#WHAT REALLY HAPPENED THAT NIGHT? / answered.

[magniloquent-raven]

"Oh, good, you are alive." Eddie says as soon as Tommy opens his front door. He pushes his way into the house without waiting for a response, and leaves Tommy blinking at empty space.

"...Sure, come on in," he mutters.

"Would it kill you to answer your phone some time?" Eddie's standing in the living room, hands on his hips, looking at Tommy like he's expecting something.

And Tommy's still lingering in his own doorway, suddenly very aware of how ripe his PJs have gotten. "It's my day off." It's a lame excuse and he knows it. He turns away to shut the door so he won't have to look Eddie in the eye.

"It's been, like, three weeks, man."

Tommy sighs quietly. "Yeah, look, it's just..."

"Is this the part where you tell me you both love me equally and it isn't my fault mommy and daddy are getting divorced." He's being flippant, but there's anger there. Tension in his voice. Tommy's not sure if it's on his own behalf or Evan's. Either would be fair, probably.

No. No, it isn't. It's not fair. He doesn't get to storm in here and judge Tommy's life choices. It's not like he's happy with himself about this, he didn't want to break things off. It just. Didn't work out.

"We don't, Eddie."

"What?"

Tommy folds his arms across his chest. "Love you equally. He needs you more than I do."

"What happened to me being allowed to have more than one friend?"

You know what happened, Tommy wants to snap, wants to be the kind of person who gets so angry he breaks, bleeds the tension out. He wants to untangle the knot that's been tightening in his chest for weeks.

Instead he hunches his shoulders. "Nothing, you have plenty of friends. A whole station of them." Tommy bites the inside of his lip so hard he tastes iron, and his eyes fall shut for a moment while he collects himself. "I was trying to make things easier for you."

Eddie narrows his eyes. "Yeah, nothing easier than getting ghosted. In fact, I love it when people I care about suddenly stop talking to me."

"You know what I meant. You have to take his side."

"Oh, I am. Breaking up with him like that was stupid, and he's really hurt."

Tommy barely contains his wince.

"But you were my friend before you were his boyfriend." Eddie's expression shifts, not quite softening. "I'm not here to defend Buck's honour, I'm here because my friend isn't making good choices and I'm worried about him."

He cried that night three weeks ago. Held off until he'd made it home and then bawled like a child, curled up in the dark and not bothering to wipe the snot from his nose. He hasn't cried since. Not when he found one of Evan's sweaters shoved between the cushions on his couch. Not when a date night reminder he forgot to delete from his phone dinged three days ago. Every time he wakes up to nothing but empty lock-screen he feels a little more hollow thinking about all the texts he used to get in the middle of the night.

But he hasn't been crying about it. Until now.

He's not sure what it is exactly. Something about Eddie refusing to let Tommy stonewall him. Something about all the things he's gone through alone never mattering to anyone. Not enough to warrant more than courtesy comfort.

"Woah, hey, was it something I said?"

Tommy shakes his head, and wipes his cheek with the heel of his hand. "It's been a weird few weeks."

It has, is the thing. He used to be good at being alone. But six months of borrowed time was enough for him to be in a lot deeper than he thought. He doesn't just miss Evan he misses being invited to his family dinners, and hearing about life with the 118.

"How 'bout I drink your beer while you tell me about it."

"...Okay."

[niceutossu]

Serious | Oikawa x Reader

Oikawa doesn’t want to get married until you get hurt and he can’t see you. “Family only,” the nurse tells him coldly. And he tries his best to charm his way through, joking about how you two were even closer than family but the worker doesn’t budge.

“Only blood relatives?” He asks, despite knowing the answer himself.

“Or spouse.” The woman replied, avoiding eye contact as she scribbled down important information and continued ignoring his existence.

“I’m practically-“ Before he could finish, he stopped at the sight of her hand raising.

“Are you legally married?” She interjected, clearly having gone through this conversation dozens of times before. Oikawa couldn’t even blame her for the annoyance, as much as he couldn’t blame himself for trying.

“No.” He says dejectedly, shoulders falling with a deep sigh.

“Then please just wait until actual family gets here.” She states, motioning towards the waiting room as he did his best not to scowl.

Instead, he offered her a forced but friendly smile, retreating towards the uncomfortable hospital chairs. As he sat down the plastic squeaked: loud and jarring, and he grimaced. There was no point in arguing but it didn’t ease the nervousness crawling under his skin. How long had you been here? How long before he could see you? He began tapping his foot restlessly, only serving to amplify the ache in his chest.

You two were family, practically at least. You both lived together. You shared meals, inside jokes, and the kind of silence that only happens between people who really get each other. He knew how you liked your tea, the temperature you liked to have bath drawn to. Was that not family-like?

He clenched his hands, feeling his fingernails dig into his palms as memories started to surface, further sharpening the ache. He’d never bothered to bring up marriage, and you never asked. You both knew—knew what being a pro-athlete entailed. Time off spent planning was time he lost playing. He thought he had made it clear he was still yours and you were his. But now, as he sits helplessly outside your hospital room, he regrets never saying anything.

If you were really his he’d be able to see you, and if he was really yours then he’d be willing to settle down and take things seriously. He feels himself cringe as he remembers similar words Iwaizumi had spoken to him the night you two had first met.

After introductions and hours of chatting, the three of you finally settled into a comfortable rhythm. You and Iwaizumi were a surprise match—though Oikawa teased that it shouldn’t be that surprising given that he had good taste, earning him a synchronized glare from the two of you.

He he felt his heart flip in his chest—he really did have good taste (and maybe a type). Later, during a moment of quiet, Oikawa excused himself to the bathroom. When he returned, he found the two of you sitting in a mutual silence.

“Hey I was gone for just a second now, what happened to all the good times?” He joked, his signature smirk only lasting a moment before being startled by the sound of the restaurant staff singing happy birthday behind him.

Turning around, he watched as they brought out a small cake with candles. His name written out in chocolate syrup and topped off with powdered sugar in the shape of his jersey number.

“I told her you weren’t worth it but she insisted.” Iwaizumi deadpanned, but the softness in his eyes betrayed him. Oikawa felt a lump form in his throat at the sight of your warm smile. The glow from the candles were nothing compared to the light in your eyes when you looked at him.

“Happy birthday Tooru.” You spoke gently, contrasting the loud cheers behind him. He felt a weird weakness wash over him, one that scared him more than the surprise singing.

You’d already celebrated with him that morning—and afternoon. He’d never thought you’d extend it to dinner. He was known to be a dramatic guy, extravagant even, but being celebrated for those things felt foreign.

Later, as you took a call nearby and he and Iwaizumi argued over the bill, his friend placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” Iwaizumi asked, his voice softer than usual, “you’re serious about this, right?” He didn’t need to specify; his question hung in the air, pressing gently but firmly on Oikawa’s usual bravado.

Caught off guard, Oikawa searched for a lighthearted response, but Iwaizumi’s hand didn’t move. He hesitated, then admitted quietly, “I’ve never been celebrated like this before.” He felt small under the weight of his best friend’s discerning gaze.

In all his previous relationships, he had failed to feel true intimacy, always keeping partners at an arms-length. He thought your relationship would be no different, that it’d still be on his terms albeit a bit toxic.

Except it was not like that at all.

You were like a whirlwind in his life, at first catching him off guard but now helping him build solid foundations. Between the two of you, he was definitely more needy. In the past, he would’ve said it was the other way around but you had your own undeniable magnetism. Anyone with eyes would be sure to see it too, and see right through him at the same time.

The feminine niceties he thought he had grown accustomed to had him giddy and unable to keep his hands off you. Everything you did had his heart racing and for the first time in his life, he was nervous to lose someone.

His suave streak had been brutally ended by your presence alone, having made him feel like he was worth loving again and again without even knowing. His own sweet and cheeky angel.

“If it feels good, then take it seriously.” Iwaizumi replied, his words simple but earnest. Before Oikawa could respond, you returned, bringing back your carefree nature he always craved, the same one he was starting to feel like he didn’t deserve.

Despite it being his birthday, despite feeling a certain question rise behind the heaviness in his throat after his exchange with Iwaizumi, he stayed quiet. He could’ve at least made a joke about it then, but he didn’t.

He’d told himself he was taking it, you, seriously—that you would understand without him saying it out loud. You knew him and he knew you, was that not enough? Maybe not to Iwaizumi, who also knew him maybe a bit better than he knew himself sometimes. The thought of losing you the same way he’d lost others left a knot in his stomach.

He had tried to ignore this truth: that you meant something more—not just to him, but to the people he loved. Yet every now and then, there would be reminders of just how deeply you’d embedded yourself into his life.

He started to reminisce on how he’d found out how you kept visiting his nephew after he’d left for Argentina. He’d received a photo out of the blue: you and Takeru, cheek-to-cheek, grinning at the zoo. His younger self would’ve called it impossible—Takeru, in a picture? Smiling? But there it was.

He quickly replied back with a like to the photo and a teasing message along the lines of ‘huh why what’. He’d barely hit send before you replied with another picture. This time it was of you and his older sister pressed cheek to cheek, her eyes shining with the same warmth he felt every time he looked at you.

“Sponsored trip by my favorite Oikawa <3,” you’d written.

As much as he wanted to text back a cheeky remark he felt himself falter, too focused on the way his sisters eyes shined with the same affection he felt for you. It made him feel a little funny, a little weak. The same way he felt when Iwaizumi prodded him. This was family and something else he couldn’t name quite yet.

Without even thinking he called you, needing to hear your voice and feel like he was there with you (and, of course, remind you that he’s your favorite). He’d kept his tone light, playful. But there’d been a weight in his chest, the same question hovering unasked. He knew you could tell in the way you asked him things, lingered onto his replies as if to find some deeper meaning.

Again, he could have asked. He could have made you family in name as well as in his heart, so many times. Except now, that same question haunted him, and he wasn’t sure he even deserved to ask anymore.

He shook his head as if to rid himself of any more good memories, not allowing himself to relish in you with all the regret that gnawed at him. He was so good at not biting his tongue except when it came to things that mattered. Because nothing was serious to Oikawa until it was, for better or for worse.

And he didn’t know exactly when you had become serious to him, but you had. He felt a tremor pass through him at the thought of seeing you look anything less than alive. Or not being able to make you laugh when you come home sullen anymore.

He moved around restlessly at that thought of not seeing you again. It felt wrong—horribly wrong. He took in a deep breath to calm his ragged nerves. He would see you again, even if it meant seeing you at your worst.

You had seen him at his most selfish and prideful and yet, you still reached out to him, unafraid. He wanted, no, needed to show you that he loved every single part of you the same, no matter how overwhelming because no one could be as much as he is sometimes.

All the relationships he had in high school, college, and the flings in-between had felt so stifling. The thought of making a legal commitment had always made Oikawa’s skin crawl. Except now, sitting under the sterile white lights and thinking of just how much you meant to him feels even more suffocating. You weren’t a high school girl or a fling, you were you.

And then the realization hits him hard: maybe he does wants all of it, as long as it’s with you—the highs, the lows, the commitment he once ran from. For there to never be any more regrets, to love and to cherish, all of it as long as it was with you.

But what if he was too late again?

“Tooru?” The soft sound of your voice pulls him from his spiraling thoughts. His head snaps up, eyes wide as he sees you standing there, in a hospital gown, looking a bit pale but alive. Your face is a little worn, eyes sunken in but you’re still here. You’re still you. Relief floods him, so overwhelming he barely notices the way the creak of the plastic chair as he rises, taking long and purposeful strides towards you.

If it feels good then take it seriously.

He stands in front of you for a moment, not knowing where to place his hands as familiar words gather in his throat the way they had so many times before. Except he doesn’t let himself hold back—not this time. He’d held onto these words for too long, out of fear or pride, whatever it was, it didn’t matter now.

Everything is clear as he sinks down on one knee, eyes locked on yours as he finally gives in to what he’s always wanted: you.

[bbydoll18xx]

I Try to Refrain (But You’re Stuck in my Brain)

You have a dream about Paige, and it leads to some shocking revelations.

Paige Bueckers x Reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.2k

Themes: loneliness, reader realizes she's in love with her best friend, paige is a flirt (what's new?)

A/N: hi guys. sorry it's been a hot min. This election has made me miserable and my grandpa just died today so I wrote this to distract myself lol. I wanted to write something that wasn't fluff before coming out with a new part to I've Got a Wand and a Rabbit, so hopefully this will suffice. Please don't let this flop

Also Is There Somewhere is one of most favorite songs of all time you all should check it out if you've never heard it !!

Please enjoy:)

~

There was simply no denying that being a college student was pretty fucking exhausting. Between your on-campus casual job, the extensive list of assignments you had racked up, and the overwhelming need to still have a social life, the circles under your eyes had become much more pronounced in the last few weeks. 

You needed your beauty sleep, or else you’d be well on your way to looking like Shrek by the end of the semester. And because you had been on the hunt to end your single streak, looking like Shrek would be the worst thing to happen. 

You giggle to yourself, the sleep deprivation clearly making you delirious. Checking your watch, you see that you had in fact been up for a whopping 28 hours. It was time for a seriously good nap. You throw your backpack onto the floor of your bedroom, tugging your sweatshirt off of you and flopping down onto your bed. The plushness engulfs you in warmth and comfort, lulling you into a deep, calming sleep, that you so desperately needed.

Or so you thought.

~

You wake up panting. The air around you is suffocatingly hot, and you can feel the sheets twisted uncomfortably around your legs, trapping you in the warmth. Your heart is pounding against your chest, and you slide your hand across your sternum in a futile effort to soothe yourself. 

The dream was quickly fading, and you squeeze your eyes in deep concentration, desperate to hold on to the remnants of it before they fled from your racing thoughts. 

It was hazy. But the pounding of your chest and the fluttering that accompanied made you feel like you were missing a key detail. It was right on the tip of your tongue, inching further and further away the more you search for the answers. 

You were in bed with another person. They were warm, and their laugh was enough to make you want to get down on one knee right then and there. You were cuddled up with them, the feeling of peace washing over you.

It has been a long time since you felt peace, and as you search for more clues to unearth your future love of your life, the wistfulness settles deep inside you. It mocks you, whispering into your ear that you’d never feel so lucky to be at peace with someone. 

The last of the dream fades, and you groan, throwing your arm over your face and vowing to prove your meanest, most vile inner voices wrong. 

Because, goddamn it, you did deserve to be loved. And maybe, just maybe, it would happen for you. 

~

You go to bed that night with a fierce determination to coax your brain into revealing more, and as you settle into bed, you pop two benadryl tablets. 

‘This’ll give me some good dreams,’ you think slyly, before shutting your eyes and waiting for the next clue, sleep quickly overcoming your thoughts.

You sleep soundly, waking the next morning with a crick in your neck and long, blonde hair on your brain. 

“Holy fuck,” you whisper, your dream still playing again in your muddled brain. “It’s a girl," you say incredulously.

"Or maybe an Australian surfer dude," you say sarcastically out loud to yourself.

"God, I'm losing it," you mumble, rubbing a hand over your sleepy eyes.

Her face was blank, deluding you of figuring out who it really was, but the familiar, tinkling laughter was playing on a loop. It was making you crazy. 

Your thoughts drift back to being tangled up with lean limbs, the soft hair flowing over slim, strong shoulders and down the girl’s bare back. You recall how you had traced a line down the line of her spine, goosebumps erupting in the wake of your touch. 

She was strong and delicate, a dichotomy of perfection that had your thighs clenching in want and your heart clenching in need.

You sigh. It felt almost real, and now it was being ripped from you every time you woke up. It felt unnecessarily cruel, and tears prick your eyes as reality sets in. You were escaping to a fantasy world in your dreams to avoid the crushing forlornness that was settling deep into your bones. 

Loneliness was certainly the muse, it seemed. 

~

You meet up with your friends later that night, searching for a distraction from the blonde hair that was currently haunting every waking moment. As you cross campus to head to Aubrey’s apartment, you scold yourself as each blonde who passes you makes you glance hopefully in their direction. 

There had to be something to jog your memory, unclouding the face you wanted nothing more to recognize. But each face elicited a disappointed pang in your stomach that spread an uncomfortable coldness through the rest of your body. 

You shake your head as you approach Aubrey’s door, trying to rid yourself of the disheartened aura you were currently giving off. 

You and Aubrey had become friends two years ago, and by extension, the rest of her team and her girlfriend had accepted you with open arms. You were looking forward to Caroline and Azzi’s wisdom and kind smiles. And KK and Ice’s laughter would certainly be a great distraction. 

Your mind gently drifts towards Paige before the door swings open with a large bang, and a loud, joyous cry erupts from the group of girls in the apartment. 

You wave at them, cheeks turning pink from the attention. You scan the room, letting your brain secretly look for Paige, just to check to see if it would trigger the flashes of your dream. 

You move towards the kitchen, joining into a heated discussion KK and Jana were having about Legos, eyes still darting around curiously.

“I’m obviously the best and fastest builder,” KK boasts, sticking her tongue out childishly at her teammate, and you giggle, taking a sip of your drink as Jana voraciously defends herself and her Lego-building abilities.

It was almost subconscious. You step back, as if you were being pulled against your will, and you hit a wall of warmth and muscle. Your heart lurches as your mind registers what was happening. 

“Damn, ma. I gotchu, don’t worry,” Paige mumbles in your ear, chuckling as you turn into a bumbling mess in her firm grasp. 

“Oh, god. I’m sorry, P,” you whisper, not trusting your full voice. You steady yourself, proud that you at least did not spill your drink. 

Her hand slides down your side to rest heavily on your waist, and her touch ignites a fire in your belly. Your breath hitches as you look up at her. Her hair is down for once, flowing across her shoulders, and your head spins as she laughs again. 

You knew that laugh.

“Never gonna complain about having to rescue a pretty girl,” she flirts, and you turn your head, not wanting her to see the way her words sent your face up in a blaze of heat. The realization hits you like a crashing wave.

Your dream was about Paige fucking Bueckers.

Your friend, Paige Bueckers. 

You were so goddamn fucked.

Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. 

~

What'd we think?? Please let me know. I might do another part if you guys are up for it.

Thanks so much for reading. I'm hoping I will be writing more frequently from now on

xoxo katy

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[gguk-n]

Chapter 3- Caught in the Act

A+ in Pretend Love (Lando Norris x Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- If you asked Zak Brown, he would advice never to store confidential contracts on the cloud. If you asked Lando, he would tell you to not fall in love with your fake fiance. If you asked Y/N, she would tell you to never date a famous person even if it's not real.

While Lando was being coached by his best friend to confess his love to his fake fiance; Zak's cloud was being hacked in hopes of finding some dirt on McLaren or their CEO ad black mail but they didn't expect to hit the jackpot. Their contract was valid for 3-4 more months and the plan was to slowly ease Y/N out of Lando's life and say that things didn't work out because of their busy schedule.

What no one anticipated was they would wake up on Saturday morning to both their face plastered all over the news with the contract they had signed. The media was calling them all sorts of things from trying to fool them to trying to fool an entire country. There were people who had tracked her down and were not waiting outside Y/N's house in hopes of talking to her or at her work. She had to take leave from work since her professors were speaking ill of her. She couldn't imagine having to go back for her PHD programme. The worst were the fans; the name calling, the hate; it was all directed towards her as if McLaren were saint's in all of this. Lando also bore the brunt of a major chunk of the hate.

Zak just texted them telling them not to talk to anyone and to stay hidden till it all died out. Y/N wouldn't even talk to Lando at this point because she was so angry and hurt and didn't want to direct her anger towards him when it wasn't even his fault. She was sat bawling her eyes out at all the mean things the people were saying about her. It made her life extremely difficult, something she hadn't imagined happening.

Lando was a mess; McLaren told the media that Lando wouldn't be answering any question other than the race and if they asked any personal questions, he just walked away; adding fuel to the fire. The drivers were also gossiping among themselves. "No wonder she suddenly showed up. It was all a rouse" George whispered. "I mean I get why McLaren would do that, with Lando's antics" Alex reasoned. But as soon as they would spot Lando, they would stop whispering. "If you guys are gonna talk about my relationship" he said in animated quotation marks, "do it in front of me. I'll answer all your questions" he huffed and walked away, clearly hurt by his friends. Racing while it felt like his world was falling apart was proving to be very difficult. All his calls and messages to Y/N would fall on deaf ears and it was messing with him even more. He just needed to know that she was okay. He didn't give a rat's ass about how he was.

"Lando, I think, soon the media will get something else to talk about. You should just focus on your racing" Zak reasoned with Lando who wanted to put out a statement saying it was all their idea. "None of this would've happened had you not saved the damn contract on your cloud" Lando sighed angrily. "I don't understand how could you let something like that happen" he shouted walking away. The environment in the McLaren garage was tense to say the least.

Lando had hoped that things would quite down by now. The original timeline for his contract was also up but there was no shutting up about the fake relationship. Lando won his maiden win and yet the only thing they could talk about was Y/N. Part of Lando missed her, he had really hope to be able to share this moment with her. When he got out of the car, a big part of him wished she was there so he could run to her, hold her and maybe celebrate this win with her.

So, later that night, he did call her and she answered, her voice hoarse. "Congratulations Lando" she crocked. "Were you crying?" Lando asked worried. "Yeah, I'm just so happy you won" she said clearing her throat. Lando found himself smiling for the first time in a long time. "How have you been?" he asked her softly. "Same old same old. I thought things would quite down by now but they haven't." Y/N mumbled. "I'm sorry" Lando apologised. "It's a good thing I'm busy with research for my PHD. I have no clue how I would deal with people in my class" she sighed. "I'm so sorry Y/N. It's all my fault" Lando began before Y/N cut him off. "It's no one's fault. Things like this happen. I'm just glad they didn't rebuke my visa for this" she laughed trying to lighten the mood. 'I miss you' was stuck in both their throats as they continued to talk for a couple more minutes. "I think we should cut the call" Y/N suggested. "Oh" Lando replied. "I think it would be easier for the both of us if we stopped contacting each other. It was a hassle explaining the whole thing to my parents and my relatives. I just don't have it in me honestly" Y/N breathed out shakily. "I'll fix this" Lando tried to reason. "Don't Lando. I think this was it for us. I wish you the best. Take care" Y/N said it like it was their last time talking. "Please" Lando begged but Y/N cut the call; "But I love you" Lando whispered into his phone.

As the time went on and as the championship picked up, Lando's heart was in unrest. He felt like he had wronged the person who he loved and he couldn't live knowing that. So, he decided to sit down one day and film a video. He had seen the stuff people were saying about him and Y/N and he felt like it had been months; people should've moved on by now but if they couldn't he would make sure that they wouldn't be able to say shit about Y/N anymore.

The video began with Lando in his Monaco apartment; "Hi guys. Lando here" he began. He took a deep breath before speaking; "I would like to address my whole relationship with Y/N in his video. Part of me had hoped that it wouldn't come to his but here we are. Y/N and I did begin this relationship in a contract but it was the team's and my decision to do so. She was just a random person we ran into who ended up helping us. So, the whole gold digger narrative you all are spinning is a load of bull. I know I shouldn't've done that but I had no other option to clear up my image because that's what the team and sponsors wanted. Part of me had hoped that after the championship had started picking up steam you guys would have something better to talk about but hating on us for the decisions we made is too much. If you would like to hate on me or send me a ton of hate, be my guest but please leave Y/N out of this. She is innocent and doesn't deserve this. I would appreciate it if you would stop sending hate to the woman I actually loved. And to Y/N, if you're even watching, had we met in a different situation, I would've actually married you since I really do love you" Lando finished the video and after he was happy with it he uploaded it to his channel. He knew his PR team would give him shit but he didn't give a fuck. He just wanted Y/N to be safe.

The internet was in an uproar after Lando's public declaration of love. Some were calling it cliche and the others were swooning over Lando for taking a stand. People weren't very happy with McLaren and how they had handled the whole situation. Lando was being bombarded by calls from McLaren and they were angry at him for what he did. "Lando are you crazy? The sponsors won't stop calling. Why would you say that?" Zak shouted. "Because lying was what got us here. So, I cleared the air" Lando stated. "You are unbelievable and so difficult. I don't know why I tried so hard to keep you" Zak mumbled which Lando heard and it stung.

Y/N was on vacation with Becky who had taken her away since all she did was stay coup-ed up at home since the whole incident. Y/N woke up to a text from her mum; 'you'll want to see this. It's Lando' it read. Y/N quickly loaded the video and before she knew it, she was crying. She couldn't believe that Lando loved her. The craziest part of the video was the love confession honestly. She quickly called him and a groggy voice answered. "Y/N, is everything okay?" Lando asked worried. "Yes. Do you mean it?" she asked. "Mean what?" Lando asked confused. "What you said in the video about being in love with me?" she pleaded. "Yes. Every word. I've been in love with you for months and I couldn't tell you and it was killing me. It's fine if you don't feel the same. I just needed to let it out" Lando rambled. "I love you too you muppet" she laughed as tears were rolling down her face. "You mean it?" Lando asked pinching himself. "Yes. I love you so much Lando Norris" she said, by now Becky was also up due to all the commotion. "Are you free tonight?" Lando asked. "Ahh, I'm on vacation right now" she said slowly. "Let me know when you're back, I'll pick you up at the airport" Lando said, "I love you Y/N Y/L/N" Lando stated. "I love you too" Y/N replied before ending the call to explain everything to Becky.

True to his words Lando had come to the airport to pick her up, As soon as he spotted her, he ran to her at full speed almost knocking her down as he wrapped his arms around her waist raising her in the process to spin around for a while. "I missed you" he whispered putting her down with his head nuzzled in her neck. "I missed you too" she whispered running a hand through the back of his hair. "You made me dizzy" she whined as he pulled away to look at her. "Sorry" Lando smiled sheepishly. "About that date?" he asked. "Give me some time to shower and than I'm all yours" she beamed.

The two of them headed home. They went on that much needed date; at home with pizza and shitty rom-coms. They giggled as the pair on the screen kissed. When Lando turned to look at her and held her face like it was the most precious thing. "Can I kiss you?" he mumbled, eyes flickering to her lips. She nodded and Lando closed the distance between them, the kiss was sweet and needy; they had so many emotions running through them and some how this kiss was exactly what they needed.

"What about McLaren?" she asked a couple days later. "I'll tell them we're really dating but now I really wanna just protect you. I won't let anything happen to you." he stated. "I know" she hummed in agreement kissing his lips.

After spending the whole of summer break together, Lando came out to announce that him and Y/N were actually dating. The team took it as well as you expect them to. The fans were going wild since this was truly out of a book. The other drivers were quite supportive and even apologised for their previous discretion.

With Y/N on his side, Lando felt like he could take on the world; good or bad. And Y/N was happy she agreed to fake date Lando since she got a real boyfriend out of this.

Tag list- @gamesetmatch-me @seonghwaexile @yootvi @hadesnumber1daughter @khaylin27 @abq654 @plotpal @charlesgirl16 @inarabee @a-beaverhausen @hwalllllllelujah

[ariiadnes]

╭ ⿻ ･ TENDING TO YOUR INJURIES

-ˋ ♡ ◞ xiao ･ alhaitham ･ ayato. genshin impact. repost.

❀ ﾟ. ༄ xiao

you imagined this would have gone differently. you imagined xiao would be frantic, furious-- not at you, but at those who dared bring you harm. you imagined he'd be scolding you endlessly for such acts of recklessness, but he does not. instead, he chooses silence, expression stoic, almost unreadable, and it makes the heart sink into uncertainties.

it is silent.

there is a heaviness that lingers in the air as he tends to your wounds, fresh cuts stinging and irritated by the balm he applies in the gentlest of ways. you imagined this would be so much more different, and you almost wish it was, because you can feel his hurt like it is your own, and you know that he believes your pain is his, always and forever.

the salve is cool against your skin ; it tingles, the back of your hand, but a warmth replaces the sensation as his fingers dance across the injuries. he doesn't look at you, but instead, chooses to displace his anxiety and frustration in the way he takes care of you.

you tilt your head the slightest bit, force your gazes to meet as you smile faintly. it is a guilty smile, he notices, and he does not return it, nor can he bring himself to look away.

"i am still here, xiao."

then, he speaks for the first time tonight.

"you should have called me. you know you cannot face dangers greater than yourself alone."

there is something in his words-- a grief, the thought of what could have been, a preemptive readiness for the loss of a loved one-- and your smile turns somber. he is right. you should have asked for help. you are lucky to have survived the night, and you both are well aware of that.

you grab his hand, squeeze it gently despite the pain. you can see that small flicker of surprise in his eyes as you pull him towards you, and in the way your lips meet his, there is the quiet seeking of forgiveness and a known gratitude.

"i'm sorry, xiao." you murmur against his lips. "i will be sure to speak your name when the time arises."

❀ ﾟ. ༄ alhaitham

"be honest. you're pissed."

alhaitham is quick to care for your wounds, but he is not quick to panic. not a surprise, really, and it's also not really a surprise as to how he's acting.

"i'm not angry". he states, a blunt brutality in his words. "i'm just disappointed."

you don't say anything initially, your expression deadpan as it meets his before you throw him a half-hearted glare. there's a slightly teasing tone in his response, though you know he means them. had you been a stranger, you would have thought he was dead serious.

"i'm sorry," you start, "i almost thought i was being grounded for a second."

alhaitham doesn't say anything at first, simply stares at you-- and it's a long while of just looking at each other until the first person breaks. he's almost certain you will be the first to lose in this battle of resilience-- you always are, albeit through his own means. so he scoots a little closer to you, leans forward until all you can see or think about is him. he cups your face with his hand, touch gentle, almost too warm, and how steady it is that he holds your gaze.

"you are." he murmurs, and you almost think you see a hint of a smile when you finally look away, begrudgingly leaning back the slightest bit in silent admit of defeat.

"shut up."

"i won't." he answers. "now come back to me. you have a scratch on your face, you know."

"oh. is that why you were getting so close?"

"yes," alhaitham chuckles, and you are unsure what makes your heart beat faster : the love in it, or the way he closes the distance between you once more, "but i also happen to like you, too."

❀ ﾟ. ༄ ayato

"beloved, you wound me so."

there's a faint curve that settles on ayato's lips, but there's worry in that smile, and you know that no amount of words can ease it. you let out a quiet laugh, your hands in his as he squeezes them gently in comfort to both you and him : to you, in means of letting you know that he is there for you, and to him, in means of reassurance that you are still here, still alive and breathing.

there's bandages all over your body-- no serious injuries, thankfully, but there are still so many, and how they adorn you terribly so.

"and i thought i was the only one who was wounded." you respond, a lighthearted tone in your words. you do not wish to see him sad, nor do you wish to add any additional stress to his already hectic routine. ayato has experienced much loss in his life -- and even now, he must be on guard for those who wish to harm him through means of hurting those he cares for. you squeeze his hand twice : a quiet apology, an i'm sorry, and he hears it loud and clear.

"in spirit, i'm hurt, too."

your laughter grows a little louder. he's always been so cheesy and theatrical when it came to romance. the worry in his smile dissipates, turns into something of genuine relief at your reaction. though you may be littered in wounds, it's clear that you are alright.

"well, we can't have that, can we?" you murmur, pressing a kiss to his forehead in yet another means of apology. "i'm sorry. i didn't mean to worry you." you whisper, and you press your forehead against his. "i'm alright, love. thank you for taking care of me."

[hoovesandfloorpaws]

adding the 3rd interview from that day here, the one where Harry says Louis is a good boyfriend and treats him really well.

the tag here from 2015 was "and they haven't done an interview together in the last 3 1/2 years" and now it's almost 13 years later and they have never ever been allowed to do another interview together.

clown ass Syco & Modest! behaviour

like, i need to rant for a second. my memory is awful, so i basically watched these interviews with fresh eyes. they're obviously super comfortable (dare i say: domestic) with each other. the flirting, the banter and the mirroring, and how it sounds like they already knew every single answer the other one is gonna give.. everything is so lovely. it's so obvious how how they sometimes get lost looking at each other and how freely and easily they touch each other. but watching these also got me thinking if you think about interviews where Harry actually said to Zayn, about Louis: "Don't say that.. that he's gay!" (x) "Lou, can I give you a blowjob?" (x) "Louis'.. Louis' boyfriend!" / "Can't choose boyfriend." (x) "And I'd marry you, Harry." (x) "I'd take Harry for the night." (x) (For my a dinner date I'd choose) Harry: "You, Louis." (x) "My first real crush was Louis Tomlinson." (x) "Are you and Louis dating?" Harry: *nods & blushes* (x) "She looks like Harry". Then, Louis: "Marriage. Sex, everything." (x) "Female." - Harry: "Not that important." (x) (re: sleeping with a man) Harry: "Hey, don't knock it 'till you try it!" (x) "Now kiss me, you fool!" (x) "What does Harry taste like?" - Louis: "Salt and vinegar." (x) and their million domestic tweets at and about each other (extensive tweets tag by the wonderful @skepticalarrie)

(and these are only the ones that quickly came to me off the top of me tired brain), then that decision truly baffles and angers me even more. There's like dozens and dozens more instances like the mentioned+linked ones, oftentimes where words weren't even said and they just touched or looked at each other.. and oh my god.. the FRISCO interview just a month after Paris, where Louis declared "some people genuinely think.. they GeNuiNeLy think that we're together!" and Liam says "You are, though, aren't ya!" and Harry just nods, all dazed and still wearing his cock-appointment-blush and then Zayn moves the topic towards him and Harry and curiously, nobody ever says "so it's not true!". and then the air kisses and sign language love declarations and their at least 7 matching tattoos (that we know of). the absolutely besotted way they looked at each other from day one. the way they verbally supported each other; defended each other and got obviously jealous over someone else touching either of them. and the rings Harry was gifted by Louis that he's still wearing almost 12 years later... like--

all of this still happened despite them never again being interviewed just the two of them or even getting a fucking segment just the two of them during things like 1D Day! which is so telling.

and all of this compared to how they behaved with each other during those Paris interviews -the ones that were -to Modest! obviously too much? let's be SO fr.. in my personal opinion, those interviews are very tame compared to everything else. they're rather sweet and polite and they didn't even touch each other nearly as much as they did in group interviews, because obviously that is safer, because you've got a lot more distraction for the eye with five guys instead of two. In one of the 3 interviews, Louis is even pretty quiet and calm; just seems very peaceful (or thoughtful). (which is just my personal interpretation, there could be lots of reasons for it)

And they were the same age in Paris as they were for a lot of the things they let slip in other group interviews then. sometimes when they didn't know it was being picked up by a mic or camera, but oftentimes they knew and still couldn't / didn't want to stop themselves :')

I could write a lot more about the hypocrisy of it all or how devastating it still feels and how angry it still makes me -almost 15 years later-, how swiftly and deeply they were shoved into the closet, when every other very private detail of their personal lives was being dragged into the public, twisted and turned and "marketed" to death. (and the latter was obviously fucking damaging to all of them) I shudder to imagine how much homophobia they were exposed to by the people who were supposed to nurture and guide them when their families and friends couldn't be with them. Obviously, the fact that they -so early on- were tried to be kept separated like that portrays just how desperate Clowndest! tried to do "damage control". And of course they failed, but not for lack of squeezing these two into such a sinister iron closet for so many years; piling up contracted lies upon contracted lies that added to all the pressure of two young people who were giving their love a try.. the more lies they piled up, the harder would it be for them later on.

and now look where we are now. they persisted, but at what cost?

Louis & Harry Paris Interviews

How many interviews are there of just Louis and Harry? I’m talking video interviews of L + H, sans Niall, Liam or Zayn to babysit them. There seem to only be a grand total of 2. And both took place on the same day. (February 14, 2012…Was it really on Valentine’s Day??) The Teemix interview below is broken up into 4 parts, but it’s all one interview.

This post actually took me longer than you might think because I tried so hard to find other video interviews of H + L. There aren’t any. Shocking, right?

L’Interview Paris - Fan2Fr

Highlights include: 

At 4:30 Louis reading Harry’s Hot and Dangerous on the fan-art: “Of course he’s hot” 

4:51 Harry says of Louis, “I would describe it more as funny and handsome and rugged…A bit more manly” and Louis gives the brightest most amused smile to the camera.

The looks they give each other at the end of the video with the whole ‘dangerous dave(?)’ thing. Many people hear Harry say ‘I’ll get you for that tonight’ in response. I suck at deciphering these things, but it would make sense given  Louis’ laughing reaction to it.

Teemix Interview 1 of 4

Louis’ face at 3:24 when waiting for Harry to describe Niall’s characteristics.

Louis softly pushing Harry’s hair back at 3:40 when describing him as ‘curly.’ He just..keeps..going..oh my god it’s adorable.

Teemix Interview 2 of 4

The way they finish each others’ sentences, talking about being normal lads. They seem so in sync and sound so relaxed about it.

At 0:38 – L: We still pop down to the shop every now and again– H: Bread and milk. L: Yep, the standard.

Teemix Interview 3 of 4

At 0:20 when describing their ideal girl, Harry corrects Louis’ ‘good sense of humour’ comment with ‘GREAT sense of humour’ and Louis nods ‘yeah’ with the most earnest, serious agreement I’ve ever seen from a person in a boyband answering a generic question. They’re clearly describing each other.

This entire segment is a ridiculous display of how calm and in sync these two are. Telling the story of Liam’s chat up lines, agreeing on their favourite date spots (1:35), Louis proudly suggesting ‘cook them their favourite meal’ (2:12), they’re so at ease with each other and so willing to agree on every little thing.

At 2:42 Louis tries to figure out how long he’s been with Eleanor and Harry suggests ‘a year?’. Harry’s just straight-up laughing at this point and again, clearly talking about him and Louis.

‘I would definitely say Harry is the most confident with girls’ and then he GRINS.

The way they’re smiling at each other at the end is too much. Louis tells Harry, ‘you’re on a whole new level of charm, man’ and can’t stop grinning.

Here’s a slow-mo gif of Louis’ cute head roll, when faced with having to choose his favourite love song. 

Teemix Interview 4 of 4

They cut off Louis at 1:52 here and it makes me realise I can’t even imagine what the unedited version of these L + H interviews is like…

[hoe4hotchner]

Farewell, My Friend | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader (x Jack) | WC: 1.9k | CW: Angst, Pet loss, grief, crying, vet scene, doggy funeral scene, discussions of death with child

A/N: Friday night is not for partying, it's for crying. At least I'm crying. This is really really sad

The house was quiet when you woke up, something felt off. Normally, the faintest sound or smell of food would have your dog’s nose twitching, his head lifting from his basket with a spark of interest waiting for you to call for him. But now, he just lay there, curled tightly, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. You’d seen him slowing down over the past few months, but this — this was different. His favorite treats lay untouched beside him, and his eyes, once bright and alert, seemed glassy and grey — they were distant. He didn’t even lift his head when you crouched beside him, concern settling into an aching certainty that you knew what was about to happen.

“Hey, buddy…” Your voice trembled as you reached out, smoothing a gentle hand over his fur. His coat was still warm, still soft, but you could feel the frailty in his bones. He blinked slowly, giving you the faintest flicker of acknowledgment. A tear slipped down your cheek, your heart breaking at the sight of him so still, so quiet.

Lowering yourself onto the floor, you lay next to his basket, bringing your face close to his, close enough that you could feel his warm breaths against your skin. You pressed a hand to his back, feeling the gentle rise and fall beneath your fingertips. “It’s okay,” you whispered, voice cracking. “You’ve been so good… You’ve taken such good care of us. We’ll be fine, okay? I’ll be okay.” But the words were more for you than for him, an attempt to soothe the fear settling in your chest. You’d known this day would come eventually, but knowing hadn’t made it any easier.

Tears spilled down, falling onto the blanket under him as you continued to stroke his back, trying to hold onto every last moment. You didn’t want him to see you fall apart, to know how deeply this hurt. But the silence was broken by a small voice behind you.

“Why are you crying?”

You turned, seeing Jack standing a few steps away, his little face filled with confusion and concern. His eyes flicked between you and the dog, searching for an answer. For a moment, you struggled to find the words, feeling the hurt build up even stronger.

Swallowing thickly, you wiped your eyes and patted the floor beside you. “Come here, buddy,” you said gently, and Jack approached slowly, glancing down at the quiet figure in the basket, his brow furrowing in that thoughtful way that reminded you so much of his father.

“You remember how we talked about how some dogs get very, very old?” you said softly, keeping your voice steady for his sake.

Jack nodded, his small hand reaching out hesitantly to stroke the dog’s fur. “Yeah,” he whispered, his eyes widening as he began to understand.

You took a breath, voice shaking as you tried to explain. “When dogs get really old, sometimes they go to sleep… and they don’t wake up. They go to a place where they’re young again, where they don’t hurt anymore, and they get to run around and play all day. We call it heaven.”

Jack’s face crumpled, and he bit his lip, looking back at the dog with a quiet, sad understanding that seemed beyond his years — he wasn't supposed to feel this heartbreak yet. “He’s going to heaven?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, unable to hold back the tears that slipped down your cheeks. Reaching over, you gently pulled him close, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as he rested his head against you. His small hand remained on your dog’s fur, his fingers petting softly, as though trying to say goodbye in his own way.

With trembling hands, you reached for your phone, swallowing hard as you typed out the message to Hotch, who was away on a case. The words felt heavy, final, but you knew he needed to know — he needed to know what he would be coming home to.

It’s time.

The drive to the vet’s office felt like an eternity. Jack sat in the passenger seat, holding your hand tightly. Your dog was cradled in a soft blanket in the backseat, and you stole glances at him in the rearview mirror ever so often. Each look tore at your heart a little more, seeing the once-lively dog lying so still, his head resting on the edge of the seat as if he was simply exhausted.

When you finally arrived, the vet greeted you with gentle understanding, leading you both to a small room filled immediately — away from prying eyes. The room was clearly designed for moments like these with its soft lighting and cozy atmosphere. The vet left you alone as he gave you a quiet moment to say goodbye.

You knelt down on the floor, pulling your dog into your arms as you pressed a tender kiss to his forehead. He lay peacefully, his breathing slow and shallow, as though he understood. Jack knelt beside you, his little hand resting gently on his furry head, his expression mirroring yours. You murmured soft words of love and gratitude, stroking his fur and promising him he’d always be part of your family.

The vet eventually came back into the room, moving with a gentle care that reassured you both. He crouched down, speaking softly as he prepared for the procedure, describing each step with the kind of gentleness reserved for grieving souls. When he asked if you were ready, you managed a small nod, feeling your voice catch in your throat. Jack sniffled quietly but stayed close, pressing into your side, his hand tightening around yours.

The vet administered a gentle sedative first, to relax him, and you felt your dog lean a little heavier against you, his breaths slowing as he began to drift. You whispered to him, your voice choked but steady: It’s okay, buddy… you’re such a good boy…

Finally, the vet administered the final injection, and you held him tighter, feeling each heartbeat grow softer, each breath fading. Jack leaned his head against you, and you both stayed close, united in your grief. You felt his heart stop, his warmth still lingering in your arms. In that stillness, it felt as if a piece of you had gone with him. But as you pressed your cheek to his fur one last time, there was a gentle peace in knowing he was no longer in pain, that his final moments had been filled with love and comfort. The vet made his final checks before officially pronouncing that he had passed peacefully.

Later, when you and Jack had returned home, your dog was gently wrapped in a soft blanket — his favorite blanket, his familiar weight in your arms was comforting despite the sorrow you felt deep within your bones.

The house felt different, quieter somehow, as if even the walls understood what had been lost this afternoon. Together, you stepped out into the backyard, where the last warm light of the sun filtered gently through the trees, casting a golden glow over the grass. It was the same light your dog had once basked in on lazy afternoons, rolling in the grass or lying happily in the sun’s warmth.

Jack stood beside you, watching as you began to dig at the spot you’d chosen near the edge of the yard. Each shovel of dirt felt heavier than the last, the weight of your grief pressing down on every movement. After a moment, Jack knelt beside you, he'd found his toy shovel in the shed to help with the work — the one he reserved for when he was helping Aaron garden. He didn’t speak much, just stayed close, occasionally brushing his arm against yours as he mirrored your movements in silence.

Finally, the hole was ready, and with a trembling breath, you lowered your dog into the small grave, cradling him with the same gentleness you’d shown him every day. Jack reached into his pocket, pulling out a small toy — a little car he’d cherished. Without hesitation, he placed it beside your dog, his hand lingering for a moment as he whispered, “Goodbye, buddy.”

You knelt beside him, saying your own goodbye, your voice catching as you murmured a final, heartfelt thank-you for all the love he’d given. Tears slipped down your cheeks, falling freely, and for a moment, you closed your eyes, remembering the joy, the laughter, the countless memories he’d been part of. The pain was raw, but the gratitude was there, too.

Jack, seeing your tears, wrapped his small arm around your torso, leaning into you with a tenderness that broke and soothed you all at once. “It’s okay,” he whispered softly, his voice filled with a compassion far beyond his years — he had learned from his dad. You felt his small hand resting on your back, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to lean into his comfort, finding strength in the quiet support of a little boy, who you'd come to love as if he were your own.

Night had fallen, wrapping the world in darkness, the house was finally still. Jack was fast asleep, his form curled up peacefully, unaware of the grief settling over you. Out on the porch, you stared at the patch of freshly turned earth in the backyard, the collar of your beloved dog held tightly in your hands. The metal of his tags pressed against your palm, their familiar jingle echoing faintly in your mind, bringing with it a flood of memories and tears.

The tears slipped silently down your cheeks as the moments you’d shared together played through your mind, each one bittersweet. You remembered the warmth of his body pressed against your legs during long winter nights, the way his tail wagged in pure joy whenever you walked through the door, the silent moments when he’d simply rest his head on your lap, offering comfort that words never could. He’d been there for everything, for laughter and heartbreak, for quiet Sunday mornings and busy, chaotic days, for the day you had met the love of your life. He had been with you ever since he was 8 weeks old. And now, that constant, loyal presence was gone.

The door creaked softly behind you, breaking through your thoughts, and a familiar figure settled beside you. Hotch wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. He didn’t speak, didn’t offer empty words he knew wouldn't help — he just held you, his presence enough to ground you in ways that only he knew how to. His hand moved in soothing circles on your back, a gentle rhythm that began to calm the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

You let yourself lean into him, feeling his heartbeat steady against your shoulder. Together, you looked out over the yard, at the small grave under the trees, a simple but loving farewell to the friend who’d meant so much.

After a long silence, you found your voice, hardly more than a whisper. “He was a good dog.”

Hotch’s arm tightened around you, and he hummed softly in agreement. “The best,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. You closed your eyes, letting the warmth of his embrace soothe the edges of your grief. Slowly, you felt the weight begin to ease, just a little, just for now, as his presence reminded you that, somehow, you’d find a way to carry on — you had to.

As the night stretched on, you stayed there together in the quiet, watching over the place where love, friendship, and loyalty had been laid to rest, feeling that though a chapter had closed, you wouldn’t have to face the next one alone.

[arcadiabaytornado]

The symbolism in this scene is so.....

When Rachel starts talking about wanting to run away together, Chloe hesitates. Not necessarily because she doesn't want to go, but because she knows how possible it is that the conversation they're having is just pretend.

So she asks Rachel for validation. She asks her to stop talking about this wonderful life unless it's the one they're going to have together. And Rachel says that she's serious....before grabbing Chloe's hands and playfully twirling them around in the street.

Rachel's words directly contradict her actions, and we've all heard the phrase "actions speak louder than words," a hundred times. I don't think Rachel was being nearly as serious as Chloe in this scene....but like....I mean that in a specific way.

I don't think Rachel was lying about wanting to leave with Chloe that night. We learn in LIS 1 that leaving had been the girl's plan for awhile, and we also learn that Rachel was seeking her own avenue's of escape like asking the truck driver if he'd take her to LA. So when I say "Rachel wasn't being serious" I don't mean that Rachel was lying. What I mean is that I think Rachel was being as serious as a 5 year old who threatens to run away from home.

Like...yeah she MEANT it. She was being serious, but there was no way that they could have pulled it off that night. As Chloe points out, they didn't have a working car, money, or a well thought out plan. Even if the Sera stuff didn't happen, I doubt they would have actually been able to leave.

I really think that the running away conversation between Rachel and Chloe was something that was real for Chloe and something that was a moment of passion for Rachel. Not out of malice on Rachel's end. Just out of excitement and being caught up in the rush of the future.

However, It does make you wonder about how serious their follow up "we should leave conversations" were. Did Chloe and Rachel ever have any real conversations about leaving Arcadia Bay? Or were they all stories built passion and hope? We'll probably never really know the answer to that question, but it is something really interesting to think about.

[kinardsevan]

Wanna know what’s funny? I also have lore (in my head) about these tickets.

As one of the people clowning that this is all going to take a turn and it’s all purposely been set up this way, my take on the tickets is this:

How To Lose A Guy In Ten Days.

On day 8 (or 9 I don’t remember), Ben gifts Andie tickets to the Knicks. If we still apply the romcom trope to them, the through line of that movie has neither Ben or Andie going to the game. In fact, when Ben finds out about Andie’s article, he goes after her to talk her into staying.

Now I’m not saying that’s what the show is doing. But we know that from day 1, Buck has actively pursued this relationship. We know that Oliver said Buck will spiral, that the cracks will show, that there’s the question of “do you go after them, let them go, block them” (I know I’m butchering that line but still). When you compound this with the crumbs that have been getting dropped since 710, this is why I align with the fact that, while gutted and admittedly struggling this week given what this country (and then this show) did to us as a community…this is not the end. This is not the final pay off. (And if it is, 911 may very well see a mass exodus that includes me).

I actually have an entire theory I need to type out bc it’s fairly detailed, but it accounts for all of the things mentioned above and how even the end of 806 makes sense. (Going to try and get it written out tonight). Like, I’m fully on the side of “this was such a bullshit way to do it”. But one of the things I keep going back to is, if this relationship is REALLY going to go the distance, then at some point, a version of this had to happen. Second, knowing what we do know about Tommy, this fits in the line of his character.

I’ve said a lot in DMs to friends about this and not a whole lot publicly bc there’s every chance that I’m just clowning bc I don’t want to let go of the ship (which is absolutely true). But as I stated to @im-turnip last night… I’m just picking up bread crumbs.

Either way, I do hope we get firmer answers at some point on why, if the payoff isn’t actually going to happen with the show.

That’s all I have to say on the subject.

For some reason people seem to be interpreting Tommy gifting Buck Lakers tickets as proof of how much he doesn't know him or ignores his preferences because Buck hates basketball.

And that's just such bs.

Here's why I think Tommy gave Buck those tickets abd why they make perfect sense and are actually a very romantic gift for them specifically:

I'm assuming they are counting the day of their first kiss as the start of their relationship ergo their anniversary date, but even if they don't this still makes sense.

Because their first kiss happened on the same day as the basketball game that started it all.

The basketball game that Buck went to despite not liking the sport because he liked Tommy.

The Basketball game that Buck maimed his best friend at because he liked Tommy and was jealous.

The basketball game that was kind of a train wreck which then led to Tommy turning up at Buck's loft which then led to their first kiss.

The basketball game that plays a pivotal role in jump starting their relationship.

Basketball isn't Buck's favourite sport, but it got him Tommy.

So yeah that gift is sweet and actually funny, especially paired with Tommy's comment about how Buck can totally take Eddie only to immediately making it clear that Buck absolutely can't take Eddie because the tickets are for them as a couple. Because Buck played basketball for Tommy. They're bantering because that's what couples do. Teasing each other fondly has been part of the love language of their relationship from the very beginning.

The gift was never about basketball. It's about them and their story together. It's Tommy saying 'I see you'.

It's a gift that's meaningful and personal.

It's sweet af.

[masonmontz]

hellooo everyone :) hope you like it

REMEMBER: english is not my first language

angst word count: 2,6k

✦‎۟    ࣭   ⊹

Mason doesn't know when things started going wrong, but it's been a while.

Since that night.

The night a piece of Mason died, because before everything was beautiful and happy, and now he feels like everything is blue. Mason is not a melancholic person, but he doesn't know how to get out of it when no one is understanding what is happening to him.

“Hi, can you come to Manchester alone?” Mason asked his mother on the phone, and it was the first time in over a year that Mason had asked Debbie to come to him. Only her, because Mason needs a comfort that only Debbie can give him, the comfort that only a mother can give a child.

“I'm taking a train tomorrow” she replied and he nodded before hanging up, but not before answering several questions, and honestly Mason didn't want to answer any of them because he was too sad. 

Mason hung up the phone and went to the kitchen looking for something to eat, but he's a disaster at cooking and had no head to think, so he just picked up his phone and ordered Japanese food.

He wasn't really hungry, but if he didn't eat, he knew he would have terrible training tomorrow. Some days Mason just ate out of obligation, smiled out of obligation, talked because others talked to him, and he does everything like a robot.

Mason stood at the kitchen window and watched the rain falling outside. Winter was coming and Mason was going crazy, everything was strange, he finally returned to training after a few weeks injured, but not even that could make him happy.

Mason hasn't been able to feel happy for over a month. 

And he doesn't know when he'll be able to get over it.

✦‎۟    ࣭   ⊹

“So, do you want to talk about it?” Debbie asked him the next day after he got back from training. She was sitting on the couch and Mason sat on the floor when he arrived, just to play with Ace for a bit. Debbie knew there was something very wrong with her son, Mason was silent, sad.

“Hum, yeah, of course, I just don’t know how” Mason sighed in frustration, for a month he has been mulling over the same thing in his head, surviving day after day, but he feels like he is about to explode. “It's hurting me, mum.”

Debbie felt sorry for him because he looked miserable. Mason sighed and lay on the floor, looking up at the ceiling above him.

“Let's start at the beginning, okay? Was it something between you and Y/n?”

Mason's heart sank when she spoke your name to him, because Mason had refused to talk about it for a month, and now he felt all the feelings rushing into his chest at once like bullets.

Debbie knew about you, you and Mason had only been together for a few months, but he seemed more in love than ever. 

“I was going to be a father” Mason whispered and the memory of that terrible night came rushing back to his head, a terrible place in his mind that he couldn't get out of on his own. “She lost our baby.”

“What?” Debbie couldn't hide her surprise and shock, because she didn't expect this. 

“It was my fault.”

Mason has been reliving that night in his head all the time, ever since he heard the doctor say the baby didn't survive. Mason remembers the feeling that was like several knives hitting him, he had never felt anything like it. Mason remembers the scene of you crying in the hospital bed, he can even hear the sobs when he closes his eyes, and that sound has terrified him every night.

“Why is it your fault, Mason?” Debbie asked, getting off the couch and sitting on the floor. Mason laid his head on Debbie's legs, feeling his heart ache as she stroked his hair, just like a mother does with a child. 

It was a very rainy night, Mason had an interview scheduled at Old Trafford and he decided he wouldn't go by car, as Bruno was also going and Mason asked to go with him. Bruno left first and Mason asked you to pick him up, but more than twenty minutes had passed and you still hadn't arrived, and Mason started to get worried, but he couldn't leave, because you could arrive at any moment.

But the only thing that arrived was a message from your number, but it wasn't you who wrote it. Mason's heart stopped at that moment as he read the message saying that your car had slid off the road and crashed, but you were fine, you just needed to go to the hospital because of the baby. 

Mason paid the Uber driver a lot more while he begged him to go faster because he was so worried he was biting his nails.

Shit, it was his fault, Mason shouldn't have asked you to pick him up in that heavy rain. Anyone knew it could be dangerous.

Mason ran through the halls after finding out which room you were in, and he sighed in relief when he saw you lying there without a scratch, but when you turned to head towards the door, Mason saw red eyes.

He didn't want to think the worst, but it was impossible.

“Hey, you good?” he approached, shaking, Mason's hands began to sweat. He was happy that you were alive, that you were okay.

You opened your mouth to respond, but a sob escaped your throat and you began to cry desperately. Mason sat on the hospital bed and hugged you, not caring that he was wet from the rain.

“How is our baby? Is everything fine?” 

Mason felt his heart break into a thousand pieces when you pressed your face against his chest and cried, and Mason felt trapped in a nightmare when he understood what had happened. You looked up and looked at Mason, you were inconsolable, suffering, and it was then that Mason realized that it was his fault.

“I lost- I lost our baby” he couldn't say anything, but you were squeezing Mason so tightly that he couldn't get away and get away from you. “I’m so sorry, Mason. I’m so sorry.”

Mason didn't know why you were apologizing. He didn't say anything, Mason didn't even let a tear fall, he couldn't cry when you were desperate in his arms.

“It wasn't your fault, Mason” Debbie said to Mason when he told her what had happened, and she wiped the tear that fell down her son's face. “Don’t say that ever again.”

“I shouldn't have asked her to pick me up, I should have taken an Uber or taxi and left her at home, safe.”

You would still be pregnant if it weren't for the car crash that caused you to lose the baby, and you wouldn't be sad right now, nor would Mason. And you wouldn't be separated either. You were going to have a beautiful baby, Mason thought it was a girl, and then he was going to have two of you.

Everything was ruined now, and it was all his fault.

Mason also can't forget your crying when he left you two days later like a coward, the guilt was consuming him and he accepted that you would be much better without him. He was a coward, Mason couldn't accept that he made you suffer like that, and that's why he decided to leave, so as not to cause any more damage to your life.

Mason didn't know what was worse, remembering you crying when you told him you had a miscarriage or when you were crying and begging him not to leave you. 

“Why did you leave her, Mason?” 

“Because I don't want to cause her any more suffering.”

“Mason, I'm your mother, and I'm not going to hide what I think about this. You're suffering, you think it's your fault but it's not, and I'm sure Y/n thinks the same.” Mason closed his eyes, it still hurt to think about it, and maybe it would never stop hurting. “I can't imagine your pain, losing a child is probably the greatest pain anyone can go through, even if the child hasn't been born yet.”

“But a mother's pain is probably greater, what if Y/n thinks it's her fault? Have you thought about that? I don't want to put any weight on your shoulders, but you left her at the worst moment of her life. She might be suffering much more without you than with you.”

“She's probably better off without me.”

“I'm only going to tell you this once. You know she loves you, that woman would do anything for you and I know you would do anything for her, don't ruin what was the best thing that ever happened to you because you're stubborn. I'm so sorry you lost a child, Mason, I'm truly sorry, it's a dream to be a grandmother again, but I'm not going to let you cry here alone when you could be by her side and you can get through this together.”

Mason cried. For the first time in a month he cried. Mason let out all the pain of losing his baby, crying eased the pain he had in his chest, but not the guilt.

Debbie let him cry and cried with him, because Mason was still her son and she didn't want to see any of her children suffer. She would let them all cry on her lap whenever they needed to.

“I don't want to make her sadder.” he confessed quietly and felt his mother's fingers in his hair. 

“You need to be with her, Mason, no one wants to go through this alone.”

“I think it was a girl.”

Mason could imagine a little girl running around the house, with hair the same color as him, but with your smile. She would definitely have your personality.

“I wish you had told me sooner that I was going to be a grandmother. I'm so sorry about that, Mason. I never wanted you to have to go through the pain of losing a child.”

“I feel like my heart has been crushed for a month.”

“Please go talk to her, she deserves an explanation and you don't deserve to go through this apart.”

✦‎۟    ࣭   ⊹

You sighed when you felt a drop of rain fall on your face, walking faster to the entrance of the building where you live with some groceries in your hands. It still wasn't fast enough, because the rain got heavier and you got soaked as you tried to reach the building.

“Oh, Lord” you muttered to yourself when you reached the gate, and didn't even look ahead as you made sure no bags were ripped. 

You stopped when you saw Mason standing at the entrance of the building outside, staring at you. He was standing leaning against the wall, and you felt your heart race because you hadn't seen him in over a month. 

He had his hair shaved, and you knew it was because he took a hit to the head that caused him to get stitches. God, you loved him so much you could cry, and he was so beautiful and you hated him for leaving you.

Not even the rain bothered you at that moment, because you couldn't look at anything else but Mason. Mason pushed himself off the wall and walked towards you, but he called you to get out of the rain that had now left all your hair and clothes wet. 

“Hey” you said, handing the bags to Mason when he asked. “Do you want to come in?”

Of course, you couldn't help but notice the deep circles under his eyes, and Mason looked thinner than usual. You knew you looked just as bad as he did.

“If you don't mind, I want to.” 

Mason walked you to your apartment in silence, and you didn't know what to say. It was a surprise to see him there, it had been a terrible month and you still hadn't recovered. 

Mason put all the bags in the kitchen while you went to the bathroom to get a towel to dry yourself. Mason followed you when you went to your bedroom, and his desolate look on you warmed your heart, because you thought you were the only one who suffered with what happened, but Mason was there in front of you suffering.

“I'm going to take a shower” you mumbled and took off your clothes, knowing Mason was watching you. “Come with me?”

You didn't wait for Mason and went to the bathroom, turning on the hot water in the shower to take a long shower after the cold rain. You stepped into the shower and watched as Mason silently took off his clothes, and soon after he was in the shower with you.

“Why did you leave me?” you whispered looking at Mason. Mason opened his mouth to respond but he couldn't, he started crying and put his hands on his face. “Mason, it’s fine.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/n. I’m so sorry, please forgive me. It was my fault and-”

“What?” you asked, because you had no idea that Mason was blaming himself for what happened. “It wasn't your fault, what are you talking about?”

Mason knelt on the bathroom floor and wrapped his arms around your waist, crying into you as the hot water ran over you.

“I should have never asked you to come pick me, it's my fault, you lost our baby because of me.” God, you didn’t think you could feel this much pain. Mason had been blaming himself for a whole month, and you would never have let him go if you knew. You knelt in front of him and held his face in your hands.

“Listen to me, this wasn't your fault, it was an accident and accidents happen.” He shook his head and you rested his forehead against yours, hugging his neck. “Why did you leave me?”

“I didn't want you to hate me, I didn't want to make you suffer more.”

“I suffered more without you by my side.”

“Forgive me, please.”

“There's nothing to forgive, Mason. You lost a son too, I know this is hard for you too.”

“I shouldn't have let you go through this alone.”

“Never leave me again, please.”

“Never again, never again. I promise. I’m so sorry.” 

“I wish I was still pregnant.” you confessed, because it's true. You've lived very happy weeks since you found out about the pregnancy.

“I know, me too.” Mason left a kiss on your forehead and you held him closer to you. It was an intimate moment, two hearts hurting but finding healing together. “I love you, I’m so sorry.” 

“I love you, I’m sorry too.” you kissed Mason. “We'll get through this together, okay?”

“I'm sorry I was away from you for a month, you've been through hell alone.”

“Don't worry, you're with me now.”

You took a shower together, nothing more than small kisses, because you just wanted to spend time together. It was an important moment, Mason felt like he was forgiven even though he had nothing to be forgiven for, and you knew that now you could fully heal, Mason was once again with you.

Sometimes the bad times just show you that you're better together than you are apart, and Mason finally understood what his mum said, about healing together, and getting through everything together, both the good times and the bad times.

[marvelfanfics1]

Based on the scene where JJ saves Sarah from drowning but with maybank!little!reader instead!!

The sun casts an ever burning heat over the dunes of Morocco, Rafe and the pogues clinging onto the thought that you and JJ are alive and well, the constant unease going through the group but neither of them giving up hope.

Rafe sits on a dune with a good amount of distance from the others, lost in thought and staring at the ocean, desperately waiting for you to emerge any second.

If those idiots wouldn't have tied him in the bathroom he could've saved you, he could've prevented the worst thing he ever thought possible, losing you.

The thought of you all alone and scared, screaming for him to come and save you nags on his mind constantly.

Sarah occasionally goes over to him, pleading him to drink some water to keep at least hydrated, telling him that him dying from dehydration won't help you if you and JJ actually show up.

He keeps silent until she walks away again, grabbing the bottle of water and taking a few sips, the ache of his throat momentarily distracting him from the sting in his chest.

At night he couldn't get himself to sleep, too much on edge to close his eyes even for a moment. Everyone else is already sleeping and the silence is only broken by Sarah's sudden voice. "We'll find them soon. She'll be okay."

Rafe looks at her for a moment before looking back straight ahead again. "I never wanted her to be involved in this in the first place."

"Do you think JJ did? You know how she doesn't like to do what she's told, she's a Maybank after all." She responds, throwing another piece of wood into the fireplace.

Another day of waiting and Rafe keeping his distance, not wanting the others to see how terrified he actually is as he keeps turning the ring on his finger, the moment of where proposed to you before all this stuff happened replaying in his head.

Over the time in your relationship he kept promising that he will take care of you, to protect you from any harm, and he failed. He failed you.

Looking to the side his body stiffens, lifting his head when he sees blurry figures in the distance. He stands up, thinking he now starts hallucinating from the heat, lifting his hands to block the sun.

As the figures draw closer his legs automatically drag him in their direction, sliding down the dune. He picks up his pace, the shapes turning more clear.

You are so exhausted, your legs hurting together with your dry throat. JJ has an arm draped over your shoulders, keeping up his usual joking persona to light up your mood.

"I swear when we get that crown I'll buy a whole toy store empty just for you." He says with a smile and you giggle at that.

By the call of your name you stop in your tracks, tearing your gaze from the sand to see someone approach you both, instantly recognizing who the voice belongs to.

"Rafe..."

Letting your shoes fall from your shoulders you start running without hesitation, almost stumbling a few times as you can see Rafe more clearly and jump into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Rafe holds you tightly against him, fearing that if he lets go that you'll just disappear again. He buries his face in your shoulder, hearing you start to sob. "You're okay...I've got you."

"I-I thought you...I-" You stammer but he just shushes you softly.

"I'm here now. Daddy's here..." He assures you, his hold on you tightening ever so slightly. "I'll never let you go again..."

He gently sets you back down onto the sand, pulling back to cup your face in his large palms, scanning over your face to make sure you're really standing in front of him, tears pricking in his eyes.

Rafe leans down to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment before pulling back again. "I thought I lost you..."

"I-I was drowning but Jay saved me..." You explain while sniffling, turning your head to look at JJ who has his hands shoved into his pockets.

"Are the others okay?" JJ asks and Rafe nods.

"They're up there." He answers, pausing for a moment before asking. "You good?"

"As good as I can be." He replies, walking past you both and patting his shoulder.

You both follow behind him while Rafe has an arm around your waist to keep you close and you lean your head against him, your arms still wrapped around him as you continue walking.

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

@mythixmagic @iris-xoxo-juhu

For Rafe:

@chiaraanatra @chimindity @erikasurfer

[the-screams-of-the-damned]

Noises In The Night

Posting for the @6esiree writing contest, written for a whole work on wattpad. In this story, the reader is Alastor's assistant at the radio station and a close family friend. Alastor has agreed to help you clear out your father's cabin about a year after his mysterious murder.

Warnings: Alastor is kind of a perv, slight somnophilia, questionable intentions, innocent reader, mentions of murder, no real penetration (sorry)

Promises: obsessive Alastor, human Alastor, cunnilingus, fingering, hair pulling

"I'll sleep on the couch," Alastor declared as he took the empty bowl from in front of you.

"Are you sure? I don't mind," you protest. You stood, pushing in your chair.

"Oh, don't worry about it. I've slept on the couch before," he assures you. He places a large hand on your shoulder, smile glistening in the lamp light.

You nod. "Okay."

He moves over to the couch, digging through his bag to find his pajamas. Yours are at the top of your bag. A cream colored nightgown with lace at the top and around the hem. You'd never admit that you'd packed it just for Alastor to see.

"Would you like me to step outside while you change?" He offers.

It hadn't even occurred to you that you'd be changing in the same room with him. You were positively pink at the thought. You could feel your insides stir at the image of him watching you change. A purely sinful thought.

"No!" Too quick of a response, far too quick. "I mean - I don't mind being in the same room. Do you?" You never met his eyes. A sorry attempt to hide what was happening in your mind.

"I don't.

Alastor tried to be a gentleman. He really did. He turned to face away from you as he undid the buttons on his shirt, trying to think of anything but you. He just couldn't help himself. The image of you was too tempting. He praised anything listening that you were turned away when he looked over his shoulder. Oh, how perfect you looked. He bit the inside of his lip as your skirt slipped down your legs. With all the subtlety he could muster, he began to memorize the details of your rear and legs that were now exposed to him. He pulled his pajama shirt over his shoulders and was forced to look away to button it. As he unbuttoned his trousers, he cursed himself for being such a pervert.

Your body itself didn't excite him quite enough. No, his own thoughts had created the erection that tried desperately to spring free. The thought of you giving yourself to him was what did it. The image of you laying down on your back, legs open and welcoming for him. The ways he could please you. Would you let him? Would you let him know you in the most intimate ways? Would you do that for him? And if you knew about his more unconventional hobbies? Would you do it then? Would you let him stain your heavenly wings red with his sins?

He pulled his pajama bottoms up, quickly buttoning them. He turned just enough to see you. Had he turned a moment later, he would have missed the sight of your cotton nightgown falling over your features.

"Are you finished?" You asked, trying to calm your own racing heart. You didn't want to ask. You wanted to wheel around without warning and catch a glimpse of him half naked. Perhaps he would be flustered. Perfect skin dyed red by embarrassment at being caught. Perhaps he'd like it. Perhaps he'd laugh at how forward you were and take you right then and there.

"Yes, you can turn around," he answered. You shook yourself from your thoughts, ignoring the stickiness in your panties. You turned to him, seeing him sit down on the couch. "Are you ready for bed?"

You nod, sitting on the edge of the bed. He leans over, turning out the lamp on the coffee table. The room settles into darkness, and your eyes adjust to see his silhouette.

"Goodnight, Alastor."

"Goodnight, my dearest."

Alastor didn't sleep. In fact, he didn't even bother to take his glasses off. Instead, he listened to the rhythm of your breathing. He waited, eyes adjusting to the dark until it was almost like daylight to him. After maybe half an hour, he heard your breath slip into the slow and even rhythm of sleep.

He stood, walking over to your bed. He'd become skilled at sneaking around, holding himself so that his footsteps were nearly silent. He stared down at you, admiring the way the moonlight bounced off of your skin.

Slowly and cautiously, he reached out a hand. He let the pads of his fingers drag across your cheek, down to your lips. They were parted only a little. His fingers traced the outline of your jaw, neck, and collarbone. You were so trusting to sleep in the same room as him. So very trusting. Your trust went straight to his cock, sitting heavy against his leg. His hand moved almost on muscle memory from the center of your collar bone upwards. His palm was flat against the column of your throat, thumb, and fingers on either side.

He pulled his hand away, not trusting it to obey him. He placed it on your shoulder. The thin straps of your nightgown left it uncovered, and he was finally able to feel your skin under his fingers. He trailed his fingers down your side, keeping his hands over your blanket for fear of what they might do if he let them under. He stopped as he felt the soft tissue of your breast.

You stirred in your sleep, rolling onto your back and starting Alastor. In his shock, his stealth left abandoned him. His heel hit a creaky floorboard as he jumped to tear his hand away from you, and your eyes flew open.

He shook himself from his panic. You hadn't seen him touch you. He could play it off.

"Alastor?" You rubbed your eye and began to sit up.

"I'm sorry, dear. Did I wake you? I thought I heard a noise and came to investigate," he told you.

"Oh. I think I'm just a bit jumpy," you claimed. You looked up at him, face shrouded in shadow as the light hit his back. "Being out in the woods like this can be a bit scary."

He nods. "I understand."

You sat up fully, rubbing the skin on your arm. "Esspecially since, y'know, people have been going missing recently." It was then that Alastor sat down on the bed, allowing you to see the gentle yet unreadable expression on his face.

"I promise that you're very safe. I wouldn't let a single soul in the world lay a finger on you," he assures.

"Really? You'd protect me?" You leaned closer to him.

"Of course! I'd wrestle gators if it meant you were kept safe," he promises. Something deep in your chest wanted more than that. You weren't sure what. However, his words presented you an opportunity.

"Would you sleep with me? Just for tonight?" You gave him your best puppy dog eyes as you asked.

You heard him swallow before answering. Had you been too bold? "Would you feel safer that way?" You gave him an eager nod. There it was. That blind trust turned him ravenous. "Then, of course, I will."

You pull aside the blanket, wiggling closer to the wall. He slides in beside you, adjusting himself while his back is turned so that you can't feel his arousal. It's a bit of a tight squeeze, which provides an excellent excuse to burry your face in his neck. You feel a soft chuckle reverberate in his chest.

"Would you like to cuddle?" His voice is a whisper, met with a nod. He snakes an arm under you and around your back, bringing his hand to rest on your hip. You wrap your arms around his torso, smiling like a schoolgirl. The stiring in your gut returns, and you make a brash decision.

You lift your leg over his hip and relish the way his breath hitches. Your nightgown rides up towards your hips. He brings his hand to your leg, pulling you closer by the plush of your thigh. He couldn't stop himself from squeezing a little harder, making you wiggle in his hold. Then you felt it, the unmistakable hardness of a man's erection. It made your heart jump. Of course, you wouldn't have sex with him. You'd been resolute to save yourself for marriage. But no sex didn't mean no intimacy.

"Alastor." His body tensed at the sound of your voice.

"Yes, my dear?" His voice was breathy and deep.

"Have you ever done these sorts of things before?"

He let out a deep breath before answering. "Yes, I have. I suppose you haven't?" You shake your head against his neck. He leans away from you, bringing his hand from your thigh to your cheek. Your eyes meet his, only inches away from each other."We won't do anything you don't want or that you're not ready for, okay? We could stop here, and I would be just fine with that."

"Okay." You nodded and smiled as his hand wandered just below your jaw. You pushed forward just enough to brush your lips against his.

Alastor's fingers curled under your chin, pulling your face close to his again. He captured your lips properly this time. It started soft and gentle, pulling away for quick breaths as he tightened his fingers around your hip. His tongue pressed against your bottom lip, and you opened just enough for it to slip past your teeth and run along your own. His hand made its way to your hair, trying to close an imaginary distance. You let him explore your mouth, occasionally running your tongue along his and enjoying the taste.

You let your hand wander, running over the collar of his sleep shirt. Your fingers came to the top button, fiddling with it in an anxious manner. He finally pulled his mouth away from yours, using his thumb to catch the trail of saliva that connected your lips.

"Dearest -" his voice came between pants and was whispered for only your ears. "Tell me what you want," he commanded. "I'll provide, my dear. All you have to do is ask me." His hand came to grip yours, bringing it to his lips to kiss your knuckles. 

Your mind struggles to put words to your desires. You have to close your eyes to say it. "Will you take your shirt off, please?" It came out a bit too formal for the situation, but Alastor was more than happy to oblige.

"Good girl." He took his hands away from you, making you whine softly against your will. You scooted back and watched as he sat up, hands making quick work of the buttons. With each button, the front slipped open more, exposing his chest and stomach in slow succession. The pale light caught the contours of his torso perfectly. He was lean with only the slightest outline of muscles. He was unsurprisingly well groomed, light hair over his chest and trailing down to his undercarriage.

As his sleeves slipped past his elbows, you reached a hand towards his chest. "May I?" You looked up at him, trying not to be embarrassed by how pathetically whorish you must seem.

"Of course, my dear. Come here." He patted his lap. You adjusted yourselves, letting him rest his back against the headboard as you straddled his lap.

You steadied yourself with a hand against his chest, nearly melting at the sensation. His skin was soft and warm under your fingers. You could feel the rapid beating of his heart underneath. He said he'd give you anything. Would he let you take his heartbeat? Would he give his life to you if you asked? Would he give you someone else's?

Alastor placed his hands on your hips, squeezing hard on either side. He pulled you flush against him, pressing your forehead to his. "Do you want to go further?" His breath ghosted over your lips, making your own get caught for a moment.

You had to think. How far did you want to go? You hadn't thought this far ahead. "Could you lead?" The request came out more like a whimper.

"Yes, I can. But you must promise me that you'll stop me if it becomes too much," he explains.

"I promise." You lean back and hold out your pinky finger. He laughs a bit before linking his with it.

Alastor places his hands on either side of your face, pulling you into another kiss. This one is more aggressive. His tongue seems to force its way between your lips as he pushes you further into him.

You bring your hands around his back, running your fingers along his spine and muscles. His tongue rubs against the roof of your mouth, causing a tickling sensation. His hands are warm, slight calluses along his palms. He brought them to your shoulders and then down your sides. He stops one hand at your waist, allowing the other to head down to your upper thigh. He pushes you down onto his lap fully, allowing you to feel his hard cock against your growing heat. His hand slowly moves to the hem of your nightgown, fiddling with the delicate lace.

He moves his lips from yours, pressing them against your cheek as he whispers. "Can I remove this?" You give him a mod without thinking. "I need words, my dear."

"Yes, sir." You hadn't meant to call him 'sir', but it felt natural. And you couldn't miss the way his cock twitched when you said it.

He brought his fingers to either side of you, gently pulling it up and over your hips. You lift your arms to make it easier, shivering as the cool night air hits your bare skin. Alastor leans back, looking down over your body.

Now, Alastor was no stranger to the female body. Between his various partners and burlesque shows, he'd seen his fair share of half-naked women. He never understood the excitement around them. Until now. Before now, he'd sat in judgment and superiority over the men who whistled at dancers and shouted marriage proposals at the end of a performance. But if you were up on that stage, topless in front of the crowd, he would become one of the many crazed men throwing themselves at your feet.

"This isn't an art gallery," you teased. Your discomfort added a hint of venom to your words. "You can touch me."

He chuckled for a moment before pulling your face to his once again. His chest pressed flush to yours. The warmth was all enveloping, wrapping itself around you and settling into every crevice of your bodies.

"If I touch you, my dear," he whispers. "I may never be able to stop."

"Then don't."

Alastor's smile seemed to spread even further. He brought his hand to your stomach, feeling the soft skin below his fingers. His hand trailed upward quickly, coming to cup your breast. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against your shoulder. He squeezed the flesh in his palm, and you arch your chest further into his grasp. His free hand found your hip, slipping his pinky finger beneath the hem of your underwear.

You brought your hand to his hair, gripping it. You pressed your face into the top of his head, taking in his scent. As he slid his hand under your underwear to grip your rear, the vague smells of sweat and leather were utterly intoxicating. When he squeezed the fat of your ass, you instinctively pulled on his dark curls. The noise he released was strangled yet dripping in pleasure. You gave another experimental tug, earning another groan.

On the third tug, he finally spoke. "You're doing this on purpose now, aren't you?" His voice was breathy and spoken into your neck.

"And you're enjoying it," you mused. He dug his nails into your ass, making you yelp a little.

"Tread carefully, Doll."

Alastor began to trail his lips downward, leaving kisses as he went down your collar bone. The tightness in your core was becoming unbearable as he began to kiss over your breast. He licked over your sensitive nipple, enjoying the hardness against his tongue.

His own arousal had become excruciating. He finally brought the hand that wasn't firmly planted on your ass down under the waistline of his pants. He didn't miss the heat radiating from your core as he passed it. He loved it. He loved knowing how you enjoyed his touch. He took his throbbing cock into his hand, giving it a gentle stroke. You pulled on his hair at the same time, eliciting the loudest moan yet.

With that, Alastor had enough. The only noises he'd heard from you so far were giggles and little gasps. He wanted to make you scream. He pulled his hand from the flesh of your ass, teasing one finger over your covered heat.

"May I?" He spoke into your chest, running his finger from your clothed entrance to your sensitive clit. He gave a dark chuckle when you nodded. "Use your words, dear."

You gave a dry swallow. "Yes, please."

His slender fingers slipped below your panties, squeezing your clit between his fingers. Such a familiar yet foreign feeling. Sure, you'd explored on your own. You were used to the feeling of your own fingers along your clit or on occasion inside of you. How could the same action feel so much better when Alastor did it? He swirled the sensitive bud, loving the way your slick coated his fingers. You pressed your hips further into his hand. His concentration began to fault as he tried to please both of you.

He grazed the tip of his finger over your entrance. You let out a long whine at the feeling, making Alastor smile against your skin. He circled around your core a few times, teasing you. He finally frees himself from his pajama bottoms, allowing his cock to spring up against his stomach. He leans back against the headboard, trying desperately to keep his breathing even. You couldn't help but take in the sight.

His eyes were closed behind foggy glasses. His chest rose and fell with his labored breaths. The skin over his neck and chest was shiny with sweat. The faintest hint of abs showed across his stomach. And there it was for you. You'd never gotten a good look at one before, and here it was for your viewing. Caramel color that matched his chest, darkening along the bulbous head. Was that a normal size? It seemed a bit too large to be normal. Strong, slender fingers curled around the base, spreading some clear liquid over the length. It looked strangely... appetizing.

"AH!" You practically screamed when Alastor dipped his finger tip inside of you for a moment, cutting off your thoughts. You had to brace yourself against his chest as he laughed. "No fair," you muttered, meeting his eyes.

"I beg to differ," he mused. He leaned forward, kissing you on the tip of your nose. You tilted your head up, puckering your lips for him to kiss. He didn't hesitate to force his tongue between your lips.

You trailed your fingers down his chest, feeling the muscles beneath his skin. He pressed his finger back into you, swallowing the moan that escaped you. You gripped his shoulder in an attempt to cope with the stretch. His fingers were longer than yours by quite a bit. So much deeper. You couldn't help but grind into his palm, gaining friction on your clit. He took the hint, using his thumb to circle it. Alastor pulled away from you, nesling into your shoulder.

"My dearest," he whispered. "I want to show you something." He pulled back to look you in the eyes.

"Okay." Your voice came out as a slight whimper.

He removed his hand from your core, resulting in a soft whimper. He put his hands on your waist, lifting you off of his lap. He crawled off the bed. You looked on in confusion as he fell to his knees by the edge.

"Sit over the edge, dear," Alastor instructed. You followed, of course. He placed your legs on either side of his head, smiling brightly. "Such a good girl." He massaged your thigh gently, kissing the skin.

He looped his fingers under your panties. He slowly pulled them down your legs, eyes never leaving your core.

"If it becomes too much, tell me." His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. You nodded. He took his glasses from his face, placing them on the floor beside him. He then pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh. Then another. He trailed up the inside of your thigh until he was barely an inch from your heat.

You were vaguely familiar with the concept of cunnilingus, but you'd never expected it. You watched him rub your clit with two fingers. You used your arm to support you as you leaned back.

Alastor gave a kiss to your muff, taking a deep inhale of your scent. He then pressed his lips to your clit. He ran his tongue over it. You were so. Fucking. Delicious. He began to suck on the little bud as though his life depended on it. You let out a low moan of pleasure. He used his tongue to flick across it, enjoying the way your thighs began to squeeze his head.

His fingers grazed your leaking hole before pressing one digit inside. You moaned again, louder this time. You felt him grin against you. Your body clenched around his finger, sucking him in deeper. He licked just above your pussy, making your hips buck into his face. He began the thrust his finger in and out of you. You tossed your head back in pleasure.

A second finger pressed into you. You whined. He ran his thumb over your clit to balance the pain and pleasure. His breath tickled your sensitive skin. As his two fingers pushed in and out of you, he ran them across your inside walls. He reattached to your bud, suckling and licking over it with a renewed ferocity.

"AAAaa- Fuck!" Your body shot forward as his fingers found a soft spot inside of you. His grin seemed to double as you buried a hand in his hair. He pulled away from you, removing his fingers as well. You whined desperately.

He licked over your entrance before pushing his tongue into your dripping cunt. He brought his fingers to your clit, swirling in between them. His tongue seemed too long to be human. It curled inside of you, hitting that soft spot over and over. Between his fingers and tongue working you, it's hard to hold back each moan and gasp that came from you.

The cool breeze came over your skin, making Alastor's lingering saliva feel ice cold against your skin. You lifted your eyes to the window. It was open, curtains spread wide. Any passing animal or hunter would surely see you if they turned to look. As the realization washed over you, it caused an odd ripple of pleasure in your core.

You felt a familiar knot in your gut as Alastor pulled you closer. He dropped one of his hands to his own arousal, pumping like his life depended on it. The way your thighs squeezed him and your hips bucking into his mouth told him you were close. He couldn't have been more excited. You were the greatest meal he'd ever had, and now, he would make sure you finished.

With one final press to your sensitive spot, you let out a scream of pleasure that made your throat go raw. The sound made Alastor groan, and the taste of your cum filling his mouth was more than he could take. He didn't breathe for a moment as he came into his hand, lost in the ecstasy of finally, finally, knowing what his dearest tasted like.

[ms-snape]

hi!! could i request a young!severus snape (in the maraurders era) where he gets drunk and is literally the oppositte of his usual self? — flirty, confident, a lot more touchy, a total tease ..

(no smut just an awkward severus turning into a flirty douche that makes your face redder then a tomato!)

Title: A Night To Remember

Warnings: a bit of angst, drunk sevvy

Words Count: 4000+

Masterlist

---

It had been a slow evening in the Slytherin common room. The usual murmur of students studying, reading, or gossiping had quieted by the time the moon had risen high in the sky, its silvery glow casting shadows on the stone walls. You sat in your usual spot, a large armchair near the fireplace, watching the flames flicker as you absentmindedly ran your fingers over the edge of a book, the pages untouched.

There was always something about the way Severus Snape acted that left you feeling like you were standing on the edge of a precipice, a foot hovering over a cliff with no way of knowing if you'd fall or fly.

You were dating Severus, though no one really knew. It wasn’t that you were ashamed—more like he was simply… private. Extremely private. And distant. Emotionally unavailable, most of the time. He was the type of person who kept his thoughts locked away, like a vault you couldn’t get into. And that was fine, really. You were used to it.

But lately, the space between you had started to feel wider. The rare moments when he would look at you with something softer in his eyes had become almost nonexistent. The little touches, the accidental brushing of hands in hallways, were reduced to nothing. And though you hadn’t spoken of it, it had been gnawing at you.

You shifted in your chair, eyes flicking to the door, waiting for him to appear. He was late—again.

But this time, when he finally walked through the door, it wasn’t the usual quiet, self-assured Snape you were used to. No, this Snape had a gleam in his eyes, a different kind of fire in his gaze that you couldn't quite place. His usually sharp features were flushed, and his step was slightly unsteady.

"Severus?" you called softly, standing up from your chair. Your heart skipped at the sight of him, at how uncharacteristically… disheveled he looked.

He stopped a few paces from you, blinking slowly as if he were trying to focus. The scent of firewhisky wafted from his robes, and your suspicion deepened. Severus Snape wasn’t the type to drink much—at least not in public, anyway. His reserved nature kept him far away from the rowdy gatherings and parties that other students indulged in.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice rougher than usual, but there was a playful edge to it. His lips curled into something almost like a smirk, but it didn’t feel cruel. In fact, it was… charming?

You tilted your head, trying to suppress the confusion rising in you. "You’ve been drinking," you observed, crossing your arms.

His eyes narrowed in a manner that was almost comical. "Really?" he asked, feigning surprise. "You think so?"

You raised an eyebrow, crossing the room slowly. “What happened? I thought you hated drinking."

"I do," he muttered, swaying a little on his feet. “But sometimes even I need… a break from my usual self."

You could hardly contain your smile. The snark, the biting wit—usually so prominent in Severus—was dulled. What was more striking, however, was that he wasn’t pulling away from you. His usual cold distance seemed to have disappeared, replaced by something warmer, though it was still unmistakably Severus. You saw him take another unsteady step toward you, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound ringing in the otherwise quiet room.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, sounding genuinely confused. But then, before you could answer, he wobbled and caught himself on the edge of the table next to him, his hand resting there for balance. You stepped forward, instinctively reaching out to steady him.

Snape’s eyes flickered to your touch, then back to your face. His lips quirked in a smile that was almost… mischievous. "You’re so serious all the time," he said, his voice slow and deliberate, as though savoring the words. "Why are you so serious, Y/N?"

You frowned slightly at the question, unsure of how to respond. "I… I don’t know," you said, trying to be honest but also not entirely sure of what he meant. "Maybe because you’re so distant all the time."

Severus tilted his head as if your answer intrigued him. Then, unexpectedly, his hand moved from the table and reached toward your face. You froze, your breath catching as his fingers lightly brushed against your cheek. The touch was so unlike him, so tender, that your heart fluttered in your chest.

“You think I’m distant, huh?” he murmured, his eyes suddenly locking onto yours. “Maybe I’ve just been waiting for the right moment. You don’t always make it easy, Y/N. But… I’m trying.”

Your mind raced. Was this really Severus Snape? This flirty, playful version of him was so different from the man you were used to. There was no biting sarcasm, no dark, brooding intensity. Instead, it was like all the walls he had put up had crumbled in one fell swoop, leaving only… him.

He leaned a little closer, his breath warm against your ear. “But you know, I’m not used to this,” he confessed, his voice a hushed whisper, barely audible. “I’m not good at… well, this.” His fingers, now curled against your shoulder, gently traced the outline of your jaw. “But I think I’m figuring it out.”

You were stunned into silence, blinking at him in disbelief. For the first time in a long while, Severus wasn’t just the aloof, impenetrable figure you’d come to know. No, he was something else—something that made your pulse race and your chest tighten with a mixture of excitement and confusion.

“I—Severus, are you… drunk?” you asked, your voice barely more than a breath.

He smirked, a crooked, almost boyish expression. “Me? Drunk?” He gave a soft laugh, but there was no malice in it—just warmth. “Of course not. I’m perfectly in control.”

You gave him a skeptical look.

“Alright, maybe a little,” he admitted, his voice dropping into something playful, low. “But I do what I want tonight.”

You chuckled despite yourself, shaking your head. “I don’t know if I should trust you when you’re like this.”

Severus’s smirk grew wider. His hand slipped from your shoulder to rest against the back of your neck, his thumb gently rubbing the sensitive skin there. You gasped, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

“Are you afraid of me, Y/N?” he asked softly, his face dangerously close to yours. There was a teasing note in his voice, but his eyes were filled with something far deeper—something you had never seen before.

“I—I don’t know what to think right now,” you confessed, caught between laughter and something else entirely. "You're acting so… different."

His lips curled up at the corners, his fingers now pressing more insistently against your neck as he leaned in just a little closer. “Good. I like surprising you.”

You swallowed, a lump forming in your throat at how incredibly close he was now. His breath was warm on your skin, his presence overwhelming. You felt the intensity of his gaze, the weight of the silence hanging between you. Then, before you could react, he did something that made your heart stop.

He kissed you.

It wasn’t a soft peck or an innocent brush of lips. No. It was a deep, urgent kiss, full of all the feelings he’d kept hidden for so long. His lips moved against yours with surprising gentleness, as if he were testing the waters, unsure but eager.

You froze for a moment, not sure if this was really happening, if this was the same Severus you knew. But then, instinct took over, and you kissed him back. His hand slid from your neck to the small of your back, pulling you in closer, deepening the kiss.

When he finally pulled away, his chest was heaving with breath, his face flushed from the intensity of the moment. His eyes, wide and almost innocent in their shock, flickered between yours as though he couldn’t believe what had just happened.

“I—I didn’t expect that,” he admitted, running a hand through his dark, disheveled hair.

You could barely suppress a laugh, still dazed from the kiss. “You didn’t expect to kiss me?” you teased, still in shock at how different he was acting. "Then why did you?"

Severus's smirk returned, but there was a softness to it now, a vulnerability that you rarely saw from him. "Because," he said, voice quiet but confident, "I’ve been wanting to for a long time.”

Your heart skipped in your chest at his words, the weight of them hanging in the air like something both fragile and precious.

“And now I’m not going to stop.” His voice was teasing again, but there was a sincerity in his eyes that you hadn’t expected to see tonight.

You smiled, finally feeling the distance between you both begin to shrink. “You’re incredible when you're like this,” you whispered, your hand reaching for his. “But I think you’ve had enough firewhiskey"

Severus gave you a half-hearted glare, clearly unbothered. "You always ruin the fun, Y/N," he muttered, though his smile was still there.

You leaned into him, your foreheads touching. “I think you’ve had more than enough fun for one night, Severus.”

With that, you both sank into the softness of the armchair, his arm draped over your shoulders as he let out a deep sigh, content in a way you had never seen him before.

And for the first time in ages, you didn’t feel the weight of his distance. Instead, you felt his warmth, his heart—a side of him you didn’t know he was capable of showing. The walls had come down, and for the first time, you could see Severus Snape for who he truly was.

And somehow, that was enough.

--

The early morning light filtered through the high, narrow windows of the Slytherin common room, casting long shadows across the stone floors. You awoke to a feeling of warmth, but it wasn’t the warmth of the sunlight creeping in—it was the sensation of something solid beside you, the familiar weight of Severus Snape’s presence.

You blinked, still groggy, trying to piece together what had happened. The night before was a blur, but you remembered enough: the firewhisky, the laughter, the kiss.

You glanced over at Severus, who was still sleeping beside you on the armchair, his head resting against the back, his face turned toward you. His dark hair fell across his forehead in a messy, unruly fashion—he looked almost boyish in his sleep, completely unlike the Snape you usually saw. There was a sense of vulnerability in his stillness, a quiet peace that you had never witnessed before.

You sat up slowly, careful not to disturb him. The events of the night before began to replay in your mind. The way he’d been so different, so open, so… tender. You could still feel the echo of his kiss on your lips, the warmth of his touch on your skin. The walls he’d built for years had come crashing down, revealing a side of him that you hadn’t even known existed.

But now that he was sober, would things change?

You hesitated for a moment, your stomach tightening at the thought of what might happen once he woke up and remembered. The Severus you knew didn’t let his guard down. He didn’t show emotion—especially not affection. It had always been an unspoken rule between you two that what existed between you was… complicated. You were never sure if he actually cared for you, or if he just needed someone to fill the space he left in his own heart.

But last night… last night was different.

You reached out and gently touched his shoulder, hesitant to wake him but unable to resist. He stirred slightly, letting out a soft grunt as his eyes fluttered open. They blinked in confusion at first, and then the haze of the night before seemed to clear, leaving only the cold, calculating Severus Snape you were more familiar with.

He sat up slowly, his hand instinctively reaching for the back of his head, smoothing down his disheveled hair. You watched him, heart in your throat, as his eyes flicked to you. There was a brief moment of silence—awkward, tense.

“Morning,” you said, your voice a little more hesitant than you’d intended. “How are you feeling?”

Severus didn’t answer immediately. He rubbed his temples, groaning softly as if trying to shake off the remnants of the firewhisky. Then he turned to face you fully, his gaze sharp, guarded.

“What happened last night?” he asked, his voice low and unsteady.

The bluntness of his question took you by surprise. You had expected some form of awkwardness, but this—this felt like something entirely different, like he was trying to distance himself from whatever had happened.

You bit your lip, searching for the right words. “You were... drunk and we… kissed,” you said softly, not daring to meet his eyes.

Severus raised an eyebrow, a flash of disbelief flickering in his expression. “Kissed?” He ran a hand through his hair again, clearly still processing the information. “I… don’t remember that.”

You nodded, feeling a pang of unease in your chest. "Yeah, well, you were drunk."

He frowned. "I don’t drink. I… I’m not used to that."

The words came out with a surprising mix of defensiveness and vulnerability. Severus wasn’t one to admit his weaknesses—his pride always kept him on the edge of everything, refusing to let anyone see him falter. You could sense his discomfort, even if he tried to mask it with his usual cool demeanor.

You decided to press a little more, not wanting him to slip back into his wall of indifference. “It was… nice, though. You were different. You were, uh, affectionate.”

His gaze faltered for a moment, and you saw a flicker of something in his dark eyes—something akin to regret, perhaps, or fear. He turned away, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “I wasn’t myself last night. You know how it is… alcohol makes people act out of character.”

There it was again. The familiar defensiveness. Severus was shutting down, retreating into the fortress he had built around himself. You felt a pang in your chest as you watched him struggle with the remnants of his drunken vulnerability. You had seen the cracks in his armor, but now that they were being filled with cold stone once again, you didn’t know how to reach him.

“You don’t have to act like it didn’t happen,” you said, your voice steady but soft. “I’m not going to hold it against you.”

Severus let out a sharp exhale, glancing back at you with a look that was almost… apologetic. It was a fleeting expression, gone before you could truly process it. “You shouldn’t take me seriously when I’m drunk. It was… a lapse in judgment.”

A lapse in judgment.

The words stung more than you expected. You had hoped for something—anything—to acknowledge the sincerity you had seen in him, even if only for a moment. But instead, you were faced with his refusal to acknowledge what had happened. The distance between you felt like it had stretched even further in the light of day.

“I don’t think it was a lapse in judgment,” you replied, your voice tinged with frustration. “Maybe you just don’t know how to be honest with yourself.”

Severus’s eyes hardened, and you saw the familiar walls rising once again, stone by stone. He shifted in his seat, his arms crossing tightly over his chest. “I don’t need your lectures, Y/N.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady the rush of emotions threatening to spill over. You had never been good at hiding your feelings, especially when it came to Severus. And right now, you were feeling a mixture of confusion, disappointment, and—if you were being honest—hurt.

“I’m not lecturing you,” you said quietly, standing up from your seat. “I just thought that maybe… just maybe… you didn’t want to push me away anymore.”

Severus didn’t respond right away. He didn’t have to. His silence spoke volumes.

You turned away, heading toward the exit of the common room. The heavy feeling in your chest only grew stronger with every step. You didn’t know what you were expecting from Severus, but you certainly hadn’t anticipated this cold rejection. You thought he’d at least acknowledge what had happened between you—the connection you’d shared, however brief.

As your hand rested on the doorknob, you paused, glancing over your shoulder. Severus hadn’t moved, but his gaze was fixed on you. He was watching you with a strange mixture of longing and frustration, as though he didn’t quite know how to deal with the situation, how to deal with you.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice quieter than before, and there was something more in it—regret, maybe? “I didn’t mean…”

But before he could finish, you opened the door, stepping into the dimly lit corridor outside. You didn’t want to hear it. Not yet.

You needed space. You needed time to sort out the mess of feelings swirling inside you.

The heavy door clicked shut behind you with a soft finality, and you leaned against the stone wall for a moment, pressing your hand to your forehead. You felt the sting of tears in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not here. Not now.

Severus Snape had always been difficult. Distant. But last night, for a brief moment, you had seen him—truly seen him. And now, in the light of day, it felt like it was slipping through your fingers.

Maybe you were just fooling yourself.

--

It had been days since the uncomfortable confrontation in the dungeon hall, and with every passing moment, you found yourself more certain of two things: Severus Snape was as impossible to understand as ever, and you were a fool to think you could make him change.

But that didn’t stop the ache in your chest, nor did it stop the steady pull of curiosity that kept drawing your eyes toward him whenever he passed in the halls. Severus was not a man you could predict. He wasn’t even a man you could know—at least, not in the way you wanted to.

The walls he’d built around himself were high and thick, and no matter how many cracks you thought you saw in them, they always closed up again. The kiss from that night seemed more like a fleeting dream than a reality—if you dared think about it at all.

And yet, here you were, standing outside the entrance to the Slytherin common room, feeling every ounce of uncertainty bubble up in your stomach. You had promised yourself that you wouldn’t seek him out again. That you’d let things settle and maybe, just maybe, find some semblance of peace. But the silence between you two had stretched long enough that it was starting to hurt.

You wanted closure—something to understand about him, something to break the wall of cold indifference he’d thrown up after that night.

A few quick steps brought you to the heavy iron door, and you hesitated for just a moment before entering. The familiar scent of damp stone and earth filled your nose as you made your way toward the shadowed corner of the common room where you knew he’d likely be, hunched over some book, as he often was.

The common room was nearly empty. A few first years sat in a cluster near the fireplace, whispering and giggling, but there was no sign of Severus. Maybe he wasn’t there after all. Your heart sank. Maybe you were too late.

But as you turned to leave, a voice from the shadows stopped you.

"Looking for someone?"

You froze, feeling the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. His voice—the same smooth, dark tone that always sent a shiver down your spine—was laced with that familiar coolness, but you could swear there was something else in it too. A weariness? A trace of something unspoken?

You didn’t turn around immediately. Instead, you stood there for a moment, gathering your thoughts. "I was," you said softly, turning slowly. "I thought… maybe we should talk."

Severus didn’t answer right away. He was seated in a darkened alcove at the far end of the room, his legs stretched out in front of him, his fingers wrapped around a heavy textbook. The faintest light from the fireplace caught the edge of his profile, casting sharp shadows across his face. For a brief moment, you saw the boy he’d once been, hidden behind the cold facade of the man he’d become.

His eyes flicked to you, and then back to the book in his lap. “We have nothing to talk about,” he said, though there was a hesitance in his tone that made you pause.

You folded your arms across your chest, steeling yourself. "I don’t believe that."

He raised an eyebrow at you, clearly not used to your persistence. “And what, pray tell, do you believe?” he asked, his voice slightly mocking, but not entirely unamused.

You stepped closer, your voice steady, though there was an underlying edge to it. "I believe you’re hiding something. Hiding yourself."

Severus's gaze narrowed at the words, and for a moment, you thought he might say something sharp—something cutting, something that would send you away. But instead, he sighed heavily, almost imperceptibly, as though the weight of your words was starting to settle on him. He closed the book in his lap with an audible thud and stood slowly, eyes fixed on you.

“I’ve already said everything there is to say, Y/N. I’m not someone you can fix—I don’t want to be someone you think you can ‘fix.’”

You swallowed hard. He was back to his defensive, distant self again. "I’m not trying to fix you," you said quietly. "I just… I don’t understand. You were different that night. You let me in—but now, it’s like none of it happened."

He scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "Of course you’d think that. You think it was something more than what it was. I don’t need your pity, Y/N. I don’t need—" He stopped himself, his jaw tightening. "I didn’t mean for it to happen. It was a lapse of judgment."

You felt the sting of his words like a slap to your face, and something deep inside of you recoiled. “Stop saying that,” you said, your voice more insistent. “It wasn’t a lapse of judgment. I know it wasn’t.”

Severus’s eyes flashed dangerously. "And how would you know?" His voice dropped, becoming dangerously low. "You don’t know anything about me. You never have."

The anger in his words cut through you like a knife. But beneath the anger, you could hear something else. Fear. It was there, buried deep in the layers of his voice—fear of being known, of being seen for what he truly was.

“Maybe I don’t know everything,” you said, your voice softer now, more careful, "but I know you, Severus. I know what I saw. And I’m not going to pretend it didn’t happen."

He took a step toward you, closing the space between you both. His eyes bore into yours, a flicker of something darker in them, but also something more tender, almost imperceptible, just beneath the surface. "You should forget it," he said, his words quiet but forceful. "It doesn’t matter. I’m not the type of person you think I am. I don’t want your pity or your sympathy. I don’t—"

You didn’t let him finish. Without thinking, you reached out and placed your hand on his arm. His body tensed, and he drew in a sharp breath, but you didn’t pull away.

"I don’t pity you, Severus," you said firmly, your hand remaining where it was. "I never have."

His gaze flickered down to your hand on his arm, and for a brief second, you thought he might push you away. But he didn’t. Instead, he took another breath and let it out slowly, his expression unreadable.

"You don’t understand," he muttered. "I’ve been alone for so long. And I’ve learned not to need anyone."

"I’m not asking you to need me," you whispered. "I’m asking you to stop pushing me away. I’m here… if you’d let me be."

For a long moment, there was no answer. Severus stood still, almost like a statue, his eyes fixed on the place where your hand still rested on his arm. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he let out a long, almost imperceptible sigh.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he said softly, his voice raw in a way you hadn’t expected. "I don’t know how to let someone in… and I don’t know if I ever will."

And in that moment, you realized something. This wasn’t about him rejecting you, or pushing you away. It wasn’t about him being cruel or distant. It was about him being scared. Scared of getting close to anyone. Scared of letting someone see the cracks in the armor he’d built so carefully around himself.

You withdrew your hand slowly, but you didn’t turn away. You stood there, just… present, watching him.

“I don’t expect you to change, Severus,” you said quietly. “I just… I just don’t want you to be alone.”

There was a long silence. Finally, Severus looked at you, his dark eyes flickering with something unreadable.

"Maybe one day," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe."

And with that, he turned away, retreating into the shadows of the common room, leaving you standing there with the echo of his words lingering in the space between you.

[clemswinecorner]

Datenight [George Clarkey]

Summary: George and Y/N go on a date, without any of their friends knowing they're dating. Or do some of them?

Wordcount: 1k

Warnings: sexual innuendos and alcohol, other than that it's fine

Based on this request, as a response to neat :)

Main Masterlist

It wasn’t the first time they were out in public for a date, and they were close enough friends for it to not be seen as one. It was, however, the first time they were out in Central London, where any of their friends could decide to go to the exact restaurant they were sitting in the corner of. 

“I’m glad we’re doing this. That we’re able to just have some time together, going out, that we can have dinner together,” she says, looking at the man in front of her. “Well, I’d hope so, it’d be unfortunate if we went to dinner and we couldn’t eat,” he jokes, making her roll her eyes with a fond smile. “You know what I mean. I’m really happy to be with you,” she just says, making him smile. He reaches over, their hands on top of each other on the table. His thumb softly grazes her hand. “I’m really happy to be with you, too.”

They spend their first and second courses simply talking, joking around, looking at each other. Of course, it wasn’t a date night without some shameless flirting. George looked extremely handsome in his black button-up, and god, the short sleeves made his arms look extremely good. She had to keep herself from looking at them, the same way George had to remind himself not to stare too long. She was wearing a tight-fitting, white, off-shoulder top, and god, he wants her to never wear anything else ever again. 

As they were waiting for their dessert, their cheeks were a bit flushed from the wine as they giggled together. George lets out a content sigh, leaning back to look at her. “You know, I know I don’t say it a lot, but you’re an incredible person. A good shag too, if I may say so myself,” he jokes, making her giggle again as his expression softens. “Seriously, though. I’m really glad this is working out for us, you’re one of the best things to happen to me,” he quietly admits. She smiles at him, taking his hand that’s resting on the table. “I’m really glad, too, George. I wouldn’t want to be here with anyone else,” she says, making a small smile appear on his face as he shyly looks down. A comfortable silence falls over them, the couple simply enjoying each other’s company and the shared feelings between them. “I’m staying at yours, right?” She breaks the silence right as dessert is served. They both thank the waiter before continuing their conversation, “Yeah, the boys went out and would stay at Arthur’s, they said, telling me I’ll have the house to myself after ten,” George answers, grabbing his phone as she nods. “This looks so good. So you’re telling me we could've had a cosy night in without the boys?” She teases opening the camera app. She looks up to find George’s pointed at her. “What?!” George laughs at her reaction, “Just capturing your love for food. You look good, you look pretty. Happy.” She blushes at his comment, reluctantly taking a picture of her plate. “Which one did you get again?” She asks, looking over. “Uh, the crème brûlée,” he says, as she takes another picture of both plates together, commenting how good it looks. He smiles, looking at her adoringly, before briefly glancing out the window to the busy streets. She furrows her eyebrows as he sits up straighter, “Is that Arthur?!” She turns around, not immediately spotting the singer but recognizing the head of curls next to him. “Oh my god, yeah, they’re here. Should I go to the bathroom and you text me when they’re gone? I have to go anyway,” she says, already standing up. George nods, still with a confused look on his face. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll text.”

It takes less than five minutes before she gets back. “Any of them realise we were here?” She asks, pushing back her chair to sit down again. He shakes his head, taking his glass of water in his hand. “Maybe Arthur, he was looking in, but I don’t think Chris or TV saw me,” he twirls his drink before taking a sip. She looks at him thoughtfully. “Hey, if you want to tell them, that’s fine with me, you know that right?” He immediately nods. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I want to, eventually, but I’m keeping you to myself for just a while longer,” she smiles at him, as he looks around again. “Oh god, I just realised… They already think I’m on a fucking date,” George suddenly says. “Well you are, with me.” He chuckles at her comment, “Yeah, but they don’t know that! I won’t hear the end of it,” he groans, making her laugh along with him. “You’ll be fine. Are we finally going to eat this? I want a bite of yours.”

It’s nearly midnight by the time they walk back to George’s. They’d spend a little while more drinking the last of their wine, conversation flowing effortlessly. With the alcohol, the giggling, flirting and touching all increase, and they’re walking back leaning against each other, fingers laced together. “I’m glad we have the flat to ourselves, it’d be a long night if I had to go spend the night by myself,” George whispers, kissing her cheek. She giggles, turning to look him in the eye. “Hmm. Luckily we don’t have to think about that, because I’ll be yours tonight and every other moment of the day for the foreseeable future,” George giggles along, pulling them to stop. They giggle as he kisses her, their bodies completely together, almost forgetting where they are. She innocently smiles at him, “C’mon, let’s get to yours,” she whispers. When they arrive, they quickly make their way to George’s bedroom, too indulged by each other to think about anything else. Their phones are completely disregarded on his bedside table, neither of them looking at it until later that morning. George checks his texts for the first time as Y/N is doing her morning routine after their shower, to see one from his roommate. 

From: Arthur Hill

saw you and y/n having dinner last night, looking cosy ;) swayed arthur and chris the other way, they don’t have a clue. happy for you two, george. x 

[nakylvr]

hiiii can I request gp!sophia x fem!reader with angst prompt 1 + smut prompt 10 where basically reader just had a huge fight with her ex bf and went to sophia bc she’s her best friend (that she’s also lowkey really attracted to) and sophia tries to cheer reader up (by fucking her) but she’s really sweet and fluffy during it🫶🏼

(sorry if this doesn’t make any sense but I hope you get what I mean😭english is not my first language💜)

bestie this is so good...you made perfect sense i understood completely 🫶 thank you so much for requesting!

— ALL I WANTED ⚓️

sophia laforteza (katseye) x fem!reader

summary: angst prompt 1("i didn't know where else to go") + smut prompt 10("don't worry, i'll take care of you") from my 100 follower event OR you have a big fight with your boyfriend and break up. going to your best friend sophia, things take a turn by how she "cheers you up"

warnings/tags: language, nsfw content, g!p!sophia, soft dom!sophia, sub!reader, soft sex, lots of praise, unprotected sex, cumming inside

you stood in front of the door of your best friend's apartment. your arms were folded in on yourself, practically hugging yourself as you waited for the door to open. it was cold outside, feeling the chill breeze as you wore merely a thin sweater and leggings. you glance away for a split second, and suddenly the door opens revealing sophia, whose expression quickly goes from happy to concerned at the sight of you.

"oh my god, are you okay?" she immediately questions. "here, come inside. you're probably freezing." she grabs your arm and pulls you inside, closing the door behind you.

"sorry for showing up like this," you apologize quietly as you look down at the ground. "i didn't know where else to go," your voice cracks as you say this.

sophia can instantly tell something is wrong. the first thing being you apologizing when she would never be upset with you for randomly showing up in the middle of the night. second being the way your eyes won't meet hers. and third, the crack in your voice.

"hey, hey," she says softly, placing her hands on your shoulders. "what's wrong? what happened?" her tone is so caring and genuine like she always is with you. she hates seeing you upset to the point of near crying, but she doesn't know how to help if she doesn't know what's wrong.

"it-it's just my boyfriend and i got in a huge fight...he broke up with me and basically kicked me out so...i came here," your voice is quiet as you speak, still not being able to meet her eyes.

sophia's eyes go wide for a second at your answer. but when you finally look at her, eyes filled with tears, her breath hitches in her throat. she can't lie and say she doesn't think this is a blessing in disguise given the fact she's been pining for you for years now, but couldn't do anything with that stupid boyfriend of yours around, cause she does think it. she knows you feel the same, at least she thinks it with the lingering stares you've been giving her more recently and the way you've talked to her lately. she tries to think quickly of what's the best option to do right now, too many different thoughts running through her head as she stares back at you. hesitantly, she moves her hands from your shoulders to cup your face in her hands, seeing the way your eyes subtly widen at her action and hoping she isn't fucking this up. "how about i help cheer you up?"

you're frozen in your spot as sophia asks you the question, and you're not sure how to respond. you don't have a complete understanding of what she's meaning, your mind going in a direction you assume would never happen ever no matter how much you wanted. "what do you mean by that?" you respond quietly.

"whatever you want it to mean," sophia answers in the same voice. "i'm here for anything you need or want."

those words are enough reassurance you need to finally say what you've been wanting to say for a while now. "kiss me," you whisper.

sophia tries to fight the smile that creeps on her face at your reply, but fails miserably as she leans in and closes the gap between you and her. she can taste the remainder of your lipgloss on your lips that you applied earlier in the day, sighing softly against your lips. your arms wrap around her neck, pulling her closer to you before parting from the kiss. your face is inches away from hers, and your fingers play with her hair as you stare into her eyes.

"you're a really good kisser," you murmur. "how were you planning on cheering me up?" you ask next.

"will you let me show you?" sophia responds. "let me take care of you like you deserve." her hands move to your waist, somehow managing to pull you even closer.

"please," you say in a quiet voice.

that's all sophia needs to hear before she's pulling you to her bedroom, kissing you continuously and almost tripping when she hits the bed. she swiftly picks you up and lays you down on the bed, crawling above you and peering down at you. her hands find the hem of your swearer and she looks at you, silently asking for your permission to remove it. you nod your head, and she slowly pulls it up over your head, leaving you in your bra and leggings.

"you're so beautiful," sophia murmurs, her hands drifting up and down your torso. they stop at the waistband of your leggings, her fingers hooking around it and lightly tugging them down your legs and off along with your panties. "you have no idea how much i've wanted this," she says, her eyes wandering over your body, her cock throbbing in her boxers at the sight of you in front of her. she quickly discards her shirt and shorts, leaving her in her boxers that had a wet spot from the precum leaking from her tip. she brings a hand between your legs, fingers dragging along your folds before slowly slipping two into your wet heat.

"s-sophia," you whimper out when she slowly thrusts her fingers in and out of you.

your walls suck her fingers in greedily, making her only want you more as she pulls her fingers out after a few seconds, needing to feel you around her cock. she strips off her boxers, her cock springing out, the head red and dripping beads of precum. supporting herself up with one of her arms near your head, the other holds the base of her length, sliding up and down your dripping pussy, collecting your slick on her tip. "don't worry, i'll take care of you," she tells you softly. "are you ready?"

you nod your head, whimpering at the feeling of her rubbing against you. "yes- please i need you so bad," your voice comes out whinier than you wanted, but you can't find it in you to care seeing the way sophia's eyes darken at your words.

slowly, she pushes inside of you, watching the way your eyes roll back at the size of her filling you up. sophia curses under her breath at your walls squeezing around her tightly, stopping once she was fully in you. "you tell me when you want me to move, okay?" she presses a quick kiss on your lips.

your jaw falls open as you feel her stretching you out, a quiet whimper coming from you when she stops. you nod again at her words, taking a few shallow breaths before speaking. "y-you can move now."

inch by inch, sophia pulls out before sliding back in, the wetness of your pussy making it oh so easy for her to build a slow pace. "you're so pretty," she says, leaning down and kissing you. "god, you're so tight," she hisses against your lips.

quiet moans fall from your lips as she sets a slow pace, almost embarrassed of getting too loud, whimpering at her words as she kisses you. your arms hook around her neck, pulling her closer. parting from the kiss, you breathe heavily as you stare up at her, biting down on your lower lip to try and keep quiet.

sophia's eyes don't leave yours once, keeping eye contact while maintaining her slow pace. she didn't want to get rough with you in your current state, she was happy enough for this to be happening in general. plus, she seriously doubted your dumbass boyfriend gave a fuck about whether you actually came or not. so she was going to make sure you would. "don't be shy, princess," she pushes some of your hair out of your face. "let me hear you, my love. i wanna hear the pretty noises you make."

your face heats up at the realization that she wants to hear you, finally letting go of your lip from your teeth and freely moaning like she wanted. "sh-shit sophia," you whine her name. you're surprised at how slow and gentle the girl above you is being, as if she was worried she would hurt you when you know she would never even think of hurting you once. but, it was nice. she was right, she was making you feel the way you deserved.

hearing her name coming from you in that whiny tone has sophia's cock twitching in you, letting out quiet grunts with her gaze still on you. "how does it feel, baby?" she asks you, genuine. she needs to know she's making you feel good, she needs to hear you say it. she doesn't know how she's keeping up this slow, almost agonizing pace, but seeing your reactions each time she slowly pushes back in is enough for her to keep at it. "tell me how it feels."

"g-good," you manage out through moans. "it fe-feels so g-good- fuck- you're making m-me feel so good," you emphasize on 'you're' so that she knows that she's the only one on your mind. it was true, you couldn't even think about anything else except for the way she feels like this. you didn't even remember why you came here, and you didn't care, either.

"fuck," sophia breathes out at your response. she can tell you've long forgotten why you originally came to her place, and that mixed with you emphasizing that she's the one making you feel this good has her swelling with pride. "you're so beautiful like this. i love you so so much," she mumbles, not realizing the way her words could sound to you.

you can barely process her words, only hearing the 'i love you', and that alone has you clenching tightly around her cock, somehow getting even wetter than you already were. "i lo-love you too- o-oh my god!" your eyes roll back when you feel her tip nudge against your g-spot. "fu-fuck!" you feel tears welling in your eyes as you feel yourself getting closer to cumming.

seeing the tears in your eyes has sophia cooing at you, cupping your cheek with one of her hands and wiping the stray tear that falls. "shh, you're close, yeah?" she says quietly. she slowly speeds up her thrusts just a little bit, pushing so deep into you that she can practically see the outline of her cock bulging from your stomach making her twitch again. "i'm close too- shit!- tel-tell me where you want me," her words are starting to get interrupted by little whimpers escaping her throat as she feels herself get closer.

you nod your head quickly at her question, murmuring out, "ye-yes," through your noises that are getting louder and whinier. her next words have your head spinning to come up with a response. staring up into her eyes as she stares down at you, you know the answer you're going to give. "i-in me, please, i'm o-on the pill, please cum in me, please," you're begging for her in a way that would be embarrassing to you in any other moment, but you can't find it in you to care.

sophia's eyes go wide when you tell her what you want, but she isn't going to deny your requests in any shape or form. "don't worry, my love," she tells you before kissing you, moaning into the kiss and speeding up just a little bit more.

whining her name as she kisses you, you pull her down impossibly closer to you, your bodies practically pressed against each other. your legs wrap around her hips, bringing her even closer to you. pulling out of the kiss, you rest your forehead against hers, looking deeply into her eyes as short breaths and moans of her name leave your mouth. "f-fuck, sophia 'm so close,"

"go on," she pecks your lips quickly. "cum for me, my pretty girl. so pretty for me like this, god," she groans quietly.

after one final thrust, your eyes roll into the back of your head as you cum so hard you end up seeing white, your hands clawing at her back. not even a minute later, sophia is putting her face in your neck and letting out a long drawn-out whine as spurts of her cum fill you up to the brim. she stays there for a moment or two, breathing heavily into your neck before slowly pulling out of you. a whimper falls from your lips at the feeling, your arms still hooked around her neck and holding her close to you.

"do you...really love me in this way?" you whisper quietly.

sophia pulls her face from your neck at your hesitant question, looking down at you and nodding her head. "of course. i just didn't want to do anything while you were with him," she answers truthfully.

you nod slowly, clearly hesitating about asking the next question you were thinking of. "do you want...to be with me?"

there's a look in sophia's eyes that you can't figure out, as if she's struggling with a response. "yes," she says in a quiet voice.

"then i'm yours," you smile at her, moving your hands to cup her cheeks. "i love you."

sophia's face instantly lights up when you speak, a wide smile tugging on her lips. "i love you too, so much."

[verycoolusername1]

Don't think you understand

Summary: Quinn can't get ahold of his feelings, which leads him to push you away unintentionally.

Track 8 of short n' sweet - dumb & poetic

Warning! Slight miscommunication

A/N: This does have a happy ending :) and it's short. I apologize for that!! I just wanted to post something for the short n sweet masterlist(been delaying it)

And I gave you guys a bridgerton love confession kinda so enjoy that lmao

You haven't talked to him in weeks. The man was your best friend and you haven't talked to him in two months, how did this even happen?

Hmm, maybe when you had confessed your feelings to Quinn around the same time, you left without an answer, analyzing the blank look on his face, bringing enough of one for you.

This was your fifth tub of ice cream in two weeks, while on a call with Luke(and Jack, who also joined the supposed gossip session).

"Wait, so let me get this straight." Jack said, collecting his thoughts. "You told him you were in love with him, and he didn't say anything or have any reaction which led to you two not talking anymore?"

"Well, it certainly helps hearing it out loud." You grumbled.

"Sorry! I just need to recap so I know why I have to slap him when I next see him." Jack mutters the last part.

"You know, for him being the oldest, he sure is stupid." Luke chuckles.

"Pretty sure I'm the stupid one here, I mean, I thought he actually liked me back." You smiled Sadly.

"You think he doesn't like you in that way?" Jack asked, you nodded.

"Yeah, no, Quinn's definitely in love with you, Y/N. Have you seen the way he looks at you? The way his eyes seem to shine brighter when he talks about you." Luke shrugged.

"Okay, now you guys are feeding into my delusions." You rolled your eyes. "I lost my best friend because I couldn't control my feelings about him. And now I'm sitting on my kitchen floor, crying to Conan Gray while eating Ben & Jerry's."

There was a sudden knock on your door. Who could that be? It was late in the night in Vancouver.

"I'll be right back guys, don't hang up." You warned.

You walked up to the door and looked through the peephole and saw the man of the house standing on the other side. You unlocked it. How could you not?

"Quinn? What are you doin-?" You were cut off with Quinn kissing you passionately. You melted in the kiss before slowly breaking apart.

"I'm in love with you too." Quinn confessed. "I think I've been in love with you the moment I saw you falling off the swing when we were kids, if I'm being honest. It's very easy to fall in love with someone as special, charming, kind, heartless, caring, and comforting as you. I can't imagine being with anyone else other than you. And I don't even want to think about how sorry I am for not realizing it until now. But I love you Y/N, and I don't think I can ever stop - No, I know that I can't and won't."

Now it your time to be in shock.

"I understand if I'm too late, I just wanted you to know. I'm sorry for kissing you. I just wanted to know what it felt if it was the only time -" You cut Quinn off by kissing him.

"I love you too." You whispered. "Gosh you're so dumb and poetic."

Quinn chuckles. "What does that even mean?" He followed you into the house.

"Y/N!!! Did you get kidnapped? Omg Luke what if we gotta call the cops and tell them what happened and we gotta tell them she was crying about our idiotic brother-"

"Jack shut up." Luke looked at his brother bewildered.

"I'm just saying, could be a possibility." Jack mutters.

"I'm not dead guys." You picked up the phone.

"Y/N! You're alive. What happened? Who was at the door?" Luke asked, Jack chuckling behind him.

"Oh you know just this really hot guy." You answered simply.

"Okay? How hot was he? Is he gonna make you get over Quinn?" Jack asked.

"Very hot and no." You answered.

Quinn came into frame behind you, kissing you on your neck.

Jack and Luke's jaw drops. "No way!" "What the hell?"

"There are children present in this conversation, you guys are disgusting." Jack gestured to Luke who shoved him in response. "I'm 21!"

"Bye guys." Quinn hung up the phone.

"That was rude, you know." You looked back at him.

"I know, I just wanted to kiss you without them bickering." Quinn mumbles.

"And to think I was just crying over you not too long ago." You recalled.

"I'll make up for every tear you shed for my stupidity, I promise." Quinn's nose brushes yours.

"I know you will." You leaned in closer.