, and as much as he isn’t the kind of man to ever force a lady into anything, a part of him is scared of what he’ll hear if he asks you why you’re not saying yes. 

Though instead of allowing that fear to paralyze him, he allows it to control him. To bear its face because the softer, more rational part of him is hiding. 

You’re avoiding his gaze, crossing your arms– you’re turning away from him. “No- Aaron, you– I don– I ca–” 

You know he’s studying you. You can feel his eyes roaming your face, your neck, your body. He’s taking in everything he can because you’ve given him absolutely nothing so far. And oh how you wish you could voice it all out. 

You just wish it was easy to say I don’t think I’m enough for you. What if you realize one day that I’m not good enough? Are you sure? Are you sure about this? About me? What if you start to want someone smarter? Prettier? Hotter? What if you want someone who is as accomplished or important as you? What if you get bored of me? What if– 

You’re broken out of your thoughts when he suddenly straightens. He looks as if he’s realized something and the next thing you know you’re hit by a gust of wind because he’s running up the stairs. 

Within an instant you run after him. A dozen scenarios are running through your head, the worst being Aaron packing your things because he’s going to ask you to leave. Your heart beats faster as you reach the top of the steps. You peek into your room and see him rummaging through drawers. 

Your worries quiet significantly when you realize they’re his drawers. And just when you’re about to approach him, he turns around meeting you halfway. You’re both illuminated by the sunlight that’s coming through the bedroom window you’re standing in front of. 

He’s still. He’s got a serious look on his face. You take him in, trying to read him but he’s got his profiler look on– unreadable and determined. His voice rattles you, “I’m sorry. That was a mistake.” Firm and devoid of any emotion. 

Oh god.

You’re shaking your head, reaching to hold him by his arms. You start to cry, “Aaron please, that’s not what I–” but… he’s going down on one knee. 

What?

He watched multiple emotions flicker on your face. Defeat, panic, confusion– “It was a mistake. I shouldn’t have said that. I– I planned to do it better than that. I don’t know why I let it slip out, you deserve better than that.” 

Before you can process it, Aaron’s holding out a ring. He’s holding your hand in the other while tears are streaming down both your faces. You have no idea how you heard it but you guess it’s simply a testament to how attuned you are to him when he whispers, “Please, please, please. Will you marry me, honey?” 

Time stops. Literally. You can feel your heart in your chest beating louder, heavier. It’s pounding as if begging to be heard. Begging to let Aaron know that it beats for him and him only. You’re lowering yourself to kneel before him. You want to see his face properly. His eyes. His nose. His lips. This is the man you love. This is the man you want to marry. Your eyes are simply capturing every angle of this moment. 

You’re leveled now. Equals. You grab both his hands in yours and you stare into his brown eyes. You want him to know you mean it, as you nod your head slowly and breathe out, “Yes.” A smile breaks across his face, tears starting to stream again. 

You watch him as he tries to put the ring on your finger, getting it on the first try even if his sight is slightly hindered by his tears of happiness and relief. The sun makes the ring sparkle, catching your attention and you look at it properly for the first time. 

It’s beautiful. Aaron would argue that the stone screams you – grace, loyalty, peace. He catches your eye and the both of you start to smile. You start to giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck while his arms snake around your waist. 

He buries his head in your neck, breathing in your scent while silently thanking the heavens for granting him this. You break apart, startled to hear tiny footsteps nearing. The both of you start to stand up from the floor, straightening yourselves out and wiping the remaining tears staining your faces. 

You both look to the door, waiting for the little boy to show himself. You hear a soft knock right before the door opens slowly, a head peeking in, “Daddy?” 

Aaron goes to the door, opening it more for Jack to come in. The little boy goes straight to you and you pick him up in your arms with ease, resting him on your hip. You have your left hand holding him stable, and even though the little boy’s still groggy with sleep he notices the sparkling addition to your hand. 

You take notice of how his little face lights up in excitement and you have no idea what about it he understands, “I help Daddy buy you that!” His voice is full of pride, genuinely proud that he had played a part in picking. 

You’re confused, not fully understanding what Jack means. Looking to Aaron for an answer, you’re surprised to find him blushing. He looks shy and he’s shrugging at you but you can tell he’s trying hard to play it cool. The smile fighting its way on his face betrays him. 

You decide to take your chance on the adorable kid that is now fiddling with your ring, watching in amazement at how much it’s twinkling in the light. Children are the most honest people you know anyway. Pursing your lips with squinted eyes, you investigate “What do you mean, bubba?” 

“Daddy asked me what ring pop you want, so I asked you when we watched Spiderman and you said your favorite is the green one so I tell Daddy you want the green one!” 

Your heart stutters and the tears start coming in again. Aaron asking Jack for his opinion for your engagement ring. Jack thinking it's a ring pop. Jack asking for your favorite ring pop flavor. Jack being proud that you got the ring you want, pop or not. 

Brought out of your thoughts by Jack wanting to leave your hold, you put him down. You watch as he happily walks out of your room, presumably to go to the kitchen. You look at Aaron again, and just as you’re about to say something about what you just found out, you realize one thing. Spiderman.

You gasp. Covering your mouth in surprise, you slap his arm lightly, “That was our third date!”

Aaron laughs loudly, rushing out of the room before you can throw questions at him or even comments about how insane he is. He couldn’t care less. He was right. 

a/n: just want to say thank you so much for the love and support i've been getting for my hotch fics!! as someone who's new here, it all means so much to me <33 i recently made a masterlist as i plan to write so much more and branch out to other characters i've been perpetually in love with!! leave requests of what you want to read or characters i can write about, i'd love to write for you guys ◡̈ tagging the people who wanted a part 2 for this: @pear-1206 @dedicatedfangirl2001 u guys are so sweet

[erinwantstowrite]

bear with me here because i'm gonna ramble about something i've been thinking about for a while... and i'm not complaining, i'm just noticing

sometimes i think we've leaned so far into the vigilante side of the batfam that we miss out on what really makes their characters: detective work. we need more mysteries in their lives that don't lead up to some big bad "we already know who's doing it" or an "end of the world" or "yet again: this fucking guy." we need more stuff where spy movie music plays in the background and dumb adventures that don't lead up to some huge grand event with a big name villain. the shock factor stops being shocking or interesting in any capacity if we're like "Gah! the Joker! ... Again!" or whatever

does that even make sense? like "yeah sure they're blowing up a building again and there's hostages. oh look they're gonna poison the water supply." these aren't bad and that's not what i'm getting at because obviously this is a classic for comics. you need to have characters/antagonists that show up more than once and who can make a story better by being in it. and i did say to bear with me- that's because im tired. so like i hope im getting this across the right way? it's just that sometimes i don't wanna see a huge explosion, i want these motherfuckers solving a regular murder or a disappearance or regular corruption in a local office without it being tied to a grand reveal like "actually this person knows you as a long lost relative" or "they were at that circus can you guess which night they went?" that kind of thing? if you get me? like... more of the small time stuff makes the big stuff important, it makes it stand out more. at some point, the format gets repetitive even if you're switching up the villains. you can make these situations/mysteries still fun to solve for the characters and fun to read for the audience if you do it right

the concept of a detective dressed as a bat and having a sidekick in traffic light colors is inherently goofy as hell??? but that is what is so charming about it??? i think we have lost the balance between them being silly while also being intelligent with important conversations that criticize the world as we see it and teach lessons and can go over dark topics. nowadays it's always end of the world problems or just straight up the most gruesome true crime you can think of?? or they can ONLY do the dark stuff and the criticism without offering a balance of the good in the world. or we keep coming back to the FUCKING JOKER-

like yes they are vigilantes and with that comes a different level of their work, but their brand should be a mix between a black and white detective film that can get very nitty gritty and a classic spy movie, that kind of thing. at the end of the day, it's what makes them so different from the superheroes. that's what appeals to me.

seeing them in the big superhero groups is fun, don't get me wrong. it's always funny to see them standing next to people who are so powerful they never really fit in with anyone but each other, who chose to step up and use their powers for good. the Bats' specialty is Gotham and yet here they are stopping a god or whatever. and they do stop the god or whatever, all the while being an important leader and strategist to their teammates. they're important to have in these cases. but if there's a world ending event every time i pick something up, it's not as fun

the fact that they are so very human and not fantastical is why i like reading them. it's what makes the joke of people, even Gotham citizens, theorizing about them being cryptids, funny. they're fucking weird but that's because they're detectives. people who love to solve mysteries usually have a fatal flaw of curiosity. they forget the bounds between social interactions sometimes because they're used to working through problems or being intertwined with partners that understand them. but they're very much human. so human that it hurts them in many ways. and idk i've just been thinking about it lately and idk what point i'm trying to get across actually

it's just that in my eyes that's how it really is for Batman- a black and white movie narrated by a very serious man who took up a job to help people, one that has a deeper commentary on the world and viewed outwardly as pessimistic but actually has a deep hope for his city and who tries to help even the people who have wronged others. He's a stationary man in the belief that him being a constant can serve to soothe others and help them move forward. He stays in the middle of the path so he can tell everyone what is up ahead. he blends into the Gotham rainy night to serve justice but in a way that saves both the victim and the perpetrator. (the way he tucks a Robin into his cape is the same he does for Gotham with his mere presence.) and his background is actually so important to his story and yet people still somehow gloss over the lesson from it? he lost his parents because of a man who was on the opposite end of the spectrum to where he was in life. and yet he chose to help the people like the man that killed his parents. he could have done anything else with his power and money, but he instead is choosing to bring as many people up with him as he can. He's Mr. Serious that no one else can get a read on. and yet he walks into a room and he's already piecing together your life and what you're going through because he thinks it matters. he comforts people who have lost something or someone or themselves. I picture Batman and I don't picture a man trying to save the world, I picture a detective walking around a crime scene and trying to save at least one person every time he puts on the cape. and he put on the cape and became a vigilante because then he could go out of the bounds of what laws have been set up- and specifically, Gotham has other people in power who are corrupt, keeping the system that way. that's why Batman being a billionare and throwing himself into helping people at the risk of his own life is so important. he knows that if you are alive, you have something or someone to lose, no matter who you are. the dude is a bleeding heart but he doesn't know how to express it, in fear that if he gets too close, if he moves down the path with them, he'll be lost again

and then he's met with someone who should be a complete opposite, but isn't at all, because they're two sides of the same coin. his partner in crime, his son, a boy that is nothing like the black and white world that he sees. and that's the point in his life where he first sees that potentially getting lost is worth the risk. Robin is color and passion that needs guidance to move forward, but can not do so unless the stationary man learns to move with him. the kid is loud and reckless and you'd think he's from a different genre from the detective but they aren't so different, really. not when you look close enough. Dick grew up moving from place to place and seeing the world, knowing so many different people from different cultures. He's been learning to fly and jump and embrace the free fall his entire life. He's clever and he's sharp, and he thrives in the action and adventure. it's that perspective that compliments the stationary man. one is steady and the other pushes. he's the same genre but a different generation. and Batman introducing him to the way of life he chose for himself was another way he could save someone. because let's be real for a second? Dick would have gone down a very dark path had he not had Bruce, who understood, who saw not just himself in the kid but also saw who the kid has been his entire life until now. he saw Dick's parents, he saw the family he had in the circus, he saw the joy he had in what his family was doing. he saw the grief and the fire and the color that Dick's world was made of. because to Bruce, it always matters. Dick had to come to terms with Bruce's perspective to help anyone who they come across, to always give more chances, and it kept Dick from losing his color

what gets me is that the man who lives in the black and white world can actually see many different shades of gray (because black and white always needs the medium), whereas the boy in a world of color and light can get so focused on the bright that he can become single minded. and yet the boy sees a world of color and delves deeper into the lives of the peolle they come across and can be much more open minded, and the man in the black and white world sometimes forgets the shades of grey are right there. they are just like each other. they can exist without the other, but do they want to? because the black and white can be built up into the colored image, like the inking and shadows drawn on a comic book page before the colors are added in. they meet in the middle to complete each other. Bruce has been passing the story over to the next generation for a long, long time, even before his story was complete. and just like with the first Robin, it was so for every Robin afterwards. they each color in the lines differently, but that's what makes Robin so special, so unique. they are an art style that branches into their own life, but can not forget where they started: tucked into Batman's cape and the inky black of his world

and so detective work really frames their hunanity to me. the mysteries they get their hands on, the glimpses into the lives of Gotham citizens that they swore to protect, it's fascinating. it's what makes their story stand out compared to the people who can lift trucks or cast spells or run around the world in seconds. so yeah ig that's what i'm trying to say? that i want to read more of that? in both canon and fanon. cause even the small time villains we see can be like. AWFUL people and it takes out the fun of their gimmicks. and if it were any other day this would be a more coherent post but alas, it is not any other day

[ohrandomfandom]

I kinda really love “Robiin II: Becoming the Monster” because it contrasts the brightness and excitement that “becoming the magic!” encompasses. But what I really like about it is how if there’s an emphasis throughout about his view of himself and how others see him.

Wasn’t he buried next to Sheila? Bruce focuses so hard on how Jason died(does he even know that Sheila led Jason to the joker? That he was just trying to help his mom, that he didn’t just run off recklessly and confront the joker? That at the last moment Sheila, instead of immediately running off tried to help Jason because of how selfless and brave he was but it was too late for them?) that what he remembers of Jason becomes almost warped by every small interaction that could have been a “warning sign” of what was to come. Every close call, every disagreement, every expression of anger from his child is now overshadowing who he actually was. And tbh he still loves Jason dearly and cares for him and his light and hope but after Jason’s death he becomes especially unforgiving, most of all to himself, so he’s remembering what he thinks he should have seen

From growing up in crime alley, people who don’t even know him hear that and just assume he’s violent or destined to become a criminal(probably something he hears a fair amount after he gets adopted by Bruce from higher society members and the media). Maybe he learns from Talia’s sources about how his entire memory has basically been moulded into this tragic thing. The words that travel far enough to reach him are the cruelest. Talking about how he was reckless, how him dying was inevitable, maybe about the memorial in the cave. There’s this one panel set where Talia tells catatonic!Jason that Bruce misses him and that Jason(and dick) gave him hope as Robin and he cries

How he views himself, with his going against some of the rules Batman ingrained in him. How it feels right but also like a betrayal even though he’s so angry with Bruce.

Even physically too ! Dying at 15, losing more than a year of time, did his revival or the Lazarus pit reduce the effects of any malnutrition as a kid? Did he have a growth spurt? Does his body even feel like his? It must be incredibly disorienting and dysphoria inducing to die in one state and basically emerge from that water in a body he can’t remember growing in to. Muscle memory and habits that are unfamiliar.

Becoming the monster is just him learning how to exist. How to help in a way he thinks can actually work. The joker got out and he died, he grew up seeing people get hurt after the system failed to protect them again and again and so his training and returning to Gotham was part of a plan to show that to Batman. To make a Statement that he doesn’t think that things can stay the same and get better.

Him seeing Tim in all that armour could be reinforcing his view that he wasn’t as valued/ was more disposable. Or maybe he takes this as Batman caring enough to add more protection to this new kid but not enough to get blood on his hands and stop the major threats that would endanger him the most.

Ok I’ve gone off on a super tangent and was trying to pay attention to a conversation at the same time so maybe this doesn’t make any sense or is relevant at all but I just really like “Robin 2: becoming the monster.” Jason embodying the whole “I may be a terrible person but at least I’m taking a bunch more down with me and proving a point while I do”(or at least trying to! He thinks he’s making a very good and reasonable point and this is about him so that’s what matters). And I just love imagining talias support of him through all of this being portrayed as mostly background or insignificant in the face of how much he’s Feeling except for a few small moments where like maybe it’s a flash back or a v/o of a line of her supporting him would be like <33 especially if it happens during like a scene with Bruce to set her as a contrast adult/parental figure in his new second life. Or when he’s killing someone Talias line from lost days where Jason’s like “[blah if I kill this person] don’t tell me the world isn’t better off. Why are you smiling?” And talias like “you’re learning” and he’s all intense like “yea guess I am”

Idk just Jason not thinking he’s a good person but still thinking the terrible and even monstrous things he’s doing aren’t necessarily wrong and are even good is just such an important part of his character and I love that for him and that title was just yesssss and I could talk about Jason for hrs and I’m not going to edit this so I’m so sorry if it doesn’t make sense but your brain is so big and this thread is wonderful

There's a post about wanting a story about Jason's time as Robin. I made a reblog of it so long ago, but I can't stop thinking about it.

I want to watch Jason's flight as Robin, but the entire story he's haunted by the future we all know is going to come.

When he first grabs his tire iron, he has the choice of taking a crowbar instead.

Subtle purples or greens pop up when he's in danger (but not necessarily the Joker).

He frees a bird trapped inside a warehouse.

He rescues a kid who was kidnapped by their mom and returns them to their dad.

So many dead or injured birds

While helping Alfred with gardening, he breaks a nail

Gun magazines at many scenes

Motorcyclists wearing red helmets

Someone's bubbling jacuzzi has a green light on

Duffle bags

He helps hold a bandage to someone's neck until paramedics arrive

Jason reads Frankenstein while at the Manor

An ad proclaims their coffins to be the sturdiest

Just his Robin story being jammed packed with foreshadowing.

It'd also be rad to have Easter Eggs:

Someone makes a comment about assassin kids

When talking to Bruce about something, on the batscreen is a very short file about "One Who is All"

Someone at a gala mentions the Drakes' newest archeology find

Kids at Jason's school chat about meta powers and how cool controlling light is

When visiting the hospital, the nurse introduces herself as Crystal

The buildup of the audience watching Jason, who's unaware of his future, continuously face sign after sign after sign? The irrational hope that maybe someone will notice the universe basically screaming about the future? Nobody notices as more and more signs pop up. It's maddening but so intriguing.

Jason's story of Robin would follow him as he goes from being desperate to survive to thriving. His paranoia that it's too good to be true thrums in his veins, but he learns to ignore it. He's fed, loved, and flies over Gotham every night. There's conflict, sure, but he's figuring out. It's okay.

The signs start out slow and subtle. As he starts to reach towards the end, they get more and more obvious. They occur more often.

Jason doesn't know when it all goes wrong, but he's figured it out before.

We don't see him lose hope until the very end.

EDIT:

Here's the og post I was referencing

[rafesbangs]

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ brat!lamb!reader teasing rafe about how desperate he is to fuck her... until she's the desperate one.

warnings: MDNI ! 18+ ! semi-public? (its just a backyard), fingering, teasing, kinda dom!rafe, language, possessive rafe i guess. wc: 1.1k

a/n: really getting back into it hello. i think this might be the first time i'm really happy with something i've written whew,, ENJOYYY

it was a sunny afternoon, you were laying out in a lounger next to the pool in a frilly white bikini that barely left anything to the imagination, sunglasses adorning your face as you fiddled with the braids in your hair. music softly played in the background as you marvelled at the view of the glistening water.

it had been scorching hot for a few days and you'd finally decided to take advantage of the pool in the backyard. you were the only one home, thankfully, you couldn't stand your parents nagging at you all the time and now they could only do that over text in a completely different time zone.

on account of this, you had your phone on silent (who wants notifications interrupting songs anyways) so you didn't take notice to any of the messages of your boyfriend had been sending you the entire 2 hours you'd been outside.

rafe knew you were home alone so of course to him only one idea came to mind when he woke up this morning and remembered your parents had finally left for two weeks. he'd texted you a few times simply hinting at wanting to see you but after you hadn't been replying for an hour, his texts grew a little desperate and worried.

2 hours later he's pulled up to your house and rapping on the front door, something else you unknowingly ignored. frustrated he finally decides to walk around the length of the house and enter from the backyard gate. to his surprise, and relief, there you were, humming to music without a care in the world.

he grinned as he watched your warm body lay steady, the sun was gleaming down on you, he would easily have described you as an angel to anyone in that moment. but his frustration came bubbling up again.

"y/n." he said gruffly, stalking over to you on the lounge chair, you slowly lifted your head at the sound of your boyfriend's voice, glad to hear him until he opened his mouth again. "i've been fuckin' texting you? where's your phone."

you raised an eyebrow and reached under the lounge chair, pulling your phone from the shade. there on the lockscreen you scrolled through all the texts, momentarily glacing back up at rafe every few texts as he stood there, fists slightly balled.

you sat up, stifling a giggle, "someone's happier than me about my parents leaving.."

"why's your phone off" he snapped, frustration bubbling into anger at your laughing. your brow furrowed at the tone he was attempting to use with you.

you crossed your arms, "rafe are you really gonna try and speak to me like that after the way you've been begging to fuck me for the past two hours?"

his jaw ticked, he knew you were completely correct. he swiftly sat down on the edge of the chair, his body inches away from yours as a hand reached out and snatched your phone.

you watched him carefully, now getting angry yourself, how could he just snatch something of yours off you like that?

and then you glanced down at his khaki shorts, it was impossible to miss, you didn't know how you hadn't before, they were completely tented. a smug grin made its way across your lips, he was soo sexually frustrated that he was getting angry over everything now. cute.

as he was busy changing the settings on your dnd, you slowly and carefully reached over and started palming him through his pants. he jolted at the touch and snapped his head to look at you, relief but also shock in his eyes.

"you've never been good at communication.." you smiled sweetly, rolling your thumb over his tip through the fabric. he twitched a little then threw your phone down and grabbed your hand, using it to pull your entire body towards him so your lips were just grazing his.

"don't you ever forget to reply to my texts." he lowly said, looking into your eyes intensely. unfortunately for you, his gaze was absolutely irresistible, like looking into heaven itself.

you didn't waste any time in pressing your lips to his while practically crawling into his lap and he wasted no time in pulling the bikini top aside to cup your perky tits. he grinned into the kiss, heat engulfed your body as he pulled you and close as he could.

he wrapped his strong arms around your waist and re-adjusted you on his lap, you could fully feel the extent of his frustration. he doesn't breaks his lips from yours, pushing his tongue past the seam of your lips, entangling his tongue with yours.

"you want me just s'much as i want you, don't you baby" rafe rasps against your lips as a hand slinks down your body and to the centre of where the heat is pooling. you groan as his fingers swipe across your folds through the thin bikini bottoms before he yanks them to the side.

he teases your wet pussy before slipping two long fingers inside, parting from the kiss to see your reaction at the intrusion. you gasp, mouth agape as he grins mischievously, "look at you, so pretty around my fingers."

"please..." you whine, gripping at the bicep of the arm that had your body trembling. he just grinned, jamming his fingers harder into your weeping hole as your breathing got increasingly heavier.

you couldn't take the lack of control, the lack of the release you were begging for, leading you to start fucking yourself on his fingers. he just scoffed and pulled your head in by the nape of the neck to continue torturing your lips.

finally, your legs began to twitch, pussy clamping around his thick digits. "you gonna cum for me pretty girl? cum all over my fingers? hm?" he coaxed as you frantically nodded, digging your nails into his arm, begging.

rafe nipped at your bottom lip, dragging it out a little with his teeth before releasing it and whispering into your ear, "i know baby, i can feel your nails digging into me, come on, cum all over my fingers f'me"

your eyes roll back as you groan, "oh shit, oh rafe!" white light clouds your vision as your face falls into the crook of his neck, he slows the pace before dragging his fingers out of your soaked cunt, bringing his hand up to his lips and slurping your juices off.

he kisses the top of your head before re-adjusting your bikini for you, "mm, made f'me" he mumbled with a satisfied grin. he gently slides your body back onto the lounge chair before stripping his shirt off and slowly stalking over to the edge of the pool.

"wait rafe, what about you?" you question, still a little out of breath.

he turns with a smirk, locking his gaze on yours for a moment, "we've got ages baby, your parents aren't around are they."

[muffinpink02]

Sandcastles

Summary - Mapi and Ingrid have Rudy for the weekend. Rudy learns not everyone is so nice.

WC - 5,954

Warnings - slightly suggestive, homophobic, swearing

“Are you excited, princess?” You smiled as you tied Rudy’s shoelace.

“Sí! When are they coming?” The four year old asked as she stared impatiently at the front door.

“Tieta Ingrid just texted me to tell me they’ve already left. So, they will be here soon.” You reassured her.

Rudy huffed out a deep sigh, a sigh so deep you'd think she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. But to be fair to her, patience wasn't a trait she had mastered as a four year old just yet. Though she wasn’t the worst, she had more patience than her mother.

“Why don’t you go grab your football, you can take it with you.” 

“Yeah! I can play football at the park. Tieta Mapi will like that!”

You watched as the excited curly headed blonde jumped off the wooden bench in your hallway, running past her twin in an excited hurry and into her bedroom. 

“Where are they? They said they would be here for 11.” Alexia asked as she rounded the corner, stopping to put Rudy’s water bottle in her sleep over bag. 

You looked at your watch, it was only 10.37. 

The Putellas and patience was like water and oil. It just didn’t mix.

“Ale, it's not even 10.40 yet. They live a 2 minute walk away and Ingrid has already texted to tell me they've left. Calm your tits.” You chuckled to yourself.

But your chuckle quickly turned into a loud squeal that escaped your mouth as you suddenly felt yourself being lifted into the air, Alexia easily picking you up from behind. All while burying her head into your neck attacking your skin with heated kisses.

“Alexia!” You let out a loud cackle.

“My tits are calm, cariño.” She muttered into your skin.

“Hmm, seems like it.” You laughed as she finally put you down, but never letting you go. Her strong arms wrapped around your body, holding you from behind.

“I’m just a little excited.” She purred into your neck as she eyed you in the hallway mirror. “A weekend of just you and me.”

You melted into her familiar touch, allowing her to bring you closer. You couldn't deny that you were also excited. It had been a while since the two of you had a weekend just to yourselves and my god, you needed it.

Don’t get me wrong you loved being a mum, and so did Alexia. The day you brought that baby home your world had turned upside down in the best way possible. But as mothers you hardly got time to be with each other. If your time wasn't taken up by Rudy it was taken up by training, if it wasn't training it was school, if it wasn't school it was matches, if it wasn't matches it was house hold errands and so on. 

Don’t even get me started on your intimate times, they were becoming few and far between. You were sure cobwebs had started to build.

So, yeah you both needed a little break with each other, and Ingrid and Mapi were always the first in line when it came to having Rudy. 

“And what is it that you’re most excited for, Mrs Putellas?” You raised your eyebrow in question, but it was rhetorical. Just going by the way her hazel eyes stared at you, you knew what she was excited for and so were you. “Is it the time we’re going to get together? Catch up on house chores?” You teased her.

“Hmm.” She hummed, the deep rumble from her throat caused your eyes to flutter. “No, I’m excited to try that new toy-”

But before Alexia could finish that sentence and before your mind started picturing the visuals (the visuals you so desperately wanted to see)  the sound of small feet came running back down the hallway. 

Alexia was right, Ingrid and Mapi needed to get a move on.

“I have my ball.” Rudy beamed as she kicked her Barcelona ball towards you both. 

Alexia kissed your neck, watching you in the mirror. “Hmm, later then?” She said in a hush tone that only you could hear.

“Next 5 minutes, more like.” You corrected her.

“Deal.” She gave you one last kiss on your neck before letting you go, checking Rudy's sleepover bag once more.

Alexia turned her attention to Rudy who was busy playing with her football. She could already see her football classes coming in handy, not to be biased but she was really skilled for her age, but you guess having two Ballondior winners for mothers came in handy.

The older blonde smiled as she watched her daughter attempting keepie uppies. Something she had tried to teach her. 

“You got everything you need, princesà?” 

“Sí.” 

“Good. Now, let's go over the rules.” Alexia’s captain's voice suddenly made an appearance. “What do we not forget to say?”

“Please and thank you.”

“Good. And what do we not do?”

“Erm,..... erm,..... erm.” Rudy got distracted as she kicked at her ball.

“Rudy.” Alexia easily captured the ball with her own foot, flicking it effortlessly into her own hand.

You found yourself staring at your wife. God, she was hot when she was being the ‘strict’ parent. Okay, yeah, you really needed this weekend.

“What do we not do?” She repeated herself, her tone more serious.

“Run off and talk back.”

“Good. Remember to listen to Tieta Ingrid make sure you’re always by her side when you're outside, si?”

“ Sí.” The smaller blonde nodded. 

“And Tieta Mapi, Mama.” You reminded Alexia.

Alexia nodded slowly. “Sí, and Tieta Mapi.” She rolled her eyes. “Just make sure Ingrid always knows where you are.” 

“Alexia, that was one time. We found her in the end and Mapi felt so bad, she didn’t stop saying sorry for about three months.”

The blonde nearly broke her neck as she turned to you, her hazel eyes wide in horror. “Mapi only had to watch her for 2 minutes! And she couldn't even do that!”

You rolled your own eyes but you kind of agreed with Alexia. You loved Mapi but the girl was maybe sometimes a little… forgetful.

Your buzzer for your building door rang out, setting off a very excited four year old.

“They're here! They're here!” The girl jumped up and down, her curls bouncing with her.

Alexia grabbed Rudy’s jean jacket and helped her put it on.

You opened your apartment door to see Ingrid and Mapi walking down the hallway, smiles stretching on both of their faces. 

“Chicken!” The Norwegian called out.

“Chica!” Mapi shouted loudly as she began to run towards the squealing girl.

Rudy was engulfed in a tight loving hug as she also ran towards her aunties. 

“Aye! You’ve got so big! I thought I told you to stop growing?” Mapi said as she put Rudy down. 

“I can’t stop growing!” The blonde giggled loudly, her gappy teeth all on show as Mapi pocked at her stomach. 

“Hello chicken.” Ingrid knelt down to Rudy’s level as she was embraced by the tightest hug a 4 year old could muster.

“Hello girls.” You smiled with your arms open.

All four of you gave your hugs and said your hellos.

“Whats your plans for the weekend then?” Mapi asked, already grinning at whatever PG version of your plans you were going to give.

“House work-”

“Cinema-”

Even Ingrid had to laugh at your unrehearsed replies.

“Ahh, sí, sí, housework.” Mapi sarcastically replied, sending an overly exaggerated wink at the pair of you. “House work sounds fun. I just hope it destresses you, Ale. You’ve been extra tense at training.” Mapi laughed as she elbowed her girlfriend.

You watched as your wife's cheeks turned the slightest shade of pink, her mouth hung open to rebuttal but she was clearly getting flustered. 

“Cinema and house work sounds fun” Ingrid chimed in, saving the pair of you from the embarrassment while also giving Mapi the look. The defender promptly stopped laughing after that.

“Right, give us a cuddle, Rude’s. Be good for your aunties and have the best time.” You opened your arms open for your daughter who happily squeezed you tightly.

“Bye, bebita.” Alexia also received the tight cuddle from her twin. “Have fun.”

You watched the three walk down the hallway, but before shutting the door Mapi called out. “Have fun with the house work.” She cackled just before being dragged by the back of her neck and out the door.

—--------------------

Ingrid and Mapi held Rudy's hands as they swung her in the air. 

“You’re so high, you're nearly in the sky!” Mapi laughed as they swung Rudy one last time before entering the playground.

Rudy’s smile beamed as she looked around the busy and colourful playground. 

“What do you want to play on, chicken?” Ingrid asked as she stroked the little hand in hers.

“The jungle gym!” 

“Fun! I love the jungle gym! Let's go!”

The three came up to the jungle gym, the sound of excited laughter and children playing coming from every angle. 

“Come on then, chica!” Mapi shouted as she attempted to climb inside.

“Baby, I don’t think you can go inside.” Ingrid smiled sympathetically at her girlfriend.

“What? That's not fair I want to go in.” Mapi sukled. 

“You’re too big Tieta.” Rudy laughed as she started to climb the rope to get inside the play area.

“Lets play with Rudy from the outside, okay?” Ingrid smiled as she stroked Mapi’s back.

“Fine.” The fully grown woman grumbled, her head hanging as she followed Ingrid.

“We’re right here Rudy!” Ingrid called out as the four year old began to climb.

“Okay!” 

Rudy was then off on her adventure. She walked across the bouncy and roped bridge that hung high above the floor, while Mapi and Ingrid pretended to be monsters grabbing at her ankles. Laughing in hysterics when Mapi even pulled her shoe off. 

She climbed further inside, coming to a stop at a red wheel that was attached to the climbing frame. Her imagination took over as she began to sail her pirate ship through stormy waters. 

She climbed higher, crawling though a green caved tunnel, her ship abandoned as she was now exploring the tropical forest, running away from lions and tigers, better known as Ingrid and Mapi.

She was in her element, she loved the park, she loved playing pretend and making up her own little stories as she explored her surroundings. As an only child Rudy found it easy to play on her own, having been accustomed to being the only child in her family so far, besides from Mapi. 

But that didn’t mean she wasn’t a people person, having grown up with her lifestyle of having two mothers that were very well known within the sports world she had picked up people skills early. Having to attend football training before she could crawl, or even the odd awards ceremony before she could count to 10. She was a charismatic and kind girl, always looking for a new friend wherever she could.

And she found her next playmate next in line to go adventure down the slide.

“I like your shoes.” Rudy pointed at the blue glittery shoes of the girl in front of her.

A face full of freckles turned around to look at Rudy, then down to her shoes. A small smile crept on her face. 

“My mommy got them for me”

Rudy smiled back, her head nodding up and down approvingly. Her curls bouncing with her.

“I’m 4.” The girl stuck four fingers up, smiling at her own words.

“I’m 4 too!” Rudy’s hazel eyes widened in shock, amazed that someone else could possibly share the same age as her. 

“Do you want to play pirate?” The little girl asked, her big brown eyes reminded her of her auntie Ona. 

“Yeah! We have to make sure the sharks don’t eat us. There's loads below the ship!” 

Rudy clearly was already in character. Maybe she was more suited for the acting career. 

The girl’s eye widened in shock, also quick to get into character. “Quck, we need to get down this slide and we can get to our ship!” 

Rudy nodded with the most serious face, looking just like her mother before a game.

“Okay, let's go!” 

It was Rudy's now best friend's turn to go down the slide, having waited patiently like all the other kids. She grabbed hold of the rails to sit on her bottom until she was suddenly pushed right into Rudy, making them both tumble over.

“Hey!” Rudy shouted as she looked up to see an older and bigger boy pushing in front of everyone else. Clearly never having been taught manners. 

Alexia would have a field day with him.

“Girls, can’t play on the slide.” He declared.

Rudy couldn't believe her ears, that's not what her mummy and mama told her! “Yes they can!” Rudy shouted back, a small bit of anger rising in her voice.

The boy stuck out his tongue before sliding down the plastic slide. 

“Are you okay?” Rudy asked her friend who now had watery eyes. 

She nodded sadly. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah. Don’t listen to him. He's wrong, girls can do anything we want.” 

That brought a smile to her friend's freckled face. Both girls got back up, dramatically dusting off the dirt that sat on their clothes, finally taking their turn down the slide.

Ingrid and Mapi had sat on a bench nearby, the Norwegian looked over at the jungle gym where she saw Rudy emerge from the slide. 

“Rudy, come have some water.” She called out.

The little girl ran over with her best friend in tow.

“Hello, what's your name?” Ingrid smiled at the little stranger.

“Dotty.” She replied shyly. 

“My name’s Rudy.” Rudy explained as she took the water bottle from Mapi. “Gràcies.”

Both women shared a smile at each other. It was funny how as a child you could seemingly be friends and not even know the other's name. Though, I guess you could say it was the same when you were drunk in a night club toilet, making life long friends with strangers you would never see again. 

“A boy pushed us over.”

Mapi was up in a shot. “What? Where? Who? Show me him.” The defender scanned the play ground, ready to fight a child.

“Oh no! That's not nice, are you okay?.” Ingrid frowned as she pulled Mapi back down to sit on the bench.

“And he said girls can’t go down slides.” Dotty chimed in, giving even more drama to the story.

“Oh really? Maybe I should talk to him. Show him exactly what girls can do.” The defender jumped up once more, only to be pulled back down by Ingrid.

“I think you both should stay away from him. He doesn't sound very nice.” Ingrid tried to reason with girls, nodding at her own words. 

Both girls mirrored her movements, thankfully agreeing with the older woman, even if her supposed adult girlfriend beside her didn’t.

“Where do you want to play now?” The doe-eyed girl asked, having already forgotten about the incident.

“Hmm.” Rudy stuck her tongue out in thought. “The sand box.” 

“I love the sand box! Let's go.” Dotty grabbed Rudy's hand in hers, running to their next adventure. Leaving Ingrid to remind Mapi why fighting a child isn't socially acceptable.

“Do you want to build a sandcastle?” 

“Sí.”

The girls got busy building their sandcastle. Happily sharing the toys in the sand box and even helping the other when stuck with a tricky part of the structure.

“Is that your mama?” Dotty pointed over at Ingrid who was watching Rudy while also having her ear chewed off by her girlfriend yapping about the grass.

“No. She’s my Tieta Ingrid and she's my Tieta Mapi.” You smiled, waving back at Ingrid who noticed Rudy pointing.

“She looks like a princesà.” Dotty said as she stuck a leaf into the wonky but sturdy sandcastle. 

“Sí.” She agreed as she got back to work. “My mummy and mama are at home.”

“You have two mama’s?” Dotty looked up from her bucket.

“Sí.” The curly headed girl nodded, smiling at the thought of her mothers.

“That’s so cool! I wish I had two mama’s! I only have one.” Dotty pouted at the unfairness.

“They’re lesbins. So are my Tieta’s.” Rudy explained, though she wasn't completely sure on what she was explaining, she just knew that’s what her mums were and many other women around her. 

“Wow! I want to be a lesbin.” Dotty sat in thought, not having a clue what she was talking about. 

The girls got stuck further into the castle, actually managing to make a decent sized structure. Rudy almost didn't notice the new arrival in the box as she began to make a mot. 

The little boy had been quietly watching Rudy and Dotty build the castle from afar, slowly inching closer every few minutes, wanting to play but just being that bit too shy to ask. 

Rudy looked up to see the shy boy sitting on the side of the box. His curly hair reminded Rudy of her Tieta Vicky, his tight curls hair sitting beautifully just above his shoulders. 

“Do you want to play?” Rudy asked as she handed him a plastic shovel.

His little face lit up from being asked, he nodded and gently took the plastic from her hand.

“We’re making a river around the castle and then we’re going to put sharks and crocodiles inside so the bad guys can’t get us.” Dotty informed him of their masterplan.

The little boy smiled as he started to dig, loving the idea of all these animals protecting the castle.

“W-we should also put lions around it for more protection and they can have wings so they can fly and look for the baddies."

Rudy and Dotty looked at each other then back at the little boy. Eyes wide with excitement.

“Thats so cool!” 

“That’s the best idea ever!”

The little boy chuckled gently to himself, happy that his idea was clearly liked by his new friends.

All three got into digging the mot, happily playing in their own little bubble, sharing the odd joke only a 4 year old would find funny, and maybe Mapi. The girls had even found out in the midst of chatter that the little boy's name was Leo and low and behold he was also four! Of course Rudy was in utter shock. Another four year old? You just couldn't make this up. But soon to be five. That was very important to know. 

Leo stood up to unzip his jumper, getting hot in the summer sun.

Rudy nearly fell over when she noticed the t-shirt Leo was wearing. He was only sporting the Barcelona kit.

“My mummy and mama play for Barcelona! They were that kit!” Rudy shouted joyfully. 

Leo looked down at his top, pulling the fabric to see what Rudy was so excited about. But being only four and not completely in charge of his wardrobe (because apparently you can’t wear your spiderman costume to school) he wasn't at the age of really dressing himself he wasn't sure what the clothing really meant, he knew it was something to do with football but that was about it.

“Do you play Barcelona?” Like I said, he wasn't up to date with the rules  and regulations of the sport.

“Not yet, but when I’m bigger I will..” Rudy beamed confidently.

“I’ll be Barcelona when I'm bigger too.” Dotty nodded, more than happy to jump on the career wagon.

“Me too!” Leo giggled, excited to be part of something that clearly seemed to be the coolest thing ever. 

Leo began to talk about his upcoming birthday party and had even invited the girls, though he wasn't sure on the date or time or address, but he was certain his mummy would know, and that was enough for the girls. 

It was all going well, all three kids were chatting happily until an uninvited guest appeared.

“Why are you playing with girls? They’re not fun to play with.” The boy sniggered, kicking sand towards the group.

Dotty’s wide eyes looked up at the bigger boy, the very same boy who had meanly pushed her and Rudy over earlier.

Rudy kept quiet, not wanting to give the boy any form of interaction, just like Tieta Ingrid said to do. But Leo hadn't had the pleasure of meeting the bigger boy just yet, so he didn't catch on that this kid was bad vibes and basically unwanted company.

Leo looked at the boy then back at Rudy and Dotty, he couldn't understand the issue, they were his friends and he was having fun with them.

“They’re m-my friends.” Leo’s soft voice was just about audible.

“Well, you should play with us. We’re going to play football. You can be on the Barcelona team.” He pulled roughly at Leo’s shirt, clearly knowing the kit. 

“Can my friends play too?” Leo asked, voice timid.

“No. Girls can’t play football.” The bully scoffed.

No, way was Rudy going to let that slide.

“Yes they can! My mummy and mama play football, they play for Barcelona!” Rudy stood up, her patience was starting to run out with this boy. And we all know the Putellas don’t have much patience.

“You’re so stupid, you can’t have two mums, dumb brain!”

Dotty wasn't having that. “Yes you can! Rudy has two mamas!” She bit back.

“No you don’t and they don’t play football.” The boy’s foot came close to the sand castle.

“Yes they do!” Dotty now stood up on her feet, ready to scrap for her life long best friend of 40 minutes.

“No they don’t! You’re a liar! Girls are stupid and can’t play football! You’re so dumb!” The boy’s face was turning a shade of pink, his anger getting the best of him. 

“No! You’re dumb and you have dumb poo brains!” Rudy shouted loudly.

She knew her mums wouldn't be happy with her language right now, but nobody gets to diss her mums, especially this horrible and very obnoxious little boy.

Dotty began to laugh immediately, throwing her head back like it was the funniest thing she had ever heard anyone say.

I guess at 4 years old it was the ultimate diss to bring to the playground. 

All three kids watched as the older boy’s face went from pink to red like a human chameleon, the embarrassment from Rudy’s words clearly hitting a nerve. 

“No! You don’t even have a brain!” 

But his words fell on deaf ears as Dotty’s laugh got obnoxiously louder.

And then the boy's temper boiled over like a volcano. He began to kick the side of the castle, making it crumble to the ground.

“Stop! Stop it!” Rudy shouted, her little fist balled up at her sides.

The bigger boy only ignored her and completely smashed the once impressive structure to the ground, laughing wickedly as he did it. 

“You’re a bully and nobody wants to play with you!” Rudy shouted as she watched all their hard work being squashed under the foot of a spoilt little boy.

“Shut up!” The boy screamed so loudly the rest of the playground turned to see the commotion. 

The bully then lurched at Rudy pushing her hard into the sand, quickly raising his chubby little fist in the air.

Rudy closed her eyes, her hands coming up to protect her face instinctively.

The boy brought his fist down hard, just in time to be caught by a bigger hand.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” Mapi’s tone was hard.

Rudy felt herself being lifted up into the air. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” Ingrid's words calmed her down instantly. 

Rudy only nodded, her hazel eyes were on her auntie Mapi.

“Why do you think you can go around pushing people who are smaller than you? Matter of fact, why do you think you can go around pushing anyone?” 

Rudy had never seen her Tieta Mapi like this before, she instantly felt like it was her fault that she was so angry.

The boy suddenly didn't have anything to say. He looked down at his feet, his lip began to wobble, clearly he had never had a telling off before. Even though Mapi wanted to go off on the boy she didn't want to make him cry or cause a scene. She let out a deep breath. 

“Leave these kids alone. They don’t want to play with you.” She rolled her eyes as she shooed the boy away. 

Ingrid felt Rudy go rigid in her arms. She stroked the girl's loose curls behind her ears and rubbed her back soothingly.

“Do you want to sit with us for a little bit or play with your friends?” Ingrid spoke softly. 

“Sit with you a little bit.” Rudy whispered, a small pout poking from her lip, even Ingrid recognised that pout from the older Putellas.

“Okay.” Ingrid looked over at the two other kids who were still in the sandbox. “Rudys just going to sit with us for a few minutes, she'll be back soon.”

Dotty nodded, she leaned into Leo and whispered. “I think that one’s a princesà.”

“Wow.” The little boy looked over in wonder.

Mapi followed Ingrid to the bench, the four year old watched Mapi from Ingrid's arms, her usual happy self was nowhere to be seen and Rudy felt a weird feeling from it. Her tummy knotted up with worry. She was scared that she had been bad, maybe so bad that she wouldn't be able to stay with her aunties because they didn’t like her anymore.

Ingrid sat down with Rudy in her lap, keeping her close to her chest. “Do you want some water, cariño? Maybe a snack?”

Rudy shook her head, her hazel eyes misting over. Her little brain was going through so many different emotions. Mapi frowned at seeing how quiet the usually chatty four year old was. She worried the interaction had shaken her up more than she realised, but before Mapi had a chance to ask Rudy anything, a woman began to walk over with an angry step. 

“Who do you think you are? Shouting at my son!” The woman raised her voice loudly.

Mapi scoffed. “No one shouted at your son and just so know he was about to hit my god-”

“Oh yeah, that's right. He said it was the one with two mothers. It's disgusting that you homo’s think you can just throw your sexuality anywhere you go, now you bring it to a park full of children. It's filth. And forcing a child into your sick lifestyle? You should be ashamed of yourselves.” The woman spat out, screaming at this point.

Mapi felt her chest tighten, the words didn't hurt her, she was more worried about Rudy and what this meant for her. She took a deep breath, ready to argue.

“You-” 

“Hold Rudy please, sweetie.”

Mapi was cut off as she took Rudy from Ingrid, watching confused as her girlfriend stood up calmly from the bench.

Ingrid smiled all too sweetly before she cleared her throat. “I have had to watch your brat son bully most of the children in this playground. He has pushed, pulled and was even a second away from punching my god daughter in the face, after already pushing her for the second time. This is the first and only time I've seen you bother to step in, and that's only because you don’t like that your child has actually been told off for maybe the first time in his life.”

Mapi and Rudy hugged a little tighter as they watched the normally calm Norwegian continue to tear this woman a new arsehole 

“You think you can come over here and have the nerve to tell us anything about our "lifestyle" when you can’t even control your child? Don’t make me laugh. Why don’t you and your son worry about your own selves? You clearly have no manners and neither does he. So, I suggest you take yourselves away, have a good look in the mirror and maybe find some decorum. Because frankly you should be the one ashamed of yourself.” 

The woman couldn't believe her ears, she looked around the playground at the other parents hoping to get some kind of backup, but nobody came.

Ingrid’s sweet smile stayed on her face as she watched the woman's face turn red in embarrassment, just like her devil child.

“You- you… ergh!” She stammered before grabbing her son's hand and leaving in an embarrassed huff.

Ingrid watched the woman walk off, catching a few thumbs up from the other parents that also shared her thoughts. She let out a sigh before turning around, the anger that had just been at her forefront melted instantly at the sight of Mapi and Rudy clinging on to each other like kola bears.

Mapi stared at her girlfriend in complete shock, but also adoration, she had never seen that kind of side to her before.

“You okay, baby?” Mapi asked Ingrid.

“Yeah. People are just so ignorant.” She shook her head as she stroked Rudy’s hair.

“Are you angry at me?” Rudy's small voice squeaked out.

Both of the women looked at each other then back at the little girl, clearly shocked at the question. 

“No, Rudy! We aren't angry at you!” Mapi hugged the little girl tighter. “We were upset that the little boy pushed you. I didn’t like seeing you getting hurt.” 

Rudy looked up at Mapi’s soft brown eyes, she nodded her head, grateful to understand the anger wasn’t directed at her.

Ingrid sat down next to them. “You could never make us angry, Rudy. We love you so much.” She smiled kindly at the little girl.

“Unless you became a Real Madrid supporter,” Mapi joked as she pocked Rudy’s stomach, making the girl laugh loudly. All her worries completely vanishing.

“That woman was angry.” Rudy declared.

“Well, she said some very mean things and Ingrid just had to remind her that you can’t go around bullying people.” Mapi smiled as she stroked Rudy’s cheek.

“He said girls can't play football, it made me angry because they can! You and my mummies play football!” The little girl frowned, confused why someone would think otherwise.

“Sadly, not everyone thinks like you, sweetie. Some people don’t agree that women should play football. But a lot of people do! You see them at the matches don’t you?” 

Rudy slowly nodded her head, trying to take in the information. Ingrid could see the cogs turning in her head, she didn't want to overwhelm the girl with too much negative information. The blonde girl looked over at her friends that had stuck up for her, they didn’t think that way. It was a surprise to hear people would be so mean. Her four year old brain was still learning so much about the world.

Ingrid followed her eyes.

“Do you want to play with your friends for a little bit then we’ll head back to our place?” Mapi asked as she dusted some sand off of Rudy’s back.

“Sí.” Rudy nodded.

Ingrid smiled as she gave both Rudy and Mapi a kiss on the forehead.

Rudy spent another twenty minutes with her friends before Leo had to say bye. Promising the others that they would see each other when playing for Barcelona in the future. 

“Ready, Rudy?” Ingrid smiled as her and Mapi approached the sand box.

“Sí. Bye Dotty.” 

“Bye Rudy. Bye Rudy’s tietes. I’m going to be a lesbin too, just like you.”

Ingrid and Mapi’s eyes widened in shock. Both of their mouths were gapping like a pair of fish, neither knowing what to reply to the little girl. 

“Did she just say?-”

“Sí. We can leave that with Alexia and y/n.” Mapi whispered next to Ingrid as she waved at the little girl that also reminded them of their teammate.

The three made their way out of the park, Ingrid spotting an ice cream van.

“Shall we get ice cream?”

“Yayy! Ice cream!” Mapi and Rudy shouted in sync. 

They queued up in line in front of the ice cream van, Mapi’s and Ingrid hand protectively and lovingly wrapped in Rudy's own hands.

“What flavour would you like, chicken?” Ingrid already knew the answer but still wanted to ask. Just in case. 

“Strawberry, please.”

“Chocolate for me please.” Mapi beamed as she looked over the menu. “And extra chocolate sauce.”

Once everyone put their orders in and everything was paid for, the three happily walked through the park, eating their ice creams. Ingrid only had to wipe chocolate off of Mapi’s cheek twice and Rudy once. 

The 4 year old softly kicked her ball as she walked just a few steps in front of the couple. 

“So, that was hot.” Mapi smirked. 

“What was?” Ingrid raised an eyebrow in question. 

“The way you told that awful woman off! My cute and sexy girlfriend being all protective. I loved it.” Mapi softly bumped her shoulder into Ingrid. 

The raven haired girl chuckled, becoming a little shy.

“Do you think it’s the hormones?” Mapi asked as she looked back over at Rudy, completely unaware of the conversation. 

“Yeah, I think so. I think even seeing Rudy getting bullied like that was awful. It made me so angry. And that bitch of a woman…” Ingrid paused to make sure Rudy hadn’t heard her. “...She made me so angry.”

Mapi nodded, taking Ingrid’s hand in hers and brought it to her lips, kissing her skin gently. 

“She was awful. I’m glad you told her off. She looked like a deer in headlights.” Mapi laughed thinking of the memory. 

“When do you want to tell Ale and y/n?” 

Ingrid hummed in thought. “Maybe next month? I guess I’ll start to show soon.” Ingrid smiled as she touched her stomach. 

“I can’t wait to tell them!” Mapi’s smile was from ear to ear. 

“Me too. I also can’t wait to tell this little one. She’ll be so excited.” 

The three did a lap round the park, even stopping to play some football. Just as they came to their exit Mapi noticed the bully boy to her right, stuffing his mouth with a cone ful of ice cream. 

“Hey, Rudy, kick your ball over here.” Mapi pointed at her feet.

The girl was more than happy to do just that, unaware what was about to unfold.

The blonde gently kicked the ball at Mapis’ feet. The older woman looked at her target once more before launching the ball perfectly at the ice cream cone, causing the desert to fly right out of the boy's hand and into the muddy floor.

“Ops sorry!” Mapi faked an apology as she retrieved the ball, she couldn’t stop the smile on her face once she heard the boy start to cry loudly behind her. 

She caught up with Ingrid and Rudy. The raven haired girl shook her head, trying her best to hide the smile on her face, but Mapi could see right through it. “Maria.” She chuckled.

“What? I couldn’t let you have all the fun.” The older woman laughed as she picked Rudy up and placed her on her shoulders.

Rudy squealed loudly as Mapi began to run.

“Faster, tieta Mapi! Faster!” 

Ingrid shook her head, smiling as she watched the pair laughing together. 

“You’re going to have the most crazy mama, but you’re going to be so loved.” She whispered as she stroked her stomach.

[purple-plum-petals]

Hello! I saw your homicipher requests were open, and I wanted to request some general mr scarletella fluff if possible! :D

⊱ General Fluffy Headcanons ⊰ || Mr. Scarletella Headcanons

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮ Character(s): Mr. Scarletella (Homicipher/文字化化) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): Canon-typical Mentions of Violence (and horror-elements), Unhealthy Obsession/Possessiveness, Cultural Barriers (Mr. Scarletella Doesn’t Fully Comprehend Certain Emotions/Expresses Them Differently Than a Human Would). Genre: Headcanons, Fluff, Romantic or Platonic Relationship (It’s Complicated, honestly). Word Count: ~900 words Request: “Hello! I saw your homicipher requests were open, and I wanted to request some general mr scarletella fluff if possible! :D” Author’s Note: I’ll be honest with y’all, writing straight-up fluff for these characters is really hard to do lmao. I try to stay as canon-compliant as possible (it’s low-key a curse, but it’s such a great way to practice writing 😔), so I hope these are fluffy enough for you given, well… the source material as a whole haha. Mr. Scarletella wasn’t originally one of my favorite characters from the game, but he’s honestly starting to grow on me at a concerning speed – shout-out to all the artists on Twitter who have added to my enjoyment of this man. ✌️

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated!  ♡

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

🩸: Whenever it rains, Mr. Scarletella is always standing right there next to you, holding his red umbrella over your form so you do not become drenched because of the dreary weather. He takes his job very seriously, too, not minding how cold water causes his clothing to cling to his already deathly cold skin. He does it with an ever-present smile, too, watching you with unblinking eyes while he happily follows you around. Mr. Scarletella doesn’t get cold, he typically doesn’t feel any physical sensation in the first place, so getting a little wet while being able to keep you dry is something he doesn’t mind doing for you. If you invite him to join you under the umbrella, he falters for a bit before eventually standing next to you, shielding both of you from the rain (he loves being able to stand that close to you – he can almost feel the warmth radiating from you, and he finds himself craving it even after the two of you have found somewhere to take shelter). 

🩸: If there’s something you express an interest in, whether or not Mr. Scarletella is around when you make the off-handed comment, you’ll wake up to it lying right in front of your door. It’s honestly a bit creepy sometimes, just waking up to the article of clothing you looked at for longer than three seconds or the book whose title you briefly mentioned sitting at your feet when you open the door. In the past, any gift he left used to just be haphazardly placed in front of the door, and it reminded you of when a cat would catch a mouse and bring it to their owner (you’re not going to talk about the time you woke up to a literal human heart waiting for you, though…). However, Mr. Scarletella noticed that humans who exchanged gifts typically had them wrapped in paper, so he started to mimic their behavior, too, in the hopes you would like them more. Sure, his wrap-jobs were bad, almost hilariously so, but it was the thought that mattered. 

🩸: Whenever he looks at you, his pupils further dilate (even more than they usually are – it’s almost to the point where his entire eye is purely black, the red of his irises lost in the dark void of his gaze). Mr. Scarletella loves being able to just look at you, needing nothing more in life. He’ll watch you with an unblinking stare while you do literally anything. Whether it be cleaning your home or making yourself a meal, he will observe you as if you were the most interesting thing to have ever existed. As stated before, Mr. Scarletella is very good at mimicking human behaviors so, sometimes, he’ll ask if he can join you in whatever task you’re doing. He’ll copy the way you clean the floors or perfectly execute chopping the vegetables for the dish you were making after showing him what to do a single time. He’s very pleasant to be with during moments like these since he’s very good at acting like a human most of the time (other times, though – say if you need something from the top shelf – his body will twist and morph in very unsettling ways... It just emphasizes that, even if he’s good at pretending, he still isn’t human at the end of the day).   

🩸: Being with Mr. Scarletella means that you cannot have an unserious relationship, it’s just not in his vocabulary (because he’s obsessive, especially regarding you). He’s devoted to you entirely – body, mind, and soul – gladly letting you have the red umbrella to do with it whatever you wish. He’ll shiver slightly whenever you hold it in your hands, your touch is so strangely gentle as you softly run your fingers along the handle or press a kiss to the unassuming object. It hurts but in a different way. A part of him wishes you would just throw the umbrella to the ground, dig your heel into it, and have him experience a pain that was easier for him to understand… but you don’t. He loves your sweet touches, even if it’s painful and causes his chest to ache. He finds himself wishing he could touch you in that way, too, his ghost-like caresses causing your skin to tingle with static whenever his feather-light hands graze over your flesh (he loves cuddles and loving touches, even if he can’t experience them with you in a conventional sense). 

🩸: If you ever find yourself being bothered by someone who won’t leave you alone or someone who won’t take no for an answer, well… they may or may not end up missing. If you don’t want Mr. Scarletella to take care of anyone who is bothering you for you, you’ll definitely have to explain that it’s not appropriate because of the differences in your cultures – death and murder are common in the other world, after all (I’d also explain to him that he cannot harm or threaten people you care about, either, since he honestly wants you all to himself). This does mean, though, that you know that you’re safe no matter where you are. Mr. Scarletella is always watching you so, if you find yourself in a situation where your safety is at risk, you honestly have nothing to fear. He’ll keep you safe – you’re his love, his world, his reason for living, and he won’t let someone else take that from him.