#and i know the reason she walks away is because she sees too much of herself in her son and she can't handle that right now either

[graceface1712]

How Sweet Pouge reader met Rafe!

Soft RafexSweetPouge reader

Summary: Rafe is known to hate Pouges. All of them are nuisances to him. Until one particular girl catches his eye. He asks Topper if he knows her name and only for Topper to tell him that she’s a Pouge. 

Warnings: Nothing!

Enjoy 🫶🏻🫶🏻

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊

The beach party was in full swing. People were drinking, dancing, and partying their asses off. Rafe on the other hand, was busy trying to make sure Topper’s psychotic girlfriend, Ruthie, didn’t start any more fights with people. She was literally insane.

“Topper. Control your girl. She’s being a fucking lunatic.” He bites out to Topper. Crazy ass bitch. He thinks to himself. His eyes scan the beach, making sure everything is going smoothly. Then all the sudden, his eyes land on you.

You’re wearing a bright pink tank top, it’s spaghetti straps fighting to hold in your boobs that are threatening to spill out from you jumping around. It shows just a sliver of your tan waist, but it’s enough to make Rafe want to wrap his arms around it. Your toned legs are clad in a pair of jean shorts and beaded brackets decorate your arms.

You look so carefree, so happy. Dancing around with everyone. Your smile is stunning. It takes Rafe’s breath away in the best way possible.

Rafe turns to Topper. “Hey, who is that?” He asks him. Topper tries to see who Rafe is pointing to.

“Dude, there’s about 20 people you could be pointing to right now.” Topper says sarcastically.

“Her. The girl in the pink tank top and jean shorts.” Rafe says growing impatient, even though he knows Topper had a point. It’s a giant group of dancing teenagers and Rafe could have been pointing to any of them. But he needed to find out who this girl is.

“Oh. Man that’s Y/N. She’s hot but I would never mess with her. She’s a Pouge, the Pouge princess as many people refer to her.” Topper spits the word out with disgust. Rafe’s eyes widen.

Now he remembers. Of course he knows how the Pouge Princess is. I mean, he’s the Kook King.

Well you being a Pouge isn’t going to stop him. He may hate Pouges but most of them are annoying and make stupid decisions. He’s never even heard of you so you must be normal.

Rafe walks over to you confidently. When he wants something, he gets it. And you’re no different.

When he lightly grabbed Y/N’s arm, she was startled and turned around to see who the culprit was.

She was even more surprised when she was met with Rafe Cameron staring down at her. Y/N along with everybody else knows that Rafe doesn’t interact with Pouges unless he has to. And typically it’s in a violent way.

Rafe has never done anything bad to her before. Honestly, she doesn’t get out too much anyways. Usually her dad is making her scrub down their little shack, and if not, she’s out at the beach tanning and surfing.

Y/N just lives her life to the fullest. Her family is dirt poor, the only reason they have a roof over their heads is because her grandpa built her house when he was younger. But other than that, life is all about the experience for her. She tries to be kind to everybody and will never ever judge someone for what they look like, or how they are. That’s why many people in town refer to her as the “Pouge Princess”.

But she has no hard feelings towards Rafe unlike many other kids on the cut her age. She doesn’t blame them though.

“Hi.” Rafe says. He can smell her intoxicating scent. She smells like a warm, vanilla, bakery. The breeze is making her scent drift right to his nose.

“Hi!” She giggles and its music to ears. “Do you need something from me?” She asks him.

He lets go of her arm and runs a hand through his buzzed hair. But something caught his attention, there was no judgment, no nasty look, or condescending tone in her voice that was directed at him. Most people in town couldn’t even look at him without wincing. Whether it was from fear or disgust. So naturally, Rafe was drawn to her.

“Well I just wanted to come talk to the prettiest girl on the beach.” He said with a grin stretching across his face. Y/N’s face burned with a blush.

“You think I’m pretty?” She shyly asked him

“I think you’re the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever laid eyes on.” He leans down and whispers in her ear.

The red staining Y/N’s cheeks turned to a dark crimson. Y/N has struggled with her appearance for a long time. Her dad being the main cause of that, always calling her ugly and worthless. The compliment meant a lot to her.

Rafe and Y/N shouted over the loud music, talking to each other about everything. Y/N was dancing and swaying to the music, and Rafe was trying to keep her still so her words wouldn’t jumble up while she was bumping around.

After a while, Y/N got tired. She smushed her face into Rafe’s chest.

“I’m tiredddd.” She complained. Rafe wrapped his hands around her forearms and guided her to a big piece of driftwood down the beach. Now they were away from the craziness of the party.

Rafe was looking at Y/N with something in his eyes that she couldn’t quite decipher.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” She’s asks him.

“Can I go on a date with you?” The words fly out of his mouth before he can even register what he’s saying. Y/N’s mouth falls open.

“What?” She asks.

“Can I take you out? On a date. Tomorrow.” Rafe says. Now his words are collected and put together.

Y/N teases him a little. Taking a long time to come up with an answer. Even going as far as tapping her pointer finger on her chin and making it look like she’s thinking about it. Obviously there is only one answer.

“Y/N.” Rafe mutters.

“Of course I will!” Y/N happily says, finally giving up on her teasing. A sigh of relief escapes Rafe. Like she was really going to say no.

“Thank goodness. Here’s my phone you can give me your phone number so you can send me your address.” Rafe says while fishing his phone out of his pocket and opening his contacts app.

Y/N’s whole mood changes. More red flush adorns her cheeks, but not out of the fact that she has butterflies or is nervous, it’s out of embarrassment.

“What’s wrong?” Rafe asks her. He noticed her mood change.

“Ummm. I don’t have a phone.” She says.

“Why are you grounded or something?” Rafe asks her.

“No, it’s just my parents can’t afford to get me a phone.” Y/N says embarrassed.

Rafe’s eyes widen. He has never experienced a life without having some sort of electronics thrown in his face. Ward had always tried to buy his and his sister‘s love with either the newest gaming console or tablet or iPhone.

“Oh. Well that’s okay. You can just give me your address and I’ll write it down in my notes app.” Rafe says. It’s obvious that she is uncomfortable about not having a phone, so he doesn’t want to make it something it doesn’t have to be.

“Okay.” Y/N says and then proceeds to tell Rafe her address. She’s glad he didn’t make a big deal out of the situation. I mean it’s the 21st century almost every kid her age has a cell phone, especially in the Outer Banks. But unfortunately, her parents don’t make enough money to be able to give her a phone. So she goes without one. The only way her friends can communicate with her, is verbally.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow, 6pm sharp. Wear something comfortable.” Rafe says and smiles.

“Okay. I’ll be ready” Y/N beams up at him.

“Can’t wait baby.” That’s the last thing Rafe says before walking off and disappearing into the crowd of teenagers.

What just happened? They both wonder to themselves.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

First one! 🫶🏻

[chrrific]

綺麗 IT’S A BAD IDEA, RIGHT? 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 & 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎

slytherin! 엔하이픈 x 𝑓. gryffindor! reader wc 2.005k ─── fluff forbidden relationship au est. relationships l’avis kissing pda pining nicknames like ‘doll’ & ‘pretty’

for : love 💌 mick’s coming back from the dead ?? this one’s for my love ai ( @jjennuine ) >< she’s mine y’all !!!! stay away 😾😾 and go support our collaboration series — lovestruck ! — @lovestruck-show-official

read more fleur

LEE HEESEUNG forbidden relationship

“y/n?”

a whisper echoed through the silent astronomy tower, the only source of light being the moon glimmering through the small window and the stars glimmering above, clearly visible through the enchanted ceiling; it wasn’t enough for heeseung’s eyes to adjust to the dark.

you tiptoed out from your hiding place, and gave him a silent wave and a smile. his lips instantly tugged up sat the sight of you, and he stepped forward, arms finding their home on the nape of your waist as he looked at you.

the look in his eyes was lovesick; wistful.

he hoped and dreamed so hard of the day when the two of you wouldn’t have to hide your relationship, and when you wouldnt have to meet in secret at night.

because this wasn’t right. slytherins and gryffindors just didn’t belong together.

the way you looked in the moonlight was breathtaking, so much so that he swears you’d put amortentia in his porridge that morning. but no, he knew you didn’t. that’s just how much he was in love with you.

PARK JONGSEONG hot boy x unnoticed

jay was the it guy of your year. girls would probably fall at his feet even if he didn’t ask them to. and for some, totally random, unknown reason, it made you almost jealous.

you could almost feel your gaze hardening whenever you saw him with another girl; a girl thats not you. I mean, it’s not like you like-liked him, right? he’s just hot. that’s all it should be, and that’s all it can.

but is that really true?

with the way he’s been shamelessly staring you down from the other end of mcgonnagal’s classroom, you’re sure he can hear your heart pounding from where he’s sat, arms crossed against his chest and gaze set on you in a way that made your breath hitch.

your gaze locked with his, the confidence in his eyes almost intoxicating.

you sighed in relief as the bell rang, snapping him out of your little staring competition before he shoved his stuff into his bag and got off his chair, almost lazily.

just as you were about to walk out of the classroom, a hand wrapping around your wrist stopped you from moving ahead.

“what class do you have next, pretty?”

needless to say, you could feel the ghosts of his fingers around your wrist the entire week.

SIM JAEYUN cocky rival

“good morning, class. today, we are going to be making the love potion known as ‘amortentia’. anyone who knows what it is?”

snape’s cold voice rang around the room, the sound monotonous. everyone knew — of course they did, they were just too scared to answer. there were only two people who were willing enough to answer his question; you and jake sim.

“ah, l/n, yes. so tell me, what is amortentia?” snape asked, shooting jake a glance from rhe corner of his eyes, as if to get him to shut up; like he wanted to see you fail, like he thought all gryffindors did.

you cleared your throat, making sure your voice was loud and clear, wanting your stone-minded, biased professor to see you shine. “amortentia is the most powerful love potion, that is characterised by its—”

you were cut off by another voice, that came from behind you.

“the scent. it is multifaceted, with the scent varying with different people”

a slight frown found its home on your lips, annoyed that jake just had to cut you off in between. “yes, professor. it’s scent.” you muttered, giving jake a glare.

“alright, since the two of you seem to know a lot about the topic, you two will be partners for the entirety of this class.”

you almost wanted to combust right then and there, from those words. why him? why not karina, or jungwon — your friends. at this point, you’d even go to the length of partnering with pansy parkinson, the slytherin girl who acts like she owns the world.

after a reluctant sigh, you shifted your things so jake could move next to you.

as you began to make the potion together, you found yourself struggling with one thing, just one; measuring the pearl dust.

it was so iridescent and was flying all over your workstation, creating a sheen layer that shone even in the dimly lit dungeon.

“need some help, doll?”

PARK SUNGHOON shy x tease

the smell of books overtook your senses as you stepped into the large library, overflowing with shelves upon shelves.

the library was surprisingly full today, and from what your eyes could catch, there was only one seat left; a seat next to a slytherin.

he was focused on whatever he was reading, and it was honestly kinda cute to you. you caught yourself staring for a moment before you got yourself out of it, reprimanding yourself inwardly for a second, before you gathered the courage to go talk to him.

“hey,” your voice rang through the somewhat silent library, even though it was relatively soft. “can i sit here?”

his eyes shifted from his book to you, before he gave a small nod.

you put your bag at the bottom of the chair, and sat down on the seat, not paying much heed to the discomfort the hard cushion underneath brought.

you pulled out a thick book on transfiguration out, starting to read it. it wasn’t like you really liked the subject like rei did, but you had to; you were very close to failing.

as you were starting to get into the book, you felt a pair of eyes on you. you glanced up, only to see said boy sitting next to you being the one looking.

he quickly looked away, pale skin undeniably flushed, staring at the table as if it was an art piece in a museum.

you smirked inwardly, before looking back at your book. maybe sitting next to a slytherin wasnt so bad after all.

KIM SUNOO sunshine x grumpy

sunoo; he just had a way with his persona. that is, he knew exactly how to trick anyone into doing absolutely anything for him, without them realising what trap they fell into.

as you tried to take a step into flitwick’s charms lesson, another person entering made you stop. you glanced behind your shoulder to see who it was, and it was sunoo — cheery smiles and all.

“go ahead,” you murmured, stepping back to let him go ahead. you were met with a too bright ‘thank you!’ before you stepped in yourself.

your eyes scanned the room, only to find that your usual seat at the back was taken already, and the last seat remaining was the one next to him. bracing yourself for the cheery sunshine-ball that sunoo was, you took a step to the desk, plopping down on the seat with your facical expression screaming uninterested.

the class began, with sunoo happily answering flitwick’s questions and taking his notes; meanwhile, you sat, barely able to keep yourself awake because of the all-nighter-study-session you did the previous night.

he shot you a glance from rhe corner of his eyes, his bangs getting in the way of his view ever so slightly. without thinking, he picked up a scrap piece of parchment, scrawling something on it in his overly near handwriting.

it was only because of the parchment being cautiously slid to you that you didn’t nod off, but the words were a bit blurry due to lack of sleep as you tried to read. yet, the second you read it, your brain immediately snapped to its senses.

“hey, you look tired. have you been sleeping well?”

YANG JUNGWON prefect x troublemaker

“another time?” his groan of frustration echoed off the walls, his fingers running through his hair. how many more pranks could you pull? well, considering your new attack, the number of times you could go again would be innumerable.

there you stood in front of his desk, slightly sheepish, but your signature smirk was still on — the one that irked him oh, so much.

“you see, your little warnings really won’t do much. in any case, they make me want to do it more.” the confidence in your tone got under his skin, causing him to look up at you with a glare, as firm as he could muster.

you couldn’t help the laugh that slipped your lips at his attempt to look intimidating, and for some odd reason, it made your heart stop slightly.

you paused, cockiness wavering for just a few seconds, before it came back stronger. “you do know that look it just making it easier to laugh at you, right?” you teased through a chortle, but the way your eyes softened a minuscule amount didn’t go unnoticed by jungwon.

and for a second, it all stopped.

the room went silent, the spirit of your laughter dying down until all that was left was a tension filled with unspoken emotion.

it only lasted a couple moments, though, before he locked back in and looked at you again, voice firm but with a hint of something else lingering at the back.

“just.. keep yourself out of trouble for a bit, yeah? you don’t wanna get yourself suspended before the school year ends.”

NISHIMURA RIKI quidditch rivals

the stakes were high, as the first slytherin vs. gryffindor quidditch match was about to begin.

niki — being the slytherin captain, and you, the gryffindor captain — had always had some sort of issue with you simply existing.

he always found ways to talk to you, always teasing and making fun of you until you’d snap and do something about it.

it just annoyed you so much; the ever-cocky smirk, the smugness layering onto his words, and the way his confident aura that made your heart stutter slightly in your chest each time you spared him a glance.

you couldn’t like him: it’s not right. you’re quidditch rivals from two different houses, and that’s all it would ever be.

but the way his gaze would trail towards you during matches, in the great hall, in the middle of classes, it all made you second guess everything you knew about him and how you felt.

the air was filled with a static kind of energy as the two teams hopped onto their broomsticks, shooting upwards into the sky as madam hooch blew her whistle.

the snitch was set free, and both your and niki’s eyes immediately locked for a moment, a hint of challenge and something else lurking beneath.

as the game went on, slytherin was winning by 130 points, and it felt like continuing to play was a lost cause. the only way you could win was if you were able to spot the sneaky little snitch.

it was all so sudden; you saw the snitch and so did he, and both of you dive bombed towards it. the next thing you knew, you were in the hospital wing with a broken arm and a pounding headache.

apparently, you and niki had hit each other in your speed, and you fell off your broom while he caught onto his somehow.

the second your eyes opened, you were met with the sight of two things; an overly bright light above your head and an apologetic niki sitting on the visitors chair next to your bed.

“hey, you feeling okay? i am so sorry about what happened.” the second he noticed you look up, trying to sit up with a disoriented and confused expression, the guilt crept back in even stronger, and he just word-vomited whatever came to mind: to hell with the so called ‘I hate you’ tag.

“o-oh, it’s fine. ill be alright.” you said, trying to ignore the fact that it felt like someone drove a drill through your skull.

yet, the guilt didn’t leave him at all.

in fact, it came back stronger, along with a weird thump in his heart.

it was probably today’s breakfast, right?

PERMANENT TAGLIST ✉️ 𐔌 ﹒ @liya07v @strvvy-anniee @flufflights @eunandonly @hannamoon143 @irasvr @ateez-atiny380 @amoressb @ikeulove @gudkc @mrsjohnnysuh @sol3chu @nerdywitchcrown @sol3chu @puma-riki @xeee334 @suhiiiies-blog @haerinheartss @layzfy @manaah02 @ijustwannareadstuff20 @enoclockz

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[iimplicitt]

hiii 🤠 anon here

how do you feel about writing for mafia lando where he’s married to the reader who’s not his choice it’s basically an arrangement and his family hates her and she’s having a really hard time in his house and Lando doesn’t notice and he’s cold and one day her family causes her to have a panic attack and he sees her in his room all small and scared and then he helps her and makes her a feel better and etc something about a heated confession and people being put in their place. if you do write this thank you :)

HAPPINESS IS A BUTTERFLY | LN4

pairings: mafia! lando x arranged marriage reader

an/warnings: arranged marriage, violence, mentions of abusive parents, angst, panic attacks, fluff, hea

wc: 5.2k

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

He bit the inside of his cheek as he watched the sleek back car roll up in the long drive way from his office. Windows tinted but he could make out the faint outline of a person as they moved around before Oscar got out of the car to open the door for its passenger.

His new wife.

The words tasted sour on his tongue as he drank some of his whiskey, not caring that it was nine in the morning. He needed a pick-me-up for the day that was ahead.

Gleaming hair caught in the sunlight, a delicate hand with a blinding diamond hesitantly taking Oscar’s as red bottom Louis’ met the pavement.

His eyes narrowed a bit as he watched you, mere curiosity to see how you acted when he wasn’t around. When the wedding happened it was short and extravagant. All the glitz and glamour expected of such a pair. A politician's daughter and a booming business man whose money usually came tinted red. A shame that most of the world didn’t know your fathers money was just as dirty as his.

It was an alliance in London’s eyes. A step towards peace.

He hadn’t even seen you until the white lace veil was lifted.

You were pretty but that wasn’t enough to suddenly sway his mind into liking the whole arrangement. He didn’t have much choice. Having coppers on a payroll was a deal too good to pass up, so he agreed. Shook hands. It hadn’t mattered much, not in the long run. Lando was always busy. Always working. If a marriage hadn’t been forced upon him, he didn’t think he would’ve ever had a ring on his finger.

He watched silently as you waited for Oscar to grab your bags. Your eyes flickering around the property, taking in the well kept gardens and security cameras mounted every few yards. A fortress.

His eyes took in the dress you wore, expensive silk draped over skin. Flowing like liquid in the subtle summer breeze. He took note of how your hand kept flexing, the one with a ring. His ring.

The one he had slid on your finger a week ago as he whispered, “I do.” Your own voice low as you muttered the vow, eyes not meeting his.

He could barely remember what the kiss had been like. It was quick, soft. Obligatory. Both of you seemed relieved it was over with, arms linked with one another as you left the cathedral. White flower petals falling into hair as they were tossed into the sky.

Lando set his tumbler down and backed away from the window, trying to take a calming breath before walking downstairs. He needed to make this livable. An ecosystem. Staying out of each other's way, respecting boundaries. Telling where and what was off bounds. If you needed help, ask Oscar. If you wanted someone to talk to, also ask Oscar. Leave him be, because he was busy.

You seemed reasonable enough in the few minutes of shared company. You knew this was a business transaction. It wasn’t something to get hopes up on. Lando knew you were smart enough not to be a burden so hopefully it would feel like nothing had changed. Just an extra person in the household. Another echoing voice.

He could hear the sharp click of your heels as you entered the front foyer, the soft sound of your voice as you spoke in hushed tones. Your whole presence seemed cautious. Like you were treading in a minefield.

As he stepped down the stairs and into the light, your eyes met. The air shifting. Tense. Dangerous. Your painted lips pressed into a line as you waited for instruction. Ever obedient. Compliance being woven into you as a child.

He had met your father on more than one occasion and he knew he wasn’t a kind man.

But the problems of your past were yours.

Lando sighed lightly through his nose, head tilting and hands in pockets as he let himself look at you for another moment before dismissing Oscar.

The foyer was still. The only thing he could hear was the faint hum of electricity and birds outside. Watching you as you watched him.

“Nice drive?” He asked, not quite sure on the formalities of the situation.

You laughed slightly, the sound coming out in a short exhale as you looked away from him. “It was fine.”

He hummed, not seeing a point in furthering the conversation and he gestured for you to follow him.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

The summer had gone by in a repetition of droning days and lonely dinners. The only thing keeping you company were the few books you packed, although you had already read through them all. An endless cycle of talking to the walls and sitting near your window, feeling like a modern day Rapunzel.

It’s not necessarily like you weren’t allowed to go anywhere, but it still felt off limits. Frowned upon. A burden if you were seen walking the halls.

His family didn’t like you very much. Which you both understood yet couldn’t come to terms with. They had to have known this wasn’t any more of your choice than it was his. And why shovel the blame onto someone’s child? It wasn’t your fault your father was corrupted and played a better hand.

Pressing your forehead against the cool glass, you watched as the world went by. The silent hum of air conditioning was the only thing to droll out your thoughts and lately it hadn’t been working. The room felt suffocating but there was no one to turn to. Even voicing your thoughts out loud to yourself seemed like some boundary was being crossed. Maybe even to yourself. That you were starting to get too comfortable.

Oscar seemed nice enough. Timid. Not sure how to approach you or if he even should. He brought your meals to your door like clock work. Part of you felt bad but the thought of eating in the dining room seemed like suicide. You had tried the first night, assuming that was just part of the routine. To have dinner with your…husband.

But Lando was nowhere to be found, leaving you at a large oak table alone and shoveling food around. Appetite non-existent. Oscar had told you he usually took dinner in his office. That most of the other members of the household ate out.

His words hit you dully as you stared at the polished wood, not quite believing this was going to be the rest of your life. Then again, you weren’t sure what you wanted. Did you want Lando to make an effort? Did you even want to be around him? You didn’t know much, just that he was a bad man. But aren’t they all? Apparently that’s all the world thought you were fit for. Violent men with money in their eyes.

No, you didn’t want to know him.

But god, loneliness caught up to everyone.

The hours ticked by and you sat there, tracing lines into the skin of your thighs with your nail. Over and over again till skin prickled and red lines appeared. The itch and sting foreign, numb. As if you’d shot your heart with novacaine. Your eyes unblinking as you did the action, pure muscle memory. You didn’t have to think. You didn’t want to.

At least you never wanted to think about yourself. Your situation. The listless marriage you now found yourself trapped in.

But your mind would wander. What did he get up to? What did he even do? Was it really any different from the current political affairs the nation got up to? Would he one day change his mind and want more?

The thought made you shiver, eyes trailing to your locked door. He’d never tried to come in. Hell, he’d never even been to your room. In the weeks you’d been there you had probably only seen him a handful of times. Walking down the hall and his eyes would catch yours for a moment but nothing else. Looking through you like a ghost. Cold. Indifferent. Sometimes you’d hear him in the house. Talking to Oscar or on the phone. Always business. Always something you didn’t understand.

He couldn’t seem bothered at the thought of you being around. Didn’t seem interested. And that weird, fucked up little voice in the back of your mind whispered that Lando was keeping himself entertained just fine. That he found comfort in other women. Having affairs. You barely felt married. There weren't technically any commitments beyond regurgitated vows. So why did the thought still make your stomach churn?

Perhaps it was the feeling of being unwanted. A constant companion of doubt. Your family didn’t want you, pawned you off. Your husband didn’t want you. You would never get to experience love. You’d go through life longing for creature comforts—

You pressed your forehead harder into the glass. Wanting the thoughts to stop. You pushed so hard you hoped it’d break and you’d go hurtling towards the ground.

There was a sharp knock on the door. Six o’clock sharp.

Dinner.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

You felt like you were going insane. The walls bending inward. The wallpaper swirling. The ceiling breathing.

Crazy.

Wandering the halls was reckless but you started to care less and less if Lando saw you. For the first time in months you wanted him to see you. Be reminded that you were there. Proof you were alive. You were here. Even when it never felt like it. You felt like a phantom who haunted the house, mostly only coming out at night when the rest of the world slept. Chasing the creaks of wood and following the patterns in the rug. Chasing something. Feeling wild. Deranged like a white rabbit who was late for tea.

His mother yelled at you. For something, you weren’t sure what. It seemed like no matter what you did you were wrong. Skin not fitting right over bones. Disassociating and staring at her. That only made her more mad and she slapped you. Not for the first time. Hard across the face. You hadn’t noticed till you heard the echo of it around the kitchen. Didn’t realise till some of the staff gasped, hands flying over mouths. Glowing wide eyes staring at you in shock.

You blinked again, subtle warmth creeping into your cheek. Hand slowly going up to hold your face. What had you done wrong? Why were you always wrong?

His mother scoffed. “You’re no good. You’re not even all the way there are you?” With a look of disgust she turned away, disappearing down the hall.

One of the cooks slowly approached you, as if you were some wounded animal. Holding out a pack of ice. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

“For what?” Your voice sounded distant. Distorted. Like it was coming from somewhere else. Taking the ice, you left. Letting it sit in your hand instead, the bitter coldness of it sending a dull shock up your arm.

You felt like crying. At least you thought about it. But nothing would fall out. Your eyes felt dry and heavy. Staring at nothingness as you walked with your heartbeat thudding in your ears.

This was your life. This was going to be your forever. Sucked into yet another man's orbit who didn’t give a shit about you. Because fuck what you want, right?

You turned into what you thought was your bedroom. You weren’t quite sure how you got there. It had been odd lately. Like moments of time blacked out. Arriving one place and not knowing how you got there. Tuning out to your depressing reality.

You were going to die alone. It wasn’t even your fault. Or maybe it was. Maybe you should’ve tried harder. Fought your father and left as soon as you had turned of age. Why didn’t you try harder to fight back? Did some twisted part of you want this? The lack of effort. Things being handed to you. Maybe you thought you deserved it. After all, you'd been living off your fathers dirty money guilt free. Perhaps this was just your karma.

Longing for a life you’d never have.

You sucked in a sharp breath, tears finally beginning to prick at your eyes. The droplets stung so bad your vision went blurry.

You barely felt it as your knees hit the hard wooden floors. Didn’t register the scratching sound of your nails dragging against the planks, blindly trying to crawl your way out of the hell you were living. Feeling pathetic and ungrateful because you knew it could be worse. It could always be worse.

A sob left your throat, bubbling up and out like acid.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

The door flew open to his office and he was about to yell at whoever had the audacity when he turned, paused. The look on Oscar’s face wasn’t one commonly seen.

“What?”

“There’s a problem.”

Lando sighed, tapping his pen on his desk. “Care to elaborate?”

“It’s your mother and your wife.”

Lando reared back slightly at the word. It wasn’t thrown around often. Hell, he hardly saw you. And when he did, when he’d catch you wandering around well past three in the morning something was just…off. He didn't know how to approach you. Or if he even should. You’d seemed equally disinterested by his company. Staring at him sometimes like he was an apparition that wasn’t meant to be there.

He wouldn’t blame you if you hated his guts. Lando knew most women would prefer a love filled marriage compared to whatever the hell they had.

“What about them?” He asked, eyes flicking down to his papers again. Not seeing why—

“The staff said there was an altercation in the kitchen.”

Pausing, his eyes flicked up. Brow raising.

Oscar sighed, “your wife is in your room.”

That got him up. What the hell were you doing in there? And why? It wasn’t like he kept important documents in there, he knew better than that but he still didn’t trust you much. You were your fathers daughter. Maybe this was all some ploy to get into his personal things, find weaknesses, cracks.

His feet moved briskly down the hall, his polished shoes clicking dully on the ornate rugs and painted eyes followed him as he went. Lando didn’t pause as he saw his door, didn’t pause as he turned the handle.

“What do—“

Lando halted to a stop as his eyes found you. Feeling as if the earth had been yanked out from beneath him when he heard you try to smother the sound of your crying with a hand. Curled up in the space between his bed and the nightstand. Looking so small as you trembled.

Your eyes didn’t meet his. He wasn’t even sure if you heard him come in. Your breathing was too fast, too ragged. Short bursts of oxygen, your lungs not being able to keep up.

He shut the door softly behind him and quietly made his way over to you, lowering himself to his knees. Debating if he should touch you or not. You hadn’t touched in months. Not since the wedding.

“Hey,” his voice was soft and you flinched. Head shooting up and staring at him. He’d never seen you look so frightened and you tried to push yourself back harder into the wall. Shaking your head as if he’d caught you doing something wrong.

He immediately caught the red outline of a hand on your cheek. His jaw clenched. An odd, unbearably awful sensation churned in his stomach at the thought of someone hurting you. Knowing it was his mother only made the fire burn hotter. He didn’t know why. It wasn’t like you were close. But the rage was itching up his spine like a spider.

“You’re okay,” he said again. His voice was rough, but a whisper. He reached out to you, slowly. Hands gently taking hold of you as he pulled your shaking frame into his, feeling the way your lungs struggled to catch up. Your muscles coiled in tension as he touched you. He hated it.

“You’re alright, darling.” He soothed your hair back, feeling your nails bite into his skin as you twisted the fabric of his shirt. Trying to ground yourself. Trying to make sense of it all. Of why he was here.

He knew it had to be confusing. That his sudden reassurance was off putting and regret was starting to inch its way up his throat. The spindly legs tickling and desperate. He should’ve handled this whole thing better. It was selfish. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. Holding your head beneath his chin as you tried to calm down. “I’m here, if you need me to be.”

You didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure what to do. Where to go from there. This was new territory for him. Second guessing wasn’t usually in Lando’s playbook but you were something new entirely.

He began to lean away but your grip tightened on his shirt, your head pressing further into the crook of his neck.

Sighing, he maneuvered himself into a sitting position, holding you in his lap as he leaned against his bed. Giving you time. Gently running circles into the nape of your neck. His grandmother always did that for him, it always seemed to help calm him down. Lando waited patiently, taking in the faint scent of your shampoo. Smiling to himself a bit despite everything because it was the same one he used.

Slowly your harsh breathing began to subside but your body still trembled from the aftershocks.

His fingers still ran lightly over your skin, his voice a low hum and he could feel the vibration of his own rib cage with your weight against him. “I’ve had panic attacks too, you know?”

You didn’t do anything for a moment, and then, like the first break of daylight, you slightly shifted your head and your voice was a whisper. “Really?”

“Mhm.”

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

Something had shifted. Maybe others wouldn’t have noticed, but you did. That next morning there was a knock on your bedroom door. Eight o’clock sharp. You hadn’t slept much, your eyes still raw and body restless from the previous evening. The feeling of his light, delicate touch on you was on replay in the back of your mind. You hadn’t been held in what felt like years.

You hadn’t expected such kindness from him.

Padding over to the door, you rubbed at your eyes, trying to look alive before opening it. “Morning, Oscar–” you blinked at the form of Lando standing in the hall. Wearing a casual linen shirt and dress pants, jacket draped over one arm and he looked at you expectantly.

“Ready?” He asked.

You felt dumb as you continued to stare at him. Not expecting to see him so soon. Not thinking he’d even want to see you after yesterday’s mess. “What?”

He sighed lightly through his nose. “We’re going out for breakfast.”

“Why?”

There was a slight crease forming between his brows. “Do you not want to?”

You blinked again before reality finally caught up to you. “No, no. That’s fine. Just… let me get dressed.” You eyed him as you shut the door. He was acting weird.

It was nice.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

“What on earth are you doing?” His mother shouted over the sound of a power drill. Standing in the doorway with her arms crossed.

Lando looked at her for only a moment. Still cross with her after the kitchen incident a couple of weeks ago. He had yelled at her after he managed to get you into bed. Yelled at his whole family. The staff, for not telling him.

“She is the lady of the household and my wife. You do not touch her, you do not say a fucking word to her unless it’s praise.” He looked directly at his mother. “Understood?”

“I’m building a reading nook.” He finally said, standing back to look at his progress so far. He took you to the fabric store yesterday but you were beyond indecisive and he wasn’t sure the new couch went with the interior of his office.

He had been trying to go out more, just small places. When he found out you hadn’t left the house since you arrived he was confused and furious with Oscar. His friend and right hand had merely raised his hands in surrender, muttering how you had never wanted to go anywhere.

“Whatever for? Since when do you read for pleasure?” His mother asked, mostly teasing. Trying to weave her way back into his good graces. He doubted that would ever happen. He was on the verge of throwing her out but you managed to talk him out of it.

“It’s not for me.” Lando left it at that. Watching how his mother’s shoulders fell at the realisation and she turned away.

He smiled slightly to himself as he set up the couch, pushing it under the window so you could get good light and a nice view of the gardens. Plus, he could watch you more easily from his desk when he worked.

You looked pretty when you were reading.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

For the first time in months you were bored, and not in a bad way. Lando made sure there was always something for you to do when he wasn’t around. Part of you felt bad, following him around like a kicked puppy. But any time you’d start to back off, give him some space, it was like his hand blindly found yours, not even looking up from his work, tugging you back.

Muttering a quiet, “stay.”

You tried to ignore the butterflies that began fluttering in your stomach, chasing after whatever this was. You didn’t know why you felt stubborn over it. He was your husband after all, butterflies are supposed to be a good thing.

You took up cooking as a hobby, mostly different kinds of fresh pasta. Trying to keep your hands steady as Lando would walk behind you, fingers lightly dragging along the small over your back. Leaning over your shoulder, lips nearly brushing your neck as he quietly spoke, “that looks lovely.”

He always spoke so softly to you. His touch always delicate.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

Lando fixed his cuff links as he stood in the foyer, making sure his suit was wrinkle free in the large mirror. There was a big Christmas gala that night in London. A whole cluster of politicians, businessmen, philanthropists, etc. He didn’t have much of a role to play besides being seen, given his bookies did most of the under the table work.

When he’d asked you to go with him, you hesitated. He knew seeing your father was something you’d like to avoid. Over time you slowly opened up to him about how strained the relationship was.

He had lifted a hand to your cheek, gently brushing his knuckles along your cheekbones, watching in satisfaction as your pupils expanded at his touch. “I won't let him near you,” he whispered. Watching as you debated before eventually nodding, leaning slightly into his touch.

When he heard the sound of heels clicking sharply against marble flooring his eyes flicked up, watching you approach in the mirror. Looking like heaven in high heels. Your black dress fit you perfectly, the white fur shawl was draped lazily over your shoulders.

Lando felt his mouth go dry as he turned, his heartbeat pounding in his ears as you approached. The sweet smell of your perfume swirling around him, making him feel hazy.

God, if you knew what you did to him.

It seemed like every night now that he dreamt of kissing you, doing a whole list of unruly things. Despite the ring on his hand and yours it still felt off limits. Not feeling sure of what you actually wanted.

“Ready?” You asked, a small smile playing on your lips.

He blinked at you, still in a daze. “What?”

You bit your lip, holding back a laugh and he felt his stomach pool.

“The gala. Yes, right.” He cleared his throat, not thinking twice as he took your hand. “Let’s go.”

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

You felt all the eyes on you as he took you around the dance floor. The whispers. Lando Norris’ wife who he liked to keep hidden away. Apparently most people hadn’t even known he was married. They thought you were just a new date till they saw the blinding diamond on your finger and his matching gold one.

You felt stiff. Too perceived.

But he lightly took hold of your chin between his fingers, making you look at him.

“It’s just you and me, love.”

Love. You felt equally reassured and nauseous.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

Lando was using every excuse he could to touch you. Hand splaying on the small of your back where your dress dipped low. Fingers lightly brushing the back of your neck as he talked to the other guests. Hand on your thigh beneath the table. When he’d first done it you jumped slightly and his heart skipped a beat when you looked at him, eyes low, before turning away again and taking a sip of your wine.

He couldn’t help it as his lips pulled back slightly when he began to rub circles with his thumb, feeling the muscles of your leg tighten. But you leaned toward him, an invitation. He felt more drunk off of you than any wine he had been drinking.

He’d only see glimpses of your father. Lingering to the side of the ballroom walls. Whispering in corners with other greedy men. His eyes always on you, though.

Lando didn’t like it. Then again he never liked anything enough for that to be a fair test. But he knew never to ignore his intuition, so he took your hand in his and tugged you along until you were outside, the cold December air twirling around them.

You shivered as you waited for the valet to pull his McLaren around, blushing a bit when he draped his jacket over your shoulders. Or maybe it was just the wind, he wasn’t sure. But he’d liked to think he made you flustered.

The engine purred as he drove away, feeling your eyes on him as city lights flicked back.

“Why’d we leave early?” You finally asked.

His grip adjusted on the steering heel, looking in the rearview mirror, always vigilant. He hadn’t realised till now that going public made you a target. Made him vulnerable.

“Just wanted to,” is all he offered. Not wanting to scare you. He knew you already had a difficult time adjusting to his world. Then again he shouldn’t cut you any credit. Growing up with your father couldn’t have been any easier.

You hummed, not believing him. Your eyes finally pulled away to stare out the window. Letting him relax. It was strange, having somebody for the first time see him. The thought was equally relieving and terrifying.

When they pulled up to the house the car fell quiet, a heavy silence falling over like a blanket. He wanted to say more to you, but what? This was all new territory and the thought of messing up this bridge he’d built—

“Lando.”

He turned, looking at you as moonlight painted your skin through the window.

You reached forward, hand taking his, “I know you’ll keep me safe.” Another pause and you played with his wedding ring. “I trust you.”

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

A loud thud woke you up, your heart beating erratically as your door handle began to move. Thankful that you had locked it but fear was still crawling up your spine. You were just about to reach for your phone to call someone for help when a ragged voice poured out from the other side, weakly saying your name. The sound of a body slumping to the floor.

Lando.

You quickly tore off the sheets, stumbling a bit in the dark and you yanked your door open. A hand flying up to your mouth as you took in the state of him. Bruised and slick with blood, one arm wrapped around his rib cage, his breath rattling.

His eyes cracked open, gleaming in the low lamp light of the hall. His lips pulling back in a bloodied grin.

“Hello, darling.”

“Oh my god,” you did your best to get him up, almost falling under his weight as you maneuvered him to your bathroom. “What happened?”

Your heart lurched as Lando coughed, turning his head to spit out some blood into the bin and he sat himself up on the sink. Wincing as he did so. Not answering you.

“Lando,” you said quietly, afraid that even loud noises would hurt him and you gently took hold of his face in your hands. Not caring blood and dirt would get on them. Gently running your thumbs along his cheek bones.

He seemed to melt into you, letting his head fall forward and rest against yours as you brushed the damp curls back. Seeing him like this was a new kind of pain you never wanted to experience again.

“Who did this to you?” Although your voice was gentle, there was a layer of conviction under it that even surprised you.

He sighed, a wheeze coming up from the back of his throat and his hands came up to hold onto your wrists. You didn’t miss his cracked and bleeding knuckles.

“I have a duty of care,” he muttered.

Your father. You felt like throwing up.

Gently pulling his head forward, you held him to you. Letting his heartbeat bring some life back into you. He was okay. He was here. He came back to you. Everything would be fine.

Slowly, Lando’s arms wrapped around you, holding you as tight as he could.

“I’m going to kill him,” you mumbled into his hair and he laughed, not caring that it hurt.

He leaned his head back slightly, eyes flicking between your own and your lips. His hand that had snaked up to the back of your neck pulling you in slightly. Hesitant. Then all at once.

Mouths colliding, a kiss that felt like a tuning fork struck against a star.

His fingers twined in your hair and you tried to be gentle with him. As much as you could. But the feeling of finally was making you feel weightless. Reckless. Desperate as he held you tighter.

You felt high as he whispered the words my wife between kisses.

“So much for a marriage of convenience,” you managed after you pulled away. You didn’t want to, but he needed your help.

He smiled again, those dimples you loved so much deepening in his cheeks. “Nah,” he said lightly. “I think this will be a marriage of inconvenience.”

And he kissed you again.

taglist: @theonottsbxtch @fortunapre @c8lap1nto @ashbone

[goodkushnalchohol]

OVERLY ENTHUSIASTIC ‧₊˚ੈ joaquin torres x fem!reader. fluff / suggestive? / you’re an avenger / after endgame / sam and bucky trio / intentional use of lowercase / not proofread

the blip wasn’t good for anyone really, except joaquin torres. yeah, of course he lost some friends and family but the outcome of it was pretty good for him. he became lieutenant in the air force, befriended sam wilson, and got awfully close to being the falcon - yet sam wouldn’t admit it.

even since before the snap, he had deeply admired the avengers, which included sam, bucky, and you, but he would never tell his friends which person he admired more.

you briefly met once in the compound for sam’s birthday party and he was surprisingly shocked at your skill in playing poker. that evening he left with an ache in his stomach and a yearn in his heart for a woman he didn’t even talk to. he threw silent curses at wanda in his head for keeping you at her side the whole night.

and though he kept silent about it to avoid getting laughed at by sam, his friend could tell he had taken a liking towards you - his stares were quite obvious.

the second time he saw you was at your very own promotion ceremony, you had been given the spot of being the presidents first man in the air, meaning you were sent on high risk air missions at the presidents command. which took a lot of work to accomplish, and was one of the many reasons why joaquin took an interest in you.

in his head you were the perfect pair. two highly trained pilots both at high ranks in the air force, you were practically made for each other. and when sam called you in to help with a mission that seemed too big for just captain america and the falcon, he realised there was so much more to you beneath your skin.

it was eight am on the dot when you arrived in the compound, the sun was shining brightly down on you as you walked, the sound of your boots hitting the pavement echoed with each step. right now, in your eyes, this was a simple mission sam needed help on - nothing extraordinary.

but you were blissfully unaware of who watched you take your strides from the upper levels of the building.

‘oh my god there she is! she’s getting so close i’m so nerv-‘

joaquin’s face was pressed to the glass wall of the common area, where he eagerly watched as you neared the entrance of the building. ‘she’s gonna see you if you keep staring like that, and that won’t be a good real first impression.’ sam spoke with humour in his tone, clearly teasing the boy.

‘how is she gonna see me if im all the way up here huh?’

‘you do know she was an avenger right? she can more than likely sense someone staring at her, that someone being you.” sam poked a finger in the tan man’s chest, who had finally pulled away from the window and approached sam.

he scoffed at sam, and felt a pang of anxiety in his chest when his friend uttered those words. ‘well jokes on you, because i was a stealth pilot!’ he said, gesturing to the air force logo on his shirt with a smirk

‘so was she.’

sam patted his friend on the back, laughing as he did so. ‘for someone so skilled in tech, you are so dumb with words.’

the door to the room buzzed as it opened, allowing your entrances to be known. your eyes immediately found sam’s, the two of you breaking into giddy grins after in so long.

‘good morning cap.’ your voice was dangerously sly, sarcasm lacing your lips as you joked.

‘now don’t you dare start talking to me like a 1960s war veteran.’

you both laughed, bringing each other into tight hugs once you finally reached one another. you pulled away, eyes meeting with another young man behind sam. you smiled cheekily, watching as the he stumbled over his introduction.

‘good morning lieutenant or um - ma’am - y/n, it’s uh, nice to meet you officially.’ he gave an awkward grin as he shook your hand, glancing at sam briefly with embarrassment in his eyes.

‘ugh don’t start with that official bullshit, call me y/n.’

sam chuckled at his teammate, finding his new behaviour funny. ‘y/n i want you to meet my newest recruit, joaquin torres.’ he couldn’t have been much younger than you, maybe a year or so behind you in flight training.

you smiled at the fondness in his eyes, remembering how he once introduced you to bucky and steve the same way before the blip, back then you were the new recruit, who received all the snarky jokes and comments.

‘looks like you’ve finally passed on the bird suit, i am so not gonna miss red wing.

the two men shook their heads laughing, well aware of your feelings around the drone. ‘uh no way, i still got him on my new suit, you’re never getting rid of him. i never understood why you and nat don’t like him.’

you raised your hands in mock defence, chucking to yourself. ‘it’s like an insect following you around in fights, it’s annoying.’ joaquin and sam exchanged glances, tutting at your words. ‘hey i love red wing, just so you know.’ joaquin butted in, that boy really wanted you like him, but he can’t stand red wing slander.

‘suck up.’

his head spun to face you, a hurt expression etched on his features. ‘alright alright, why don’t we go to my office and review the mission.’ sam waved his hand dismissively, brushing off your comment towards joaquin.

‘can’t have you two having a brawl before we even get started.’

after you gathered in sam’s office to discuss the missions rules, actions and procedures, you eventually noticed how skilled joaquin was in his work, and how he looked more than happy to obey sam’s orders. he seemed to be the perfect fit for sam since bucky went askew to become congressman, maybe - just maybe, you could stick around to fill the space you were previously in.

you were currently laid on the large leather couch in the room, and was researching more about adamantium when sam suddenly left, claimed he had samples he needed to check on, leaving you and joaquin alone in his office.

the silence was peaceful, and you were content to work alone, joaquin on the other hand, was not. the poor man who was given the task of getting more information on the buyer was clawing his eyeballs out as he stared at his computer screen. he wanted to talk to you so badly, but he was just so nervous of seeming uncool that he didn’t know what to say.

luckily for him, you were the one who broke the silence.

‘i saw you staring at me from the window by the way, i couldn’t tell if you wanted me to notice or not.’ he groaned into his hands with embarrassment, sam was right. as always.

you peered at him from the top of your computer, laughing at his weird antics. ‘i’m sorry, i didn’t want to come off as annoying and i think your really cool - because you were an avenger and stuff -‘ not for any other reason. ‘and i was eager to meet you.’

a small smile broke out on your face from his sheepish confession, and you put your computer to the side. you soon found yourself in a deep conversation about the avengers, talking about who you thought was the strongest or funniest or overall best.

‘no way you think tony was the coolest! it’s obviously steve!’

‘absolutely not. you’re only saying that because you’re captain americas sidekick, iron man is way cooler than cap and tony is also cooler than steve. there’s no denying it!’

your efforts to defend tony went through deaf ears as joaquin explained why steve was the best choice. ‘let’s just agree to disagree, alright?’ the man finally stopped his endless rant about steve rogers and eventually agreed to finish.

he sighed softly, pondering more questions to ask you. ‘oh! who actually makes the best jokes. 3..2..1..go!’

‘thor.’

‘thor.’

you jumped up in joy as you finally agreed on something, the both of you laughing as you simultaneously said your answers. the atmosphere was radiant now, with the two of you comfortably talking about this random topic.

‘y’know you’re actually a pretty funny guy, even though i’ve only known you a couple hours.’ you said quietly, as you stared as his side profile. he was also pretty handsome too, but you weren’t gonna tell him that. not yet anyway.

joaquin felt his ego inflate at your words, and the tips of his ears redden, and he only prayed you didn’t notice it. he left his spot at the desk a while ago and was now sat beside you on the couch, with your laptop forgotten about on the coffee table.

you two had also gotten closer with all the jumping and moving about you did, so now you’re placed directly infront of him with your hands on his knees which were almost tucked to his chest.

‘well you’re actually better than what everyone made you out to be.’ he admitted yet still in a taunting tone.

you raised a brow at his comment, curious about how others talk about you. ‘oh? how so?’ your response came out slowly, questioning his words.

he shook his head bashfully, while thinking about what to say. ‘i don’t know how to say it, i guess you’re just.. perfect.’ you laughed at his wording, trying to bring your hopes back down because there was no way he thought that highly of you.

‘you really think so?’

he hadn’t realised the true meaning behind his sentence until you said that, but he did infact mean it. he really did think you were perfect. his breath caught in his throat as he looked in your eyes, nodding as a reply. he really hoped you didn’t notice his face heating up.

‘yeah.’

he reached out to push a strand of your hair behind your ear, lightly caressing your jaw as he did so. the two of you leaned in, getting closer as you nearly met in the middle. he was right there, if either of you moved an inch you would -

‘cmon guys, we gotta head to this base to get some samples and away from all distractions’ sam bursted through the door, gathering his bag and suit as he walked in. he was loud and authoritative, and real glad he put a stop to whatever you were about to do.

you leapt from your seat on the couch, slightly embarrassed at what you were doing. ‘i’ll get my gear from my car and meet you guys in the parking lot.’

once you left the room and left the two men in silence, they both stared at each other in annoyance and disbelief.

‘man i cannot believe you did that.’

‘i can’t believe you did that! i was so close!’ joaquin threw his hands in the air, bothered by his friend’s interruption. sam shook his head at the dark haired man, acting like a single father trying to parent his teenager.

‘is this why you were overly enthusiastic about her joining us?’

©veluques - pls do not copy/post my works on any other platforms!!

[hug-me-hard-so-i-dont-forget-you]

Can we talk about Buck's abandonment issues for a minute? You're probably thinking "Yeah his parents were neglectful and Maddie keeps running away." But there's so much more:

First and foremost we see two scenes where his parents are giving him attention but only in a negative light. All the while they're not telling him WHY they're upset/disappointed in him.

Then of course, there's the many times he's lost/had to say goodbye to Maddie. (Not pictured: when she ran away to Boston)

Then we've got any and all friends/relationships he had when travelling from Pennsylvania to LA.

Then we've got Abby leaving, without telling him beforehand, for an indeterminate amount of time. Leaving him to haunt her apartment and then forcing him to rescue her fiancé that she somehow acquired while never actually out right breaking up with Buck.

Next is Redmond 'Red' Walker. The man Buck warms up to very quickly and whom he sees as his future self: a man who's truly, completely alone in the world.

THEN his friends who only show up to ask for his sperm, make him be the go-between when they have a fight, and then make him deliver the baby and ruin his couch. And he held his biological child in his arms with tears in his eyes and just never saw him again. They never even mention it again.

GIVE THIS MAN A BABY

Then, of course we have his older brother, Daniel. Basically the only reason Buck was even born. The person his family kept from him for nearly 30 years. And no, he didn't particularly abandon him but he was given all of this information in one afternoon and that's a lot to process.

And we can't not mention Chris. He lost him once before, blaming himself the whole time. He wasn't even the one to find him in the end so he never really got that closure.

And we talk about how heartbroken Eddie was about Chris leaving but what about Buck?? He was basically a second father for him. Not only that, but he was the last one to speak to him before he walked out. Eddie threw a Hail Mary by calling Buck, asking him to do "what you always do." Only this time it didn't work and he 'failed.'

We get another instance of Buck learning way too much information in one night: not only discovering that he likes Tommy, but the fact that he likes guys AT ALL. He goes through an identity crisis and has a bit of a panic attack. And what does Tommy do in response? Leaves him outside of the restaurant on their first date. Then, 6 months in, Buck thinks he's in love and asks him to move in, complete with heart eyes and oblivion. And instead of going their date that night Tommy decides to break up with him. I understand his reasoning: knowing Buck is just a baby gay and needs to find himself a bit more before settling down. But Buck is also a 3-braincelled puppydog when he's infatuated and he needs to be handled gently or else he's gonna use up the city's flour supply, baking away his temptations.

And now he's losing his absolute best friend. The one he works with, eats dinner with, co-parents a child with, facetimes/texts/calls during the rare times they're NOT together. The one who restarted his heart after getting struck by the same bolt of lightning. The one who wasn't in his coma dream because without Buck his life went to shit. The one who immediately accepted him when he came out, encouraged him to give it a try with Tommy, and then supported him after the breakup when he was going through withdrawals. The one that he can't imagine his life without because he has become such an integral part of every aspect of his life.

I'm surprised this man has kept it together this long and hasn't shut everyone out completely. My heart hurts just thinking about it.

[moonmunson]

don't stop (thinking about tomorrow)

wc: 2.3k

cw: live!reader who can see wally, fun little meet cute that freaks wally out, tw for two sentence mention of harry potter, set in 2023 but nothing with maddie happens, and as always i am writing with a plus size!reader in mind, but this one is gender neutral!reader as well so far

a/n at the end!

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3 - pt. 4

masterlist

He was never supposed to find out that you can see him. 

You could see all of them - the beatnik with the sour expression plastered on her face, the sweetheart in the jean jacket, even the blonde dude who’s always at the pottery wheel during your second period ceramics class.

You’d spent the last four years perfecting walking right past them, not looking up, not laughing at the jock’s jokes when you’re seated near them in the library.

Your ‘gifts’ are too confusing to explain, and even if you attempted to confide in someone about them, you know it would be too hard to believe.

It freaked your parents out when you were little - your comments about how Grandma talked to you long after her passing, how you waved to people on the street that nobody else could see. They never took you to be tested -  worried too much that you’d get taken away or put in psychiatric holding. 

So if you came home looking tired and drained, or sometimes, a little scared, your parents understood. 

When you started high school, you hadn’t expected there to be so many dead people. It was so weird, seeing people your age walking around stuck in the clothes representative of their times. 

You’d told your mom about the kids as you distinguished them from the living ones -  sadness in her eyes growing when you’d mentioned the lanky one in 80s athletic gear. She’d gotten her own Split River yearbook from the shelf, flipped to the memorial page and pointed at Wally. 

“Is that who you’re talking about?” 

You’d nodded, confirming her suspicions. She’d been in his graduating class, though not in his social circles. He’d been your stereotypical jock when he was alive, for all the pros and cons of it. King of the ragers thrown after games, not always a bully, but often a bystander. Gone too soon, but quickly forgotten in the grand scheme of things. 

For your safety, you’d agreed that you wouldn’t ever speak to any of the ghosts. Your mom had clocked the dreamy glaze in your eyes while looking at Wally’s picture, and while she couldn’t stop you from talking to him, she’d told you what you already knew. It wasn’t smart, and it wouldn’t end well. 

In your mind, letting any of them know that you could see them would be more cruel than just letting them go about their usual business. Even if you made contact, spoke to them - hung out with them - you were leaving after graduation, and they’d be alone again, without any contact with the living world. It seemed unfair; pointless. 

It’s not Wally’s fault he’s so fucking pretty. 

He moves about the school the same way you do - not looking at or paying attention to the people around him - because he has no reason to believe he can be seen. It’s worked out entirely in your favor thus far, because you can stare at Wally Clark for small periods of time without him noticing. On the occasion that he turns his head in your direction, a shift of your eyes to the right or left has him believing you’re just staring off into space. 

He’s so nice to look at. His slightly curled waves of black hair, gold chain gleaming under fluorescent lighting. There’s depth to him, too. When he’s around his friends, he’s energetic - bouncy, cracking jokes and patting people on the back too hard. When he’s alone, though, he seems calmer. More reserved. 

You get bolder with it, the staring, lulled into a sense of safety because you’re just another face in the ever-rotating crowd of high schoolers that pass through Split River. He’d seen forty generations of kids move on at this point, stuck as a fresh 18 year old with dreams and aspirations he’ll never be able to achieve. 

It must suck, having to stay behind and watch as other seniors get a chance to do what he never did. You wish you could comfort him, maybe even help him find a way to move on. It’s harder for the people who die traumatically. 

So much unfinished business and pent up emotions make it difficult to find the peace needed to pass onto the next plane. It’s easy to tell -there’s always a certain aura around the sad ones. Like the air around them is heavier, darker. 

You’re not complaining, though, as fucked as that may sound. Especially not when you’re lounging under a tree near the football field, not so subtly watching as a shirtless Wally picks up replicated footballs and throws them aimlessly in different directions. If you hadn’t been daydreaming about being able to talk to him, you would’ve noticed the ball soaring towards you. 

You look up, just in time for the phantom ball to hit the ground next to you, bouncing to land at your feet. Absent-mindedly - and almost jokingly - you kick it away from you, suddenly aware the ball was solid against your foot. In the time it takes you to realize you just interacted with a phantom football, it's faded away into the ground, and its sender is staring at you wide-eyed. 

There’s a beat of stillness, soundtracked by the cicadas and other teens on the field before you begin to move. 

You scramble to throw your shit into your bag, and speed walk back inside. 

“Holy shit? Wait! Hey, wait!” 

He follows you, because of course he does, and you try your best to ignore the panic and guilt rising in your throat. You just keep walking, hoping that he’ll give up. He doesn’t. 

“Can you slow down please? I know you can see me!” 

Wally catches up to you, jogging a few paces ahead to try to cut you off. You’ve never been this close to him - you have no idea if he’ll pass through you the way you’ve seen the other ghosts pass through living people before or if you'll make contact like you did moments ago with the ball he had thrown. 

It blows your cover even more than kicking the ball away, but when Wally goes to stand in front of you, you attempt to veer out of his path. And then he grabs you. Or, he tries to, anyway. He’s not fully solid, not enough to place a firm hold on you, but enough for you to genuinely feel it. 

His hand does go through you, but there’s resistance to it. It makes you shiver, the ice cold sensation of his palm trying to hold your shoulder but not being able to fully grip it. 

“What the fuck?” He looks down at his hands, then back towards you. 

He’s caught off guard enough for you to truly get away this time. Rest of the school day be damned, you make a break for it and throw yourself into your car. 

The stale air does nothing to help your nerves, your shaking hand turning the ignition to blast AC at yourself. You lean forward, resting your head on the steering wheel and try to breathe through it. This is bad. Like, really fucking bad. 

You don’t know much about him, but you seriously doubt that this is the kind of thing he’d just let go. 

You’re in it now, for better or for worse. 

You can’t tell your mom. It’s selfish, and misguided, and you hadn’t even said anything to him, but it was something. It was yours, and you don’t want to share. It makes the guilt worse, and your drive home is spent in dissociated silence. 

When you get home, your mom is in the kitchen, bouncing around to 80s music and chopping onions. The slam of the front door alerts her to your presence, and she pauses her music, concern etched in her features. 

“Hey, sweetheart. Everything okay? You’re home early.” 

You don’t want to lie. 

“Yeah, I’m alright. Just got a headache, that’s all. Thought I should come home and take a nap.” 

-

Spending a few days at home would probably be for the best - it would give you time to come up with some sort of plan on what to say to Wally. You have no idea what the best course of action is. He knows you can see him now. You can’t take that back and make him forget it, and you don’t even know if you’d want to. 

Instead, you barrel into school the next day, head down and earphones blasting music. Your eyes don’t leave the linoleum floor except to put your bag in your locker. The grumble of frustration and annoyance that leaves your body when three Tears for Fears songs play in succession draws the attention of other students in the hallway, but you pay them no mind. 

You don’t even make it to third period before you see him. 

Sitting in the corner of ceramics class, shaky hands denting an already uneven vase, the slam of the classroom door makes you jump - effectively destroying the soft clay cradled in your palms. 

“There you are! Dude, I've been looking all over for you.” He sidles up to you, plops down in the seat directly to your right, the heat of his gaze burning into the side of your face and making your cheeks hot. You sigh, squishing the clay down and shaking your head. 

“That’s fine, you don’t have to talk. I can talk for both of us. I can just talk, and talk, and talk, and-” 

Your hand shoots into the air, a frantic “Can I use the restroom please?” leaving your throat. 

It’s your worst nightmare and a dream come true, being alone with Wally. He walks next to you in the hallway, and when you pass the bathroom he pauses. 

“You’re not going in? I thought you needed to go.” He’s teasing, you know he is, but you still huff at him. 

You keep your pace, calling out behind you, “No, Wally, I don’t need to use the bathroom.” 

You don’t turn around to see it, but you can hear the slightly shocked giggle that leaves him. 

“Oh, c’mon, really?” 

He catches up to you, and when you crane your head to the side to make eye contact, he sucks in a little breath. It’s the first time you’ve actually looked into his eyes. It throws you off kilter a bit, and you feel the need to make up the difference with a quip. 

“What, you’re Moaning Myrtle now? You feel like talking and hanging around in public restrooms?” 

The laugh that leaves him surprises you, Your eyebrows raise, not expecting him to understand the reference. 

“Ms. Williams plays the movies during finals week like every year,” he shrugs, “I’m dead, not blind.” 

You’d taken your things with you - skipping the rest of your class to spend time with him, to answer the questions you know he wants to ask. You go back to the football field, under the same tree you’d been under when you kicked the football away from you. 

He’s waiting for you to speak, to help him understand what’s going on, but the words are caught in your throat, cheeks hot and skin itchy. Your hands fidget, picking dried clay from under your fingernails and flicking it onto the grass nearby. 

You look at him, trying to decide where to start. 

“I’m not really supposed to talk to you.”

“Why not?” He laughs then, shakes his head a little. “It’s because I’m dead, right? Do you have a problem with dead people?”

“No, I-” You start on the defensive, but soften when you see Wally’s smirk. He’s a little shit, you should've known. You roll your eyes, “You’re not supposed to know I can see you for your own sake. What good would it do? Hanging out with me for the next three months until I graduate and you can never see me again? It’s unfair.”

He looks away from you for a second, sly smile wiped off of his face, replaced with a sadness you hadn’t seen from him before. You reach out, trying to make contact, and your hand just meets the air. When he’d tried to grab you yesterday, he was slightly more solid than he is now. You don’t know why. 

“Yeah it is unfair,” He turns to face you again, brown eyes glassy and tear rimmed, “but you can see me, and that’s the most exciting thing that’s happened to me since I’ve been here.” 

Something in your chest stirs, and you know there’s no universe in which you would’ve been able to stay away from him. You’re worlds apart, or planes apart, but it doesn't seem to matter as much as you used to think it did. 

“I think it’s the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me, too.” 

You spend the rest of the school day - without being caught, thankfully - in deep conversation. The shrill ring of the bell signaling the end of the day cuts you off in the middle of a sentence, and you stand from your place on the grass, dusting yourself off and gathering your things. 

The silence between you is comfortable now, as he walks you to your car. He can’t step off the curb - he’d explained the boundaries of the school to you, that he’d be thrown back to the field if tried to leave. You hover together, not wanting to part. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow? We can hang out more, I have study hall during 5th period.” You tuck a stray hair behind your ear, and he follows the movement with his eyes. 

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.” 

You blast your 80s playlist on the way home, while you’re in the shower, while you’re doing homework. 

Wally Clark is gonna be the death of you.  

a/n: hiii i feel like this part was a little lackluster but !!!! i have a whole plan for what i want to do with this fic and i'm really excited about it. it should be four parts, but that's subject to change as i keep writing.

if you liked this and want to read more of my little stories, my masterlist is linked at the top! if you have ideas or just want to chat, my inbox is always open!

pls don't forget to like and reblog! love you mwah

[sturnsblogs]

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆More than best-friends‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Chapter 7: Distance

Chris tried to convince himself he was fine.

That night, after Avery had made him choose, he laid in bed staring at the ceiling, his thoughts running in circles. He told himself he’d done the right thing. He chose his girlfriend. That’s what he was supposed to do, right? That’s what a good boyfriend does—he prioritizes his relationship.

So why did it feel like he had lost something?

He hadn’t spoken to you in over a month, and now he wasn’t allowed to. The silence, once just an ache in the background, had turned into something suffocating. Every time he unlocked his phone, his fingers hesitated over your contact. He still had your number memorized, still knew exactly what he would say if he got the chance. But he wouldn’t.

Because Avery would know.

And he couldn’t go back on his word.

So instead, he distracted himself. He spent every free moment with Avery, texting her constantly, answering her calls the second his phone buzzed. He made sure she had no reason to doubt him. And it worked—at least on the surface.

Avery was happy. She was glowing, smug in the knowledge that Chris had picked her. She would randomly grab his hand and squeeze it, kiss his cheek out of nowhere, make little comments like “See? Things are better now.” And Chris would nod, forcing a smile, pretending he believed it too.

But the guilt gnawed at him.

He hadn’t realized how much he depended on you until you were gone. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed those late-night conversations, those inside jokes, those moments where he could just be himself without worrying about saying the wrong thing.

With Avery, everything felt like a test now.

One wrong move, one hesitation, and she’d look at him like she was waiting for a reason to doubt him again.

And then, one day, he saw you.

It was a random afternoon in June, and Chris was walking through the parking lot after grabbing lunch with Avery. She was talking about something—he wasn’t really listening—when his eyes landed on you across the lot.

You were laughing at something, your head tilted back slightly, the way you always did when something genuinely amused you. And just for a second, everything else faded.

Chris stopped walking.

Avery noticed immediately.

Her grip on his arm tightened. “Chris,” she said sharply.

He didn’t respond.

You hadn’t seen him yet, but that didn’t stop the wave of emotions that crashed into him all at once. He missed you. He missed you so much it physically hurt.

Avery followed his gaze, and when she saw you, her grip turned vice-like. “Seriously?” she snapped.

Chris flinched, snapping out of it. “What?”

Avery scoffed. “You’re staring at her like a lost puppy. Are you kidding me?”

Chris clenched his jaw, looking away. “I wasn’t.”

“Yes, you were.” Avery pulled him forward, her nails digging into his wrist. “Come on. We’re leaving.”

Chris hesitated, glancing back once more.

And that’s when you looked up.

For the first time in over a month, your eyes met.

His breath caught in his throat.

But before he could say anything, before he could even process the look on your face—surprise, sadness, something else—Avery tugged him forward, breaking the moment completely.

He let her.

Because what else could he do?

That night, he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

Chris lay awake, staring at his phone, his fingers hovering over your name. The urge to call you, to hear your voice, to tell you everything—he could barely breathe past it.

He sat up, raking a hand through his hair. Screw it.

Before he could overthink it, he grabbed his hoodie, shoved it on, and slipped out his window.

The walk to your house felt like a blur, his heart pounding harder with every step. He knew this was wrong. He knew Avery would lose her mind if she found out.

But he couldn’t not see you.

When he reached your house, he didn’t hesitate. He climbed up the way he had so many times before, slipping through your window with ease.

You were sitting on your bed, scrolling through your phone. The second you saw him, your eyes widened.

“Chris?”

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Hey.”

You stared at him like you couldn’t believe he was really there. “What are you doing here?”

Your expression hardened. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know. But I didn’t know where else to go.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “You were always the person I went to when things got bad.”

You looked away, exhaling shakily. “That’s not my role anymore.”

Chris’s stomach twisted. “I don’t want to lose you.”

You met his gaze, and for the first time in over a month, he saw it—the hurt. The anger. The betrayal.

“You already did.”

Chris felt like the air had been knocked from his lungs. His breath came out shaky, uneven. “No, I didn’t. I—I didn’t have a choice. Avery—she made me, she said—” He was scrambling now, desperation creeping into his voice. “She said if I loved her, I wouldn’t pick you, and—” He exhaled sharply, raking his hands through his hair. “I didn’t want to, I swear I didn’t want to.”

You shook your head. “But you still did.”

Chris took a step closer, his hands shaking. “I had to. She said I already lost you.” His voice cracked. “But I didn’t want to. I never wanted to.”

You stared at him, your arms wrapped around yourself like you were trying to hold something together. “Chris…”

“Please.” He stepped closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t do this. I—” He inhaled sharply, his eyes glassy. “I don’t know how to do this without you.”

You exhaled, closing your eyes for a moment. When you opened them, you looked tired. “You should’ve thought about that before you left me.”

Chris clenched his jaw. “I didn’t leave you. I was forced to—”

“No.” Your voice was firm. “She might’ve given you an ultimatum, but the choice was still yours.”

Chris looked away, his breath uneven. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”

You let out a small, bitter laugh. “And look where that got us.”

Chris swallowed hard, shaking his head. He was losing you. He already lost you.

But he couldn’t accept it.

“Please.” His voice broke. “I don’t care about any of it anymore. I just need you.”

You hesitated. Just for a second.

But then, you shook your head. “You should go, Chris.”

Chris opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

You turned away.

And that’s when he knew.

It was over.

For the first time, he didn’t just feel like he lost you.

He knew he had.

A/N- I teared up just a bit.

My beautiful babies- @blushsturns @chrislilcumslvt @izzylovesmatt @chrisslut04 @mylittled0ve @oopsiedaisydeer @csturnioloswifey @just-a-girl-1 @sturdyyolo

CHAPTER 6

TAGLIST TO MASTERLIST

[geotjwrs]

Can I request a fanfic with Jenna and Male Reader, where Jenna is the most popular person in school that everyone is scared of, and reader is a shy nerd, and suddenly people aren't bullying him as much because Jenna told them not to, and when he confronts her about it she's really embarrassed and admits she likes him, a lot. If not that's fine, thank you.

Got it! I’ll rewrite it to hit 1500 words and keep it natural. Give me a bit.

out of your league

Pairings ; Jenna Ortega x Male!Reader

Warning/s ; none

It started slowly, so slowly that Y/N almost didn’t notice.

At first, he thought it was just a coincidence. Maybe the universe had finally decided to cut him some slack. Maybe people had grown bored of making his life miserable.

But the signs were there.

The usual snickers when he walked past? Gone. The whispers behind his back? Quieter. The shoves into lockers? Well, okay, those still happened sometimes, but a lot less than before. It was like people had just… stopped caring about bullying him.

Which, in theory, should’ve been a good thing.

But it made him suspicious instead.

Because people at this school? They didn’t just stop being cruel for no reason.

Then he noticed something else. Something even weirder.

Jenna was acting strange.

Not “strange” in a way that most people would notice, but he did. Jenna, the most popular girl in school, the one everyone either worshiped or feared kept looking at him. A lot. And every time he caught her staring, she’d either look away too fast or pretend she was totally doing something else.

The first time it happened, he thought he was imagining things. The second time? He started wondering if there was something on his face. The third time? He knew something was up.

And then came the lunchroom incident.

Y/N had been sitting in his usual spot, just minding his own business, when Hunter the guy who lived to make his life miserable walked by. Normally, Hunter wouldn’t miss a chance to shove his tray or make some snide comment.

But today?

Today, Hunter took one look at him, turned pale, and immediately sat back down at his own table.

That was when Y/N knew.

Someone had said something.

And he had a pretty good idea who.

Confronting Jenna was not something most people did.

She had this… presence. The kind that made people nervous, even when she wasn’t saying anything. She didn’t need to be loud to be intimidating one look from her was enough to shut people up.

But Y/N was desperate for answers.

So here he was, standing in front of her locker, heart pounding, regretting everything.

Jenna was rummaging through her bag when he cleared his throat. “Jenna.”

She glanced up, saw him, and instantly froze.

For a split second, something flashed across her face surprise, maybe even panic but then she crossed her arms and leaned against her locker, looking him up and down like she was sizing him up.

“What do you want, nerd?”

Okay. Rude. But at least she wasn’t ignoring him.

He swallowed, trying to keep his voice steady. “Did you… tell people to stop messing with me?”

Jenna blinked.

Then, in the most unconvincing tone ever, she said, “No.”

He just stared at her.

She shifted. Looked away. Clicked her tongue.

“Jenna.”

She groaned, rubbing a hand over her face. “Ugh, fine. Maybe I said something.”

He knew it.

“Why?” he asked.

At this, she hesitated.

It was weird seeing her hesitate. Jenna was the type to always have a comeback, always know what to say. But now? She looked almost… nervous.

She muttered something under her breath.

He frowned. “What?”

She rolled her eyes, but he could see the pink creeping up her ears.

“I said, I like you, okay?” she snapped. “A lot. And I got sick of people treating you like trash, so I told them to knock it off.”

Y/N.exe had stopped working.

Jenna. Liked him.

Jenna, the Jenna, the most feared, most popular, most out-of-his-league girl in school

His brain couldn’t process this information.

“I—I don’t know what to say,” he admitted.

Jenna groaned. “You’re so lucky you’re cute,” she mumbled.

His face exploded in heat. “JENNA—”

She just laughed, shoving his shoulder. “C’mon, nerd. I’m walking you to class.”

And just like that, his entire life changed.

But of course, things didn’t just end there.

Because if there was one thing about Jenna, it was that she didn’t do half-measures.

The next day, the entire school knew.

And suddenly, everyone was acting different around him.

People who had never spoken to him before were suddenly saying hi. Teachers were looking at him weird, like they were trying to figure out what kind of blackmail he had on Jenna to make her interested in him.

And the bullies? They weren’t just avoiding him now. They were terrified of him.

It was actually kind of hilarious.

Hunter, the same guy who used to trip him in the hall, now wouldn’t even look at him. At lunch, someone actually gave up their seat for him. And in class, when he dropped his pen, the guy sitting next to him practically dove to pick it up.

It was ridiculous.

It was also, admittedly, kind of awesome.

But there was one problem.

Jenna was acting weird around him now.

Not in a bad way, just… different.

She was still Jenna. still confident, still intimidating, still had everyone wrapped around her finger. But whenever they were alone, she got awkward. Fidgety. Like she wasn’t sure what to do with herself.

And it was really funny watching her be the nervous one for once.

So, naturally, he decided to mess with her.

“You know,” he said casually one afternoon, leaning against his locker, “you never actually asked me out."

Jenna, who had been scrolling through her phone, immediately stiffened.

“…Huh?”

He smirked. “You said you liked me. But you never asked me out.”

Jenna narrowed her eyes. “Are you saying you want me to ask you out?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe.”

She stared at him.

Then, very slowly, she smirked.

And suddenly, he was the nervous one.

Jenna took a step closer.

Then another.

And another.

Until she was right in front of him, looking up at him with that signature, cocky grin that made most people run in the opposite direction.

He swallowed.

“Y/N,” she purred, “do you wanna be my boyfriend?”

His brain short-circuited.

Jenna grinned. “That’s what I thought.”

Then she leaned in, kissed his cheek, and walked away like she hadn’t just broken him.

He stood there, completely frozen, face burning.

A few feet away, he could hear someone whisper-screaming about what just happened.

Hunter looked like he was about to pass out.

And Y/N?

Well.

He was definitely out of his league.

But for some reason, Jenna didn’t seem to care.

[sunflowersonatas]

TOO GOOD TO BE FAKE: CHAPTER 5

JAMES POTTER X F!READER

a/n: YAYYYY CHAPTER 5 OUT EARLY!!! i've been so so appreciative of all the love for this series 🥹 i figured it was the least i could do to get my ass up and edit the rest of it. hehehehe enjoyyyyy!!! ☀️🌻

series page for prev chapters

wc: 2197

5: Too Good to Be Fake

— 1 —

The next few days pass in a blur, and my real life and my fake life begin to meld all the same.

It’s subtle at first—little things, easy things. James slinging an arm over my shoulder in the corridor, without thinking about it, his hand drifting naturally to my waist when we squeeze through crowds. Me leaning into his touch on instinct, him whispering a joke just for me in class, both of us laughing too effortlessly.

The stares haven’t stopped. The whispers haven’t faded.

But somehow, I don’t care as much anymore.

Or maybe—I don’t care why they’re watching.

It’s not just the school anymore, though. It’s our friends. Alice and Jade don’t even try to hide their amusement anymore. Sirius has started giving James looks. Remus has started watching me.

Lily Evans has started paying more attention, too.

It’s another Saturday when I realize how far I’ve let this go: Quidditch practice.

I would never normally go to these. I’ve never had a reason to sit in the stands, watching a group of sweaty Gryffindors hurl themselves through the sky while screaming at each other.

But today, I’m here.

I keep telling myself it’s for appearances. People have to see me invested, have to see me acting like a real girlfriend. I bring a book, find a spot on the stands, fold my legs beneath me, and pretend I’m not watching James too closely.

I tell myself it’s just part of the plan. Making it look believable.

And then Lily arrives.

She doesn’t sit. She stands at the base of the stands, arms folded across her chest, gaze fixed on the pitch. I know who she’s watching, everyone does.

James cuts through the sky like he was born to be there, all fluid motion and instinct, his windswept hair a perfect mess, his body moving with a confidence that’s utterly effortless. The sun glints off his grin, bright and reckless, like he’s drunk on the thrill of it, and I feel that familiar lurch within me again—something warm, something unsteady, curling deep in my stomach before I can shove it away.

Lily tilts her head slightly.

Then, she glances back at me; and suddenly, it’s not just a game anymore. She’s watching me watch him. A challenge, a test.

Suddenly, I realize—this isn’t about her anymore. It’s not about making her jealous, and it’s not about Simon either. Because the thing unnerving me the most isn’t that Lily Evans is watching me.

It’s that James Potter hasn’t looked at her once.

— 2 —

The courtyard is quiet in the early evening, the last flickers of sunlight stretching long across the stone pathways. The air is crisp, cool enough to wake me up a little, but not cold enough to be uncomfortable. I tell myself that’s why I’m lingering here instead of heading back to the dorms.

Not because I’m waiting for him, and not because I know he’ll find me. But then he does.

James’ footsteps are easy to recognize—a little too confident, a little too deliberate, like he’s always walking into a room expecting something fun to happen. But here, now, he doesn’t say anything right away. He just falls into steps beside me, hands tucked into his pockets, like this is normal. Like it’s always been normal.

I glance at him. “What are you doing?”

James shrugs. “Dunno. Seemed like you wanted company.”

I huff, turning my gaze back to the darkening sky. “Oh, right. I always exude warmth and openness.”

James chuckles, nudging my arm. “You say that, but you haven’t told me to leave yet.”

I don’t respond. Because… he’s right.

The pause stretches, the courtyard filled only with the sound of leaves rustling in the breeze. For a second, while it’s just the two of us, walking in relative silence, it’s nice. Easy. Comfortable in a way I don’t have time to question.

Then James exhales, a little deeper than necessary, and leans against the railing beside me.

“You know,” he says, “you’re kind of terrible at taking a compliment.” His tone is too light, too airy for the kind of comment he’d just made.

I frown, caught off guard. “What?”

His gaze flickers to mine, and something in his expression softens—just slightly, but enough that it throws me off balance. “I mean, when I do something nice, you just… get awkward and run away.”

I blink at him. “That is— so not true.”

James lifts an eyebrow. “Oh? So last week when I said you looked nice, and you immediately knocked over your drink and changed the subject, what was that?”

I open my mouth— close it.

He smirks. “Exactly.”

I turn my face and look down the path we’re following, blinking, genuinely considering. “You just catch me off guard, that’s all.”

“Right,” he says sarcastically, “because the idea of me being nice to you is so shocking.”

“Yes, actually,” I quip, but the words come out lighter than I mean them to.

And that’s when James does something dangerous.

He shifts closer—just a little, just enough. His shoulder brushes mine, his voice lower now, softer. “You know, I like being nice to you.”

My stomach twists—thrilled, unsteady, completely betraying me. I let out a laugh, too quick, too high-pitched, a little too obviously forced.

James watches me, expression unreadable, but there’s something knowing in his gaze, something patient, like he’s waiting for me to catch up to something he’s already figured out.

“Alright,” I say, pushing away from the railing, not letting this get any more real than it already is, not letting myself think too hard about it. “This has been fun, but I’m going to—”

“Walk away before you have to acknowledge that you actually like me?” James finishes for me, eyes glinting with amusement.

I huff, already turning on my heel. “Exactly.”

I don’t get very far. James is right behind me, catching up too easily, too effortlessly, like he always does. “Merlin, if you wanted me to chase you, you could’ve just asked. Would’ve saved us both some time.”

I throw him a glance over my shoulder, my lips curving just enough to make his eyes flicker. "Where’s the fun in that? I like to keep you on your toes, Potter."

James huffs, but the way he watches me—like he's already planning his next move—sends something dangerously close to excitement skittering through me.

We’re walking towards one of the large entrances to the castle from the courtyard— there are some more students around now to witness our little interaction. He’s still beside me, still too close, still too smug.

“So what I’m hearing,” he muses, tilting his head, “is that you like me exactly where I am.”

I roll my eyes, but I don’t speed up. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

James only grins, falling into step beside me like he belongs there. “Too late.”

— 3 —

The castle is cooler in the evening, the last remnants of daylight casting long shadows through the stone archways. The halls are quieter now, but not empty—the low murmur of conversation lingers, footsteps echo in different directions, and clusters of students drift toward their common rooms, pausing now and then to whisper as James and I pass. My footsteps sync with his, the weight of his presence beside me something I’ve stopped questioning. It’s been like this all week—effortless, natural, dangerously easy. And maybe that’s why I don’t notice her at first. Maybe that’s why I don’t realize we have an audience until it’s too late.

Lily Evans is waiting just inside the entrance hall.

She’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, posture relaxed, but there’s something unreadable in her expression. She isn’t blocking our path, isn’t doing anything at all, really—just watching. Watching us. Her gaze flickers between me and James, taking in the casual way we’re walking together, how close we are, the way his fingers brush against my wrist when he gestures absentmindedly.

She sees it all.

James notices her just a second after I do, and though his steps falter, it’s barely noticeable. I feel the shift in his presence, the way something in him tightens, like he’s bracing for impact. But when Lily finally speaks, her voice is light, almost gossiping, like she’s indulging a passing curiosity rather than confirming something she already suspects.

"You know," she says, tilting her head slightly, "you two make sense together. I see it."

And James—James preens.

I see it happen in real time. The way his shoulders straighten, the way his lips curve just slightly at the edges. It’s instinctive, automatic, like some deeply ingrained part of him just got the validation he never even thought to ask for. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t check my reaction. He just moves.

I can’t even react— his fingers tighten around my wrist, spinning me expertly into him. Somehow it feels like we’ve done this a hundred times before, like we’ve been moving toward this exact moment without even knowing it. His free hand settles at my waist, warm and steady, pulling me close in a way that leaves no space, no room for doubt.

And then he kisses me.

It’s not for show. Not a performance. His lips press against mine, sure and unhurried, like he’s settling into something that’s already his. Heat flares at the base of my spine, climbing fast, white-hot flames licking up through my chest. His fingers flex slightly at my waist, like he’s anchoring himself, like he’s making sure I don’t pull away before he’s had his fill of this moment—of me.

The warmth of him crashes through me, a spark to dry tinder, setting every nerve alight. His lips move against mine, confident but measured, and for a second—just a second—I let myself fall into it. I feel the way he’s leaning in, the way he’s holding me there, the way his breath mingles with mine, like we exist in a pocket of air separate from the world.

But we don’t.

The corridor isn’t empty. The world doesn’t disappear. Students slow their steps, voices hush, a ripple of whispers spreading like wildfire. I hear someone inhale sharply, catch the flicker of movement in my periphery as people pause outright, wide-eyed, watching like they’ve just witnessed something they shouldn’t have.

And they have. Because this isn’t a show. This isn’t a play. It’s real, it’s burning through me, and it’s happening in front of everyone.

I break first.

I pull away too fast, too obviously flustered. I’ve probably ruined everything. I should’ve just played along— like he said to me before, enjoy the experience. I could’ve done that. Now I lost my chance.

James doesn’t move right away. He stays close, his breath still warm against my skin, eyes searching mine for something I can’t name. The silence stretches between us, heavy, lingering, filled with something I am not ready to understand.

Lily clears her throat, but she’s smiling now, something small and knowing. She looks between us, her eyes glinting with something close to amusement.

"Yeah," she says, tilting her head slightly. "I knew it. You two are really cute together."

She doesn’t linger. She just gives James one last look—something approving, something almost pleased—before turning on her heel and walking away, leaving us standing there in the weight of what just happened.

I scramble for something to say, but my mind is blank, wiped clean by whatever the hell just happened. My skin is burning, my pulse erratic, my body betraying me in ways I can’t even begin to process.

I force a laugh, light and dismissive, as if my heart isn’t trying to claw its way out of my chest. "Merlin, James," I say, shaking my head, playing it off, forcing the act back into place even as my hands tremble. "You could at least warn me before you go proving a point like that."

James watches me carefully. Too carefully.

And then, just like that, the mask slips back into place.

The easy grin. The effortless charm. The one thing he’s always been good at.

"Where’s the fun in that?" he teases, voice smooth, casual, like he’s not still standing closer than he should be.

The tension in the air is suffocating.

I step back. I need distance, space, air.

"Right," I mutter, my voice too light, too forced. "Well, this has been fun, but I should go—"

James doesn’t say anything. He just watches me, his expression unreadable, like he’s waiting for something I can’t give him. The silence between us stretches, thick, heavy, a question neither of us is ready to ask.

And then, because I can’t take it, because my heart is still slamming against my ribs, because the ground beneath me suddenly feels unsteady—I run.

I barely register the students still watching, barely hear the whispers that are sure to follow me. All I know is that I need to get away, to breathe, to pretend for just a little while longer that none of this means anything.

Run run run.

But no matter how fast I move, I already know—there’s no outrunning this.

☀️🌻 requests are currently open!!

[nerdybookworm25]

Even MORE Caitvi Headcannons

If you don’t ship Caitvi pls just scroll away 🩵

SFW:

- as soon as Cait was able, she was back at work. It was a lethal combination of her workaholic nature and her guilt over what she had done under Ambessa’s manipulation (this drove Vi nuts)

- Vi didn’t know what she wanted to do after the war and healing (physically) and it had her really down for a long time

- Eventually, Vi gets back into boxing (which helps improve her mental health) and much later on ends up opening a boxing studio where she teaches classes for all ages on the Zaun side of the bridge, but still in view of Piltover

- every class is entirely free Zaunites

- The studio ends up reconnecting her with Zaun, less people consider her a sell out/Piltover lapdog, etc, and she ends up regaining ownership of where the Last Drop was, rebuilds it, and reopens it

- You will see Vi there working pretty much any night that Cait is working overnight because she hates sitting alone in the Manor

- All of the money Vi makes from running the bar goes to the upkeep of the facilities, her employees, and the Firelights; she keeps none of it for herself AT ALL

- Cait doesn’t go into Zaun for YEARS after the war. She just staunchly refuses no matter how much Vi tries to convince her to visit her at either of her jobs

- PDA is something they both do a lot but only to an extent

- Like in public Cait and Vi are always holding hands/someone’s hand will be in someone else’s back pocket/an arm will be around a waist but they don’t really like kiss or hug in public

- you might catch a cheek kiss or a kiss to the back of a hand but it is always chaste on the rare occasion it does happen

- these girls LOVE a farmers’ market holy shit like they will walk around with Artemis and Apollo and kids’ll come up and pet the dogs and it’s just like a fun family thing they do together

- SPEAKING OF FAMILY, THE KIDS!!

- I think they have 2 girls and they’re named Cassandra Felicia Kiramman (Cassie/Cas) and Lavander Kona Kiramman (Lav/Vandie)

- I looked it up, and found that League (which I know nothing about tbh) bases Ionian language pretty heavily on Japanese, so “Kona” is the Japanese word for “Powder” or in this context, the Ionian word for it

- Cassie is older and looks like baby Cait but with more indigo/purple hair than Cait’s indigo/blue hair and has Vi’s eyes. She also has Cait’s build: Long legs and a short torso

- Vandie has hair that is a super pale purple — like it’s truly reflective of her name and Cait’s eyes, but holy fuck does she just have Vi’s face. She has a long torso and long legs (Vi’s torso with Cait’s legs if you wanna have it put that way) so she ends up being the tallest in the family by the time she stops growing

- When Cait sees Vi and Lav together, she calls them her flowers (Violet and Lavender — get it? Also fun fact these flowers both have been used historically as symbols of lesbianism so that’s fun too!!)

- Cas got nicknamed muffin as a kid and it has STUCK so when she and Cait are together, Vi ends up calling them baked goods or sweet treats and they both roll their eyes affectionately

- Cassandra and Lavander are five years apart and holy fuck they DID NOT get along until they were like 15 and 10 respectively and even then it could still be a little rocky, but it was usually a lot more playful from then on

- They really became best friends the year before Cassandra went on her first tour about Runeterra with Piltover’s professional shooting league

- UGH I HAVE SO MUCH I COULD WRITE ABOUT THESE GIRLS I SWEAR

NSFW:

- idk why im so fixated on Sub!Cait and Dom!Vi right now when I think they do the reverse slightly more often but oh well

- I’m just gonna get right into it I think they’re both into ass play/anal to an extent and no I cannot explain where that thought comes from

- For whatever reason, I think Cait is both the most into that between the two of them and the most embarrassed about it (Vi fucking LOVES to tease her about when she’s domming)

- While neither of them will be outright degrading to one another (both in and out of kink and ESPECIALLY when Cait is domming Vi) but Cait does like a mix of praise and degradation and tries to

- they both absolutely have collars

- Vi kisses it after eating it regardless of if she’s in charge or not

- These ladies LOVE a boiling hot bath together as part of aftercare

- QUICKIES ARE A STAPLE

- these two always have hickies all the fuck over

- Cait always tells Vi to not put them in visible spots because she doesn’t want ppl at work or around Piltover to see them (not because she is embarrassed of Vi at all, but rather because she thinks that it would be unprofessional of her…and admittedly very distracting to her when she’d catch herself in a reflective surface)

- in contrast, Vi doesn’t give a shit where Cait puts a hickey on her and she won’t cover up visible ones unless she and Cait have an official event to go to. It wouldn’t be unusual to see them walking around Piltover together on a weekend holding hands with Vi’s neck looking like it got mauled

- I KNOW I SAID NO IMPACT PLAY AND I STAND BY IT BUT I do think that if she’s in the mood for it…Vi doesn’t mind having her pussy slapped lightly; its never enough to hurt — frankly, it’s more of a tap than anything — but the moan she’ll let out when Cait does that…fuck

- they’ve had sex in some form in almost every single room of the manor (excluding the servants’ quarters and the rooms that Tobias moved to once Cait and Ci moved into the master bedroom)

- Grinding is huge for both of them, but on different parts of each other’s bodies

- I think I’ve mentioned this before (I could be wrong but whatever) but I think that Vi loves to grind on Cait’s thighs

- Cait, on the other hand, loves to grind on Vi’s abs

- Both of them are fucking freaks and will occasionally grind on whoever’s in charge’s boots

- Cait is ABSOLUTELY more of a brat than Vi. They’ll both brat sometimes, but if it’s a game of who’s most likely to, it’s going to be Cait

- I know I’ve talked about how Cait would punish Vi in a previous post, but I don’t think I talked about how Vi would punish Cait

- It is absolutely making Cait work herself up while she watches Vi work herself up OR Vi will make Cait work to “earn” her collar (this is where the boot grinding comes in — just read a FANTASTIC fic with this premise and holy fuck it was so so SO GOOD)

[blueraith]

I think there's some sort of fundamental problem a portion of the fanbase has with Show Don’t Tell.

You know, words verses action.

"The show never addresses Vi's trauma!"

Genuinely, what the fuck are y'all talking about? Pit Fighter Vi was nothing but a walking case of trauma if I've ever seen one. She descends briefly into alcoholism for fucks sake. Why do y'all THINK she was purposely allowing the shit to get beaten out of her, drink away the pain, and then repeat the next day. Some of y'all even want MORE of this fucking whump and somehow that doesn't translate as Vi literally living out her trauma in the most unhealthy way possible????

I'm literally confounded whenever I see this sentiment.

Of what about: "Caitlyn never apologizes!"

Huh????

What the fuck do y'all THINK Caitlyn was doing as she had that tender touch and look at the same spot she hit Vi during the sex scene? Or gave up her generational Council seat to a representative of Zaun if NOT to apologize for how she treated it? Or personally lead the front line defense of Piltover and lost a fucking eye for?

It's like y'all need Vi to stare directly at the audience and state "Yeah, prison fucked me up, fighting with my sister makes me sad, and breaking up with my not-girlfriend-girlfriend has sent me into a spiral that I don't know how get out of. I'm going to drink and punch away my problems until the pain becomes too much to bear, and then I'm going to risk dying in my fights to end the pain."

Evidently y'all need your hands held this much.

Or Cait: "Hello, I'm Caitlyn Kiramman, generational wealth here. My trauma and grief became out of control, and I hurt people through my own pain. I'm very sorry about that. Sorry for hitting Vi, sorry for declaring martial law on Zaun, sorry for getting mixed up with a Noxian warlord. I've given up the Kiramman seat and will use my wealth and influence to help, not hurt, for the rest of my life. Oh, I also sacrificed an eye. That was kinda a big deal to me, I don't regret it, though."

Like, what the fuck did y'all want? Even if I wanted to bother writing all that shit in character, it just comes off cringe as fuck. I'm not exactly a novice writer either, this is just frankly something Caitlyn would never do. She doesn't verbalize her feelings this way and never has.

But evidently some of you actually need Caitlyn to stand up at a podium and deliver some lame fucking apology with words for it to count in your minds. The actions don't matter, only the words do, because y'all can't recognize actions in place of words to save your lives.

This isn't even just relegated to Caitvi.

"They forgot about the sisters and their relationship!"

WHAT DO YOU MEAN??????????????

What were episodes 5 and 6 for if not the sisters and their relationship???????

What's hilarious about this one is that it comes the closest to actually just being outright verbally stated for y'all to follow and you still missed it. This whole story beat is basically a slowpitch softball being lobbed lazily at the audience to hit out of the park and some of y'all whiffed it so badly, you're cartoonishly spinning around on your back foot after your swing, Looney Tunes style.

There's an actual fucking letter Jinx reads out that's about Vander and Silco but is so obviously a parallel for Jinx and Vi that it's kind of embarrassing this is even a talking point in the fandom. The characters themselves literally even realize and see themselves in their fathers' broken relationship for fucks sake.

There's even a sibling fight and everything.

Vi basically wanted to stay at the commune with her family until Jayce showed up and fucked everything up. (For good reason.)

I do have some personal nitpicks about the sister stuff, but to say that it was "forgotten" is grossly false. Hilariously so.

Guess this is what y'all wanted:

"Hey, Jinx, I'm trying really hard to be a family with you again, prison fucked me up, and so it's kinda hard to get my mind around my new reality. Except you've been rejecting me and blowing shit up since I got out, I don't know what to do with that, so I'm spiraling."

"Well, geez, Vi, I have a whole slew of mental trauma and illnesses that are undiagnosed, so that's not helping things, but I'm also really mad that you worked together with a Piltovan enforcer after all our family has been through. I also have this whole "favorite person" thing going on that's really triggering the shit out of me that I don't know what to do with."

It's this what y'all wanted? Firstly, when is a well written and in character version of the above supposed to take place, and secondly for all that y'all bray about trauma and projecting your own responses on fictional characters (see any time someone is upset that Vi doesn't arbitrarily flinch at enforcers and Caitlyn like they think she should) don't y'all MAYBE think that neither Vi or Jinx are in a position to be this self aware about their own emotions and feelings? We're talking about two extremely traumatized young women from a mutual broken family doing the best they fucking can. It's not even close to adequate because it's not MEANT TO BE.

These things among many others are so frustrating to see the fandom nitpick. Media literacy and Show Don't Tell are two subjects being defensively criticized whenever anyone brings it up because y'all think we're using it to browbeat criticism away.

We're not. We're using it because y'all evidently are missing key plot points and then turn around and accuse the show of never addressing them. It's frankly bizarre. How are y'all watching the show? Is it on a second screen? The other room? At 2x speed? Are you on tiktok while you watch?

How are y'all missing this? And could you please rewatch the show before making these brain-dead "criticisms?" I promise I'm going to be fucking pissed if TV in the future has to have every character flat out state their emotions, motivations, and thoughts at the camera for y'all to fucking get it. This is just sad.

[hypernova-writes]

Hiii, idk if its late rn but i wanted to ask if you could write some smut with my big boy heavy...meaby regarding like the 7th comic (i love his beard hihi, also like some lingerie kinda of kink 👉👈) possibly a f. reader, take you time hun! ❣

LISTEN WHEN I TELL YOU HOW FERAL I GOT SEEING HEAVY WITH A BEARDDDD. I looked to one of my friends (I was at work on break reading the comic btw) and was like "I need to give him children." With no context 😭 AND FUCK IT WE MAKING HER PLUS SIZED CAUSE RAHHH–

Heavy x Reader: A little Lovin'

You sigh as you looked in the mirror, Heavy and you had just settled back hone after visiting Jeremy and the others for Christmas.

And for some reason...you were feeling down.

While you were in Boston, you went out shopping with your sisters in law, specifically Zhanna as you were the closest with her. She saw you eyeing the lingerie while the two of you were shopping for coats.

"You want to impress Mikhail, don't you?" She asked and you sheepishly nodded. "Is it that obvious?" You ask and she nods.

"As obvious as a polar bear in the Amazon. You know he loves you right?"

"I know..I know but—" You yelped as Zhanna shoved it into your arms. You knew that look in her eyes. No arguing with her, you weren't gonna get anywhere.

So that's how you ended up, sitting infront of the mirror in your home, Mikhail had yet to return home yet, as he was out spending time with Ludwig for the day.

You looked at how this piece fit you, hugging all of your curves, showing everything and hiding very little.

You sighed softly, would he really like this? Would he really find you attractive? You place your hands on your lower stomach, running your hands along the fabric, You were so mixed up in your own head that you didn't hear when Mikhail came back in.

"(Y/n). I have returned." He called out first, slowly starting to get concerned when he didn't hear you call back. You'd usually call out to him, and walk to greet him at the door. He walked in your shared bedroom and was about to call to you when his breath caught in his throat.

He looked over at you, looking at yourself in the mirror. He could tell that you were judging himself, judging the body that he loved to hold at night.

He finally locked eyes with you, chuckling as he heard your gasp.

"Now what is this?..A surprise for me?" He walks up behind you and wraps his arms around you. His hands rubbing against the fabric and your stomach.

"Is my little cub judging herself?."

"...is it obvious?.."

"Very."

You sigh as you lean into his grasp, "i just think that I'm not enough..or..that im too big.." You finally let put and you can only hear him hum in response before he moved around to your front.

He admired the lingerie on you before gentle pushing you to lay on your back. You yelped as you were pulled to the edge of the bed, and your legs were spread gently by him.

"Seems like I have to remind you of how much you mean to me."

You blushed as he ripped open the bottoms, you whine "Mikhail..i just bought these."

"So? I can buy you ten pairs." He says as he pulled you closer, you could feel the hairs of his beard tickling your inner thigh before you finally felt his tongue brush against your clit.

You let a soft moan slip past your lips, you squirm and move, gripping the bed sheets as he ups his motions.

His hands tightened around your thighs as he urged you to squeeze those luscious thighs around his head.

You begin grinding against his face, soft whines and moans beginning to fall from your lips.

"M-mikhail..baby~.."

"Shh. Enjoy, you forget how much i love your body." He says only pulling away for a bit before diving back in, his nose bumping against your clit as his tongue delved into your cunt.

You arched your back, maybe your were needy or Mikhail was just doing heavenly work, because you could feel your orgasm rushing forward.

"Mik..I..i—"

"Go ahead, Don't hold back."

Squeezing your legs around his head, you cry out his name, grinding against his face as you slowly come down from your high.

Your boyfriend slowly rose up from your trembling body with a small smirk on his face.

"Don't think we are done, my love. I'm going to worship you until you remember how much I love you."

[synchodai]

Aegon II trying to clean up his act for once in his life because he thought his dad wanted him to be king and believed in him, only to have his granddad tell him that, 'yeah me and your dad always talked about you being a little shit.' combine that with his son being murdered in their own home and then his mom walks in and sees him breaking down AND SHE DOES NOTHING. gods, no wonder his brother has to go to a brothel to get any kind of motherly affection because like DAMN

[inmirova]

"it's easier to leave an abusive situation than it is to stop an abuser" :^( but it's not easy :^(

[bunnis-monsters]

Late night thoughts about incubus husband…

He’s such a flirt. Every time you go out he dons a different human disguise. It’s always annoying seeing him flit about the bar, changing himself to cater to whichever person he’s talking to.

Really, your husband just wants to make you jealous. He’s a bit of an attention whore, and usually you’d just tug him away and ride his cock until he’s sensitive and crying, begging to fill your cunt with his cum but being denied because of how bad he was.

But he went a bit too far tonight.

You were finishing off your drink when you spotted him across the bar, his fingers twirling a woman’s hair. Already this was a bit much for you, and you stood to stop him.

But you froze in place when his eyes glanced towards you before he wrapped an arm around her waist. “Looks like I’m taking home a pretty lady tonight. Don’t worry, my wife won’t mind.”

He glanced back to gauge your reaction, excited to face some kind of kinky punishment for being a flirty brat… but instead he was met with your teary eyes.

Instantly the woman was forgotten as he followed you out. “W-wait, please, you know I wasn’t being serious, right? I was just-“

You turned on your heels, pointing a finger into his chest. “Maybe to someone like you marriage is just some kind of fun game, but it actually means something to me! I don’t exactly enjoy you treating my love for you like a joke!”

His eyes went wide with shock and hurt, his disguise disappearing as he reverted back to his original form. The sight of his tail twitching nervously almost made you soften… almost.

“My love… that’s not-“

You swatted his hand away, storming off. “… find somewhere else to sleep tonight. I… need to rethink some things.”

Your husband stared at your back as you left, his chest aching in a way it never had before. Could this really be the end of your marriage? No, no of course not. You loved him, and he would do anything for you. There’s no way such a small issue could divide the two of you that easy… right?

Oh how wrong he was.

When he attempted to come home the next night, his clothes and personal items were packed up on the porch, and the locks were changed.

This wasn’t something he could just smooth over with a few kisses and a good fuck. You were genuinely upset, something he could barely comprehend.

Upset? Why, because he was being a bit of a brat? His view only changed when he was complaining to a friend through tears and a glass of wine.

“Well, what would you do if she did the same?”

The glass shattered in his hand, his pupils turning into slits. The image of you walking up to a man, cooing and attempting to seduce him right in front of your husband made his heart boil in a jealous rage.

So that’s how you felt…

“I’m an idiot…” he murmured, looking at your picture. When he married you, he swore off ever having sex with another person. You were his sole source of sustenance and love, his only reason to breathe and live.

If he lost you, what would he even do besides sob until his heart stopped?

If he wanted to keep his beloved, he’d have to win you back…

Fortunately, the incubus knew just what to do.

Part 2? And should I go the yandere route or normal route?

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[mymelodyisme]

Is it annoying hearing about the people I find attractive in town 🤔