#I just wanted these to see the light of day somehow

[runariya]

Beyond Probability JJK (m.)

summary: Matching with an idol? Unlikely. But with a 99% compatibility? Beyond probability. pairing: idol!Jungkook x f!reader genre: idolvers, S2L, fluff, smut rating: 18+, MDNI! warnings: fluff, fluff, a bit of self doubt, fluff, fluff, explicit sexual content, shower sex, unprotected sex, pls lmk if I forgot smth word count: ~ 4k

a/n: It’s a rly cute and short oneshot, light and mainly fluff, nothing too deep, no big words etc this time. Just had to get it out of my system since the idea’s been on my mind for months now (unedited bc I fell ill halfway through writing it 🤒)

a/n 2: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

Your biological clock’s ticking—has been for some years now—and even though you’re only now nearing 30, you’re painfully aware that the life you pictured as a kid might never come true.

It’s not like you’re unstable in who you are or what you’re doing. You’re fairly successful at your job, you’ve got your own place, and you’re more social than most people these days. Still, you’re only what most would call average-looking, and even though you’ve got a good career, you’re too soft to keep it up forever. You picture yourself more as a loving wife and mother than a corporate boss bitch climbing the ladder of success.

That’s also why your dating life has been rocky all along. Men see what you put out there, but they don’t like who you really are or what you want from life, which has left you single for most of it.

So, when a new project starts—after the K-pop industry finally acknowledges that idols need partnerships and a life of their own, and fans finally understand that these people are human too, that they deserve to experience love and happiness like everyone else—you decide to take your chances too.

Funnily enough, all the labels have teamed up, hiring not only the best scientists and psychologists from Korea but from around the world to create a program that can find ideal matches for their idols. Sure, science shouldn’t determine who you fall in love with, but… what if it could?

After being pre-selected—just to confirm you’re not some crazed fan—you’ve spent over two weeks going through tests. Recorded interviews, personality assessments, even physical evaluations… now you’re staring at your company’s computer screen, listening to Dr. Song explain the results through the phone. 

“Ninety-nine percent?”

“Yes. The chances of such a high compatibility score are next to impossible. We see it as a perfect match and would like to introduce you to your match.”

“Sure, of course.” Even though your voice is steady, you can feel your nerves flaring up like never before.

“Is tomorrow at 8 p.m. alright for you?”

“Yes, that works for me.”

“Perfect, we’ll see you then.”

Well, joke’s on you, you didn’t expect this outcome. 

Meeting an idol feels surreal, and the closer you get to 8 p.m. the next day, the more you can feel the anxiety and doubts inside you rising. Every last detail in Dr. Song’s calm, clinical rundown replays in your mind, the ninety-nine percent match, the endless rounds of testing, the surreal realisation that, somehow, all those numbers and algorithms miraculously spat out a name next to yours. 

You want to trust that there’s a reason for this, that somehow science isn’t just working with chance, but the tension of actually meeting someone this special is so overwhelming you barely notice yourself entering the lab building until you’re standing outside Dr. Song’s office.

“Right on time,” she chirps, giving you an approving nod. She seems to sense your nerves, and as she leads you down a hallway you’ve never been before, she gives you a reassuring smile. “I know this is all a lot. But he’s likely feeling the same way. The tests told us that he’s, well, quite like you.”

Her words would make you laugh in any other situation, though disbelief and a strange kind of comfort floods through you still. Like you. An idol, standing here in a lab somewhere to meet some random stranger, feeling just as out of place as you. You’re not sure of that but still like to think it must be true. 

You don’t have time to process it fully before you’re led into a quiet room with yellowish walls so plain they almost blur in the corners of your vision, a low, comfortable couch and a couple of chairs standing there and none of the lab equipment that surrounded you in the testing rooms all those weeks ago. 

And then you spot him, sitting on the couch, alone. He stands the second you walk in, hands half in his pockets, a slight, almost unsure smile grazing his lips as he glances down at you. He’s got that casual look about him, the same dark eyes you’ve seen a hundred times on a screen that somehow feel warmer and more human here. 

He looks not quite better than he does on screen, but not worse either. Somehow, he’s realer, if that’s a word—close enough that you can see the little flecks of colour in his irises, the slight tension in his posture, the faintest trace of nerves hiding under his composure.

“Hi.” Jungkook’s voice is lower, softer than you expect from an idol. “Nice to meet you, I’m Jungkook.”

“Nice to meet you too. I’m ___.” There’s a pause, and you can tell he’s just as unsure what to do with the space between you two as you are. The click of the door makes you turn around briefly, only to realise Dr. Song has left you both alone. “This is, um, weird, right?”

He nods, a quick, breathy laugh breaking through. “Very. I mean, this isn’t exactly a ‘normal’ kind of meeting, right?”

His words are awkward but disarming, and suddenly, you’re aware of all the tiny, meticulous details of him that somehow make him feel more relatable than his polished, on-screen persona. The way his hand keeps moving to rub against his thigh or abs, his tongue playing with his lips and piercing ever so slightly—everything about him is familiar but also somehow close enough to feel completely new.

“I don’t think I was ready for this,” you admit. You aren’t really talking to him but more like letting your own thoughts slip out in the safest way possible, like saying it makes it feel less absurd.

“Honestly, same.” He laughs, and you think there’s a light flutter in your chest now. “I kept thinking about this whole ninety-nine percent thing. Like… how does that even work? Isn’t it supposed to feel, I don’t know, obvious? Like you know the moment you see someone?”

You nod, understanding exactly what he means, and somehow you move on autopilot, walking towards him and sitting down on that couch with him beside you. It feels like you should both somehow know, like there’s a sign or an instant connection, something that would make all of this feel simple, easy. But it’s just the two of you in a quiet room, barely knowing each other, held together by nothing but a number on a report.

“Yeah, that’s so wild. I didn’t think I’d have a match, this close to a hundred even less. Might be a glitch if our score is this high.”

Jungkook nods with sparkling eyes, seemingly relieved by your honesty and humour. “Yeah, I get that. I kept thinking about it too. Wondering if maybe the tests were wrong, or maybe I was just…thinking too much.” He lets out a sigh, his gaze meeting yours for a long, meaningful second. “But I think maybe this is about finding out, right? Not having it all make sense right away.”

“Hm, makes sense.” You giggle, because what else can you do in the presence of him.

The two of you sit there in a momentary silence, as if testing each other, feeling out the small boundaries that keep you both distant.

“So, what did the report tell you about me?” You ask the question half-jokingly, trying to break the quiet, but also curious. You want to know what he knows, how much of this supposed ninety-nine percent compatibility is actually something that either of you feel. 

He lets out a silent breath, looking down as if slightly embarrassed. “Honestly, not as much as you’d think. They told me you were kind of… soft-spoken but resilient? And that you have a job that’s, uh, stable and…” He trails off, the tips of his ears slightly pink, like he’s embarrassed to keep going.

“And?” You can’t help but push further—not maliciously, just way too curious and playful for your own good. Jungkook’s expression shifts from embarrassed to surprised, and then to a look that’s just as playful.

“And that we’re, apparently, very much sexually compatible.”

Really, you should be the one feeling embarrassed or shy now, but you can’t help the laugh that slips out. You know exactly what he’s hinting at—your report clearly showed the same.

“Well, it might be not wrong. And they told me…” You pause, realising that you barely remember the details in the face of the reality in front of you but alas. “They said you’d be a good match because, I think, there was something about humour?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Humour? Never heard of it.” And it makes you laugh all over again. “I feel like they just told us things we’d want to hear, to make it seem easier and normal.”

His words hit close to home, but they’re strangely comforting in the way he says them. You reckon, he’s just as bewildered by this as you are, maybe even more so. And somehow, in the middle of all the awkwardness, you find yourself genuinely smiling at him, naturally gravitating towards him, finding that there’s a softness and reassurance in his gaze, a gentleness that cuts through your nerves like a knife through melted butter in the sun. 

You start talking more freely after that, exchanging stories that are too mundane to make sense in any real context but feel right here. You tell him about your last trip to the beach, how you got sunburned and spent the whole evening sitting on your balcony, nursing it with iced water and aloe, wishing for a helping hand that you didn’t have. He laughs, nodding along as if he can picture it exactly and tells you about how he tried to make pasta he ate in Italy for the first time a few months back and ended up burning the whole batch, because no one was by his side, so badly his kitchen smelled like smoke for days.

The more you talk, the more you notice the little things about him that aren’t so polished, aren’t so perfect, and make him feel more human and real than anyone you ever met. He has a way of listening, eyes intent on yours, like he’s trying to pick apart every word to understand it better. When he laughs, it’s with his whole face, even body, not the careful, composed look of an idol but a natural, carefree laugh that makes you feel like maybe he’s as relieved as you are to be here, to have someone he doesn’t have to impress. 

At some point, you both lapse into a comfortable silence, each lost in your own thoughts but somehow still connected. The tension from earlier has faded away, replaced by a soothing aura you know you don’t want to miss for a day in your life.

Eventually, Jungkook glances over at you, his eyes sucking you in without much resistance. “I kept thinking this would feel forced, you know? Like we’d be sitting here, struggling to find anything in common.” He leans back, drapes his arm around the back of where you’re sitting, glancing up at the ceiling as if searching for the right words. “But… it doesn’t feel that way. You feel… I don’t know, right?”

The slight flutter in your chest has now swelled into a full-blown hurricane, and you’re not sure if it’s that ninety-nine percent compatibility causing it. But you don’t let yourself think too much—not when you’ve both been inching closer with each word, not when you take a chance and lean in, resting your head against his side. Especially not when his arm settles directly over your shoulder, pulling you a little closer, his other hand finding yours, fingers intertwining just to see how it feels.

“Yeah, it feels right. I really like this.”

As you absently play with his fingers, breathing in his scent for the first time and deciding it’s like heaven, you let yourself trust science. Because this feels like exactly where you’re meant to be.

While the first meeting with Jungkook went better than you’d ever hoped, you’re painfully aware of your overthinking nature. Overthinking in a way that makes it painfully clear there are countless women out there who, on the surface, would seem a better visual match for him than you.

Overthinking to the point where you wonder why Jungkook would even need matchmaking when he could so easily choose a partner on his own. It’s also why staying focused at work isn’t exactly easy today, knowing that soon his label will be sending a car to pick you up for your next meeting with him.

You understand the precautions they’ve taken and completely agree it’s better to meet in a private, safe space rather than making headlines this early on. That’s why, as the tinted car arrives, you feel a bit more at ease than you have all day.

Soon enough, you’re driving down the path to the label’s underground garage, and while you fix your makeup real quick, the car comes to a stop. The driver nods and guides you towards the lift, where the lights are dim and everything has this quiet, professional atmosphere you’ve only seen on screen.

You try to take it all in, letting your thoughts settle just a bit more as you follow through to the hallways upstairs, past doors labelled with room numbers and studios, and then finally, you’re outside the door to Jungkook’s studio, right where you’re supposed to meet.

Your heart beats a little faster as you hear Jungkook’s familiar voice call out, “Come in,” and when you open the door, you find him leaning casually against the chair before his equipment with an easy smile that somehow manages to be both happy and slightly flirty. 

Again, Jungkook’s dressed just like uniquely him, with a few silver rings glinting on his fingers. And while you didn’t think he’d even get up to greet you, he steps forward and embraces you in hug so tight, it leaves you drowning in him. 

“Hey,” he greets with that disarming grin, eyes boring into you, taking in your formal work attire, as he gestures to the coffee set up besides his laptop. “Hope you don’t mind the casual vibe.”

You laugh a little, settling onto the free chair beside him, feeling a bit strange but somehow not. “I think it’s perfect. And to be honest, I don’t think I’d cope well with the whole five-star dining treatment and whatnot.”

He laughs, nodding in agreement, taking your purse from your hands and draping it casually over the back of his chair. The fact that he’s still so attentive, even though he’s clearly in his element here but completely relaxed, is rather fascinating and pulls you in even more.

Like the day before, talking with him comes easy, and while there’s nothing groundbreaking in your conversations, every word feels meaningful in the bigger picture.

Eventually, you feel yourself relaxing like you were at home by your own, getting comfortable enough to let out the thoughts that have been swimming in your head since last night. “I’ve thought a lot about how all of this could play out,” you admit, taking a sip of your coffee, trying to find the right words, though knowing there won’t be any wrong words when talking with Jungkook. “And honestly, I’m not really interested in taking things public if they did work out. I know that’s probably strange to say, but I’m not cut out for the spotlight.”

He tilts his head, watching you thoughtfully. “No, it’s not strange at all. I get it.”

A small smile tugs at your lips as you go on, “I just want something real. A partner who’s loyal, someone who’s there because we get each other, not because we’re some public ‘it’ couple, parading around every chance we get. Does that sound crazy?”

He shakes his head, while he swings from one side to the other.  “Not at all. That actually sounds perfect to me.” There’s a sincerity in his tone that makes you feel, for the first time, like there’s some truth to your report. “The whole ‘idol’ thing is just a job. It’s not who I am, not at the core. And having someone who sees it that way, is what I want too.”

It elates you to know that you could have something like this, with him,  someone you could genuinely share your life with.

Then, in a thoughtful voice, he asks, “What do you want for the future? I mean, outside all of this.” 

You take a breath, feeling a little nervous but wanting to be honest. It’s not like it’s news to him, seeing that this information’s written in the report he was handed. “I want something traditional. A home, a family, maybe staying home with kids, having that steady, grounded life. It sounds simple, I know, but it’s what I’ve always pictured.” You look up at him, expecting maybe a hint of judgement, but instead, you find him nodding, his eyes lighting up like a candle in the night.

“I don’t think that sounds simple at all, but meaningful.”

A shy smile forms on your lips as you add, “Sometimes I feel like people don’t see that side of things anymore, you know? Like everyone’s so focused on careers and success and everything else… and I get that, I do, but I’ve always just wanted something steady. Something I can hold on to.”

His hand finds yours, his fingers like second nature intertwine with yours, and the gesture is so simple yet so heartwarming that you feel like squealing out of happiness. “That’s exactly what I want too.” It’s nothing new to you too, but him saying that, seeing the honesty in his eyes, is better than any data shown to you. “I want that sense of home.”

You feel yourself falling a little harder, a little faster, and maybe that scares you a bit. You’ve seen the kind of attention he gets, the kind of girls that throw themselves at him, and it’s hard not to let those doubts creep in. Especially now. “I know this probably sounds insecure,” you start awkwardly, glancing away, “I think, I don’t know, maybe I’m not the kind of person someone like you would go for. I mean, you could have anyone, and not just because you’re an idol.”

He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, his thumb tracing soothing circles against your skin. And while his mouth opens to say something, the pull against your hand surprises you as much as him settling you in his lab. “Hey, don’t think like that. I’m here because I want to be. And trust me, I’m not looking for ‘anyone’. I’m looking for someone who gets me. And that someone is you, no?”

The look in his eyes is so genuine, so unguarded, that it’s hard to keep your heart from doing all sorts of stunts. He’s not the polished idol right now; he’s just Jungkook, being flirty, being compassionate, being so him, sitting in a cosy studio with his tattoos, his piercings, his moles, his beautiful smile, his whole presence more comfortable and inviting than you could have imagined.

And as he sits there, looking at you like you’re the only person in the world, you realise that you definitely don’t have to doubt this. Maybe it’s okay to let yourself believe that he’s here because he wants to be, that he’s falling for you irrevocably just as you’re falling for him. 

“Sooo… that means?” You know you need to be brave now, because if this isn’t a dream, you’d never forgive yourself for not taking the leap.

“That means, if you want to, I’d love to have you as my girlfriend.”

“Isn’t it a bit rushed?” You don’t actually think so, but you still need to be sure.

“I’m all in if you are. I don’t want to waste any more time, and even though it’s just a report, I can feel there’s real truth behind it.”

Fast forward seven months, and you find yourself pressed against the shower wall like you do every night. But this time, it’s different—just hours ago, you made your first public appearance on a music show with Jungkook, just because you both felt ready, where he was not only nominated for Best Singer of the Year but won as well.

“Koo, right there, right there.”

It still amazes you how his cock seems to find your g-spot as soon as he enters you, though you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Yeah? Right there, hm? Or is it…” he trails off, shifting his hips ever so slightly, making you realise he’s actually hit the centre point of your g-spot now, his hard, unrelenting thrusts pushing you over the edge without warning.

“Oh my goooddd,” your eyes roll back, mouth hanging open against the cool shower wall, as your cunt keeps gripping him even though it’s already creaming around his cock.

“Good girl, keep going, love. Show me how many you can take tonight.”

There’s nothing you can do, not that you’d want to do anything other than let him rearrange your insides. Especially not when his tattooed hand finds its way from the back of your hair to your jaw, tilting your head to the side, giving you the perfect view of his upper body—rivulets of water cascading down his chiselled form, lips parted, eyebrows furrowed. 

He’s the epitome of perfection. Not just a ninety-nine percent but a hundred. 

His eyes, though hooded, bore into your soul as his hips pick up the pace. It’s this connection you share with him make being with him feel so special.

“Koo…”

“I know, love, just a bit more. Can you be a good girl?”

“Yes,” you moan, because hell, you can. “Yes, for you…ah, winning the trophy.”

Even though you shouldn’t feel his cock twitch with the pace he’s set, you do, realising instantly what he needs tonight.

“Best singer, Koo…fuck…best boyfriend, only fucking me when, hmm, the whole world wants a piece of you.”

“Only you. Always you, ___, love.” You think you catch him licking a drop of saliva from his lips as he stares down at where your bodies connect, sending another wave of arousal from your stretched-out hole.

“You’re so big.”

“Just for you, fuck, squeeze a bit more.”

It’s not that you did it on purpose, but when his hand shoots down to your clit, circling it just right, your body responds as though it’s never felt this good, soaking him even more and gripping him tight as a vice.

“Like that, love, like that.” Jungkook grunts and pants, holding you harder, tighter as his cock seems to swell even more, pumping frantically in sync with your impending second orgasm.

When Jungkook can’t hold back any longer, it’s all you need to let go too, the rush flowing through your veins just as fiercely as the love you feel for this man.

After some time, Jungkook pulls out, helping you straighten up and lean against his chest under the stream. His veiny hands trail down your body, washing away his release dripping out of you, as he plants kisses along the side of your face.

When he’s had enough, he, like always, turns you, brushing the wet strands of hair from your face. And as you do the same to him, captivated by how content and in love he looks, you can’t help but feel like the luckiest girl in the world when, for the first time, Jungkook declares his feelings.

“I love you, till the day I die, ___.”

“I love you too, and beyond.”

Because this, because having Jungkook calling you his, is beyond probability.

a/n 3: lmk what you think in any way you like! ��� If you liked what you read, pls consider buying me a ☕️ Ko-fi.com/runariya 💕

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[slytherinslut0]

quiet reckoning. chapter one

summary: mattheo comes to visit. it’s strange, being twenty five and still seeing your childhood in his eyes.

warnings: just a ton of fucking angst. complicated, self destructive mattheo who’s finally coming to terms with how he pushed you away when you were younger simply because he couldn’t stand being second to tom in your eyes. the acceptance doesn’t make it hurt any less. get the tissues. cry with me please.

masterlist & other chapters.

Life these days holds a strange, silent kind of peace, interrupted only by the faint sound of water rushing over stone—the creek that runs quick along the forest edge. In your early summer afternoons, the trees form a leafy wall of emerald and ochre, and they sway with the breeze that brushes the hair back from your cheeks.

You sit cross-legged in the dirt, hands buried in soil as you pull vegetables out of your garden in prep for the approaching cold months. You love how earth has its own signature scent: damp, fertile, alive. Somehow it makes you think of Tom—his manor, with its towering windows overlooking manicured grounds, its own gardens sprawling wide. His manor with its grand, sweeping staircases, polished black floors.

Everything was pristine, almost oppressively so. Even the walls seemed haughty, disdainful of the cobwebs that clung to the corners.

Tom had never let you stay long enough to tend to those.

But his gardens—those had their own softness, a quiet beauty that only fully revealed itself after dusk when the moonlight cast everything in silver. I loved you there, you reminisce, and the ache has a name in memory—longing. I wish I could have loved you there longer.

And now you're here, a few years after Tom told you never to come back to him—here where the ache feels smaller, further away. Here where there’s no temptation, where the air smells of earth and moss and freedom, and the silence holds its own kind of comfort. Mattheo visits sometimes, wandering into the quiet when your absence grows too thick, when too many of his owls have gone unanswered.

"He'll visit soon." He always tells you. You start to hate how much he lies to you.

"Don't pretend," you said once, and his mouth stretched into a thin, humourless smile.

"Alright," he replied. "I won't."

So now, when he comes to visit, he doesn't say it—he just sits next to you. He doesn't talk much. Neither do you. Life here is quiet—few neighbours, even fewer visitors. A woman brings you pastries from time to time and the town grocer knows your name, but most days you pass unbothered. You tend the garden when the days are warm, work on the cottage when it's cold.

When it's raining you read books and pretend they're not the same kind Tom used to keep.

On a day in early October, Mattheo sits next to you on the porch and you hate that you notice how he doesn't look at you the same way Tom did. It's something lighter, something less cloying. Sometimes you think of how unfair it is that he can taunt you silently like this—how he can remind you of the chocolate streaks in Tom's inky hair, the depth in his dark eyes. How he can remind you that he holds all the same features as his brother, just without the weight.

As the sun sinks slowly through the trees, casting pink and orange across the sky, you turn your face to the creek, watching the water ripple over stones and rocks, and you think of how young you loved them—the way your love grew different when you weren't looking.

Mattheo was chaos, always had been. I could have helped him find himself. But that thought feels hollow, and it's always followed by another. If he would have let me.

"It's strange to think that this is your life." Mattheo speaks after a while of not. He lights a cigarette, and you reach for it when he passes it to you. "You could have done anything."

You inhale the smoke and close your eyes—thinking of how cigarettes taste like fire and ash and the last time Tom had taken your hand.

"Maybe this is all I ever wanted to be." You reply, spinning the cigarette between your fingers. "At peace."

He glances at you in the fading light—the way the sunset casts shadows in the hollows of your cheeks, makes the gold of your earrings look darker against your hair.

He frowns. "You don't look at peace."

No, you think, taking another drag. I never really have.

You pass the cigarette back to him, watching the smoke drift in the breeze. He doesn't say anything else, so you don't either.

Instead, you watch the dark start to close in, the sky turn into an endless stretch of indigo, stars winking to life somewhere above the trees. The fireflies come out eventually, when the night is quiet and heavy and the world turns a little sleepy. They flutter around in the trees and grass like faeries—like stars that've made their home on the ground—and Mattheo watches them with a furrow in his brow.

You wonder what he's thinking, then think better of it at the bitter twist of his mouth. He always thought they'd burn.

"Why do you still come here?" You question. He turns to you, and when his eyes meet yours that's when you realize you'd verbalized the thought. "To sit with me."

Mattheo shakes his head. "I'll need another smoke to answer that."

So he pulls out another cigarette and lights it. The first inhale is long, and the exhale makes you blink. You look away and pretend like his response doesn't make your stomach twist.

The stream moves a little darker in the moonlight and the pine trees shiver with a gentle breeze that smells like soil. You feel the comfort in it—in knowing that all of this has been here longer than you ever have, and that it'll be here long after you're gone.

Perhaps that's precisely what you chased. A home in something steady.

"I come to remind myself you're okay." He says after a long silence, staring at his hands. "Sometimes it feels like you're dead."

You blink again. He's more perceptive than you remember.

"I'm still here," you remind him, but he laughs without humour in it.

"Sure, you're there," he replies, before another pause. "But you're not really living."

He says the words casually, like they're a fact. You think they're meant to hurt. He's right—it's a thought that comes quietly, the way most unwanted thoughts do. You over look at the river, the fireflies, the dirt under your fingernails—you try to feel the chill in the October breeze, the soft moss under your feet. You try to be alive.

"Why do you think that?" You ask even when you know the answer.

He takes another drag of his cigarette, and then exhales—casting his hair grey when the smoke drifts over his face.

He looks older here, when the night stretches over him. It reminds you how much has changed.

"Sometimes I think you're here to punish yourself." He says, passing you the cigarette again. "You say you come here for peace, but this isn't peace like a person should have. It's just an absence. Silence, and isolation, and nothing else." You glance down at his hand resting on his knee beside you, shadows deepening in the lines of his palm. He watches you. "I wish you'd stop hating yourself for what he's become."

A lump forms in your throat—you remember Tom as a boy, the way he'd hold magic in his palms and make lights dance just to make you laugh. You remember the way he once looked at you, quietly and gently in a way that made you feel safe within crumbling walls offering cold stone decorum. You remember one of the last times at Hogwarts, once things took a turn, when he held more than just magic in his palms—when the lights danced only to burn you instead of make you laugh.

You wonder what it says about you, that you loved him in both.

"I don't hate myself, Matt." You mutter, more conviction than truth. "If I'm punishing myself at all, it's for giving him something to hurt."

He doesn't say anything for a while, so you think briefly that his silence is agreement. You and him both know that there is a lot to hurt about, when it comes to Tom.

"You didn't give him anything." He rebuttals with certainty. "He was who he was before you even knew his name."

It's easy to forget that sometimes, the way he had been all sharp edges even when you'd first met. The way he'd pulled you and his brother through crumbling, damp, narrow hallways with something far too assured for a six year old. Something that made you want to follow him forever—something that whispered; I'll never let anything hurt you.

You exhale a plume of smoke. The fireflies look like falling stars when you close your eyes.

"Sometimes, I think I made him human." You say, and immediately wish you didn't. It's a weird thought, but one that comes unbidden. "Others, I think I made him evil."

It tastes like acid the moment you say it aloud. I made him evil. You think back to all those nights in the quiet, the way you taught him how to confide in you, the way he looked at you as if you held some answer he couldn't find on his own. You remember the secrets he shared, the way he softened when no one else could see. You remember how long it took him to get there.

But you remember the darker moments, too—moments when you didn't pull away, even when you should have. Moments you whispered reassurances instead of warnings, when you offered comfort instead of caution. Maybe, in those silences, you fed a need that shouldn't have been nourished, let him believe his ambitions weren't dangerous, only misunderstood.

You wonder if, in being the one person who never condemned him, you gave him permission to be what he became.

"And me?" Mattheo turns to you. You glance at him, the hard line of his mouth and his eyes that look more black than brown in the night— "did you make me evil too?"

You're both quiet for a moment, the only sound is the stream, the only motion is the flutter of the fireflies.

"I don't believe I made you anything." You say finally, letting him take the cigarette back from you. "I suppose you only became who you wanted to be."

You think, quietly, that it's a kinder fate than the rest.

He huffs a laugh. "So you think I wanted to be an asshole."

He's joking, you think. Or he's bitter again, resentful. You're sure he wanted to be whatever Tom would accept him as—though you'd never say those words out loud.

"I think you wanted to be loved." Is what you settle on, and the words tear your throat apart as you speak them. "Just like I did."

He hums, noncommittally, and lights a third cigarette.

You wonder why you still know that he's bitter even when he's not saying the words—why you still know that he only hums that way when something hurts, or when it's a truth he can't bring himself to admit.

"You found it now, haven't you?" You fill his silence with another sentence you wish you didn't say. "You're engaged."

You watch the embers from the cigarette tip light up the hollows of his cheeks, the way it burns his eyes gold as he takes a drag on it.

"Yeah," he nods into the night. "I'm engaged."

Something selfish in you aches at that.

"Then why do you come here and look at me like you're lonely?" You try to ask it casually, but you don't think you manage it. You see him tense when he realizes how well you still read him. "What is it you're missing, Matt?"

"I don't know." He looks at you in the dark, his expression lost in the shadows of his hair. "Sometimes I think it's you."

It's an answer like a knife, because you've known all along that he feels the same way you do—that the loneliness stays and the regret never really dissipates—that the 'what-ifs' linger long after they shouldn't.

"I'm not your girl." You remind him.

It sounds empty when you say it, but he made it clear when you were younger that he wanted it this way.

"You never were."

He looks away after that, to the stream, and you wonder if it has ever felt hollow like this.

All the lights seem very small suddenly, the moon, the stars—you're not sure where his vulnerability is coming from, all these years in passing. You assume it’s the old saying—absence makes the heart grow fonder.

"But you wanted me to be." It's more of a question.

"For a time, when we were kids." He gives you honesty that surprises you. "Sometimes I think I still do."

Why?—you want to ask, suddenly, desperately—and wonder at the cruelty of the thought. Asking that would be the worst kind of question. Why do you want me?

You think you know all the answers already. They sit bitter at the back of your throat.

"So that's why you come here." You say instead, shivering with the wind that brushes over you. "To remind yourself of all the reasons you still feel empty."

There's a dark sort of humour to the sound he lets out, one that makes your chest ache. He turns to you again, and his hands shake when he lifts the cigarette.

"It's not you that makes me feel empty, princess." He whispers. "It's the absence of you."

You look at him, then—really look. There's something strange about being twenty five and still seeing your childhood in his eyes. Despite the nickname, he’s not joking. It’s the kind of confession that tastes like a fist, like a punch that breaks bones.

I know, you think. I wish it could have been different for us.

"You need to stop coming here." There's no spine in those words. They're putty between you. "Just like Tom told me to stop, I'm now telling you."

He's quiet, watching you as the embers of the cigarette flicker over his fingers.

"I'll stop," he pauses, and you see the pain in his throat as he swallows. "When he finally comes to you."

That, you think, will probably never happen.

"So you'll come here forever." You say, and his mouth twists in a silent, bitter smile.

"I guess I will."

You don't have a response to that. It's not a choice he makes so much as it is his reality, and you, of all people, could never fault him for that.

So instead of words, you lean to rest your head on his shoulder, same way you did when you were kids. You sit together, watching the moon and stars and the stream and the trees and everything else around you that reminds you you're alive, even if you don't feel it. You think of his fiancé, you know she'd never understand. This is childhood love in its most vulnerable form—and you thank him for it, silently, for reminding you that you're not alone. Even if you're sure you are.

He leans his head sideways, on top of yours—a gesture almost automatic.

"I still think of you in the summer." He mutters into your hair. You close your eyes and remember the sun, the way it once felt like it touched your bones. "The summer when we were nine. Swimming in the river at night. Those stupid bugs that I thought were made of fire." He pauses for a minute, looking around, and you think he's done talking, until he isn't. "I suppose I do understand why you chose this life."

You remember that summer, too. Small children swimming in a river that was all silver shadows under the moonlight, chasing fireflies like stars. No parents to call you home, no rules except the ones of your own.

Somehow, that's not your favourite memory of him.

"And I think of you in the fall." You say, listening to your own voice sounding distant. "The year just before Hogwarts. When the leaves turned red and orange and gold. When you raked them into a pile for us to jump in."

He hums. "I tried to kiss you that fall."

"And Tom fought you for it."

"And he won." Mattheo's voice sounds distant too, almost lost. "He always won."

It's strange, thinking of autumn when you think of Mattheo, but it fits—he's just as fleeting. Beautiful, easy to fall into, but always gone too soon, leaving a chill in his place.

"Sometimes I think it's because he knew he could." You build off his thoughts. "And sometimes I think it's because he just wanted to prove it."

He shrugs. "Either way, I still lost."

It's such a mournful way to reminisce, you think, for the children you used to be.

"And what now?" You ask.

He exhales slowly, and the smoke looks like a mist in front of you. "I suppose now we both lose."

And that, is the most honest thing he's said all night.

You turn your face into his shoulder, the way you had when you were younger. You close your eyes, and for a moment you imagine being a child again—back in the days when love was simple and nights were endless. Back to a time when you didn't know things you should and all you had were each other's shoulders to lean on in an orphanage dirtier than the forest before you.

"We lose together, then." You offer, a half-whisper.

"Yeah," he answers, just as quiet, just as lost. "We lose together."

There's a bitter kind of contentment in that, you think. You're sure that's a terrible thing.

You take a few moments to brace yourself for the shift in conversation, and then—

"How is he?"

"He's fine." Mattheo understands what you aren't asking. "The leader he always wanted to be."

You close your eyes again and hear the stream running steady, moving around rocks that have been shaped by years of its presence. You ignore the ache in your chest.

"He's happy?"

You don't have to open your eyes to know that Mattheo smiles bitterly. "He's as happy as someone like Tom could be."

There are several beats of silence, the kind that holds too many unsaid things. You feel it in Mattheos exhale that there's something he isn't saying. You don't press him on it. You sit together like this for a while under the sky—watching the way the dark clouds move, the stars shift.

You think about childhoods that never last. About fireflies and streams and boys you loved.

"Tell me something true." You murmur as the midnight grog sets in. "Tell me something that'll warm me through winter."

Mattheo pauses, silent, and for a moment you think he's not going to answer.

"I've loved you most of my life." He mutters finally, into the top of your head. The words feel like a breath of summer, in a quiet, dark night. "That's the kind of truth that could melt an iceberg."

It's the sort of declaration you could only share in the cover of the night, in the silence of a forest. Not the sort of admission that would ever survive daylight. I've loved you most of mine, too.

"And a lie?" You reply.

His fingertips run through his hair, almost idly. You suppose he's looking back into memories of fleeting autumn's and summer sun, the time he tried to kiss you and the day he pushed you away. He doesn't answer the question for a while. You wonder if he doesn't have an answer, or if he just doesn't want to say it.

And then, finally, quietly— "I'm happy for him."

You close your eyes again. That, you think, is the cold truth of winter.

You turn your face again into his shoulder for a second time tonight, but you keep your eyes open. You can feel the weight of your childhood on your shoulders, the trees and the creek behind you, and the silence that follows his lie.

Suddenly, you're furious—a fire tearing through regret. You wish Mattheo hadn't chosen booze, fights, and empty escapes. You wish he'd let you love him properly before pushing you away. You wish he hadn't always resented Tom—hadn't always felt second best in a way no amount of reassurance could fix. Yet somehow, you just can't fault him for any of it.

He's always known you loved Tom first; he's carried that like a wound.

"Ask me to lie to you." You say as you swallow your anger.

There's an exhale. You're sure Mattheo's watching the trees, the wind as it runs quietly past.

"Lie to me."

You tilt your head up to the sky. You try to remember that fall, you try to feel what it was like to be a child again, and to believe in a future that wasn't shaped by the past. You think of his fiancé.

"I'm happy for you." You whisper.

From the corner of your eye, you know he smiles bitterly again, but he responds with nothing more than his unsteady breathing. You're both silent like this for the rest of his stay, together under the moon that's watched you both change.

"I'll be back in a month," he mutters, just loud enough for you to hear as time stretches thin.

He has to go before the sun rises, before dawn coaxes him into staying. You consider, if only for the flicker of a second, letting him.

"I'll see you then." You lean back and look up into his eyes, searching into the gold buried deep. If you look too long, you think you may see his broken heart. You make yourself smile anyway. "Write to me."

"Even if you don't write back." He replies with a nod.

The cold air makes your eyes water. For a moment he's still, like he may pull you into him and drown you in all the things he feels. Instead, he puts a cigarette into his mouth, lighting it with one of his hands. The lighter casts an orange glow over his face that makes him look pale and tired again, like the boy you'd met in an orphanage that was so much dirtier than the forest before you.

"Good night." He murmurs, and you feel his thumb brush your cheek before he apparates back to the life you left behind.

And now, alone under the black sky, you take a deep breath. Then, you exhale, go back into your cabin and you try not to think about all the things you've lost.

You try not to think of the boy you've loved for far too large a part of your life and how it changed the boy who's loved you for far too large a part of his. You try instead to focus on what you have—walls and peace and solitude, something certain that won't disappear when it rains.

[austinbutlerslovers]

The Red Dress

Label Mature 18+

Summary You are acting as Austin’s romantic female lead in his latest film, however there’s just one problem…-he isn’t acting and he wants to make the relationship a reality.

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥 Shy Austin • teasing •flirting • unwanted advances •romance denial • Austin simping + slight stalking • sleeping with a costar • BJ• cum eating •dirty talk • nipple play • fingering • orgasms • protection

🔗 Master List

📖 Proodreader @purejasmine

The Red Dress

For weeks, you and Austin had shared long days and late nights on set, working through scenes and running lines. You were the love interest in his latest film, and from the first day, it was clear he had a crush on you. 

It was in the way he lingered when he spoke to you, his eyes lighting up whenever you entered a room, the subtle touches on your arm as he spoke to you that felt like his way of claiming just a little more each time. 

But he wasn’t your type. Austin was used to bubbly, adoring girls who hung on his every word. You were professional, confident, and had little patience for playing into his charms.

Every advance he made, you played off with a practiced ease, the kind that kept him guessing—and somehow that made him want you even more.

Tonight is no different as you stand before the bulb-lit mirror, carefully slipping into the red dress for the next scene. You and Austin are set to film your first kiss, and you’re well aware of just how eager he is to perform, even if it’s only in character.

So when you hear a faint knock on your trailer door, you already know exactly who it is.

Smiling slightly, you call out, “Come in,” and sure enough, Austin steps inside, his eyes fixated on his script until he glances up, his gaze landing on you just as you are pulling the red dress over your hips.

You are curvaceous in all the right places and the fullness of your chest subtly bounces in your bra as you adjust the straps.

For a moment, Austin is stunned, his eyes widening as he takes in the way the fabric hugs your every curves, framing your body in a way that leaves little to the imagination.

His gaze lingers, more than what is modest, trailing over you with an intensity that makes the room feel suddenly warmer. 

You can see the struggle in his expression as he forces himself to look back down, pretending to be fascinated by his script once again.

“Is there something you needed, Austin?” you ask your voice light, with a subtle hint of amusement.

He clears his throat, gripping the edges of his script. “Uh, yeah…I just wanted to, um, run the scene with you before we—perform.” His voice is slightly breathless, betraying just how affected he is by the sight of you.

You give him a slight, teasing smile, peeking over your shoulder, as you reach behind your back. “Well then, before we start… could you zip me up?,” you ask, holding his gaze, watching the way his expression shifts from surprise to the arousal he can barely contain.

He steps forward placing his script on the vanity table, his hand moving to your zipper. His fingers brush over your skin, warm and slightly shaky, then you feel him pull the zipper all the way up, his hand lingering before he lets go.

His eyes meet yours in the mirror, and for a moment, it looks as if he’s about to say something—something unguarded, something real. But he holds back, his lips parting just slightly before he catches himself.

You turn to face him, leaning casually against the vanity, taking in the sight of him. 

Dressed for the scene, he looks extremely handsome. His cheeks are tinged pink, his eyes eager yet uncertain and there’s hint of a desperation there that he’s trying to hide, but it only makes him more endearing. 

Without a word, you reach over and take his script from the vanity, slipping easily into character, your gaze lingering on him as you step closer, letting your fingers trail along the edge of his sleeve.

“I just… I can’t stop thinking about what could’ve happened,” you say in character your voice filled with longing “If you weren’t there…” you say trailing your hand on his arm.

Austin’s eyes widen, caught up in the moment, but then he blinks, his mouth opening and closing. He’s forgotten his line—a rarity that makes you giggle, breaking character with a sparkle of amusement.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, his expression softening with a flicker of self-doubt, a small falter in his pride that you find unexpectedly charming.

With a smile you lean in, placing your hand on his chest as you read from the script. “It’s —‘l’ll always be there for you’”

The line brings an intensity to his eyes as his expression shifts. He straightens, his jaw set as he steps forward, closing the distance between you in a way that’s far more direct than you anticipated. 

“I’ll always be there for you,” he says softly and his hand slides to your waist, pulling you in. 

He kisses you deeply, the kind of kiss that leaves you breathless, lingering in a shared space as he finally pulls back, just inches from your lips.

“How was that?” he asks, his voice soft, his eyes searching yours, his face so close you can feel his breaths.

Your lips are still parted, your hand resting lightly against his chest, caught somewhere between surprise and a flustered blush.

As he leans in to kiss you again, you press your hand firmly against him with just enough pressure to make him look down, keeping him at bay.  

“Save it for the scene,” you whisper, and quickly step past him, feeling his gaze trailing after you as you make your way to set.

There’s a quiet energy as you arrive to film the scene, the usual routine already in motion. The director stands near the monitor, giving instructions to the crew as the camera sits ready on its track.

Austin takes a deep breath and stands on his marker as dozens of people move around him. He clears his throat as he glances at the bright lights overhead, the camera crew adjusting their angles, as the sound guy holds a boom mic steady over your heads.

Make up artists dart between you both, brushing up his hair and touching up your lipstick with quick, practiced strokes. 

It’s all the routine organized chaos of a film.

The space grows quiet as final checks are made. “Quiet on set!” someone calls, and the director nods, signaling the start. 

The slate claps and when the director finally yells, “Action!” everything falls silent.

You and Austin both deliver your lines with a practiced ease, the moment building, tension mounting until it’s time for the kiss. 

“I just can’t stop thinking about what could’ve happened,” you say, your voice filled with desperation as your fingers trail lightly along his wrist. “If you weren’t there for me…” you say with unmistakable conviction.

The air grows heavy, and the crew seems to hold their collective breath, waiting as everyone looks to Austin, the pause stretching, the anticipation undeniable. 

For a moment, you almost think he won’t say it, the weight of the scene bearing down on him. 

 Then, his voice breaks through, soft and unsteady, but filled with something real. “I’ll always be there for you.” He says, his delivery is so quiet, so tender, that you’re not even sure of the mic catches it. 

But his focus is entirely on you, his gaze locked on yours as the words linger in the space between you. 

Then his lips find yours with a kiss that’s entirely more than what was rehearsed. He’s passionate and intense, his lips brushing against yours as if you’re the only thing that matters to him.

Your resolve slips as the moment consumes you, his kiss is breathtaking, overwhelming in a way that you weren’t expecting.

Your hands move instinctively, finding his face, your fingertips brushing along the sharp line of his jaw as he pulls you flush against him.

Austin is hard—the thought stuns you, his cock pressing against you  unrestrained as he pours everything into his kiss as though words would never be enough. 

The sound of the set fades away, the weight of his presence anchoring you in a moment that feels far too real.

“Cut!” the director yells, but Austin doesn’t stop, his lips linger, his hands holding you as though he can’t pull away. It isn’t until you gently press against his chest that he finally lets go, his breaths ragged as whispers from the crew spread through the set.

But Austin doesn’t seem to care. His gaze stays on you, his lips slightly parted, looking as though he’s ready to dive back in. 

The director reviews the footage, studying the monitor with a critical eye as you both wait, tension still hanging between you.

Then the director leans back and smiles. “We got it,”and the crew erupts into applause.

The kiss scene is the final shot of the day, and after the applause fades, you’re quickly ushered away from Austin back to your trailer to remove your dress. 

Once back in your own clothing  you are guided to your car by a staff member and driven back to the hotel where the rest of the cast is staying. 

The drive is quiet, but your thoughts are entirely on the intensity of the scene still replaying in your mind

The realization creeps in, unhidden and  undeniable—Austin was hard. The thought replays again and again, and your pulse quickens as you shift in your seat, your gaze flicking toward the dark window, trying to push it aside.

But you can’t. It’s not just the physicality of it—it’s what it meant, the way he seemed completely lost in the moment, as if the line between acting and reality had vanished entirely. You realize that for Austin, it wasn’t just a scene he wants the real thing.

You arrive back to the hotel at the same time as the rest of the cast, their lively chatter filling the lobby. But the moment your eyes meet Austin’s, everything else fades. His gaze locks on you and his need is clearly written across his face.

Without a word, you turn and head toward the elevator. You can feel his eyes following your every move, the tension between you hanging in the air, as though the decision has already been made.

He doesn’t follow you in, and for a moment, you think  he will let the tension simmer between you. But as you walk in silence down the hallway toward your room, you hear the elevator chime behind you.

Glancing over your shoulder, you see it’s Austin, though somehow, you already knew. The unspoken tension between you building until neither of you can ignore it.

As much as you try to resist, to keep your composure, the heat in his eyes makes it impossible to deny the way your body responds, the way your resolve begins to waver.

When you reach your door, you pull out your keycard, wondering if he will head to his own room.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he hesitates, standing just behind you.

You glance at him over your shoulder, noticing the way his jaw tightens as if he’s trying to summon the courage to speak. 

For a moment, you think he might say something, but when the words don’t come, you grin, beeping your key card and entering your room as the door begins to close behind you.

Before it can, his hand shoots out, stopping the door in its tracks and he follows you inside. Before  you can say a word, he pins you against the entry wall, the soft click of the door closing echoing through the room.

He’s panting now, his chest heaving as he presses against you, his hands firm on your wrists. 

His grip tightens slightly, his gaze flickering as if he’s searching for the right thing to say. “I…don’t ” he starts, his voice rough, barely above a whisper as he regains control . “I don’t know why we do this to each other” he breathes his voice low and rough, the words carrying all the restraint he’s clearly been holding back.

“Do what?” you tease, leaning your head slightly, your eyes locked onto his, unwavering and steady as you silently dare him to make a move.

His breath stutters, but then his resolve seems to harden as he looks at you. 

“This,” he says, his closing the distance in an instant his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that’s filled with his frustration and need.

The intensity of his kiss pulls you in, igniting something you tried to ignore. Slowly, your lips begin to move with his, matching his urgency, the heat between you building with every second. 

His hands release your wrists, sliding down to your waist, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulls you close and he’s hard all over again.

His touch is firm, roaming over every curve of your body like he’s trying to memorize every detail, as if this might be his only chance to have you like this.

He pulls back from the kiss, his breath ragged as his eyes drop, taking in the sight of you. His hands move up, cupping your full chest, his thumbs brushing your nipples through the fabric. “ fuck “ he pants his brows knitting. 

“You want me, that much Austin?” you tease, your hands sliding down the length of his hard cock and the way he his hips jerk from surprise, makes you laugh softly, a low, knowing sound that only fuels his eagerness.

“Yes,”he breathes, his voice tight with barely restrained need and your eyes trail downward, catching sight of his impressive size straining hard and ready against his pants.

“It’s so big Austin,” you praise your tone filled with amusement as your fingertips brush along the shaft, making him harder.

“I’m sure you must get your way all the time,” you grin, teasing him as your fingers trail lower, pressing your palm against him, feeling the weight of his cock in your hand.

“But not this time,” you say intrigued, your tone turning darker as his breath stutters, his body tensing beneath your touch. His hips shift slightly seeking more as if he can’t stop himself, then his eyes look up to yours when you don’t give him what he wants—and it only fuels your resolve.

“I want to make you beg for it,” you decide, your tone firm as your finger tip traces a slow delicate circle on his cock head.

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, and the wide desperate look in his eyes tells you everything you need to know. 

“Okay” he readily nods and at this point you know he would agree to just about anything.

You take your time, bringing your hands up and unbuttoning his shirt with excruciating slowness, each button revealing another inch of his perfectly toned body. 

Your fingertips graze his skin as the fabric parts, sending shivers down his spine, until the shirt finally falls to the floor, leaving him exposed, eagerly awaiting your next move.

He’s already a mess, practically shaking, his eyes glued to you with a desperate kind of worship. “Please,” he whispers, his voice barely a rasp, and you grin, savoring his need.

“Begging already, Austin?” you tease, your tone laced with heat. “I haven’t even started with you yet.”you reveal as you undress slowly, letting the fabric of your dress slip away to reveal your silhouette. 

Your curves flow effortlessly, your full, breasts mesmerizing him as he admires every inch of you of your body as if he’s witnessing something rare, something he’s always wanted but thought he could never have.

“You’re going to ruin me,” he says under his breath, his voice low and uneven as he takes in the sight of you. 

Your lips quirk into a smile as you answer,“ I know” laced with desire.

His hands slide around your waist, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulls you closer. 

His lips crashing against yours again in a passionate kiss, his hands roaming every curve of your body as if he’s trying to memorize each detail, every inch of you imprinted in his mind.

His hands squeeze your breasts with an intensity that draws a soft gasp from your lips, and you pull back slightly, meeting his gaze. The wild anticipation in his eyes is unmistakable, but you slyly smile not ready to give him exactly what he wants yet.

“How badly do you want me, Austin?” you ask, your voice soft and teasing as your fingers slip through his hair, tugging  him down gently to your breasts. The movement draws a shudder from him as his lips brush over them in reverence.

“More than anything,” he whispers against your skin, his voice trembling, with desperation and need as he begins to suck your nipple into his mouth.

You smile softly, your fingers gently pulling his hair back to make him look you in the his eyes. “Then let me give you everything,” you say, your voice heavy with promise.

His body tenses, every muscle in his abs drawn tight as you slowly lower yourself before him. He presses his palms against the wall for balance barely able to contain himself as he watches you settle on your knees. 

Slowly, your fingers move to his zipper, drawing it down with a deliberate slowness that heightens his anticipation. When you pull him out every inch of his thick cock is throbbing with an undeniable need. 

You look up at him and smile as you finally to take his cock into your mouth and his lips part as a symphony of raw, unrestrained sounds spill from him. 

With his his eyes locked you, his body trembles, his hips barely able to hold still as you suck him with a skilled, taunting rhythm, dragging him to the edge and pulling back, drawing out his pleasure until he’s whimpering, panting, his voice barely more than a plea as he tries to beg.

His moans are desperate, but you keep sucking him until he’s trembling, twitching, writhing, pleading, “Please let me fuck you,” he begs breathlessly, his voice breaking with need, and you finally relent.

You pull back just enough to meet his eyes, the heat between you undeniable. Before you can say anything, his voice breaks through, raw and unsteady.

“Don’t move.” He says as he kneels and retrieves a condom from his pocket. You grin seeing he’s prepared, revealing his true intentions all along. You watch as he rolls  the condom on his heavy cock with steady hands. 

Without hesitation, he pulls you toward him, his need undeniable as he leads you to the center of the room and pushes you down onto the softness of the bed.

You laugh at how eager he is as you prop yourself up on your elbows and as you meet his gaze the heat in his eyes is unmistakable.

“Come Austin,” you tease, your voice inviting as you pat the bed. 

He doesn’t hesitate as he climbs on top of you, his weight dipping the mattress as his hands find your hips, pinning you beneath him, his gaze locking on yours for just a moment before he lowers himself.

His mouth finds your breasts with an almost desperate hunger, his lips brushing against your skin before his wet tongue flicks over the sensitive peaks, sending jolts of pleasure through you as your fingers thread through his hair keeping him close. “You’re doing so good, Austin. Just like that.” You encourage him.

Your words spur him on as he squeezes them in his hands, his warm breath ghosting over your skin in between each kiss and lick, his attention entirely focused on you. As he sucks your nipple into his mouth, the heat and pressure draw a soft gasp from your lips, the sensation shooting straight through you.

The intensity of his focus, as he lavishes you without hesitation leaves you aching and breathless, his mouth moves hungrily over each breast, his tongue flicking and swirling over your sensitive peaks, as your nails lightly graze his shoulders.

He pauses just long enough to let his breath skim your nipple before he takes it into his mouth again, harder this time, sending a shudder down your spine.

The wet, obscene sound of his lips and tongue against your skin only heightens your need, each suck drawing soft gasps and moans from you. “You’re making me feel so good, Austin,” you say, your voice trembling slightly.

He groans against your skin, his mouth never leaving your breast as his hand moves lower, slipping between your thighs finding your clit, already swollen and slick from arousal. 

He firmly presses it before his fingers slide into you effortlessly the obscene squelch of his quick thrusts makes your cheeks flush as your body arches into him. 

“You’re so wet for me,” he says against your breast, his voice rough and heavy with desire, the words vibrating against your sensitive skin. 

“I want more… Austin don’t stop” you whisper, your tone breathy and encouraging.

Without hesitation, he pulls your tender nipple back into his mouth, his tongue swirling and flicking as he sucks harder.

His fingers curl inside you with precision, as your moans spill out uncontrollably, blending with the wet, rhythmic sounds of his mouth and relentless pace of his fingers inside you.

Your thighs shudder as your body coils tight, every muscle trembling under the relentless build-up—the slick noise of his fingers plunging into you, the wet pull of his lips on your nipples and the unbearable tension in your core finally snaps.

Your orgasm rips through you, as your hands clutch at his shoulders, desperate for something to hold on to as the waves of pleasure crash over you.

As he finally releases you his touch softens, his fingers easing out of you while his mouth lingers for a moment longer, pressing gentle kisses against your heated skin. 

He positions himself to enter you, his tip pushing in as he murmurs things that are almost incoherent, broken phrases laced with desire and disbelief as he glides his cock into you and begins to thrust.

“You feel so… you feel too good,” he gasps as his hands roam over your body like he can’t decide where to touch first, wanting to claim every inch of you.

“Don’t hold back,” you pant softly, your voice trembling with need. “I want all of you, Austin.”

Your gentle praises seem to unravel him as his hips begin moving in a desperate rhythm, each thrust more intense than the last, his body tight with the effort.

“That’s perfect,” you whisper, your fingers tracing over his shoulders, your voice laced with sweetness. “Just like that Austin … don’t stop.”

He groans, his voice rough and almost incoherent as he loses himself completely. “You—oh, fuck—how do you feel this good? I can’t… I can’t stop.” 

His words tumble out, disconnected and wild, as his body grinds against yours, his grip tightening like he’s afraid to let go. 

“You’re driving me crazy—” he groans, his voice raw and trembling with need.

You grab his jaw firmly, forcing him to meet your gaze, your eyes blazing with equal intensity. “Then lose your mind for me,” you pant, your voice light and commanding. “Show me how badly you want me.”

His hands grip your shoulders, anchoring himself as the tension within him surges to a breaking point. He thrusts into you with force as your tits jiggle, the rhythm of his movements so consuming it feels like the air is being knocked out of you.

Your wrap your legs around his hips in a desperate attempt to ground yourself, but it’s futile. Every thrust pushes you closer to the edge as his hands tighten their grip, his ragged breaths hot against your skin as your name spills from his lips. 

“Come for me,” he begs, his voice low and rough reverberating through you like a command your body can’t ignore. The tension peaks all at once, your orgasm crashing over you in waves so powerful it leaves you crying out, your nails digging into his shoulders as your body spasms beneath him.

He doesn’t slow, riding out every tremor, his hands sliding down to your waist, holding you steady as he pulls you to him again and again, prolonging the moment until you’re left utterly spent, gasping for air,trembling in his grasp.

His entire frame tightens, every muscle unyielding as a low, guttural sound escapes him, raw and unrestrained, and he surrenders to the overwhelming release.

A look of relief and ecstasy washes over his face as he comes, his expression almost vulnerable as he rides out the final waves of pleasure.

His breaths are still shuddering as he slowly pulls out and collapses beside you, his chest heaving as he stares at the ceiling. 

He looks stunned, as if he still can’t believe what just happened. His lips part slightly, but no words come out, his expression a mix of disbelief and something softer—almost awe

Finally he turns his head toward you, his breath still uneven, his voice heavy with exhaustion. “Do you want to go with me to dinner?” he asks, his question startling in its simplicity after what just happened.

You can’t help but laugh as you sit up understanding he wants to date you and brush his hair back with a teasing smirk.

“Dinner?” you ask, sitting up and leaving him sprawled out in bed. “You haven’t even begun to figure me out yet.” you grin.

He watches you saunter toward the bathroom, his eyes trailing your every move. You pause at the doorway, glancing back over your shoulder. “Come along, Austin,” you say, your voice soft and inviting, “Let’s see if you can handle me again.”

His hesitation lasts only a second before he scrambles off the bed, his movements hurried and desperate as he follows you without a second thought.

🥀END

🔗 Masterlist

🏷️ Always Tag Me List

@burnthheparaphilia @butdaddyilovehim99 @austinbutlerfly @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler @lindszeppelin @abswifey @ausssbutlershortstories @umika @aust-een @feralgodmothers @magicovento @obsessedvibee @austiebuttbutt @faegoddessog @jessica987 @slowsweetlove @hardcoredisneynerd @thegabbyh @psycheetamore @thefallofthedamned @buckysteveloki-me @bucking-mustangs-with-wings @shegatsby @darlingisntit @lovereadingfanfic @elvismylove04 @denised916 @shockercoco @minispice-1 @i5uckersblog @ughdontbeboring @meetmeatyourworst @avidreader73 @xxmandaveexx @mamawiggers1980 @12joeywheelerfangirl @finley-08 @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @majestyjade @gravesdiggergirl @nostalgichoya @megangovier @ifuckindontknow @kaelatargaryen @jjubilee-fluff

[solxamber]

Starstruck || Malleus Draconia

After debuting with a gothic, fantasy-inspired theme, you somehow managed to hit Malleus Draconia’s exact vibe. Now, the fae prince has single-handedly appointed himself your Number One Fan—and he's taking his job very, very seriously.

It’s finally happening. After years of grinding it out in practice rooms, singing until your voice was raw, and dancing until your legs felt like spaghetti, the moment of truth has arrived. The managers want you to decide on your debut concept.

In front of you are two choices: school theme and gothic fantasy. You glance over at the school uniform option and cringe a little inside. At your age? No, thank you.

You’re not about to spend your precious debut years waving around pom-poms and trying to look sixteen. Gothic fantasy, on the other hand? Now that’s got some style. Dark cloaks, intense lighting, elaborate costumes—it’s exactly the drama you’ve been craving.

Your manager stands beside you, flipping through a spreadsheet with an expression that can only be described as financially preoccupied.

“Listen,” he says, in a tone that suggests he’s already decided, “school theme has a mass appeal. It’s relatable. Kids these days love a little campus vibe. And you know, uniform sales have great margins…”

“I’m doing gothic fantasy,” you reply, crossing your arms with a confidence that could stop a truck.

He blinks at you. “Okay, sure, I get the allure. But are you sure? Think of the numbers, the opportunities to connect with the youth. Imagine the adorable school scenes, the casual sports day outfits, the innocent love plots…”

“Imagine the smoke machines and black roses,” you counter, eyes gleaming.

He tries another angle. “Well, just consider the feedback from market research. School themes are—"

“Gothic. Fantasy.”

He sighs deeply, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like, “These artists and their egos,” but gives in, albeit with a look of absolute resignation. “Fine. Gothic fantasy it is. But you’re taking full responsibility if it flops.”

Release day arrives, and your first single—complete with a dramatic, shadow-filled video and costumes that look like something out of a Victorian vampire drama—hits the internet. The reactions are… intense.

Sure, maybe it’s not an overnight sensation, but it’s more than enough to get people talking. Your fans? They’re not your typical “bought it for the vibes” crowd. They are deeply invested.

You’re talking about people who can recite your lyrics like a spell. You even see fan forums cropping up where people dissect the symbolism of your music videos. There’s a post dedicated to the exact shade of black eyeliner you’re wearing, and someone actually counted how many flickers each candle has in the video.

One day, as you’re scrolling through the comments, a particularly poetic fan post catches your eye: “The ethereal aura this idol has given us with their gothic artistry is like a dark gift from another realm.”

Okay, maybe the fandom is a little… intense. But you can’t help but grin.

It all starts innocently enough.

One day, Lilia’s showing Malleus some music videos he calls "classics" (pretty sure some of them are just 20 minutes of bats screeching over synthesizers, but to each their own).

But, as fate would have it, Malleus stumbles across your latest release. His eyes widen as the screen fills with your dark aesthetic, the intense melodies, the dramatic lighting, the black roses swirling around you like a misty dreamscape. He’s hooked.

The video ends, and he turns to Lilia, awestruck. “Who is this human?” he asks, as if you’re some kind of ancient artifact discovered under a full moon.

“Oh, that’s a new artist. Apparently, they’re pretty talented.” Lilia raises an eyebrow, amused by Malleus’s reaction. “Why? Fancy yourself a fan, young master?”

“A fan?” Malleus looks scandalized. ��Lilia, I am enchanted.”

Malleus’s enchantment quickly turns into an obsession. He spends the next few days discovering every song, music video, interview, and even those mildly embarrassing “What’s in My Bag?” videos where you show off your essentials (you had no idea one video about your favorite scented candles could attract such intense devotion).

He watches one interview where the host asks if you’re afraid of fae, and you reply with a casual, “Nah, I’d love to visit them one day.”

This is what seals the deal for Malleus. This human is not only a talented artist but also respectful, brave, and curious about the fae world. He has found his idol.

He decides it’s time to support you. And, because he’s the literal prince of the Briar Valley, he does what any fae royalty would: he orders some of your albums.

One hundred of them, to be exact.

In Malleus’s defense, he has absolutely zero concept of money. To him, it’s normal to go big. So he clicks “order” without even thinking, and in his mind, it’s done. Simple.

A few days later, when the delivery truck pulls up with boxes upon boxes upon boxes, Malleus’s reaction is… complicated.

He stares at the delivery man, then back at the wall of albums now stacked in front of him, and mutters, “I may have made a mistake.”

But Malleus Draconia is no quitter. So he devises a new plan: he’ll distribute these albums across the Briar Valley. Anyone who even mildly expresses an interest gets an album handed to them with an enthusiasm that’s both heartwarming and slightly terrifying.

It doesn’t take long before every fae in the valley knows your name, and soon enough, your music is echoing through the mystical woods. You, a mere human, are now an icon among the fae. The legend of the human idol with the beautiful music, who’s brave enough to express curiosity about fae life, spreads like wildfire.

Meanwhile, you’re in the middle of a heated argument with your manager. Despite your loyal fanbase, your concert venues are… sparsely filled, to put it kindly.

“I don’t know how to make this any clearer,” your manager says, waving his phone around for emphasis. “We need more fans, more sold-out shows, or it’s not going to be viable to keep booking these venues!”

You’re about to respond when his phone dings. Then again. And again. Suddenly, it sounds like he’s strapped a vibrating blender to his hand. Ding, ding, ding, dingdingdingding.

“What the…?” He stares at the screen, his expression shifting from annoyance to shock. “I—it says you’ve sold out every single venue. Wait, wait—there’s a waiting list for tickets that haven’t even been put on sale yet?”

He looks at you, blinking in astonishment. “I never doubted you for a second!” he declares with all the sincerity of a used car salesman. You roll your eyes. “Sure, pal.”

Later that night, you decide to check the fan forum for yourself. And something strikes you as… odd. Suddenly, all these usernames sound like they belong to a fantasy RPG. You scroll through names like “Elder_Oak_Watcher,” “Pixie_Phenomenon,” and “Darkthorn_Dreamweaver” and can’t help but wonder if your fandom has fully committed to your fantasy vibe. You chalk it up to hardcore fans. Nothing suspicious, right?

The agency celebrates by booking more venues, announcing a new merch line, and—wait for it—a raffle event for a day with you. You’re thrilled but mostly relieved that things are finally looking up.

Cut to the Briar Valley, where Malleus gets wind of the fan meeting announcement. His eyes practically sparkle with delight.

“I have a chance to spend time with them?” he murmurs, clutching the announcement poster like it’s a sacred artifact.

“Of course, you do!” Lilia chimes in, grinning. “And if you’re really eager, I could help improve your odds.”

Silver, overhearing, asks. “Are we really doing this?”

“It’s for young master Malleus!” Sebek hisses, practically vibrating with devotion. “If he wishes to meet this human, we will ensure he wins that raffle! Even if I don’t understand why he’d—” He pauses, scowling. “—lower himself to that level for a human.”

Lilia waves a hand dismissively. “Oh, Sebek, let Malleus enjoy his hobby! It’s rare to see him so enchanted. Besides, a bit of human culture never hurt anyone!”

Silver shrugs, giving Malleus a supportive smile. “If this makes you happy, Malleus, we’ll all enter on your behalf.”

Sebek bristles. “Very well, if it is the young master’s wish, I, too, shall enter—though I don’t understand this human obsession.”

Lilia claps him on the shoulder. “Consider it a show of loyalty to the crown.”

Sebek mutters something about “weird human tastes” but agrees nonetheless. And with that, your raffle odds have just quadrupled, courtesy of the most enthusiastic and unhinged fae entourage you never knew you needed.

Malleus beams, and for once, the usual silence in Briar Valley is replaced with something very unexpected: the excited murmurs their prince getting ready for his ultimate fan meeting.

It’s your first “Unboxing Fan Mail!” livestream, and you’re bubbling with excitement as you tear through letters and packages. You’re halfway through reading a pile of cute fan letters when one catches your eye: an envelope with a hand-drawn gargoyle. This thing has personality.

“Whoa…,” you mutter as you carefully open it. Inside, you find a letter, written in such flowery, old-fashioned cursive you almost need a magnifying glass. Clearing your throat, you read a part of it aloud:

"Your craft has brought light and delight to the shadows of our realm. It is rare to encounter such reverence and elegance in a human. Know that your courage and respect have earned you an esteemed place in the hearts of those from lands beyond mortal reach. Enclosed is a token of my admiration—a rose from my homeland, blessed to be as timeless as the admiration I hold for you.

Sincerely,

M.D.”

It takes a second for the words to fully sink in. Your gaze drifts to the box sitting beside you, which you unwrap with careful fingers. Inside lies a single Briar rose—its petals dark and lush, radiating a faint magical shimmer that tells you this is no ordinary gift. The rose feels alive, pulsing softly with ancient magic. You gently lift it, brushing a fingertip along the petal’s edge, feeling the cool, unyielding softness.

And suddenly, you feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Oh… wow,” you manage, voice wavering. You blink back tears but don’t quite succeed, pressing a hand to your mouth in a mix of joy and disbelief. “Thank you so much, M.D. This is… this is beautiful. I don’t even have words.”

Back in the Briar Valley, Malleus is watching the livestream playback with his usual calm demeanor… until he sees you crying. His face falls, and he looks at Lilia, horrified. “Did I… upset them? My letter was meant to honor them, not… bring tears.” He’s practically pale. Well, paler than usual.

“Oh, don’t fret,” Lilia chimes in with a laugh, patting Malleus on the shoulder. “They’re just happy! Look how much they loved it. You brought them pure joy!”

Malleus blinks. “So… I have not offended them?”

“Far from it! In fact,” Lilia says with a knowing smirk, “I think you’re officially their number one fan.”

Malleus’s eyes narrow with sudden, unshakeable determination. “Of course, I am,” he says, as if this is the most obvious truth in the world. “Who else could claim that title?”

You have no idea what you've gotten into.

It’s your first concert. The crowd is buzzing, their voices creating a low hum that vibrates through the walls, yet you’re backstage with a knot in your stomach that feels about the size of a boulder.

You shift from foot to foot, hands clammy as you grip the mic, wondering if this is actually a good idea or if you should just make a break for it now and head for the hills.

A voice echoes through the earpiece: “Three minutes, everyone!”

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself as the band gives you encouraging nods. All those years of training, of dreaming, of rehearsing until your feet felt like they’d fall off—this is what it was for.

Your fans are out there, waiting. You can already hear some of them chanting your name. And slowly, your nerves start to melt away, replaced by a surge of adrenaline.

The lights dim. You step onto the stage, heart pounding, and the audience erupts. Thousands of people, waving lights and singing the opening notes of your debut song back to you.

The energy washes over you, filling every corner of your soul, and suddenly there’s no room left for doubt.

The music pours out of you, and the crowd’s response is instant, electric. They're clapping, cheering, and singing along. You almost forget to breathe as you realize—they know every word.

It’s in the middle of your second song, during a moment where the lights are shining right on the front row, that you spot something peculiar.

Wait… Are those… fae?

Not just one, but three of them. And they’re not your typical, “blending in��� kind of fans, either. One of them—the tall one with the horns—looks like he’s just stepped out of some mythical kingdom (which, granted, he kind of has). There’s an unmissable aura around him, and his eyes are fixed on you like you’re the most mesmerizing sight he’s ever seen.

The other two fae are close by, each one unique but unmistakably not human. And a very sleepy human is nodding off standing there.

You try to keep performing, but your heart’s pounding for a new reason now. The tall fae—he’s so intense. There’s something captivating, almost otherworldly, in the way he’s watching you, like he’s fully captured by your music. It’s a bit like he belongs here and also… really doesn’t. Yet somehow, he makes it work.

Finally, you reach the interaction part of the concert, the moment where you get to pick a “lucky fan” from the crowd for a backstage pass at your next show. Your mind goes blank for a second as you look over the crowd, but the sight of those fae at the front makes your decision easy. You raise a hand, pointing directly at the tall one, still staring at you with that intense look in his eyes.

You can feel the collective shock from the crowd as you exclaim, “You! Yes, at the front! You’re the lucky winner!”

The tall fae’s eyes widen ever so slightly, a look of pure delight crossing his face as his friends react with either shock or something bordering on exasperation. He steps forward a bit, visibly thrilled, and nods to you as if he’s just received the highest honor imaginable.

Lilia, standing beside Malleus, gives a knowing chuckle. “My, my, our prince has been blessed by fortune,” he teases.

Sebek, looking utterly scandalized, hisses, “The Young Master? At a human’s concert again? With a… backstage pass?” His voice drips with disbelief.

Silver, with a half-smile, murmurs, “Well, he does look happy. That’s what matters, right?”

And Malleus, basking in the moment, seems too happy to notice their reactions. He meets your gaze, nodding as if to say, Yes, it is I, your devoted fan.

And suddenly, you’re beaming, too, because in this moment, you realize—you’re not just performing for humans. You’ve captured the attention of beings beyond the mortal world, and something about that feels… magical.

It’s the day of your next concert, and you’re backstage, mentally preparing yourself. You’d think after the first show, the nerves would be easier to handle, but that flutter of excitement is still there. Just as you’re rehearsing a few last lines, your manager bursts in, a mix of terror and wild enthusiasm lighting up his face.

“You… you’ve got to see this,” he stammers, pulling you toward the edge of the curtain.

“Uh, okay?” You’re confused, but you follow him to peek out onto the crowd.

What you see is not what you expected.

The venue is packed. And not just with your usual audience—no, tonight, the crowd is full of fae. Like, really full of fae. A sprinkle of beastmen, a handful of humans (who look varying levels of petrified), but the overwhelming majority? Fae of every type.

You spot wings, horns, a few floating orbs of light that might just be small fae spirits, and an array of gleaming, wide eyes that are laser-focused on the stage.

In the front row, you catch sight of a familiar face. The tall fae with horns who won your backstage pass last time—he’s here, and still utterly entranced. On impulse, you give a little wave, feeling a bit silly, but somehow unable to resist.

To your surprise, he just stands there, looking stunned, until the black-haired fae next to him nudges him with an elbow. Then, almost shyly, he lifts his hand and waves back.

From Malleus’s perspective, everything is perfect. His people have fallen under your spell just as he has. Watching you emerge to greet the crowd, he’s already enraptured.

You look out into the audience, and then—to his amazement—you look right at him and wave. He freezes, utterly smitten, until Lilia nudges him. After a second, he waves back, his heart doing something he’s quite sure it’s never done before.

The concert begins, and it’s an experience beyond anything you’ve known. The fae audience is surprisingly intense—they’re quiet during the softer moments, like they’re absorbing every note, and then wildly enthusiastic during the high-energy parts.

For a second, you wonder if your music has some kind of magic in it, too. Their reaction fuels your own performance, until the final note echoes out and the crowd erupts in applause.

Then comes the moment of truth: the backstage pass winner’s meet and greet.

You’re resting in the designated room, savoring a post-concert cookie when you hear… raised voices?

“Only the winner is allowed in!” your security guard insists, sounding exasperated.

“And I’m telling you,” someone snaps back, “I won’t allow my master to go in alone to meet a human!”

Curious, you step out to find the same quartet from the front row having a tense standoff with security. The tall one—the same one who keeps catching your eye—looks as serene as ever, while his silver-haired friend seems half-asleep despite the commotion. You raise a hand. “It’s okay! Let them all in.”

The guard reluctantly steps aside, and the four file into the room. There’s an awkward pause as they stare at you, clearly debating who should introduce themselves first. The tall one steps forward, and you offer a small smile.

“So… we finally meet. What’s your name?”

“Malleus,” he says, his voice deep and slightly reverent. “Malleus Draconia.”

You’re about to respond when he holds out a hand—a hesitant, almost formal gesture. Before you can shake it, the green-haired fae scowls, clearly offended. “That’s His Highness to you, Don't causally touch him human!”

You freeze mid-motion. Highness? Fae Royalty?

“Yes,” Malleus says mildly, “though I’d rather you not call me that right now, Sebek. This is a personal occasion.”

“Oh, you’re… royalty.” You take a very controlled breath, willing yourself not to faint.

Malleus nods, completely unfazed, though Lilia snickers under his breath and gives you a little wave. “I apologize if that was not clear before. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

You regain your composure. You're a professional. “Right, royalty. Got it. No big deal.” (It’s a huge deal, but you can scream into your pillow later.)

That's when it clicks. M.D, Malleus Draconia, Fae Prince.

In an attempt to break the tension(and to not spiral), you say, “By the way, I loved the little gargoyle you drew on the letter you sent me. It was cute.”

Malleus blinks, visibly taken aback. “You… liked the gargoyle?”

You nod, smiling. “They’re nice to look at.”

For a second, Malleus just stares, and it feels like his entire face is starting to glow. “You appreciate gargoyles?” he says, in a tone that sounds like you’ve just admitted you’re secretly royalty, too.

“Uh, yeah. They’re kinda cool.” You laugh, and Malleus looks like he’s been blessed by every possible deity.

Meanwhile, Sebek mutters something vaguely exasperated, and you catch a snippet: “This human has actually caught the his interest…”

Lilia laughs, giving Malleus a playful nudge. “Well, isn’t that something? I guess you truly are their number one fan, Malleus.”

Malleus nods seriously. “Of course. I am honored to be recognized as such.” His eyes gleam with utter sincerity.

You chat a bit more, exchanging small talk, until you mention offhandedly that your company has been discussing hosting a concert near Briar Valley due to the recent increase in fae fans. Malleus immediately perks up.

“Oh, well, you should simply perform in Briar Valley,” he says, as if offering his personal venue is as easy as lending a pen.

“Wait… seriously?” You look at him, not sure if he’s joking.

“Of course,” Malleus replies earnestly. “I would be delighted to arrange it. As the prince… and your number one fan.” His eyes are so bright and genuine, you can’t help but laugh.

“All right, I’d love that,” you say, heartily amused and impossibly charmed.

As they start to leave, an idea pops into your head. “Hey, Malleus, do you want a picture together?”

He blinks, clearly surprised. “A picture? I… would be honored.”

You take out your phone, getting into position, and then, on a whim, you lean over and kiss him on the cheek right as you snap the photo.

From the doorway, Sebek lets out a scandalized squawk, and your manager looks like he’s about to pass out. But Malleus? He’s wide-eyed, staring at you like you’ve granted him the greatest gift in existence.

With a wink, you murmur, “Consider it a special gift for my biggest fan.”

For a second, Malleus just stands there, wide-eyed, and then, slowly, a delighted, utterly smitten smile spreads across his face.

The concert in Briar Valley turns out to be way more fun than you could’ve ever imagined. You were nervous at first—after all, you’re literally performing in a hidden fae realm with the kind of audience that probably doesn’t even need speakers to hear you.

But once you get started, the vibe is incredible. The fae are enthusiastic, cheering and applauding in that slightly mystical way they have. Their clapping sounds like wind chimes, and every so often, you think you see little trails of magic light in the crowd.

And right in the front row, like always, is Malleus Draconia. He’s the picture of regal elegance, standing out in his official Briar Valley attire, looking like he’s attending some kind of royal ceremony. You’d almost laugh at the contrast—Malleus, dignified and regal, surrounded by a crowd absolutely hyped for a pop concert. And, because you can’t resist, you give him a cheeky wink mid-song.

Malleus doesn’t miss a beat; he looks like he’s been struck by some sort of enchantment himself. His cheeks faintly color, but he doesn’t look away, a faint, dazed smile on his face. He’s living his best fanboy life, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy every second of his reaction.

After the concert ends, Malleus insists on personally escorting you around Briar Valley. You’re beyond thrilled—after all, it’s not every day that a fae prince offers to give you a tour of his homeland. Sebek and Silver, ever loyal, trail behind, with Sebek grumbling under his breath every five seconds about “proper decorum” and “human interactions.”

Meanwhile, Lilia is there for the pure entertainment of it all, throwing you little mischievous grins whenever you glance back at him.

As you’re strolling down a cobblestone path lined with Briar roses, you feel the first drop of rain on your cheek. “Oh no, I didn’t bring an umbrella…”

But the second you say it, there’s a flurry of movement. Malleus, Sebek, Silver, and Lilia all open umbrellas in perfect unison, like some kind of magical boy band choreography. Sebek even has an extra umbrella on standby, which he’s holding out to you with a solemn look.

But before you can notice it, Malleus shoots him a look that could probably summon a thunderstorm, and Sebek reluctantly withdraws, muttering darkly under his breath about “Etiquette.”

Meanwhile, Lilia, never one to miss an opportunity, flings the extra umbrella into a bush with a casual flick of his wrist before you can even notice.

He turns to Silver and Sebek with a bright grin, “Come now, let’s give the two some space! Isn’t it so romantic?” Sebek looks horrified, about to argue, but Lilia’s already dragging him and Silver away, leaving you alone with Malleus.

So now it’s just the two of you, standing in the rain, with Malleus holding his large, intricately decorated umbrella over both of you. The umbrella’s big enough that it shields you from the rain easily, but that doesn’t stop Malleus from stepping a little closer, just to be sure.

There’s an awkward, giddy silence as you continue to walk side by side. You can feel the warmth radiating from him, and your hands brush against each other occasionally. Finally, he clears his throat and says, “Did you enjoy the concert? Briar Valley’s… first, of this sort.”

“Oh, definitely!” you say, grinning. “It was amazing to see so many fae enjoying the music. And you were right up front! You didn’t have to—”

“It was… my pleasure,” Malleus replies, his deep voice a little softer than usual. “I wanted to see everything as closely as possible.” There’s an endearing awkwardness to him that only makes him more captivating.

From the moment you met him, you thought Malleus was just a really dedicated fan—sweet, if a bit intense, but ultimately adorable. Sure, he’s got that tall, dark, and slightly terrifying vibe with the horns and the whole royal aura, but he’s also so polite and gentle that you can’t help but find it cute.

But now, as you walk under the same umbrella, his warmth just inches away, it hits you with sudden clarity. Oh, I am so, so screwed.

Because you might like him a little bit. Scratch that—a lot a bit.

Malleus glances at you, noticing the sudden shift in your expression. “Is something amiss?” His voice is gentle, genuinely concerned.

“Oh! No, I’m fine. Just, uh, a little tired from the show,” you say quickly, brushing it off.

Malleus doesn’t look entirely convinced but accepts your answer with a soft nod. Then, almost shyly, he extends his hand. “Here. It’s quite cold… if you’d like…”

You stare down at his offered hand, feeling your pulse jump. It’s such a small, polite gesture, but it sends your heart racing. You slip your hand into his, feeling his warmth seep into your skin, and a small smile tugs at your lips.

As you walk together under the umbrella, Lilia, peeking from behind a corner with a very exasperated Sebek in tow, smirks to himself. "Ah, young love," he sighs dramatically, as if he were watching a play unfold.

Back under the umbrella, Malleus is telling you about the history of Briar Valley, his voice gentle and filled with pride. You don’t catch half of it because you’re too focused on the way he looks down at you, his eyes soft and completely captivated. Every so often, he leans in a little closer, as if he can’t help himself.

Eventually, you reach the end of the walk, the rain easing off, and Malleus turns to you, looking slightly hesitant. “I hope this evening has been enjoyable for you… I wished for you to see the beauty of Briar Valley, but I… I fear I may have monopolized your time.”

You laugh softly. “Oh, trust me, I think you’re doing a great job of showing me around. Plus,” you add, “it’s not so bad sharing an umbrella with my biggest fan.”

Malleus’s expression lights up, a rare, breathtaking smile breaking across his face. “Yes,” he agrees softly, almost to himself. “Your… biggest fan.”

Before they leave, you impulsively pull out your phone. “Hey, Malleus, would you like to take another picture together? You know, as a memory of Briar Valley?”

Malleus’s eyes widen slightly, but he nods. “I would… like that very much.”

You pose, holding up your phone, and just as you snap the picture, he looks at you with a strange spark in his eyes, he leans over, just barely hesitating, and presses a gentle kiss to your cheek.

Now you’re the one who freezes, absolutely flustered but trying very hard to play it off. You clear your throat, laugh a little too brightly, and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as if it’s no big deal. “W-Well, um, I guess we’re even now!” you stammer, hoping he doesn’t notice the warmth creeping up your face.

Malleus gives you a small, satisfied smile, clearly pleased with your reaction, while Sebek is beside himself, practically vibrating at a frequency that could power one of your concerts, as he splutters, “YOUNG MASTER, THIS IS—YOU CAN’T JUST—A HUMAN—”

But Lilia just laughs, giving Sebek a playful whack on the back. “Come now, Sebek, it’s all in good fun!"

Sebek looks torn between yelling and fainting, muttering to himself about propriety and why, oh why, would the young master be so entranced by a human?!

You just barely manage to keep it together until they leave, but the second you’re alone, you collapse onto the nearest couch, burying your face in a pillow with a ridiculous grin plastered across your face. Because Malleus Draconia, fae prince and possibly the most loyal fan you’ve ever met, just kissed you on the cheek.

Somehow, you know this is just the beginning.

The fan forum has always been your little comfort zone. You’ve got your dedicated fans, who post lovingly questionable fan art, some surprisingly deep theories about your lyrics, and even the occasional meme thread.

Today, though, you’ve decided to go on a bit of a lurking spree. You want to see what people really think—especially the critics. And you do find critics, of course, all happily airing out their grievances. But what you didn’t expect is the replies.

Each negative comment has an oddly formal, razor-sharp response that’s practically dripping with eloquent disdain, all signed "M.D." You read on, completely baffled until it dawns on you: this is Malleus.

This prince has taken it upon himself to haunt your comment section, like a very sophisticated, slightly unhinged ghost. You try to keep from snickering too loudly as you scroll through his hilarious, painfully dignified rebuttals.

I-like-snails: “I don’t understand the hype. This idol is all looks, no talent.”

M.D.: “Your failure to comprehend excellence in its truest form is unfortunate. To imply that this individual relies solely on appearance demonstrates an astonishing lack of insight. Consider expanding your understanding of ‘talent.’ Signed, M.D.”

real-idol-fan: “I’ve seen cooler concepts than this ‘gothic fantasy’ nonsense. So pretentious.”

M.D.: “Ah, but what is more pretentious, dear critic? To appreciate grandeur or to boast of one’s ‘cool’ concepts with all the subtlety of a loud footstep in the night? Gothic fantasy, as you call it, possesses a depth your mind has yet to comprehend. Signed, M.D.”

aura-aura: “This idol’s lyrics don’t even make sense. They’re just trying to sound deep.”

M.D.: “An intellect as shallow as a millpond would indeed struggle to navigate profound lyrical waters. I urge you to revisit the lyrics in question after reading a book or two on metaphor. Signed, M.D.”

You have to clutch your sides as you scroll through the thread. The idea of Malleus, a literal prince, defending you with words like “millpond intellect” and signing every single comment with his initials—it’s ridiculous.

Ridiculous and, at the same time, ridiculously touching. You’d never asked him to do this, never even thought he’d care about what random people thought of you, but here he is, waging a dignified, solo war in the fan forum trenches.

After several minutes, you take a deep breath and manage to calm down, even though you know you’re never going to look at your fan forum the same way again.

It's interview time and things are going smoothly. You’re answering questions about your latest song, about the creative process behind the music videos. All very normal stuff—until the interviewer grins, pulls out a picture, and holds it up for you to see.

You squint and realize, with dawning horror, that it’s the photo. The one of you and Malleus standing close under the same umbrella, him looking at you like you hung the stars and you, very clearly, smiling back at him. Whoever took it managed to capture a moment that looks... well, almost romantic.

"So," the interviewer says, leaning in with a gleam in their eye, "is this someone special?"

You’re ready to laugh it off, to dismiss it casually with a polite “no,” but... you freeze. Looking at that photo, at the way Malleus is watching you, something catches in your throat. “No, of course not” dies on your lips.

Your mind rewinds to all the times he’s shown up, how he’s silently supported you, those comments on the forum—and suddenly, you can’t deny it, not even to yourself.

“No comment,” you manage to say, but it sounds weak, even to you.

The interviewer’s brow arches, and they chuckle knowingly. Meanwhile, you’re scrambling internally. Oh no. Oh no, you’re in trouble. You’re in deep trouble.

The raffle winner is announced, and your mouth drops open when you hear the name. “Malleus Draconia!” Your eyes scan the crowd and—yep, there he is, beaming in a way that could light up an entire stadium, looking like he’s won the lottery.

Well, technically, he has, but there’s something about his expression that suggests this is the best moment of his life. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you feel the universe smirking, because it knows exactly what it’s doing by sending you this unattainable, royally handsome fae prince.

You’d had some time to think since that interview. The photo, the “no comment,” the dawning horror in your gut as you realized that yes, you’re down bad. Horrifically so. In the week since the interview, you’d come to accept it. The only issue? He's so out of your league, it’s practically laughable.

Meanwhile, Malleus is practically vibrating with excitement. As soon as his name was drawn, half of his kingdom exploded in celebratory fanfare. (To be fair, most of the Briar Valley population had entered the raffle in his name. “Statistical advantage,” Lilia had called it.)

By the time he gets home, he’s already lining up outfits, preparing what he calls “appropriate tokens of affection.”

“Perhaps... a small gargoyle?” he muses, clutching a miniature stone sculpture that weighs about as much as a small human child.

Silver clears his throat. “Maybe... consider something less... heavy?”

Undeterred, Malleus sighs but places the gargoyle back, moving on to his backup plan: a solid gold gargoyle instead.

Lilia, in the background, chimes in with, “Just give them a rock and say it’s a Briar Valley special!” Malleus ignores him.

The day arrives, and you’re waiting at a cafe for Malleus. The producers are buzzing around, setting up lights and cameras for some wholesome footage to share with your fans. You’re running through the usual script in your mind, but then Malleus walks in, looking... well, looking like Malleus. Tall, regal, glowing with excitement, and completely out of place in the modern cafe.

You’re trying to keep your cool, reminding yourself that he’s just a fan here to meet his favorite idol, but when he brushes his hand against yours as he takes his seat, you’re thrown into chaos. Wide-eyed, flustered chaos. In fact, you’re so visibly affected that one of the producers has to muffle a squeal.

You glance at Malleus, and for a second, it’s like the two of you are in your own little world, oblivious to the cameras. You’re laughing, he’s smiling in that polite but endlessly fascinated way, and it feels like the meet-cute scene in every cheesy K-drama ever made.

After the cafe, the producers decide to set up at a bowling alley. It’s cute, casual, and definitely low-stakes—or so you think. You explain the game rules to Malleus, who nods in solemn understanding. Then, you hand him a bowling ball and stand back, figuring he’ll get the hang of it soon enough.

Except... Malleus does not get the hang of it.

He lifts the ball with such enthusiasm and raw power that when he bowls, it lands with a thunderous bang. The ball rockets down the lane like it’s been launched out of a medieval trebuchet, shattering the pins with explosive force and completely obliterating the machinery behind them.

The bowling alley is plunged into silence. Even the producers are speechless.

You, however, are not. You burst out laughing so hard, tears actually stream down your cheeks, and you double over, clutching your stomach. Malleus, meanwhile, looks at the wreckage he’s caused with a sheepish expression and asks, “Did I... do it wrong?”

You’re still laughing too hard to answer. His expression is priceless—equal parts apologetic and baffled. For all the confusion on his face, he’s smiling too, in that warm, captivated way, like every sound of your laughter is worth all the destroyed bowling alleys in the world.

One of the crew members has to remind you both to stop standing in the wreckage.

After the... eventful bowling alley scene, you suggest something calmer, like feeding ducks at the park. You arrive with a bag of crumbs, ready for a relaxed, picturesque afternoon.

Malleus seems thrilled at the prospect of feeding these “quaint little birds.” He declares “I will bestow upon them many crumbs.”

But, as it turns out, ducks seem to be as unnaturally drawn to Malleus as your fanbase is to you.

The ducks start waddling toward you, sure, but when Malleus bends down to offer a handful of crumbs, they completely mob him. You watch in bewildered amusement as the ducks clamber onto him, flapping and honking, climbing his shoulders, even perching on his head like he’s the world’s fanciest scarecrow.

“I... seem to be... a duck magnet,” he murmurs, looking helplessly at you, as if apologizing for attracting every duck within a ten-mile radius. He’s totally overwhelmed, but also somehow completely fine with it. If you find this amusing, then it’s a noble cause in his mind.

They hop onto his lap, perch on his shoulders, and one brave little duck even nestles itself on his head, honking proudly as it looks down at him.

You’re giggling again, snapping photos with your phone as he stands there, a bemused fae prince turned accidental duck king. Malleus, standing there covered in feathery chaos, looks up at you, his expression softening at the sight of your laughter. You think you see the smile on his lips, and you’re certain this day can’t get any better.

Dinner with Malleus feels like the culmination of every daydream you’ve ever had and every moment you tried to ignore the thrill he gives you. The restaurant is all soft lighting and quiet music, and you’re seated across from him, barely able to touch your food because you’re too busy trying not to stare. Or at least, not to make it obvious you’re staring.

But it’s impossible not to. Malleus, in the soft glow of the candles, looks ethereal in a way that’s borderline unfair. He’s taken off his usual high-collared cloak, and he’s looking at you with an openness that feels both heart-wrenching and unbelievably warm. His eyes hold that steady, unwavering gaze that has you feeling more exposed than any stage spotlight.

You’re talking about something light—music, maybe, or the utterly ridiculous game of bowling earlier. But the words are just filler, a flimsy attempt to distract yourself from the absolute burning feeling in your chest, a feeling you’re starting to realize is a little too big to be brushed aside.

It’s love.

It’s as terrifying as it is exhilarating. You’re looking at him, and it’s all you can do to not reach across the table, grab his hand, and say something incredibly unhinged like, “Hi, you don’t know it yet, but we’re soulmates.”

He leans in, head tilted as he listens to you with that pure, undivided attention. And then, his lips quirk into a faint smile, and you’re done for. Absolutely, completely done for.

Dinner wraps up, and he offers you his arm as you both leave the restaurant and step into the cool night. You take it, fingers curling around his elbow, and feel the warmth of him through the fabric.

The street is quiet, and the moon is hanging low, casting an almost dreamlike glow over everything. And you—well, you’re looking at him like he’s the moon itself, like he’s the only thing worth looking at in the whole universe.

You’re walking slowly, so slowly it feels like the moment is stretching forever, but somehow that’s not enough. You can’t stand it; you can’t stand just holding his arm and pretending this feeling isn’t eating you alive. So, finally, you stop, turn to him, and without even a thought to what this might mean for your career or the scandal it could stir, you say, “Malleus?”

He looks down at you, eyes soft, waiting.

And you just… go for it. You lean up, heart pounding so hard it’s a miracle he can’t hear it, and kiss him.

The world stands still. For a second, you wonder if you’ve overstepped, if maybe he’s going to pull away or question you or—

But then he’s kissing you back. Immediately. Thoroughly. His hand rises to cup your cheek, and he leans in with a gentleness that completely undoes you. You feel the warmth of him, the tenderness in his touch, and it’s enough to make your knees weak.

When you finally pull away, breathless, you look up to find him watching you with an expression that’s somewhere between wonder and the same sort of ache you’re feeling.

And right now, the only thing that makes sense is to kiss him again.

So you do.

This time, it’s softer, slower, like you’re both savoring it, letting the world fall away until it’s just you and him in the middle of the quiet, moonlit street.

When you finally pull back again, there’s a lingering silence. You don’t know what to say. How do you explain to someone that you’re completely undone by them? That you’re staring at him and barely restraining yourself from saying things like, “Let’s make matching T-shirts,” and “You’re my favorite human being, even if you’re technically not human.”

He’s still gazing at you, lips curved in that barely-there smile, looking utterly unphased yet somehow entirely aware of the fact that you’re melting. He’s looking at you like you’re something delicate, something precious, and it’s honestly making you want to pull him down and kiss him senseless all over again.

But instead, you just laugh, quiet and breathless. He raises a brow, a faint smirk playing at his lips. “Are you laughing at me?” he asks, in a tone that’s half curious, half amused.

“No,” you say, “I’m just… realizing something.”

“And what’s that?”

You look at him, eyes shining, and feel that burning again, that truth too big to ignore. “I’m completely in love with you.”

He doesn’t look shocked; instead, he just leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. And in that moment, you feel it again—the absolute certainty that you’re screwed. Because here’s a man who looks at you like you’re his whole world, and now that you’ve had a taste of this—of him—there’s no going back.

Masterlist

[rosenclaws]

Hi!! I’d love to see you do the prompt “Don’t tell me you love me unless you mean it.” with Logan! Was thinking of the reader who’s so self loathing of her own powers opening up for the first time towards Logan 🥺

warnings: angst/fluff, Logan has interesting teaching methods lol

600 follower drabble masterlist

wc: 1.2k

a/n: So this also...turned into more than a drabble oops. I got carried away I can't help it asdflk;h. Anyways I totally got inspired by ATLA for some of the logan pep talk if u can tell lol.

The mansion was so lonely. It shouldn't be but it is. Especially for you. Brought here as a child you grew up here. You were excited, hopeful that maybe you could start a new life here. But then your powers went haywire.

Just when you thought things could be different your emotions got the better of you. Fire raged through the mansion and you couldn't stop it. The more you panicked the worst it got.

When the flames were put out all you could see was the destruction that ravaged the once spotless mansion. It was an accident. Charles knew it and so did everyone else but that didn't stop the whispers, the fear. You never wanted this.

You did all you could to suppress your powers for years. Leaving the school and never looking back. Years passed and you managed to live a quite life. You went to work and went home. It was a lonely life but you couldn't hurt anyone so it you learned to live it.

Then one day you got a letter from Charles. It was a matter of such importance that you had no choice but to return. It was weird being back.

It was in the dead of the night that you found yourself alone. Just as you remembered. This time wandering through the halls of the mansion. Your fingers traced the familiar paintings and furniture. A frown coming over your face as you trace the faint scorch marks that still remain.

"So those were you." A deep voice startles you.

You feel a light flame escape your fingertips as you shove you cross your arms and hide your hands away. There stands Logan with a cigar in his mouth. You breathe a sigh of relief as you lower your arms.

"Sorry, didn't meant to scare you." He holds out his cigar and you roll your eyes. He's been trying to get you to use your powers, to light his damn cigars because he's too lazy to reach into his own pocket.

"Come on, just a little flame." He says with a smirk.

"Can I help you Logan?" Though you're glaring he can see that small smile.

You and Logan were unlikely friends as you put it. The two of you understood each other. Understood the want to hide away. Don't get close and you won't get hurt. Even with that mantra somehow you were each others exception.

Maybe it was stupid but having Logan was nice. He was nice in his own weird way. Looked out for you, joked with you on the rare occasion. Plus he was easy on the eyes, but you don't let yourself go there. Love...it's just not meant for you. You don't do love and neither does Logan. Even if you want it, even if sometimes he finds his way into your dreams.

"Nope." He gestures for you to follow him so you do. Walking quietly through the halls until he leads you outside. A chill washes over you step outside.

"Just a little light for me sweetheart?" Okay the first time was charming but now it's getting annoying.

"Will you quit it." You snap. Logan raises an eyebrow and you sigh. Sitting down on a bench and looking down at your hands.

"You know I don't use my powers anymore."

"I know."

"So why do you keep asking?" He shrugs and sits down next to you.

"Because, I think you're being ridiculous."

"Excuse me?" You scoff. You clench your fists as you glare at Logan.

"So what you burned some wood big deal. That really all it takes for you to run?"

You're hurt and confused where the hell this is coming from. You thought he'd understand you but clearly you were wrong.

"You know what Logan fuck you." You hiss as you stand up.

Logan grabs your wrist before you can walk away and in a fit of anger you push him away. Flames coming out of your hand and hitting him square in the chest. You gasp as his flannel catches fire. Without thinking you press your hand and kill the flame.

"Logan I-"

"Stop." He grabs your wrist and points to an empty fire pit.

"Light it."

"Logan I can't."

"Yes you can sweetheart," He tilts your head towards him. Looking at you with a sparkle in his eye.

"Trust yourself." You take a deep breath and send a fireball into the pit, lighting it up.

Your hand tingles as you use your powers for the first time in a long time. You wait for the other shoe to drop. For the fire to rage past what it's meant to be but it never does. Slowly you hold your hand out focus, the fire slowly gets smaller until it's snuffed out. You stare at your hand in awe. Control. You had control.

"Fire is destruction." Logan interlaces your fingers with his. He's got this smile that you've never really seen before.

"But it's also life, it's beautiful. You're beautiful." You bite your lip as he squeezes your hand. There's a fear that you'll burn him without thinking but he heals. You can't hurt him.

"Why are you helping me?" Why does he care this much? He didn't have to do this, you're not a student and yet here he is. Pushing you past your worries.

"I..." Logan tries to find the words. You're right he doesn't do this but he did for you because, well because..."I love you sweetheart."

Your eyes cloud with tears as you take in his words. He doesn't mean it can he? I mean, it's does he understand what that means. What it means to love you.

“Don’t tell me you love me unless you mean it. Please." You don't think you could handle it. He's already got your heart and it won't take much to crush it.

"Are you doubting me? I'm over a hundred years old I know what love feels like." Logan brushes your lips with his thumb, he's not great with words but he knows what he feels. No one can tell him any different.

Your eyes flutter shut as he kisses you. He smells like cigar smoke and he tastes like honey. The kiss a little rough, you can tell he's trying to hold back. To be gentle which he's not always great at. You pout when he breaks the kiss, already wanting more.

"Later." He promises after noticing the look on your face.

You walk back through the mansion hand in hand. It's better at this hour, no prying eyes and whispers. For now it's just you and him. Though something does cross your mind as you reach your room.

"Did you...Were you trying to make me mad on purpose?" He smirks and pulls out another cigar from somewhere.

"It worked didn't it?" Unbelievable.

"You're an idiot Logan, what if I couldn't control it? What if I burned down the mansion, again?!" Logan rolls his eyes and kisses you again. Pushing you against the door. Your thoughts turn to mush as he kisses your neck.

"You aren't the monster you think you are." He whispers and you freeze. His words hitting you like a brick. Logan knows what it's like to be a monster, a weapon. He's the monster if anything. But you? You could never be. Not in his eyes.

Before he leaves he hands you his cigar. You shake your head and laugh. Holding out your hand you produce a small flame and he lights his cigar.

"Was all this just so I could give you a light?" You ask teasingly. Logan chuckles and presses another kiss to your cheek.

"Absolutely." As much as you want to invite him in your room, you decide to wait. Rushing anything with Logan is the last thing you want. You want the time to be together. A good fire needs to grow before it becomes a roar.

"Goodnight Logan."

"Goodnight sweetheart."

Your fingers slowly unlace as he walks away. You don't want him to go, fearing that this is just a one off night. There's no way you can have control so easily but then he looks back at you. He's got this look on his face that makes you feel like everything is going to be alright and for once you believe it.

[goblin-jr]

And then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like i love you. 

Part 10 of 12

Synopsis: romantic getaways and breaking the peace

Pairing: unrequited JJ x Reader, Eventual Rafe x Reader

masterlist

—

The soft creak of the ferry’s wooden deck echoed underfoot as it began its slow departure from the Outer Banks, the promise of a day full of freedom waiting on the other side. The boat was barely half full—most of the early passengers were already lost in their own worlds, gazing out at the water or chatting with their companions. For a moment, it felt like Y/N and Rafe had the whole world to themselves, just the two of them, standing on the edge of this small, quiet boat, staring at the horizon that stretched endlessly before them.

The sun had barely risen, casting a golden light across the water that shimmered and danced with the ferry’s wake. The breeze tugged at their hair, the saltwater scent familiar and clean. Y/N stood close to Rafe, her shoulder brushing his as she leaned in, breathing in the cool air. She had never felt so content. The worry that usually followed her around like a shadow—about what people thought of her, about the secrecy, about everything that was complicated—seemed a distant memory as they stood together in this little slice of normalcy.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” she murmured, looking out at the water.

Rafe’s hand found hers, his fingers lacing through hers in a natural gesture that still felt like a small, private triumph, one they hadn’t yet shared with anyone else. He gave her a small, almost secret smile. “I told you it’d be better this way.”

Her lips curved into a teasing grin as she nudged him lightly with her shoulder. “You and your overconfidence. I didn’t expect you to be right about everything.”

“Always am,” Rafe replied with that familiar cocky grin. The sunlight caught his hair, giving him that golden glow she used to only see in her dreams—like a perfect image of a summer day, untouchable and carefree. He looked down at her, and for a moment, his expression softened. “You okay?”

Y/N met his gaze, feeling the warmth of his touch in her hand, the quietness of the moment settling over them. “Yeah, I am,” she said, her voice just above a whisper. “I feel... I don’t know. I feel like we’re finally getting it right. For once.”

Rafe squeezed her hand, then pulled her a little closer, as if keeping her near him could somehow make the world outside of their small bubble disappear. There were so many things unsaid between them, things they couldn’t say because of where they were from and who they were to each other, but in this moment, none of that mattered. Not here, on this boat, in the quiet of early morning when no one was looking and the world felt like it had paused just for them.

She let out a small breath, resting her head on his shoulder, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat under her cheek. It was simple—just the two of them, in the open air, surrounded by the vast ocean that stretched out endlessly, like an invitation to explore everything the world had to offer.

They didn’t speak again for a while, content to let the silence carry them. Rafe’s hand stayed firmly in hers, the connection between them feeling more solid with every passing second, like it was building a foundation they could keep returning to, a place where the complications of life could be left behind.

For a moment, Y/N allowed herself to believe that it could stay this way—that they could stay this way. No secrets, no shame, just them. And even though the reality of their situation lingered in the back of her mind, she didn’t want to think about it. Not now. Not here.

As the ferry picked up speed, Rafe leaned down to kiss the top of her head, a simple gesture but one that made her heart race. It wasn’t the first time he’d kissed her, but there was something about this kiss—something about the fact that they were in public, surrounded by people, yet hidden in plain sight—that felt new. She tilted her head to look at him, eyes meeting his with an intensity that spoke volumes more than words could say.

“I like this,” she whispered, voice soft but filled with meaning. “I like being with you.”

Rafe didn’t hesitate to answer, his voice low and sincere. “Me too.”

—

The arcade was a burst of neon colors, the rhythmic clinks and beeps of machines filling the air with energy. The walls were plastered with posters of old-school video games, and the smell of popcorn and sugar lingered in the air, adding to the nostalgic charm of the place. It was a throwback to simpler times, a spot where the world outside—full of secrets and expectations—couldn’t follow them.

Y/N and Rafe stepped through the door, and the change in atmosphere was instant. The music grew louder, the flashing lights more intense. She felt a surge of excitement, her usual nerves melting away in the warm glow of arcade lights. This wasn’t a place where they had to hide; they could just be themselves, acting like any normal couple without worrying about anyone recognizing them, without looking over their shoulders.

Rafe grinned, his eyes scanning the room as he nudged her with his elbow. “So, what’s first? Claw machine? Air hockey?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, looking over at the claw machine, already skeptical. She had always thought they were a scam, but something about Rafe’s confidence made her curious. “You really think you can win me something?”

His grin widened, full of that familiar mischievous energy. “Just watch. I’ve got this.”

He walked over to the machine, slipping a coin in with ease and grabbing the controls. Y/N leaned against the side, crossing her arms, watching him as he manipulated the claw with surprising focus. “You sure about this?” she teased, her voice a little playful but mostly skeptical.

Rafe, however, was utterly serious as he maneuvered the claw over the prize—a plush unicorn with a glittery horn that was definitely not her first choice. “This is it,” he said, voice low and dramatic, like he was trying to summon some kind of mystical power. “This is the moment I show you how it's done.”

He pressed the button to lower the claw, his face filled with absolute focus. Y/N crossed her arms, looking skeptical. “Uh, sure. Just don’t embarrass yourself.”

But as Rafe’s hand tightened on the joystick, the claw moved in the wrong direction, then jerked to a stop, then spun around in a circle like it was on its own personal dance floor. He furrowed his brow, eyes locked on the claw, utterly convinced it would redeem itself.

“Alright, no big deal,” he muttered to himself, a bit of nervousness creeping into his voice. He adjusted his grip on the joystick, trying again. This time, the claw managed to hover just above the unicorn’s fluffy head. His fingers twitched, ready to press the button.

But instead of grabbing the toy, the claw dropped... and just barely grazed the unicorn’s ear before slipping harmlessly back into its starting position.

Y/N stifled a laugh, her lips twitching as Rafe looked at the claw machine, wide-eyed, like it had just personally betrayed him.

He didn’t look at her, but she could tell he was mentally cursing himself out. “Okay, okay, that was just a warm-up,” he said, voice defensive. “That was nothing. I’m gonna get it this time.”

She didn’t even try to hide her grin as she leaned against the machine, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm. “Yeah, sure, you’ve totally got it. This next round’s yours, I can feel it.”

Rafe shot her a quick glance before focusing all his energy on the claw. He moved it back and forth, his eyes squinting as if he could will the claw to grab the prize. When the claw lowered, it was supposed to grab a plush unicorn sitting smugly in the center, but—

It missed entirely.

The claw wobbled and jerked, like it was trying to do a dance it had never practiced.

Y/N immediately burst out laughing, leaning against the machine to keep herself steady. “Oh my god, this is priceless. You’re a natural, Rafe.”

He grimaced, his face reddening slightly. “I was just warming up,” he muttered, more to himself than to her, clearly trying to salvage his dignity. “One more try.”

With another coin dropped into the slot, Rafe took aim once more. His hands shook slightly with exaggerated seriousness, and Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle.

“This is so embarrassing for you,” she teased, her grin growing wider.

“Shut up,” he said under his breath, moving the joystick. This time, he positioned the claw directly above the unicorn. He gave the button a confident press—

And the claw dropped… only to grab a random, sad-looking stuffed snake wedged in the corner.

“No, no, no!” Rafe said, his voice rising in frustration. The claw hung the snake awkwardly in midair, before it dropped it with a dramatic clunk to the bottom of the machine.

Y/N burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the arcade. “Okay, now I’m just concerned. Are you sure you’ve seen a claw machine before? This is bad.”

Rafe shot her a look, narrowing his eyes as he pushed more coins into the slot. “Shut up, I’ve got this. You just wait.”

After another five agonizing minutes of Rafe failing to even come close to winning, Y/N was nearly crying from laughing so hard. At this point, he was getting visibly frustrated, his face redder with each failed attempt. His concentration was so intense, it was almost adorable—almost.

“I don’t understand,” he muttered under his breath. “It’s like the claw’s rigged. This is totally rigged.”

“Rafe, you’re just really bad at this,” Y/N teased, her voice full of affection and amusement. “I’m honestly starting to think the machine’s gonna make you pay for wasting its time.”

“Okay, one more try,” he said, this time with a hint of defiance. He slapped another coin into the machine with the confidence of a man who’d just spent the last ten minutes proving he had no idea what he was doing.

As he clutched the joystick once again, Y/N leaned in, a grin plastered on her face. “If you don’t win, I’m just gonna tell people I let you win at everything.”

“Not funny,” Rafe muttered, but the humor was there in his eyes. He finally got the claw to lower, and for a moment, it seemed like it was going to be the one—he was right there, the claw hovered just above the unicorn. His fingers twitched over the button.

The claw descended. And then… it grabbed a random, sad-looking plush cactus from the corner of the machine.

Rafe let out a long, defeated sigh. “I can’t win. I just… I can’t.”

Y/N’s laughter was almost uncontrollable now, tears forming in her eyes as she clutched her stomach. “You’re a disaster! I’ve never seen someone so bad at this.”

Rafe, though, was not defeated. He held the cactus up with a dramatic flourish. “Fine. You think this is a joke? I’m taking this cactus. It’s mine now.”

Y/N, still laughing, shook her head. “You’re delusional.”

He shrugged, the cactus dangling from his hand like some weird victory trophy. “It’s a sign of my character—I’m too cool for unicorns.”

But as they walked away from the machine, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a sudden rush of warmth in her chest. Rafe’s usual arrogance had given way to something more real, more human. He wasn’t perfect, and he knew it. And that made him even more endearing.

As they stopped near a wall of neon lights, Y/N reached up and gently tugged the cactus from his hand. “You’re so stubborn,” she said, her voice quieter now, a softness in it she hadn’t even realized was there. “But I like it. You know that?”

Rafe’s expression softened, just for a moment. He tilted his head, eyes meeting hers with an unexpected gentleness. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice surprisingly low.

Y/N nodded, her thumb tracing the rough fabric of the cactus’s stitches. “Yeah. You’re kind of perfect just the way you are.”

He stared at her for a second, his usual smug grin gone, replaced with something more vulnerable. “Don’t tell anyone,” he said, a chuckle in his voice, “but... I think I like it, too.”

Y/N smiled, the laughter still dancing in her chest but now accompanied by something sweeter, something more real. “Maybe next time, try the claw machine again. Just… don’t get your hopes up too high.”

—-

The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky, casting the beach in that perfect golden hour glow that made everything feel like a dream. Rafe and Y/N wandered down toward the quieter stretch of sand, away from the noisy crowds. The cool breeze off the water tangled in their hair, and for the first time in a while, everything felt just right.

“Alright,” Rafe said, kicking off his sneakers and walking closer to the water. “This feels way better than some crowded arcade.”

Y/N nodded, slipping out of her sandals and wiggling her toes into the soft sand. “Way better. We’ve got the whole beach to ourselves.”

They walked in silence for a moment, letting the waves crash softly at their feet. The world around them felt distant, and for once, the pressure of their secret relationship didn’t feel as heavy. It was just them, in this tiny bubble of peace.

“So,” Y/N began, her voice playful again as she nudged Rafe with her elbow, “how’s the cactus doing?”

Rafe glanced down at the plush cactus, which he’d tucked under his arm like it was a real pet. “The cactus is a masterpiece. It’s going to be famous one day. You’ll see.”

Y/N laughed, her eyes sparkling. “Is that what you're calling it now? A masterpiece?”

“Well, it’s a symbol of my success,” Rafe said dramatically, holding the cactus up like a trophy. “One day, I’ll sell it for millions. You’ll say, ‘I was there when Rafe Cameron won the cactus.’” He paused, looking down at the plush toy, then back at Y/N. “You’ll be proud.”

Y/N chuckled. “Sure, sure. I’ll be the proudest person in the world when that happens.”

They reached a small cluster of rocks where they could sit and face the ocean. The sound of the waves was soothing, and for a moment, they both sat quietly, just taking in the view. It wasn’t awkward, though; it felt comfortable, easy.

“You know,” Rafe began, after a long pause, “I never thought I’d enjoy a day like this.”

Y/N glanced at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” he said, a little more thoughtful than usual. “It’s always been about... showing off, I guess. Or doing things for the wrong reasons. I’ve always had to be someone else, or whatever. But today—today was just… us.”

Y/N smiled softly, not sure what to say at first. “Yeah,” she agreed. “It feels nice, doesn’t it?”

Rafe nodded, turning his gaze out over the ocean, the soft orange and pink of the setting sun painting the sky in vibrant streaks. “I think I’ve been spending too much time worrying about what people think. You know, trying to be this guy I’m not. But I don’t need to do that with you.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered a little at his words, the way he looked at her so honestly. “You don’t need to pretend with me,” she said softly. “I don’t care about any of that.”

He turned his head to look at her, his expression more open now. “I know. I like that. You’re different. It’s... I don’t know how to explain it, but I don’t have to worry about trying to impress you.”

She smiled, nudging him again. “You know, you don’t have to impress me. You already do.”

Rafe’s grin spread again, though this time it wasn’t the usual cocky, self-assured one. It was more genuine, softer. “I’m pretty sure I just impressed you with my cactus, but I’ll take the compliment.”

Y/N laughed. “Alright, alright, I’ll admit it. You’ve got some skills with that thing.” She paused, looking out at the ocean. “You know, I used to come out here a lot when things were tough. It helped me clear my head. It’s kind of nice, just sitting here.”

Rafe watched her for a moment, then gave a small, thoughtful nod. “I get that. I used to come out here, too, just to get away from everything. Sometimes it feels like the only place where I don’t have to be anyone but myself.”

They both sat there for a few more moments, the waves rolling in and out as the sky darkened. The world felt quieter, like time was slowing down just for them.

Rafe finally spoke again, his voice softer, more vulnerable than it had been all day. “Thanks for today. It’s... it’s been a while since I’ve had a day like this. Just being with someone, not worrying about what’s next or what people think.”

Y/N’s smile softened, her heart full as she reached out to touch his arm. “I’m glad. You deserve days like this.”

Rafe met her eyes then, and for a second, everything else faded into the background. “I’m glad it’s with you.”

The air between them felt charged, and without thinking, Y/N reached out to take his hand in hers, the simple touch making her feel grounded in a way she hadn’t expected. Rafe squeezed her hand gently, and for a long moment, neither of them said anything. They didn’t need to. The quiet between them felt just as perfect as everything else about this day.

“Alright,” Rafe said after a beat, breaking the silence but keeping that warmth in his voice. “We’ve had our deep moment. You ready to go find some real food? Because I’m pretty sure this whole ‘weird stuffed animal’ thing isn’t going to keep me full.”

Y/N grinned. “Absolutely. Let’s go get something that isn’t a cactus or a snake, alright?”

“Deal.” Rafe stood up, offering her a hand as he pulled her to her feet. “Let’s go. But next time—I’m picking the food.”

“Deal,” she said, laughing again, as they walked back toward the town, hand in hand. 

—

The day was slowly winding down, the golden hue of the setting sun casting long shadows over the streets of town. Y/N and Rafe wandered aimlessly, enjoying the peaceful quiet that came with the evening hours. The bustling crowds had thinned out, leaving the streets calm and serene, the perfect setting for their leisurely stroll.

They passed by shops with colorful windows, the occasional chatter of people filling the air, and for a moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the world. Rafe’s hand brushed against hers every now and then, a small but constant reminder of how close they’d become, even if they had to hide it from everyone else.

As they turned a corner, a small jewelry shop caught their attention. The display case outside was filled with delicate necklaces, rings, and bracelets, each piece glinting in the late afternoon light. There was something about the simplicity of the shop, with its vintage charm and understated elegance, that drew them in.

Y/N stopped in front of the window, her fingers lightly pressing against the glass as she studied the glittering bracelets. Some were simple, some were more elaborate, but they all held a kind of quiet beauty. She glanced up at Rafe, who had his hands tucked into his pockets, looking around the small street.

“Think we should go in?” she asked, a playful note in her voice.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, glancing over at the shop. “Are you asking me if I want to look at jewelry?” he teased, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

Y/N shrugged, still eyeing the bracelets. “I mean, I think you might find something in there that suits you. Sparkles and all.”

Rafe laughed softly. “Yeah, well... sparkles aren’t exactly my thing. But sure, let’s see what’s in there.”

They entered the shop, the door chimes ringing lightly above them as they stepped inside. The air was filled with the soft scent of wood and polished metal. A gentle hum of calm music played in the background as they wandered among the displays, browsing through the array of jewels, none of which seemed to stand out as the piece.

After a few moments, Y/N picked up a bracelet with small, delicate charms that jingled lightly when touched. She held it up in front of Rafe, raising an eyebrow. “What do you think?”

Rafe leaned over, taking a look. “It’s... shiny,” he said, not exactly convinced. “Not really my style.”

Y/N smiled, placing it back on the counter. “Yeah, I thought so too. But it’s cute.”

They wandered for a few more minutes, picking up pieces, admiring them, but neither of them felt compelled to buy anything. The items were beautiful, sure, but the whole experience felt oddly distant—like they were pretending to be someone they weren’t.

Finally, Y/N turned to Rafe with a shrug. “I don’t think either of us is really in the mood to buy anything, huh?”

Rafe chuckled, his eyes lighting up as he gave her a playful nudge. “Nope. I don’t think I could pull off any of these anyway.”

“Not even the sparkly ones?” she teased, a grin tugging at her lips.

“Especially not the sparkly ones,” he said with mock seriousness. “But hey, it was fun just looking.”

They both laughed, and after a few more moments of lighthearted banter, they left the shop, hands still brushing occasionally as they walked back down the street, continuing their slow stroll toward the ferry.

As they approached the dock, the sun had begun to dip below the horizon, painting the sky with soft shades of orange and pink. They boarded the ferry in silence, finding a quiet spot at the railing, where the cool breeze was starting to pick up. The water shimmered in the fading light, and the soft hum of the boat’s engine was a comforting backdrop to the peaceful moment.

Rafe leaned against the railing, his eyes scanning the water as they pulled away from the shore. Y/N stood beside him, looking out at the horizon, a quiet smile on her face as the day slipped away. But even with the serenity of the moment, there was a small pang in her chest, a bittersweet feeling that the day was ending so soon.

As they stood there, the sound of the ferry’s engine humming softly in the background, Y/N glanced at Rafe out of the corner of her eye. She’d been thinking about it all day—the small thought that had lingered since they’d walked through that jewelry shop. Without saying anything, she reached into her bag and pulled out a small wrapped box. She turned to Rafe, holding it out to him with a quiet smile.

“Hey, I know we didn’t buy anything earlier, but...” she trailed off, handing him the box. “I got you something.”

Rafe blinked, clearly surprised. “You did?”

Y/N nodded, her smile widening. “I couldn’t resist. You might not love sparkles, but I thought this would look good on you.”

Rafe took the box, carefully unwrapping it with a mix of curiosity and amusement. When he opened it, he found a sleek, glittery bracelet, the kind that wasn’t too flashy, but had just enough shine to catch the light. He looked up at her, his eyes softening.

“You got me a bracelet?” he asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

Y/N laughed, shrugging. “It’s not a sparkly one, I promise. Just... something simple. I thought it’d suit you.”

Rafe’s lips curled into a smile. “It’s perfect, actually.” He reached out, taking her hand and slipping the bracelet onto his wrist. “I love it.”

Before she could say anything more, Rafe surprised her by reaching into his own jacket pocket and pulling out a small velvet bag. “I guess I owe you one now,” he said, his grin widening.

Y/N raised an eyebrow as she took the bag from him. “You didn’t have to—”

“I know, but I wanted to,” he said, his voice softening a little. “Open it.”

Y/N carefully untied the string, revealing a delicate necklace with a tiny, intricate pendant. It was a crescent moon, silver with a small diamond at its center, catching the last of the sunlight. Her breath caught in her throat. It was beautiful—simple, but breathtaking.

“Rafe,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. “It’s... it’s perfect.”

“I thought you’d like it,” he said quietly, watching her reaction. “Something to remember today by.”

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling. “I’ll never forget it. Thank you.”

They stood there for a moment, both wearing gifts from the other, feeling the quiet, shared happiness of the day slowly settling in. But as the ferry glided through the water, a quiet sadness started to creep in, an awareness that the day was coming to an end.

“You know,” Y/N said, her voice low, “this has been... one of the best days I’ve had in a while.”

Rafe nodded, his expression soft. “Yeah. Me too.”

The sound of the waves crashing against the side of the ferry filled the silence between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. They didn’t need to say anything else. The day had been perfect in its simplicity, just the two of them, stealing moments of normalcy in a world that often didn’t allow for it.

As the ferry neared the shore, they both felt the weight of the inevitable separation. They’d go back to stealing glances and secret rendezvous—at least for a little while. But for now, all they had was the evening, the ferry ride, and the gifts they’d given each other, which were more than just jewelry. They were reminders of a day they’d never forget.

—---

A few days later, the sun hung low over the beach, casting a warm, lazy glow as it started its descent. The Pogues were settled around a makeshift bonfire on the sand, the air thick with the scent of smoke and saltwater. The group had sprawled out in the usual way—Pope meticulously stacking sticks for later, JJ tossing pebbles at driftwood targets, and Kie stretched out on a blanket, flicking sand absently as she chatted with Y/N.

It was one of those rare, easy days when the crew could just unwind, the kind of day they all secretly loved. JJ had spent the past few minutes trying to balance a stick on his nose, to no success, though his persistence was making everyone laugh. When the stick inevitably fell to the sand, he groaned dramatically. “This is why I’ll never be a circus performer,” he announced, to a chorus of exaggerated gasps.

“I know. Total missed calling,” Y/N replied, grinning as she tossed a few pebbles toward him. Kie snorted, tossing one herself, but missed and hit Pope, who looked over with mock offense.

“Can we at least hit JJ?” Pope said, rolling his eyes before grabbing a handful of sand, aiming for JJ’s shoes instead.

Kie, lying on her side with her head resting on her arm, caught sight of the necklace Y/N was wearing. It caught the light, sparkling just enough to make Kie raise an eyebrow. “Hey, that’s new. Where’d you get that?”

Y/N instinctively touched it, a small, knowing smile creeping onto her face. She shrugged, trying to keep her response light. “Oh, just something I picked up.”

Kie’s eyes narrowed, not entirely convinced. “Really? It looks kinda... fancy for just something you picked up.”

Y/N laughed it off, brushing it aside. “What can I say? I have expensive taste.” She grinned to soften the response, hoping Kie would drop it.

Kie eyed her, but didn’t press. “Uh-huh,” she said, turning back to the group as JJ started running after Pope, both of them laughing.

Y/N’s fingers brushed the necklace again, feeling the quiet connection behind it. It was a secret, one she wasn’t ready to share, but in this moment, that was enough.

The easy laughter echoed over the water, filling the space with a calm none of them thought to question. It was the kind of afternoon that always made them feel like everything else could wait until tomorrow.

But that calm didn’t last.

A sharp ping broke through their laughter. John B had pulled his phone from his pocket and quickly checked the screen. At first, it seemed like nothing; he barely glanced at it before his thumb hovered over the side button to lock the screen again. But Y/N, perched next to him, didn’t miss the slight smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth.

She wasn’t the only one who noticed.

JJ, who was surprisingly perceptive when it came to sniffing out potential teasing material, caught the expression too and smirked, leaning in. “Yo, JB, who’s got you grinning like that?”

John B stiffened slightly, shoving the phone back in his pocket. “No one, just a…friend.”

Kie raised an eyebrow, not buying it for a second. “A ‘friend’? John B, I think you forget all of your friends are sitting right here.”

Pope snorted, nudging JJ. “Yeah, and I’ve never seen you smile like that at one of my texts, man.”

Y/N felt the tension creep up, hoping they’d let it go, but JJ was already zeroed in, leaning forward with his usual mischievous glint. He held out a hand. “Alright, let’s see this ‘friend’ then.”

John B held up his hands defensively, scoffing. “Back off, alright? It’s nothing, just a text.”

JJ wasn’t one to back down easily. With a grin, he lunged over and snatched the phone out of John B’s hand before anyone could blink, ducking back with a triumphant laugh. John B groaned, already reaching out to grab it back, but JJ sidestepped, eyes locked on the screen.

The smile faded from JJ’s face as he read, replaced by an exaggerated, delighted grin. He held up the phone for everyone to see, pointing at the screen with a loud laugh. “‘Val’ says she misses you, babe!”

“Val?” Kie echoed, her brows knitting in confusion. “Who the hell is ‘Val’?”

Pope squinted, glancing over JJ’s shoulder to read the screen. “Dude, you’re getting ‘babe’ texts from ‘Val’ now?”

“Come on, guys,” John B muttered, snatching the phone again, but JJ held it out of reach, tilting his head curiously.

Y/N quickly tried to step in. “Guys, relax. It’s probably nothing, just some weird joke between friends.”

Kie raised an eyebrow, not buying it. “Yeah, right. ‘Val’ says babe like it’s no big deal?”

Y/N, trying to keep things light, leaned over to JJ with a laugh. “Maybe it’s a nickname for someone he’s trying to impress. Like, uh, ‘Valencia,’ or some other exotic name. Very mysterious.”

JJ blinked at her. “Yeah, sure. And I’m definitely not going to ask why ‘Val’ says ‘babe’ in all their texts.”

John B was looking at Y/N, his expression torn. He gave her a pleading look, and for a second, she knew he was ready to just admit everything. She met his gaze, giving a slight, emphatic shake of her head, silently telling him: Don’t you dare tell them.

For a moment, he hesitated, torn between protecting the secret and wanting to rip off the band-aid. But then Pope’s eyes went wide as he finally connected the dots.

“Wait… ‘Val’?” Pope said slowly, his eyes narrowing as the realization began to settle in. He glanced up at John B, his voice tinged with disbelief. “That’s not just a friend, is it?”

John B hesitated, his fingers absently running over the edge of his phone as he met Pope’s gaze. “No... I’m... seeing someone.” His voice was quiet, as if he were testing the waters, waiting for the storm to hit.

Y/N's stomach twisted. She couldn’t look away from John B in that moment, the air between them thick with something unspoken. She could feel the tension in her chest as she opened her mouth, her voice barely above a whisper. “John B, please...” Her eyes begged him to stop, to not say any more, to not let this reveal itself like this.

But he didn’t look at her. He just met her gaze for a split second before turning back to the group. There was something resolute in his eyes, an unspoken promise: It’s going to be okay.

He took a deep breath and finally let it slip out. “It’s Sarah Cameron.”

Kie’s face flushed with a mix of disbelief and anger. “You’re dating her?” she practically spat, rising to her feet in shock. “After everything she and her family have done to us?”

John B looked defensive, trying to keep his cool. “It’s not like that, Kie. It’s just—”

But Kie was already shaking her head, not having it. “It’s exactly like that, John B! After all the crap her family’s put us through, and now you’re just gonna ignore it because you like her?”

“I don’t care about her family, Kie,” John B snapped, clearly frustrated. “I care about her. I’m not gonna let their problems be mine.”

Y/N, feeling the tension rise, quickly stepped in, her voice trying to keep things light. “It’s really not that big of a deal, Kie. John B’s dating who he wants to date.”

JJ blinked, his frustration still simmering. “Look, I’m not thrilled about the whole ‘Kook’ thing, but as far as Kooks go, Sarah’s not that bad. It could’ve been worse... I mean, it could’ve been someone like Ruthie or Rafe.”

Y/N’s stomach twisted at the mention of Rafe. Sure, JJ could brush off Sarah, but Rafe? That was a whole different level—one that would never be as easy to accept. She could already feel the weight of the confrontation coming, and it made her sick to her core.

But Kie was seething now, her eyes burning. “Are you serious, JJ? She’s been tearing us down for years, and you’re just gonna excuse that because John B’s having some little romance? She’s part of the problem. Her family’s the problem. And you think dating her is just fine?”

John B held his ground, though his voice was quieter now, more strained. “I don’t care what her family’s done. It’s not about them, Kie. It’s just about Sarah.”

Kie looked between John B and Y/N, her voice rising in anger. “So, what, you’re just gonna ignore all the times she’s acted like we don’t exist? Like we’re just some lower class that’s not worth her time?”

Y/N, feeling the tension reaching its peak, cut her off, her voice sharp but calm. “Look, I don’t see what the big deal is, alright? John B is his own person. He can date whoever he wants.”

That just made Kie’s anger explode even further. “You don’t see the big deal? This isn’t just about who John B is dating, Y/N. This is about everything she represents! She’s a Kook! And now you’re all just fine with that?”

JJ looked back and forth between Kie and the others, his voice quieter now as he tried to defuse the situation. “Whoa, okay, okay, let’s just all chill. Kie, we get it. But maybe yelling about it isn’t gonna make it better. It’s John B’s choice. We can’t really do anything about it.”

But Kie wasn’t having it. “You think I’m just supposed to pretend it’s okay? After everything?”

The words hit hard, and the air grew thick with tension. Kie stormed off, her steps quick and angry as she muttered under her breath. Pope hesitated, glancing at John B and Y/N before following Kie, clearly torn.

JJ, shaking his head, threw his hands up. “Man, what a mess.” He paused, glancing at John B and Y/N. “You good?”

John B let out a heavy sigh, dropping onto a rock. “Yeah… just not what I expected.”

Y/N sat down beside him, her expression softening. “You did what you had to do.”

The sun dipped lower, and the day that had begun so relaxed and carefree felt a little heavier now, the silence between them thick as the fallout from Kie’s anger lingered in the air.

—-

A/n: i wrote chapter 11 before i finished this so sorry if it seems off 😭😭😭

Anyways, val and vlad made an appearance! Is it controversial if i say they are the best couple in the show

—

Next time: the midsummer ball

–

Taglist: ​​@hockeybabe87 , @idiotussupremus , @certifiedhaters , @oatmealisweird, @sluggmuffin , @maybankslover , @ren-ni, @wh0reforbucknasty , @enjoymyloves , @bilssturns , @dragonslight , @willowpains , @sidney-86 , @urbrunettebombshell, @fluffybunnyu

[karaeilishh]

SALVATORE

i was so wrong not to tell, I'm in regine, tangerine dreams.

"catch me if you can" you feel the warm sand of the Miami beach under your feet as you run away from a beautiful foreigner with aqua marine, ocean's blue eyes. you hear her muffled laughter behind you as she tries to catch up with you, running along the sunny beach. you were so carried away by each other that no one else existed around you.

you met a few weeks ago when you were traveling in Italy. you felt her warm hand on your shoulder as she offered to treat you to cacciatore, and then bought you gelato, soft ice cream. you fell in love with her eyes from the first seconds.

i adore you, can't you see, you're meant for me?

"aspetta amore" she screams at you, trying to catch up with you. the sand rises behind you, and the sea is calm, as if it allows you to be together.

a light summer rain begins.

you didn't know how you ended up in the arms of this girl, your savior. from the day you met, you were together every second. you didn't know who she was or what her name was. She told you to call her salvatore. This girl might have been a criminal, but you would be happy to die at the hands of a foreigner woman. 

you stopped abruptly, looking at her through the bright sun and raindrops. the italian girl slowly approached you. "You won't run away anymore, amore?"

A comfortable silence falls between you as you both smile, letting the warmth of the rain soak your clothes. tangled in your hair was a beautiful white flower that your new lover had found. you tuck it behind her ear, examining every freckle on her face.

"tell me your name and i won't run away anymore." you run your fingers over her face, touching her cheek softly. your question somehow makes her giggle. "you can call me salvatore."

you roll your eyes playfully, not getting an answer to your question. you want to call her by her name. Her real name. "you know that's not your name" you pout, hoping it will work on the italian girl who asked you to move to florida after only a week of knowing each other.

the summer's wild,

and I've been waiting for you all this time

"you can call me billie, amore" she gives in to you, wrapping her strong arms around your waist to spin you around in the air. your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as you realize how easily she lifted you. your dress flutters in the wind and billie would give anything to capture this moment in her memory.

"let's go get some soft ice cream?" she gently sets you down and leads you towards the city. you take her hand, accepting the invitation.

now it's time to eat soft ice cream.

a/n - im just so in love with this song and i needed to write it

requests open !!

[newrochellechallenger2019]

i need a fic where patrick gets a crush on one of art’s smart stanford friends 😭😭 like an english major girl or something 😭

*forehead kiss* (as promised)

omg yes did you crawl into my brain and see the english student inside me???

you first meet patrick zweig when you knock on art's dorm door and the door swings open to reveal the tall, curly haired brunette staring back at you instead.

he leans against the doorframe, his eyes looking you up down, unsubtly checking you out. 'hey' he says, voice dripping with flirtation.

your brow furrows, jostling the paperback under your arm. 'is art in?', turned off by his cockiness.

there's a rustling of bedcovers from inside the dorm and art appears by the door. 'yes- hi- uh- this is patrick, we went to school together and uh-.' he says, tone apologetic.

'i'm a professional tennis player.' says patrick suavely, extending his hand out for you to shake.

you nod, shaking his hand politely. 'nice to meet you patrick.' you say formally and he smirks, seemingly victorious. 'anyway, i just wanted to drop off my book, i've put all the notes in so you can look over it before the next lecture.' you smile at art, handing the copy over.

his face lights up 'seriously? oh you're a lifesaver!' the blonde says warmly and your smile grows. 'it's no problem really.' and he shakes his head 'nah i owe you one, thanks.'

you wave goodbye and the door closes, art turns on patrick 'no.' the blonde says quickly. 'what? i wasn't even-' protests the brunette, feigning innocence. 'no way, she's way out of your league dude.' art says firmly 'that hurts man.' patrick mock pouts.

despite art's protests, patrick was unperturbed and started to take more trips down to stanford to 'visit art'.

the second time you meet patrick is in the library, you'd been pouring over your essay for half the day when patrick stopped at your table.

'thought that was you' he grins, and even though it hardly been a month since you last saw him, his charm felt familiar somehow.

you look up from your laptop 'what brings you here? this is for students.' you say coolly.

he barks out a laugh 'yeah i know that, art dragged me here to look for some textbook for his presentation.' he waves in a direction dismissively and slides into the seat next to you.

'what are you working on?' he says, peering over your shoulder and as your shoulders brush, you feel a jolt of electricity.

'essay. you wouldn't get it.' you say shortly, trying to ignore the way his body feels against yours.

he clutched his chest dramatically, feigning hurt and you roll your eyes. he nudges ever close, practically pushing you out of your chair as he reads. '...prevelance of...american colonisation...' 'yeah okay.' you interrupt, turning to him. 'thank you.' you say with finality, staring at him as a signal to leave you alone.

he leans back in his chair and eyes you with a wry grin, 'you're right, it's too smart, i don't get it.' and you shake you head, turning back to your laptop.

'patrick!' interrupts art, and you both look over at him. 'there you are, you left me talking to myself by the shelf like an idiot' and patrick hardly stifles a snigger at art's put-out face. 'sorry.' he manages, not a trace of apology in his tone.

'come on.' art says to patrick, before turning to you. 'sorry, good luck with your essay!' you nod in acknowledgement and patrick stands up with a groan, 'spoilsport.' he hisses to art, 'never going to happen.' retorts art and they leave the library.

it'd been a couple months since you last saw patrick, art had said that the tour was too far out for him to travel easily so you'd forgotten all about the sparks that had flown between you that day in the library.

it was the early hours of the morning and you were browsing the aisles of the college supermarket, looking for a final caffeine fix to cram before your exam that day.

you hear a rustling behind you and a hiccup, 'i like the...caramel ones...' slurs a voice and you turn around. patrick is stood behind you, staring at you, eyes slightly glassy, his arms filled with an array of snacks. you blink at him, 'are you-' and he waves his arm to cut you off, 'art got some drinks.' and you nod 'right.'

you turn back and grab a coffee from the fridge, a caramel one and his face brightens, 'good onesss....yes?' he grins wide, 'sure', you reply with a tight lipped smile.

you walk down the aisle toward the cashier and patrick follows, wobbling slightly, 'hey- come back with- hic- me.' he says and you shake your head, 'i'm okay, i've gotta study.' art should be too but you don't say that part and the footsteps behind you pause and you turn around, patrick's staring at you like you just said the most outrageous thing in the world, 'study?!... study study study, is that all you do?'.

'no!' you say defensively, bristling with hurt as you reach the cashier. patrick slides alongside you and hands over cash to pay for your coffee before you can stop him, unceremoniously dumping his own purchases on the counter.

'i'm sorry...i didn't mean that' he says with about as much sincerity as a drunk man can, 'it's okay.' you say quickly, grabbing your coffee and starting to leave.

his heart breaks, the alcohol coursing through his veins making him more dramatic than usual, 'wait! don't go!' his voice breaks, and you look at him a bewildered expression, 'what? why not?', looking at him expectantly.

'i'm in love with you' he blurts out and your eyes widen, and he catches sight of your expression 'no- hic- i have a crush on you- i mean.' and his face is so serious, you have to press your lips together to fight a smile at how endearing he's being, 'i figured.' you say quietly and his mouth falls open. 'and do you-.' and you pause, taking him in, he was handsome, that much was obvious and when he wasn't being an ass, which was seemingly all of the time, he was sweet.

you step closer towards him, your smile growing, 'i don't know yet' you say flirtatiously and his eyes light up, 'kiss...' he slurs leaning in and you lean back, 'outside.' you redirect, taking his hand and leading him outside of the shop, leaning against the wall.

you slowly cup his face with your hands and lean in, his lips meet yours gently as you kiss but it doesn't take long for the kiss to grow sloppy, his hands going to your hips and lifting you up against the wall, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist.

he breaks the kisses, forehead against yours as he pants heavily, 'best...kiss...ever.' he mumbles, 'you're drunk' you laughingly respond and he shakes his head dramatically, before putting you down, 'gonna go back to- hic- art.' he says dazily and you stifle a laugh 'good idea.'

you watch him walk off, heart warmed by the brief makeout session you'd shared even if it was outside a college supermarket in the middle of the night.

he turns around, 'come see me on tour baby!' he calls and you grin 'will do!' and he looks overjoyed, half-running, half-stumbling in the direction of art's dorm.

hope you enjoy love <3

[hearts4werka]

NNN day 13 | You Can’t Save Me

“I thought I could do it without dragging you deeper. Shit, I was wrong.”

summary: Matt was a gang member and you knew the life as one or alongside one was a constant gamble for your life, never knowing what you’ll roll nor what consequences you will have to face. Today you didn’t know you would be facing one of them out of Matthew’s not informing you that they owed money to the violent rival gang, not thinking as an outcome I’ll have to face the barrier between life or death, will you somehow survive or face the consequences and give into the dark feeling of death?

warnings: ANGST, painful death, hospital setting, gang membership, heavy language, arguing, between life or death, swearing, mentions of B&E as well as fighting, sensitive topics that could trigger some readers & viewers advisory is supervised! English isn’t my first language so these can suck ass

authors note: lately I haven’t rlly been feeling the best and have got into some issues but I still found the courage to write something for yall for NNN and the intro post is gonna be out later tonight and I just gotta finish up some stuff and I’ll post it, luv y’all sm and hope y’all enjoy this one.

no nut november | masterlist | guestlist

The fluorescent lights above flickered inconsistently, a cruel reminder of the life I was currently losing the grasp over. The sterile scent of disinfection filled the air, mixing with the lingering smell of regret. I lay sprawled on the hospital bed, tubes snaking from my body and monitoring the slow and steady decline of my life. The beeping machines around me marked time I had left and even that was slowly slipping away from my grasp of control, each note a reminder of the moments fading away. My heart was still pounding, but I could feel its rhythm weakening.

Matt stood at the foot of the bed, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his leather jacket with his shoulders hunched as if he were carrying the weight of the whole fucking world. His usually cocky demeanor was stripped bare from him leaving only a vulnerable kid who never actually grew up. Tears streamed down his face while cutting tracks through the sweat that adores his skin like a cruel battle map. “Look, I’m really fucking sorry, okay?” His voice cracked like a twig as he took a step closer, desperate to build a bridge between the gap in between us. “I never thought they’d come for you! I swear, I thought I could handle it!”

My mouth felt dry, each breath a labored struggle to grasp any control over my life. “Handle what, Matt?” I bite back, an involuntary bitterness flowing through the veins within my body. “You think you can just barge into my life, drag me into whatever shit you’re tangled in and then act surprised when it bites us in the ass You’re a goddamn idiot!” “I know!” he shouted, fists clenching and unclenching as if trying to beat the regret from his body. “I know, and I’d give anything to take it back. But I was too fucking proud, too stupid to admit we owed those bastards money! I didn’t think they’d get violent, you know? I thought they’d just scare us or shake us down but then they—”

“They busted through the door like a goddamn SWAT team!” I stated, choking on anger and pain I was feeling all at the same time. “You didn’t think they’d want blood? You dragged me into a fucking war, Matt, and now I’m stuck here.” “I didn’t mean for this to happen!” His voice broke like an old doll and he stepped closer to my slowly dying body. “I thought… I thought I could keep you safe. I thought—” His words faded into a heavy silence instead filled with the beeps of machines surrounding us and the muffled sounds of hospital life outside. I could see the regret washing over him in waves, each one crashing harder than the last. I wanted to hate him, to blame him for this whole mess but I knew that life in the gang was a constant gamble for your life and I had rolled the dice alongside him. Now regretting my choice more and more as my life slipped away from my fingertips.

“Why didn’t you call?” I asked finally, my voice barely above a whisper as it couldn’t go any louder without hurting my throat. “You could’ve just called for help instead of trying to take it all on by yourself. We were supposed to be in this together.” He ran a shaky hand through his hair, the weight of his decisions evident in the deep wrinkles now shadowing his forehead. “I was just trying to protect you,” he murmured under his breath, his words barely making it past the knot in his throat. “I thought I could do it without dragging you deeper. Shit, I was wrong.”

Tears continued to stream down his face as he moved closer to my bed, taking my hand in his shaky one. In that moment, his grip felt both comforting and suffocating. All I could think was how this was it, this was the end of my life and I was stuck with the boy who had pulled me irreversibly into the chaos now I’m loosing my life over. “I can’t lose you,” he whispered, desperation dripping from his voice. “Not like this. Please don’t leave me.” The warmth of his palm felt like fire against my cool skin, dragging my attention back into the moment. “Don’t you dare fuck up your life over this, Matt. You think you can just take all the blame?” I gasped, the effort of speaking exhausting me out of every last bit of energy left inside of me. “If I go, you better make sure to get the hell out of here. Get away from this life but especially get away from this… all of it. Just… live.”

“No,” he cried, shaking his head vehemently. “No, I can’t do this without you. I don’t want to! It doesn’t make sense. You’re my—” “Your what? Your fucking partner? Your—” A fit of coughing washed over me, sharp pangs radiating through my chest as I struggled against the pain. “This isn’t a damn movie, Matt.” I took a ragged breath and stared hard into his eyes. “You get to be free, get to choose a better fucking path. Don’t waste my death living the same life.” Matt fell silent then, the resolve in his eyes cracking intensely. I could see the fight draining out of him, and I realized that we had both lost long ago. “Promise me,” I said, the words barely a whisper.

He nodded slowly, his tears blending with the chaos that filled the space between us. “I promise,” he said. “I will. I’ll do it for you.” As my breath slowed becoming less and less consistent, I focused on him and felt the weight of my own defeat. “Goodbye, Matt,” I gasped, my words slurring and fading. “Please, stay with me!” he pleaded, his voice breaking into pieces like shattered glass. But deep down, I knew the battle has finally came to an end. The darkness was creeping in and as I drifted away into unconsciousness, the last thing I heard was the sound of his broken heart echoing in the sterile silence of the hospital room.

@hearts4werka | do not copy, repost nor plagiarize any of my work on here or different platforms. You can be ‚inspired’ by my work but pls credit me and ask for permission first!

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[strnilolover]

Prince!Matt needing to go make trades with a foreign country but "Darling" can't go along on this one, she is kind of afraid of his parents and they have a million other maids to do their stuff so she's kind of just left alone in the big palace but lingers in Matt's room mostly. And when he comes home she's like crying as she had been frequently without knowing how he was doing and she admits she had no idea what to do without him and it made her realize she was pretty dependent on him with this kind of job and without her man around. :)

In the days leading up to his departure, there was a quiet tension that neither of them spoke about, but both could feel. Prince Matt tried to reassure darling with easy smiles and casual words, promising he wouldn’t be gone long. But each time they shared a glance, she could feel the weight of what it meant for him to leave her behind, even if it was just for a short time.

Normally darling went along with matt on his outings and such — but this time he wanted her to stay behind. Telling her he didn’t want her to get hurt or for something bad to happen since it was a place he hardly knew himself. He just wanted to keep her safe.

“You’ll be alright, won’t you?” Matt asked one evening, his tone light, but his eyes searched darlings face as they stood in the quiet of his bedroom. “The palace will be the same without me… just quieter.” he said, admitting the obvious.

Darling managed a soft smile, nodding. “Of course, Matt,” she replied, her voice steady. “It’s just… i don’t know — i’ve always gone with you.” she whispered, her fingers fiddling with the apron on her dress.

He gave a gentle chuckle, reaching out to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I’ll be back before you know it,” he murmured. “And I’ll bring you something from the trip. Something to remind you that I thought of you the whole time.”

Her heart fluttered, but she tried to keep her emotions in check. She didn’t want him to feel guilty, didn’t want to let him see just how much she was already dreading his absence. So, instead, she focused on the little things — helping him pack, making sure he had everything he needed, and sharing stolen moments when no one else was around.

When the day had finally came, she helped him prepare one last time, smoothing his coat and avoiding his gaze as her fingers lingered just a bit longer than they should have. “Safe travels, Matt,” she whispered, her voice barely holding steady. “I’ll… keep things in order here until you’re back.” she could feel her chest tightening just a little. Why did it hurt?

His hand found hers, squeezing gently as he smiled down at her. “I’ll miss you,” he said quietly, and before she could reply, he turned and left, leaving her standing there with a hollow ache settling in her chest.

The first night he was gone, darling tried to keep busy, falling into her usual routine with a determination she hoped would distract her from the silence. But with each passing day, the palace felt larger, colder. She moved through the halls like a ghost, fulfilling duties that seemed meaningless without Matt there. The other maids offered polite nods, and his parents rarely spared her a glance, making her feel even more out of place.

She hadn’t realized just how alive matt made the palace feel — just how cold it was without him around. It was like everyone just…somehow lost their life.

She ended up spending her evenings in his bedroom, lingering in the familiar warmth of his space. She would sit by his desk, her fingers grazing the books he’d left behind, or lay on his bed, breathing in the faint scent of him that clung to the pillows. At first, she told herself it was only to make sure his room stayed tidy, but as the nights wore on, she knew it was more than that. She missed him — his smile, his gentle touch, his quiet presence that made the palace feel like home.

By the end of the first week, darling slipped into the habit of staying there most nights, curled up beneath his blankets, seeking comfort in the small reminders of him. The emptiness without him was almost too much to bear, and lying in his bed felt like the only way to keep the loneliness at bay. She would fall asleep surrounded by his things, imagining he was still there, whispering quiet reassurances to her in the dark.

She knew it was risky of her to do — sleeping in the princes bed. She could get caught at any moment, and who knows how much she’d be punished for it. But, the consequences didn’t bother her — she just wanted him home.

One morning, as the light crept through the window, she stirred, blinking sleepily as she stretched. It took her a moment to realize she wasn’t alone, and when she looked up, her heart leapt to find Matt standing at the edge of the bed, watching her with a soft smile.

“Good morning,” he murmured, his voice warm and laced with amusement. “You look comfortable.” he said, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as his arms crossed against his chest.

Her cheeks flushed, and she sat up abruptly, pulling the blanket around herself in embarrassment. “I… I didn’t realize you were back, Matt,” she stammered, her voice catching in her throat. “I… I shouldn’t have—”

He held up a hand, stepping closer and settling onto the edge of the bed beside her. “Please, don’t apologize,” he said softly. “Honestly, I think this is the nicest sight I’ve come home to in a long time. and i think it’s cute you decided to sleep in my bed.”

She felt her heart pounding as she looked at him, words failing her. He was here — finally here, after days of wondering and worrying — and now that he was back, the weight of all the emotions she’d been holding in crashed over her.

“I… missed you,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. She hadn’t meant to say it, but now that he was here, all the longing and loneliness spilled out. “I missed you so much, Matt. I didn’t know what to do without you.”

His expression softened, and he reached out, gently brushing a thumb over her cheek, wiping away a tear she hadn’t realized had fallen. “I missed you too darling,” he murmured, his voice filled with warmth. “More than I can say.”

She leaned into him, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face against his shoulder, feeling the familiar, grounding warmth of him that she’d craved so desperately. He held her tightly, his hand running soothingly up and down her back as he whispered, “I’m sorry for leaving you alone. If I’d known…”

She shook her head, pulling back just enough to look up at him, her eyes shining. “It’s not your fault. I just… didn’t realize how much I had grown to love being around you.”

He cupped her face, his gaze steady, reassuring. “I’m here now,” he said softly. “And I promise, you won’t be left wondering next time. I’ll make sure you know exactly where I am, even if I can’t be right here.” His thumb brushed over her cheek again, his touch gentle, grounding. “I promise next time you can come with.”

Her breath caught. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “For coming back to me.”

He smiled and leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead, his lips warm against her skin, a silent promise of his devotion. “Always,” he murmured. “I’ll always come back to you.” he said, and she knew he meant it,

When he pulled away, he smiled once more. “I promised i’d bring you something back, didn’t i?” he said, gently reaching behind him and grabbing a box. Darlings eyes widened, sniffling as she wiped her face. “You…you didn’t have to matt.”

Matt shook his head, “I wanted to darling.” was all he said before handing the box to her, urging her to open it. And she did, gasping softly as she saw a beautiful stuffed cat and a bracelet. When she took the bracelet out, matt gently grabbed it from her — clipping it onto her wrist.

Taking her hand, he pressed a soft kiss to it — his thumb smoothing over her knuckles as he leaned away. “Now you’ll always have something with you to remind yourself that i’m here — that i’ll always come back to you.”

© strnilolover

a/n : i apologize if this makes no sense. i just got off of work and am really tired, but i tried to write this the best i could. love y’all 😭🩵

[syrupfog]

Sometimes Usopp has nightmares.

Not ones of his mom dying— no, those are no more than a dull ache now. But nightmares of being thrown at the feet of the man who single handedly started off the worst week of his life. Made him feel useless and broken.

Franky.

Usopp doesn’t think Franky bothers to remember how they met. In the grand scheme of things, it’s not important, right? They’re on the same team now, on the WINNING team. Franky built them the best ship in the world, and even made Usopp a tribute to Merry with the mini merry.

But sometimes at night, he’s trapped in that moment again, where he’s thrown at the feet of the man who was head of the Franky Family, who looked down on him like he was dirt, and scoffed when Usopp demanded their berri back.

And it happens all over again; getting attacked, hit again and again until he feels the crack of his bones and darkness billows into his vision, until the last thing he sees is Franky, behind that iron mask he wore, looking down at Usopp with, somehow worst of all, INDIFFERENCE.

And Usopp wakes up with a gasp, clutching his heart, sweat pouring off of him, only to find Franky snoring peacefully in the bunk below him.

And somehow that. That hurts.

It shouldn’t. They’ve made amends. They’ve reconciled. Franky has time and again wept with him and for him.

But that moment started off the worst week of Usopp’s life, and Usopp cannot help but wonder if everything would’ve gone down differently if Franky’s goons hadn’t touched him. If he’d had the same time to process as everyone else, had heard the news with everyone else.

Would he have still left the crew? Fought Luffy?

The fight still haunts him. He’s always been a useless failure of a pirate, but—

Usopp’s just not sure why Luffy even let him back.

And as his thoughts spiral and his pounding heart rate slows, Usopp blinks crusted tears from his eyes and wishes, DESPERATELY wishes, that he could have just BEEN Franky from the beginning.

He’s good with his hands. Maybe if he had just started studying to be a shipwright they never would’ve gotten to that point. Franky’s all but replaced him on the ship anyway, hasn’t he? He’s like everything that Usopp is, but better.

Stumbling out of his bunk, trying and failing to be quiet about it, Usopp slinks out of the bunk room and onto the deck. It’s a night so foggy that not even the moon lights their path. The lanterns hung on either side of the door to the kitchen the only things casting hazy light.

Which is why he jumps out of his skin when Brook appears in front of him like a ghost in the night.

“Yohohoho,” Brook laughs softly. “I’m sorry to have startled you, young master Usopp! I was simply out for a midnight stroll!”

Usopp blinks. “You’re not on watch?”

“No, it is our Captain’s turn right now. He’s up in the crow’s nest. I was thinking I might play him a tune— I’m not in need of much sleep these days— but perhaps you might be in need of it a bit more than him?”

Usopp doesn’t feel in NEED of a tune. He feels in need of sticking his head in a bucket of ice water, perhaps, to get his thoughts out of the dark place they’re spiraling towards. But he doesn’t want to disappoint Brook. “Sure,” he says. “What have you got cooking up?”

Brook’s violin is out in a heartbeat— although he has no heart— and after a few tuning notes, he begins a slow, deep rendition of Bink’s Saké. Usopp recognizes the melody but Brook has managed to turn it almost into a funeral dirge. Something mournful, crying out.

He feels like he’s intruding just by listening to it.

When the song is finished, Brook seems to breathe out (can he do that?) and with his breath his whole skeleton collapses down, like a marionette with all but one of its strings cut.

“I think, sometimes,” says Brook, “that I am not worthy of being the one who survived.”

Usopp wants to jump to his defense, tell him that Brook is NEEDED and NECESSARY and they COULDN’T DO THIS WITHOUT HIM.

But he remembers how empty those words sounded in the moment as Chopper yelled them, as Usopp left the crew on Water 7. Like empty appeasing platitudes.

“I think…” Usopp says, slowly, carefully, “that worthiness isn’t something that matters, in the end.”

He’s sitting on the deck, the chill numbing his feet. Brook goes to sit, gingerly, next to him.

“I think that the only thing that actually matters are the choices you make— and not EVERY choice. But the most recent choices.” He peters off for a moment. Brook looks especially creepy in the fog. “Whatever happened that led to you being here doesn’t matter. What matters is your choice now. And tomorrow. What matters is continuing on.”

He doesn’t believe it, not really. His choices haunt him. Every lie haunts him.

“I don’t make good choices,” he concedes, looking down at his calloused hands. “But I want to. I’m trying.”

Even if he doesn’t want to keep trying, sometimes.

Brook leans back, silent as a ghost for a moment, and then, quietly, “I know you are, master Usopp. You are not as lost as you think.”

Usopp doesn’t say anything after that.

Brook doesn’t either.

The morning comes with hot sun and the pounding of feet across the deck. Usopp wakes with a crick in his neck and shade over his eyes.

He blinks, inhaling the scent of pancakes. As his vision clears, he realises he’s only able to have slept so long because a straw hat had been placed over his head, hiding his face from the worst of the morning sun.

Usopp groans.

He pulls it lower, hiding the heat in his cheeks

“It’s the choices you make today,” he tells himself. “Not the old ones. Just the ones today and tomorrow and tomorrow.”

Because maybe if he tells himself that everyday, someday he’ll even believe it.

And until then, he can lie.

[nimnia]

‹ chapter 03 › OUR NAMES

─── JUST Y☆UR ATTENTI☆N ⋆ ｡ ° ✩

WARNINGS── wholesome yet again encounter, staring, nothing serious.

WC── 2,201 words.

── JYA main list | previous | next

days had passed, and minji couldn't get you out of her mind. schoolwork, exam, club activities— she had enough on her plate to keep everyone busy, yet her thoughts returned to that moment in the library when she first saw you.

bathed in that warm afternoon light by the window, dust particles drifting lazily around you like tiny sparks. it was an image that has taken root in her mind, one she couldn't shake, no matter how much she tried to push it away.

she caught herself replaying that scene more times than she could count.

at first, she tried to convince herself that it was just curiosity— simple intrigue, nothing more. but as her mind wandered over these moments, she found herself lingering in your expression, the way you looked so absorbed, distant but at peace in your own world.

she realized, somewhat flustered, that it wasn't just about knowing your name— there was something about you, something she has drawn to, even if she couldn't fully understand why.

"maybe it's just a crush," she told herself in bed one night, staring at the ceiling with her cheeks heating up.

"just a passing thing... i mean, it's not like i really know her! it's probably just-" she paused momentarily.

"...i don't know, attraction...?" she whispered.

she covered her face with her hands, groaning quietly. this is so ridiculous, she thought, but somehow, admitting this to herself only made her more determined to learn your name.

she resolved that tomorrow, no matter what, she'd ask someone. she has to, or else this won't end.

─────

the next day, minji moved through her classes with renewed purpose, but when lunchtime came around, she decided against asking her friends, hanni and danielle, for help.

it wasn't that she didn't trust them— she just didn't want to bother them with something that seemed so insignificant. besides, knowing hanni, she'd probably tease her about it relentlessly.

no, this was something she wanted to handle alone.

she went to the student council office after school, where she spotted seojin, one of the council members she knew. she was leafing through a pile of folders, so she approached him cautiously, trying to seem casual.

"hey, seojin," she calls out, keeping her tone light. "do you happen to know the full name of the girl who's always in the library? i think her last name is jeon."

seojin looked up, eyebrows raised in surprise. "oh, minji! yeah, i know her— her name is jeon y/n. she's quiet, always seems to keep to herself."

minji felt a strange flutter in her chest at hearing your name for the first time.

"jeon y/n.." she repeated softly, tasting the sound of it. it felt... right, somehow, like it belonged to you perfectly. "thanks, seojin. that's all i need."

"no problem," he replied, giving her a knowing smile as she walked away.

throughout the rest of her classes, your name echoed in her mind— jeon y/n. simple, yet it seemed to carry a certain weight, and minji found herself both relieved and oddly thrilled to finally know it, but along with that relief was a strange impatience.

an impulse to see you, to hear your unknown voice, maybe even catch a glimpse of that quiet expression you wore in the library. it was a desire that felt out of place, yet she couldn't ignore it.

─────

as soon as the final bell rang, minji gathered her things and made her way to the library. her pace quickened as she neared the familiar doors, though she couldn't quite explain why she was in such a hurry.

the library was quiet, as always, nearly empty save for a few students at scattered tables, but then she saw you.

you were on the floor by the window, tucked into your usual corner, your head resting against the table's edge. an open book lay across your lap, and you were fast asleep, your features softened and relaxed in a way she hadn't seen before.

a pang of something unfamiliar tugged at minji's heart as she watched you.

you looked so vulnerable, so unguarded, and something about it stirred a gentle protectiveness in her. she wondered what had driven you to isolate yourself like this— what kind of hurt or hardship might have shaped you into someone who found comfort in solitude.

she could almost relate to that feeling, the urge to hide away from the world, to keep yourself safe by keeping your distance.

feeling a quiet empathy, she moved closer, choosing to sit on the floor across from you but at a safe distance. she leaned her back against the wall, her gaze resting on you, her eyes soft with unspoken understanding.

she didn't want to disturb you; she only wanted to be near, to share this quiet space with you, even if you were completely unaware of her presence.

minji let her thoughts drift, the silence around her mingling with the steady rhythm of your breathing. she wasn't sure how long she stayed there, simply watching you, feeling an odd sense of peace.

your name whispered through her mind, lingering like a gentle choir.

slowly, her own eyelids grew heavy, the weight of the day catching up to her. the library was so warm and quiet, and in that stillness, she felt a rare sense of calm, as if sitting here with you brought her in comfort she hadn't realized she'd been missing.

and with one last thought of your name, minji drifted into sleep, resting in the quiet company of someone who understood the solace of solitude.

─────

as minji's eyes fluttered open, the soft light of the library greeted her, casting a warm glow over everything. she blinked, adjusting to the dimming light, when suddenly she noticed... you.

you were sitting right in front of her, between her legs, your face mere inches away.

she jolted slightly, her cheeks heating up in surprise as she took in the sight of you up close— your expression blank, yet there was a quiet curiosity in your eyes, almost like a child observing something new.

her heart quickened, caught off guard not just by your closeness but by the calm, inquisitive look you gave her.

"oh—uh... hi," minji managed, her voice coming out a little unsteady. she felt slightly dizzy, still waking up, but the sight of you looking at her like this seemed to ground her.

"i... i didn't realize you'd be... here." she stammered, feeling an odd mix of embarrassment and amazement.byou tilted your head, still watching her with that steady gaze, and for a moment she didn't know what to say.

finally, she let out a sheepish laugh, scratching the back of her neck. "i.. i must've fallen asleep here," she admitted, her cheeks burning. "sorry if.. i was in your way. i didn't mean to stare while you were asleep."

a soft, small chuckle escaped your lips. "you didn't bother me." you said, your voice quiet but warm, a sound that resonated with a soft, calming tone.

it was everything minji had imagined— your voice was beautiful, soothing, like a gentle melody that filled the silence between you two.

"it's been a while since anyone's stayed here," you added, your voice barely above a whisper, but there was a certain weight to your words, like they held a piece of something you weren't saying outright. minji couldn't help but feel more drawn in, her awe growing as she took in a quiet grace with which you spoke.

she couldn't stop herself from blushing deeper, flustered yet unable to look away.

"i.. really didn't mean to intrude," she mumbled, feeling oddly shy as she glanced down, catching sight of her skirt riding up slightly due to how she'd parted her legs. quickly, she adjusted, hoping you hadn't noticed.

but you didn't seem to care or even mind. instead, you simply looked at her, calm and unbothered. then, with a gentle smile that softened your expression, you shifted closer, closing the gap just a little more, as though inviting her further into this shared silence.

minji's heart thudded, feeling both nervous and thrilled by your warm gaze. she tried to compose herself, feeling her hands sweating and fidgeting in her lap.

"s-so... um, what.. what's your name?" she asked softly, even though she knew, yet she wanted to hear it from you, almost afraid to break the delicate atmosphere between you.

after a moment, you finally spoke. "jeon y/n." you said, your voice carrying a sense of openness, a calm invitation. there was no smile on your face now, but your eyes were gentle, almost as if you were quietly welcoming her into this new chapter of whatever might unfold between you two.

"jeon.. y/n.." minji echoed, letting your name roll off her tongue, savoring the sound of it.

it felt so surreal, like finally unlocking a mystery that had been hidden just out of reach. her eyes softened, a small, shy smile playing on her lips as she looked back at you. "i.. i'm kim minji."

you nodded, acknowledging her introduction, and in that moment, something seemed to shift between you— something quiet but significant, as though you'd both taken a small step forward.

for a while, neither of you said anything, letting the silence speak for itself.

minji couldn't believe how much had changed in such a short span, how this simple encounter had bloomed into something that felt like the beginning of something special.

your name felt like a blessing.

TAGLIST── @iamtired10 @saysirhc @sixflame438 @gigislovergirl @trovao-penguins @flyingcigarettes @kmjs-girl @strangercat @secretcessy @gtfoiydlyj

[soleillunne]

— To everyone I've had the pleasure of meeting here,

I just want to take a moment to say thank you, truly, from the bottom of my heart. You’ve each been there in different ways, each of you bringing something unique and special into my life. Whether it’s a quick message that brightens my day, the way you listen and support me when things are rough, or the laughter we share that somehow makes everything a little easier—I’m so grateful for all of it, and for each of you.

You’ve all been a part of my life’s ups and downs, and I honestly can’t imagine getting through it all without your presence and support. Some of you have been there from the very beginning, steady and constant, while others have entered my life more recently, bringing new warmth and joy. Each one of you has touched my life in ways I can’t fully express, and I hope you know how deeply I value and appreciate you.

Thank you for being there, for being yourselves, and for allowing me to share a part of this journey with you. Whether we talk every day or just every so often, you mean more to me than words can say. Your kindness, patience, humor, and loyalty mean the world to me, and I’m so incredibly lucky to know you all.

Here’s to every laugh, every shared thought, every moment of support, and every memory we’ve made together. I’m beyond grateful, and I look forward to making even more memories with each of you. Thank you for being you—there’s truly no one else like you, and I’m so lucky to call you my friends.

With all my love and gratitude, always.

-Aly.

@starrveill :

Fawn,

Every conversation with you feels like stepping into a warm embrace—a burst of sunlight that seems to reach into even the cloudiest corners of my day. You have this incredible way of making everything feel lighter, brighter, and somehow more alive. I honestly can’t remember a single dull moment with you; every time we talk, it’s like a spark that adds so much more color and joy to life. You bring an energy that’s so rare and beautiful, and I’m so grateful for it.

Talking to you reminds me again and again just how special you are. There’s this light within you, something deeply genuine, and it’s impossible not to feel its warmth. I could spend hours with you, listening, laughing, sharing stories, and it would never be enough—I’d never tire of it because being around you is like breathing fresh air after being cooped up indoors for ages.

I love you in a way that’s beyond words, more deeply than anything I could ever fully express. If I could, I would take away every single one of your worries, anything that ever brings you down, just to see you at peace and filled with happiness. You deserve nothing less than boundless joy, endless laughter, and all the good things that life has to offer. And please know that, if there’s ever a way for me to make even a sliver of that come true, I’ll be here, always. You’re worth the world and so much more, and I’d do anything to see you smile.

@umgatochamadopercyval :

Clara,

Thank you so much for being such a steady presence in my life, even when we don’t talk as often as I’d like. I know I’m not always the easiest to keep up with, but you somehow manage to be patient and understanding in ways that mean so much to me.

Even in the times we’re apart, I always know I can count on you, and it’s such a comforting feeling. You put up with my quirks, my silences, and my scattered attempts to stay in touch, and I’m genuinely grateful for that. You’re one of those rare people who makes life feel a little easier, even from a distance. Thank you for being you, and for being there, no matter what.

@romaritimeharbor :

Aph,

Thank you so, so much for always listening to my silly ideas and endless rambles, for letting me share my thoughts and dreams with you, and for being so wonderfully patient through it all. It means the world to have someone as understanding as you, who genuinely listens and never makes me feel like I’m saying too much or being too much. You’re not only kind beyond measure, but you’re also such a genuinely amazing person in every single way—someone whose warmth, humor, and openness create this space where I can be completely myself.

Every time I see you on my dash, it’s like a little burst of joy, something that brightens my day without fail. You have this incredible way of bringing extra sunshine into everything you do, and it makes such a difference. Just knowing that someone as kind and wonderful as you is out there brings me so much comfort and happiness. You’re truly one of a kind, someone whose presence is a gift, and I’m so so grateful for you.

And on top of everything, you’re one of the most talented, creative people I know. The things you create are filled with this unique spark that only you could bring to them, and it’s inspiring to see. I hope you never lose that light, that beautiful spark in you that brings so much magic to your work and to everyone around you. Thank you for being you—for all the ways you make life a little bit better.

@kopivie :

Cinna,

You are absolutely amazing, and I mean that with everything in me. It’s hard to find the right words to capture just how much you mean to me, but I’ll try. You have this rare, incredible kindness and warmth that the world honestly doesn’t deserve. You give so much of yourself to others—more than most people will ever know—and you do it with such quiet grace, as though it’s just the most natural thing in the world. Even when life throws challenges your way, you somehow keep shining through it all, and it’s nothing short of inspiring.

It breaks my heart that the world hasn’t been nearly as kind to you as it should be. You deserve so much more—more happiness, more peace, more of the love and care you so freely give. The fact that you’ve had to face so much is a damn shame, because if anyone deserves the entire world, it’s you. The strength you have to keep going, to keep being this light for others, is something I admire deeply. And when things get tough, I just want you to know that I’ll be here, ready to tell the world to fuck off whenever it tries to dim your light.

Thank you for sticking with me through everything, for being such a constant, loyal friend. You’ve been there for me in ways I can’t even begin to describe, and that kind of friendship is something so rare and precious. Your presence in my life means more than I can say, and I’m beyond grateful to have you. You’re one in a million, a friend that anyone would be lucky to have, and I want you to know that I’ll always be here for you, just as you’ve always been there for me.

You mean the world to me, and I hope you always remember how loved and appreciated you are.

@papiliotao :

Rei,

Even though we haven’t talked as much lately, you’re still so dear to me, more than words can capture. I honestly think of you as a sister—you have this warm, calming aura that just makes me feel safe, like everything’s going to be okay. Knowing you’re out there, even if we’re not talking every day, brings me so much comfort.

You’re so kind, and I can never be thankful enough for everything you’ve given just by being you. Thank you for being such a light in my life. You mean the world to me, and I hope you know that.

@kazumist :

Aki,

It’s been so long since we last talked, but I still think about how kind, funny, and incredibly talented you are. You’re honestly one of the sweetest people I know, and every memory of talking with you brings such a smile to my face. You have this amazing way of lighting up conversations and making people feel genuinely good.

I really hope we get the chance to talk more sometime, if we can both find the time! It would be amazing to catch up, and I just know it’d be just as fun and heartwarming as always.

@yaminohimeyume :

Yume,

We haven’t had the chance to talk as much lately, but I just want you to know how much you mean to me. You are, without a doubt, one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met, and the kindness you’ve shown me is something I’ll always cherish. Even in the smallest interactions, you have this way of making me feel understood, valued, and supported, and I can’t express how deeply that touches me. I hope you realize just how special you are and how much I genuinely appreciate every little thing you’ve done.

Thank you for being such a wonderful presence in my life—a constant source of warmth and light. Your kindness and sweetness are rare and beautiful, and I’m beyond grateful to have had even a small part of it.

@nordicbananas :

Shroom,

Thank you, truly, for being there for me in every way that matters, for standing by my side and offering your support, from the very beginning. Your kindness and warmth have been such an incredible gift, something I genuinely cherish and hold close to my heart. You've always been a constant source of comfort and encouragement, bringing light into even the darkest days, and I can’t tell you how much that means to me.

I feel so incredibly lucky to have someone like you in my life—someone who’s as caring, genuine, and thoughtful as you are. You’re one of the sweetest, most understanding people I know, and the way you’ve shown up for me time and time again is something I’ll never take for granted. You have this amazing ability to lift me up just when I need it most, and your presence has been a true blessing that I don’t think I could ever thank you enough for.

Your friendship means more to me than words could ever capture. Thank you for being there, for every conversation, every laugh, every moment of support. Having you in my life has been one of the greatest gifts, and I’m so so grateful for all the ways you’ve shown me your kindness.

@lexisism :

Alexis,

I can’t put into words just how much your kindness and warmth have impacted me. You’re one of the most genuinely compassionate people I know, and knowing you has made my life so much richer. Whether in moments of joy or times of challenge, you've always been there with an open heart and a gentle strength, supporting me through everything with such kindness and care. There are so many ways you've helped and encouraged me, and I don’t know what I would have done without you.

You’re also incredibly talented—everything you create shines with your unique touch, and it’s a privilege to witness the brilliance you bring to the world. Each piece of yours is a reminder of your creativity, your dedication, and just how extraordinary you are.

Talking to you, spending time with you—it lifts me up and reminds me of the beauty in simple moments. I feel so incredibly grateful to have someone like you in my life. Thank you for being such a radiant presence, for always showing me what it means to be truly kind, and for making the world feel like a brighter, better place.

@milk-violet :

Mirei,

You are honestly the sweetest person ever, and I mean that from the bottom of my heart. Talking to you is like a burst of sunshine—it feels effortless and fun, like the world just gets a little brighter whenever you’re around. You have this beautiful, bubbly energy that’s so contagious, and being around you always lifts my spirits in ways I didn’t even know I needed.

Every conversation we have, no matter the topic, is something I genuinely look forward to. You make everything so much more enjoyable, and I love that we can talk about anything and everything without missing a beat. You bring such a joy and warmth into my life, and I feel so lucky to know someone as incredible as you.

Thank you for being you, for every smile you bring, and for being such a wonderful presence in my life. You’re an absolute gem, and I’m beyond grateful for you.

@floraldresvi :

Vivi,

I don’t think I can express just how much you’ve meant to me this year. You’ve been one of the main reasons I could keep going, and I’m beyond grateful for all the kindness and support you’ve shown me. You’ve been so sweet and understanding, never once judging me—only ever encouraging me, lifting me up, and being there through everything. I truly don’t know what I would have done without you by my side.

You’re so, so talented, and it’s incredible to watch you shine. Seeing the things you create, and the way you put your heart into everything you do, is such an inspiration. And somehow, even on my roughest days, you have this magical way of cheering me up like no one else can. Just hearing from you makes everything feel a little easier, a little brighter.

Thank you for being the incredible person you are, for believing in me, and for being a constant source of light. I’m so grateful for you, and I hope you know just how much you mean to me.

@strxnged :

June,

You are honestly one of the kindest and most talented people I know. Every time we talk, I’m reminded of just how much I cherish our conversations. Even though we haven’t been able to talk as much over the past year, each conversation with you feels special, like I’m talking to someone who genuinely understands and cares. I can’t tell you how much that means to me.

Your talent never fails to amaze me. The way you approach things with such passion and creativity is inspiring, and I feel so lucky to witness even a glimpse of it. You’re one of those rare people with a warmth and openness that makes it so easy to talk to you about anything, and every moment shared feels like a gift.

Thank you for being the incredible person you are. You bring so much kindness and beauty into the world, and I’m grateful for every chance I get to know you better.

@meimeimeirin :

Meirin,

I don’t think I can fully put into words just how much you mean to me. You are, without a doubt, one of the kindest souls I know. Your kindness is something rare, and it shines through in every interaction we have. Even though we haven’t been able to talk as often as I’d like lately, I think about you so often, and I just want you to know how much you’re appreciated.

You have this sweetness that makes talking to you feel like a breath of fresh air after a hard day, like a reminder that there are truly good people in the world. And your talent—it's something I’m constantly in awe of. Everything you create seems to have a piece of your warmth and beauty in it, and it’s such a joy to witness.

Thank you for being such a positive, comforting presence in my life, even when we’re not always in touch. You make a difference, and I’m super grateful for every bit of kindness you’ve shown me. Just knowing you’re out there makes the world feel a little brighter.

@camvrin :

Oliver,

Where do I even start? Talking to you is like stepping into a whirlwind—in the best possible way. You’re so wonderfully chaotic, and that’s exactly what makes every conversation with you so much fun. I never know where we’ll end up or what twists the conversation will take, but that’s what makes it feel so refreshing. You keep things lively, spontaneous, and full of laughs, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything.

You’re not only hilarious, but you’re also genuinely one of the kindest, sweetest people I know. You’ve always been there for me, supporting me in ways that mean more than I can put into words. Somehow, no matter what kind of day I’m having, you always know how to lift my spirits and put a smile on my face.

Talking to you feels like one of those rare, easy connections where I can be myself completely, knowing I’ll always have someone who gets it. I could talk to you for hours on end about anything and everything, and it would never get old. Thank you for being such an incredible friend. You’re truly one of a kind, and I’m so lucky to know you.

@mlkbwunnies :

Ying,

I can’t say it enough—you are truly kindness personified. From the moment we met, you’ve been nothing but incredibly sweet, thoughtful, and supportive. You have this gentle, genuine warmth that’s so rare, and just knowing someone as kind as you makes the world feel a little brighter.

You’ve been there for me in ways I’ll never forget. Whether I needed advice, a kind word, or just someone who would listen, you’ve always been right there, ready to help. It’s the kind of support that sticks with you, and I’m forever grateful for it. I honestly feel so lucky to know you and to have had your friendship in my life.

You deserve the absolute best in this world, because that’s exactly the kind of goodness you bring to others. Thank you for being you, for every act of kindness, and for the countless ways you’ve been there for me. You’re a treasure, and I’m so grateful for you.

@thestarswhisper :

Zee,

You are one of the most talented and sweetest people I know, and I’m so grateful to have you in my life. You’ve been with me for so long, through thick and thin, and knowing you’re there has been such a comfort this past two years. Even though we haven’t had the chance to talk in a while, I think about you often and appreciate you more than words can say.

Your talent is something I’m constantly in awe of. You have this incredible way of bringing so much beauty and meaning into everything you do, and it’s inspiring just to see the amazing things you create. Beyond that, you’re genuinely one of the kindest people I know, and that kindness is something I treasure deeply.

Thank you for sticking by me all this time, for being such a wonderful friend, and for all the ways you’ve supported me. I’m so lucky to know someone as remarkable as you.

@glacialheart :

Mika,

It feels like forever since we last got to chat, and I’ve missed seeing you around. I know life has been super busy for you lately, and I just hope you’re taking care of yourself and finding moments to breathe. You deserve all the rest and peace in the world, and I’m really hoping things ease up soon so you can take a break.

You’re genuinely one of the sweetest people I know, and I don’t think you realize just how talented you are. Your creativity and kindness leave such an impact, and everything you do seems to carry this beautiful spark that’s so uniquely you. Thank you for all the times you’ve been there for me and for being such a steady source of warmth and support.

I hope the days ahead bring you a fresh start and all the happiness you deserve, because you truly mean so much to me. Sending all my love, and know I’m always here if you need anything.

@strryskys :

Avery,

I just have to say how much joy you bring into my life. You are genuinely one of the funniest, most talented people I know, and every time I see you on my dash, it feels like a little boost to my day. There’s something about your humor that’s so effortless—you know exactly how to make me laugh, and it’s such a gift. It’s like you have this natural way of bringing lightness and fun wherever you go, and I’m always so grateful for it.

Not only are you incredibly funny, but you’re also so talented. Every time you share your work, I’m blown away by the skill and creativity you pour into it. You’re one of those rare people who seems to have this spark of inspiration and creativity that just can’t be contained, and it’s amazing to see. I feel lucky every time I get to witness even a piece of what you create.

And beyond all of that, you’re so sweet. You’ve always been so kind and supportive, and it means the world to me. Knowing I have someone as wonderful as you around makes everything feel just a little bit better. You’re a true gem and I hope you know how much you’re appreciated. Thank you for being you, for sharing your humor, your talent, and your kindness. I’m so glad I got to know you and be your friend.

@ruruumin :

Rurumi,

It’s been a while since we last talked, but I wanted to let you know how much you still mean to me. Even from the very beginning, you were nothing but kind and warm, and I can’t tell you how much that meant. I was in awe of you—not only because of your talent but also because of the genuine kindness you showed me right from the start. There’s something so rare and special about that, and it’s something I’ll always cherish.

Your work left such an impression on me; I still remember being completely captivated by your creativity and the incredible skill you put into everything you do. You have this unique talent that feels almost magical, like you’re able to bring your imagination to life in a way that’s truly inspiring. Every piece you create feels like a small masterpiece, and it’s clear that you pour so much of yourself into it. Being able to witness your talent is honestly an honor.

Thank you for being such a sweet and thoughtful friend, for your support, and for all the kindness you’ve shared with me. Even though we haven’t talked as much recently, you’re often in my thoughts, and I’m so grateful for the time we’ve shared. You’re truly one of a kind, and I hope you know just how amazing you are.

@oceanreveuse :

Anastasia,

It feels strange to put this into words, but I just need you to know how much you mean to me, even now. Even though it’s been a couple of months since we last spoke, I still think about you often, and I can’t help but miss you. I keep replaying our conversations in my mind, remembering how much brighter things felt with you around. It feels like there’s this empty space where you used to be, and it’s hard to ignore.

You’ve left such an impact on my life in ways I can’t fully explain. We may not have known each other for long, but somehow, in that short time, you managed to find a place in my heart, and I’m not sure that spot will ever really go away. You brought so much joy and comfort into my life, and I can’t thank you enough for that. I remember feeling truly happy for the first time in a long while, and that was because of you. Knowing someone like you exists gave me a reason to keep going, to hold on to the hope that there are people out there as wonderful as you.

I wish I could tell you all this in person, to let you know just how much I appreciate everything you did for me. I’m grateful beyond words for the time we shared, for the support you offered, and for the kindness you gave so freely. Even now, I find myself wanting to tell you about my day or share a small thought, hoping you’re doing well and finding your own happiness. You were someone who made life feel a little lighter, and I’ll always be thankful for that.

So, even if we don’t talk anymore, please know that you still hold a special place in my heart. You’re unforgettable, one of a kind, and I’ll always be grateful to have had you in my life, even if just for a while. Thank you for everything. I miss you, and I hope you find all the happiness you deserve.

@femivi :

Femi,

Even though we just met not even a week ago, I already feel so lucky to have crossed paths with someone as wonderful as you. From what I’ve seen so far, you’re incredibly sweet, and you have this amazing talent that completely blows me away. It’s rare to meet someone who can leave such an impression in such a short amount of time, but somehow, you’ve managed to do exactly that.

I’m genuinely looking forward to getting to know you better. I can already tell there’s so much more to discover and appreciate about you, and I hope this year gives us plenty of chances to connect, share laughs, and build some great memories. Here’s to what feels like the beginning of something really special—I can’t wait to see where our friendship goes!

— Here's to new beginnings, friends.

[wtfdemother]

Slasher AU Voorhees!König yummy, hockey masks. NSFW below, happy Kinkvember day 12 ☃️🤝

post dividers by tsunami-of-tears

CW: Outdoor sex, creampie, he chases you around camp. Established relationship.

Voorhees!König X CampCook!Reader

Voorhees!König who was in a peculiar mood that morning. Hell, the sun wasn’t even up yet and he was getting hungry. For food? Definitely, breakfast was on the list of things to do, among other things… namely you.

Voorhees!König who lazily laid at your side, waiting patiently for you to finally stir so he could kiss you. He waited, and waited, peering down at your peaceful expression as the first chirp of the morning song birds sounded outside your window. Warm sun rays bask the wood of the cabin in its gentle glow, you open your eyes. “G’morning…” a groggy smile tugs at your lips.

Voorhees!König who wastes no time reuniting his scarred lips to yours, how he loves the feel of them. Reverently he presses his forehead over yours and closes his eyes, taking a moment to inhale a deep breath in and appreciate what he’s got, of who he has. To be thankful of the face he gets to wake up beside to every morning. You. Sweet, beautiful you.

Voorhees!König who follows you around camp as you make your first rounds, knowing the place like the back of his hand plus your faithful routine. He uses this to his advantage later on in the day, where the sun isn’t as far up in the sky anymore and that it got a lot darker outside. You spook easy, and that greatly amuses him. He thought he’d have himself a bit of fun, already up to no good as he stalked the forest grounds, mindful for his size of the assortment of dead leaves scattered across the earth. Not making a peep.

Voorhees!König who looms over in the corner of your eye, Camp Crystal Lake was beautiful… when the sun was out to shed light on every nook and cranny. Not so much beauty anymore as it was terrifying now that the wilderness was shrouded in darkness. Still, something eerily drew you to that tall, dark figure who somehow gave the impression of dwarfing the tree beside him with only the width of his shoulders. “König?” You tentatively call out, hesitant to take a step forwards or back.

Voorhees!König who you couldn’t see clearly even in the dim, white light the moon offered. Something cold rushed down your spine like someone doused you in ice water. When the figure remained still you bolted, dread telling you to run. You were right, the person gave chase moments later. You speed through the cedars, left right left, dodging narrow paths and jumping over deeply embedded tree roots in the soil. You think you’re being clever changing directions, but no sooner did you hear the thundering steps of the man coming from behind you.

Voorhees!König who is hot on your trail, adrenaline burning in his veins as heavy footsteps boom through the forest. Your lungs burn, inhaling greedy gulps of air with every hastened breath. Your vision blurs and your ears ring loud enough to block out any sound. When your legs threaten to buckle underneath you, he catches you, sending both your bodies rolling down a pile of dead leaves, scattering them above in the crisp atmosphere.

Voorhees!König whom you can feel silently laughing to himself as he holds you close, mirth tinting a pair of baby blues behind that stupid hockey mask. Your nose turns sour from the smell of embarrassment, you scowl. “I hate you so much for that. Asshole.” You try to shove him but he doesn’t care, doesn’t even budge from his place. He cradles you on the forest floor, it’s not as cold and hard in his arms. He doesn’t let the adrenaline die down, tugging at his cargo pants until they sit snug at his hips. He lifts his mask up enough just to kiss you, roughly palming an asscheek as he swallows all complaints. “You didn’t have to scare me…” you mumbled against his kiss.

Voorhees!König who gives you one last sheepish grunt before sinking himself deep into your warmth, just wanting to fuck you nasty. His hips snap forward, stuttering to find a good rhythm, his mind too far gone to think about aesthetics now. He just wanted to fuck you raw, right now and here where you could be as loud as need be. His balls hung heavy with unexpressed semen, peering down at your caged form through the haziness, pupils blown and unfocused with want and desire swirled into one dangerous cocktail.

Vorhees!König who shamelessly groans into your ear, hoisting your hips up in the air as he grabs a hold of the ample flesh of your backside, hearing the wet, echoing sounds of flesh slapping with every given thrust. He just wants to be lost in you, consume you whole and let be consumed by the one he adores most entirely. He’s lost in the feeling, you coat him so generously in the sheen of your own arousal, he can’t help but to pepper your flushed, cherub cheeks in kisses as a silent praise. He grunts approvingly, wishing he could say you were taking him so well, instead he smooths the hairs back from your forehead.

Vorhees!König who can feel his cock twitch inside you, rubbing his face against your cheek in a wordless apology that he cannot last much longer. Your pussy spasms around his shaft before he could reach and it makes for his release all the stronger. You cry out his name in broken syllables, drawling out the letters until they intermingle with your moans. He bites down on your shoulder, hard, tears pour from the corners of your eyes as they roll to the back of your skull. A shared, searing warmth washes over you both as you come undone. König spills himself deep, hips slowing down their pace to a slamming halt, his tip probing at your cervix as it pulses ropes of his essence into your welcoming cunt.

Vorhees!König who lays with you until you both catch your breath, making no visible attempt to pull out, at least not anytime soon. He lays there with you on the cold, hard dirt, taking in the variety of smells of his surroundings. The fresh scent of damp soil contrasted with the heavy musk of sex in the air, he’s never felt so at peace with all this energy spent.

Vorhees!König who carries you back to the cabin like the gentleman he is, drawing you a nice warm bath before sinking in himself, nuzzling into your shoulder from behind. And before you crawl into bed that night, he kisses you on the crown of your head, only pulling away enough to sign, ‘I love you’.

Lucky him who gets to wake up to breakfast in the morning. He deserves it anyway.

[chimindity]

Seasonal blues

summary | John b's daughter going through the seasonal blues. request by @/anon

pairing | John B & daughter!reader

warning | reader going through a depressive episode

A/N | john b icons from @marvelfanfics1 ; i apologize for the lack of fics these past few days 🫶🏻

‿︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵‿︵

you always hate when summer ends. the cold weather begins to creep in november, and you stay curled in your blanket, watching the drops of rain sliding on your windows. you get pulled out of your thoughts when you hear a knock on your door, followed by your name being called out -"sweetheart?" your dad waits before opening your door, revealing your sleepy, sad figure wrapped in a blanket.

you hum, not bothering to lift your head above the blanket, causing a sigh to escape his mouth. then he sits at the edge of your bed. -"you can't stay in bed all the time." you shrug your shoulder, turning to the other side to face away from your dad. -"what's going on? talk to dad." he lightly pats your blanket, waiting for any reaction.

you sniffle before slowly peeking your head above the blanket. -"i don't know, i just feel sad for no reason. the weather is shitty; it makes me so bored," you mumble, looking up at him. he purses his lips, somehow feeling empathy towards your feelings. -"honey, hey—it's okay to have those days. and even if the weather is not enjoyable, we can still have fun," he cheers you up, running his hand through your hair, hoping it would make you smile.

you rumble as you shrug your shoulders, not fully agreeing with his answer. your dad sighs at you, expecting to watch a smile creeping onto your face. you tilt your head in confusion when he pulls the blanket over. you didn't have time to complain about that before he quickly lays down on your bed. -"how about we just lay in bed and watch some movies?" he smiles at you not being able to hide that glint of a smile showing up on your face.

he reaches behind you to grab the remote tv off your nightstand. -"so, what does my girl want to watch?" he looks at you, ruffling your hair as he flicks through channels. you couldn't help but let out a giggle at your dad, knowing he doesn't like seeing you sad. -" i don't know, maybe a summer movie," you shrug your shoulders as you respond to him.

he pulls you closer to him by your shoulders. -"'next year, i promise you we will spend the whole summer at the beach." he gives you a light smile as he chooses one of your favorite series, H2O. You snuggle further into him and already get engrossed in the episode. -"thank you, dad," you mumble, wrapping your arms around his middle.

Taglist

@mirellef2001 ; @flora-eva ; @jjsfavgirl ; @nemesyaaa ; @mrvlxgrl ; @marvelfanfics1 ; @jjmaybankssurfergf ; @mylettterstoyou ; @sweetstars-posts ; @hallecarey1

[blackenedsnow]

Trans reader x Beej? 🙏 I love reading your work, btw! 😊

ghost light

WARNING: None

PAIRING: Beetlejuice x Transgender! Reader

NOTE: Hey!! Thank you so much, this one’s got a big chunk of heart <3 I actually got some help from a trans friend to make this as real as possible. I love hearing from you all, so don’t hesitate to send more asks or thoughts <3

SUMMARY: It’s a weird thing being with Beetlejuice, but it’s also the most fun you've ever had. He makes you feel like yourself in a way no one else does – loud, strange, and totally alive.

There’s something about Beetlejuice that just feels right, in the loudest, strangest way possible. Even on the bad days, when you don’t quite feel like you fit into your own skin, he’s there with that wild grin and endless antics, making you feel like you could belong somewhere. It’s not that he really gets it – you're not even sure he really understands half of what you tell him about yourself, your past, the weirdness of figuring out who you are. But he listens, sort of, as best as Beetlejuice can.

“Wait, you mean to tell me you got a whole… thing with your body?” he says, scratching his scraggly chin with this exaggerated look on his face, like he’s really thinking hard about it. “That’s gotta be a real trip. Personally, I think you’re lucky – I don’t even have skin problems. Or organs. Or haircare needs!"

You laugh because that’s the thing with him. He has this gift of making everything feel like one big, surreal joke – but not in a dismissive way. It’s like he’s lifting the weight right off your shoulders, letting you laugh at yourself in the best possible way.

“Don’t you ever get tired of being you?” You ask, half-joking, half-curious.

He looks at you with these glowing eyes, brows wiggling in a way that’s simultaneously ridiculous and, well, somehow...charming. “Oh, honey, being me is the best gig in the Underworld! And you? You’re pretty good at being you, too, y’know?”

You roll your eyes, feeling that warmth bloom in your chest, the way he can just make everything feel like it’s already okay. And even though his teeth are gross and he’s grinning a little too wide, you believe him.

It’s like he understands the parts of you - you sometimes try to hide – the doubts, the days where you wonder if anyone will really see you the way you are. But with Beetlejuice, you feel seen in a way you never have before, like your weirdness fits perfectly with his own.

“You think I’m good at it?” You say, trying to keep your tone casual. “What’s my thing then? Just…being, I dunno, strange?”

He throws his hands up, a look of mock offense on his face. “Strange? You’re one-of-a-kind, babe. An original! If there was a pageant, I’d parade ya around like a prize! You’re the whole package!”

It’s over-the-top, ridiculous even. But it makes you laugh.

It’s not all fun and games, though. Sometimes, when you're alone, he’ll look at you in this quiet way, without the show or the wild grin. It’s rare, but it’s there – like he really, actually cares. And maybe that’s why you stick around. You think, in his own odd way, he sees you, all of you, even the messy, uncertain parts. And he loves you for it.

One night, you're lying on the creaky old bed in his little corner of the Netherworld, and he’s uncharacteristically quiet. You're lying there beside him, feeling his gaze on you, intense and curious, like he’s trying to figure something out.

“So, what’s the deal with you wanting to change so much?” he asks, in this genuinely curious way, like it’s just a passing thought. Beetlejuice is hundreds of years old, you have to explain a lot to him. “I mean, you’re pretty great as you are, kid. And trust me, I’ve been around long enough to know greatness when I see it.”

You smile, looking down at your hands, feeling a little of that doubt creeping back in. “It’s…complicated. Sometimes, I just don’t feel right in my own skin, like it doesn’t really match, y’know?”

He nods, though you're not sure he fully understands. But it’s the fact that he wants to that makes it matter.

“Look,” he says, leaning over so close that you can see the glint in his eyes, “whatever skin you’re in, I think it’s damn near perfect. Got it?” He grins, flashing those nasty teeth again, but there’s a warmth to it that makes your chest ache.

He pulls you close, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, you let yourself relax into his embrace. You let yourself believe him – even if just for a moment – because in this strange corner of the world, you're exactly who you need to be.