#and pretending like he is in a book all of the time

[moonsgemini]

kinda sorry - firefighter!rafe

-

summary: After months of a cat & mouse game Rafe finally gets his favorite waitress alone. He doesn’t even care if it’s at his place of work.

warning: 18+, firefighter!rafe x waitress!reader, fem reader, SMUT! these people are freaks!! dirty talk, oral, cum play & eating (I’m so sorry?), praise kink, fingering, cursing, p in v

an: hiiiii this is so smutty I actually need to repent my sins. I promise I’m working on the next part of cherry wine I just cannot figure out how to end it so in the mean time enjoy another firefighter rafe fic. Does it kinda suck ? yeah.

-

You wiped the same spot on the counter for the fifth time as you looked at the clock on the wall behind you. It was already fifteen past seven and they weren’t here yet. You were starting to get antsy. They always showed up at seven like clock work and you hadn’t seen them leave for a call. No flashing lights and loud sirens had been heard or seen.

God you felt pathetic. When did your life come this?

Pining over a hot firefighter who worked across the street and probably only acknowledges your existence for free slices of pie and haphazard flirting. He was so handsome you’d let him flirt with you for free pie any time. You really did feel pathetic, but it had been a long time since a very attractive man made your palms sweat and stomach flutter. Even if there was a chance it was all just out of boredom on his end.

When that hope in your chest that they’d come began to diminish you looked up one more time, just in case. That’s when you spotted the group men walking out of the fire station across the street. A smile involuntarily appeared on your lips. Your favorite part of the week finally arrived.

You’ve been working at Penny’s since high school so you were familiar with the little routine the men across the street carried on. You had grown up with most of the guys having known them since you were a teenager. A couple of them now even being your old classmates. Except for him.

Rafe had started a few months ago and you hadn’t stopped thinking about him since his first visit to Penny’s. It was rare to see a handsome face like his in this small town. It was rare to see a new face period.

You spotted him right away. He could surprisingly pull off the buzzcut and mustaches always did something for you. He was tall with big arms, how could anyone not like him.

From behind the register you watch through the windows as he laughed at something one of the other guys said rubbing his hand over his mustache. A habit you noticed he had. God did he look as handsome as ever. You wanted to know what his mustache felt like against the skin of your neck and against your inner thighs.

The bell above the door rang as the group of men walked into the small diner. You pretended to be busy by wiping the spot next to the one that you had spent the last fifteen minutes on. Doing your best to seem nonchalant like you hadn’t been anticipating their arrival all day by staring out the windows. You would never do something like that.

You looked up and smiled at the familiar faces welcoming them in. They greeted you as they walked to their usual booth in the corner.

Rafe was the last to walk in giving you a smirk and a small nod as he passed. His navy blue tee shirt fit tightly over his chest and biceps. Always a sight for sore eyes. You were practically drooling, you wanted to bite him. Wanted to feel his big hands all over your skin.

You cleared your throat and took a deep breath feeling your cheeks get hot. You needed to push those thoughts away or you’d do something embarrassing. Brushing your hands on your apron you approached them, pulling out your favorite pen and sticker covered order book.

You may or may not have put a little more effort into your appearance today. For no particular reason of course, but if he was going to flirt with you then you might as well play into it. At least that’s what you told yourself when you applied lashes and added some blush to your cheeks.

“Hey guys, what can I get you all to drink?” You asked once standing in front of the table as if they didn’t order the same thing every time.

“I’ll take a coffee my dear,” Captain Morales said smiling. He’s known you for years now and looked out for you as if you were his own daughter.

Rafe was last to order. That smirk making it’s way to his lips again, “I’ll take a coffee y/n,” His eyes lingered on your glossy lips. Little did you know that he was thinking about how he could just eat you up.

As his eyes raked over you face he didn’t miss the red tinge in your cheeks. He’d do anything to make it an even deeper red. Specifically have you blushing profusely under him or even on top of him. Then he started to think about you bent over and ready for him.

“Coming right up!” You said sweetly before heading off to get the coffees breaking whatever trance he was in.

-

Wednesday’s had become Rafe’s favorite day of the week. Not only was it technically his friday but he got to see his favorite girl. He always thinks about the first time he saw you. You were arguing with a customer who thought their expired coupon should still be valid. He watched as the guy threw his soda at you and before him or any one else could step in you punched the guy in the nose and dragged him out by his collar. The idiot cradling his nose bleeding nose.

That has been the hottest thing Rafe had ever witnessed.

“Now it’s free! Never come back dick head!” You yelled at him as you stomped back into the diner. After spending a few minutes in the back changing into a tee shirt you had in your locker you went to their table. Your tough demeanor had vanished and you held a soft smile on your face. That’s when he knew he was fucked.

-

Y/n walked back behind the counter to grab mugs and the coffee pot. You knew you’d probably have to make another fresh pot after serving them. Your best friend, Grace, had returned from her break and was wiping menus staring at the table of men.

“Matt looks so good. If we don’t get laid by these hot men we need to quit and become nuns,” Grace said quietly as she eyed the firefighter she’s had her eye on since he moved to town a few years ago.

Y/n snorted, “I’ve given up on mine. It’s been months and it’s just flirting and checking me out,” she shrugged, “Our hook ups and incredibly romantic dates will remain in my fantasies.”

“Don’t say that when I’ve been waiting a year now for mr brown eyes,” Grace huffed, “Why doesn’t he do anything. He acts like I’d say no to him.”

“You could ask him out,” You said handing her three mugs to help you take everything. Mostly so she could get closer to Matt.

She laughed dramatically, “You’re so funny Y/n! And after that I’ll call my dad since we’re saying things that are never going to happen.”

“Oh come on he could never say no to you,” You encouraged.

“Then you ask blondie out.”

You stared blankly at her.

She snorted, “That’s what I thought. Lets just continue to admire from afar so the hottest men we’ve ever seen don’t reject us.”

You followed behind her with a sigh. It’s not like you hadn’t thought about asking Rafe to hang out. It’s just that you had that nagging feeling in your chest that maybe he didn’t want to see you anywhere outside the diner. You cleared your throat to rid the anxiety that began to bubble in your stomach. You didn’t have time to over think that right now.

Grace placed one of the cups in front of Matt and he looked up at her with a shy smile, thanking her softly. They were two idiots in love.

“Are we ready to order?” You asked after filling the last mug.

“Yes ma’am,” Stanford said. One of the other older fire fighters.

It was always hard paying attention to their orders when Rafe’s ocean eyes were boring into you. He always had that affect of turning you into complete mush.

“For you Rafe?” You asked tilting your head to the side slightly.

A teasing smile pulled at his mouth, “Bacon cheeseburger with fries please.”

“No onions?”

He nodded. His pants getting a bit tight at the thought of you remembering something about him.

“You got it, I’ll put this is for you boys.” You smiled an walked away. A little extra sway to your hips hoping Rafe was watching but hoping you weren’t making a fool of yourself.

-

A slap to the back of his head got Rafe out of his trance. He ducked rubbing his head turning towards the culprit. His wonderful view of your ass ruined.

“Ow?” He muttered looking over at Miguel next to him.

“Are you just going to check her out every fucking week or are you going to do something?” He asked with a teasing tone.

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, “I don’t have time for a girl right now.”

“You’re such a fuckin liar,” Morales laughed as he sipped his black coffee.

Rafe rubbed his face, “I’m working on it okay.”

Morales smirked knowing he was getting under his skin, “You and baby face over here need to grow a pair or someone else is gonna realize how wonderful those women are and beat you to it.”

“Hey what do I have to do with this,” Matt muttered rubbing his mustache.

Miguel laughed, “Dude Grace has been pining for you for forever and don’t act like you don’t feel the same.”

His began blushing at the thought of her, “Whatever. She’s too good for me anyways.”

“Spare me the pity party Anderson and ask the woman out,” Morales said and then pointed at Rafe, “And you. Do something or don’t. Don’t string her along with whatever flirting shit you do.”

Rafe huffed, “Yeah Yeah.”

He turned to look for you tuning out whatever new conversation started between the men. He found you laughing with Grace as you both rolled napkins with silverware. He loved your laugh and your smile. It was so infectious and warm. Rafe had no idea he could feel this way towards someone.

At first it was all lust. Your attractiveness captivated him, especially knowing you didn’t put up with anyone’s shit but also still a complete sweetheart. He moved to this town because he needed a fresh start. He didn’t expect to pine after a woman who was way too good for him.

Rafe continued to watch as you walked around helping other customers. The sway of your hips made him want to grab onto them. Pull you against him as he kissed down your neck from behind. He’d love to hear your laugh as his mustache tickled your ear. He could already see how pink your cheeks would get at the dirty words he’d whisper in your ear if you let him.

You had no idea that you could have him on his hands and knees for you.

-

Captain Morales had paid for their dinner and they had gone back to the station. Of course the meal was filled with Rafe’s longing glances towards you. Some not so subtle flirting on his end, you of course didn’t do it back in front of the other guys. But when they’d al go outside to wait for the captain to pay he would linger as you wiped down their table.

That nights conversation had firmly planted that seed of hope. Hope that he’d finally pull a move on you since there was a fundraiser barbecue at the station this weekend. Obviously you would be there because you would never miss an opportunity to support your community. It had nothing to do with the fact that Rafe was going to be there.

“You’re coming this weekend right? Or do they have you working?” He had asked with a smirk.

You shook your head with a teasing smile, “Not working, don’t worry I’ll be there.”

“Good.”

“Good?” You teased tilting your head a little in a questioning manor.

He nodded, “I’d be bored without my favorite girl.”

You huffed a flustered laugh, “You mean server?”

He shook his head, “I meant what I said.”

-

Rafe watched as you laughed with Mrs.Garcia about something as you helped pass out desserts. It had been almost three hours since the fundraiser started and he had gotten to talk to you only a handful of times.

He was put on grill duty and you had been pulled in all directions by people. Rafe liked the small town atmosphere of the place and it was one of the reasons why he was glad he got hired at that station, but now he was starting to hate it. Why did everyone have to know you and take you away from him.

You were just as disappointed as him. Every time you would try and make your way to the grill someone would pull you to help with something or the kids would want you to watch their dance routine they made up. You could feel his eyes on you and when you looked back at him he’d smirk. That stupid devilish handsome smirk.

The sun had begun to set and people were starting to clear out. You looked around and found Rafe helping take down all of the tables and put away chairs. Being ordered around by Captain Morales. You sighed, maybe you and Rafe were always meant to just have flirty banter. Nothing more.

You didn’t want to wait around until he was free again and you didn’t want to bother him so you accepted your fate. Before you left you wanted to use the restroom so you made your way into the firehouse.

Once Rafe was done helping clean up he looked around for you. He didn’t see you anywhere. His chest filled with disappointment as to how the night went. He thought this would be his chance to talk to you outside your job and maybe even take you home. His disappointment was clear on his face as he continued to look around as if you’d come out of thin air any moment.

Beside him someone cleared their throat, “She went inside a couple minutes ago,” Captain Morales said.

Rafe looked over at him with furrowed brows, “huh?”

“Your girl. She’s inside. Now hurry before you miss your chance,” He nodded towards the open door.

Rafe laughed, “How do you even-“

“Son you two look at each other like you both hung the moon I’d be an idiot to not know. Now please go get her I don’t want to have to deal with your attitude later if you miss your chance.”

Rafe nodded his head with a wide smile, “Yes sir.”

He made his way into the firehouse to look for you. Hopefully you hadn’t slipped by him. As he turned the corner to where the restrooms were he found you standing looking at some pictures hanging on the wall.

He stood there for a minute just admiring you. Your soft cheeks and long lashes. Your long smooth legs in that sundress that looked a bit too short and tight on you. It made something in his stomach stir. He cleared his throat to gain your attention.

Your head snapped towards him. Eyes widening in surprise, you weren’t expecting him. Rafe walked over to stand by you and see what you were staring at. It was a picture of the whole station. Then a picture of him and a couple other guys.

“Staring at me huh?” He asked with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes playfully, “You wish Cameron.”

“I do.” He turned to look at you. That dreamy look in his eyes, “You almost got away from me today.”

You laughed softly, “Sorry. I was trying to come up to you but you know how it is.”

He nodded, “That’s the unfortunate thing about liking a girl everyone loves. You couldn’t help the hear that creeped up your neck at his confession.

He didn’t let you say anything as he continued, “Guess that just means I’ll need to take you out on a date to get you alone.”

You let out a surprised huff, “Oh yeah? Well we’re alone right now.” You looked around making a show of it.

He smirked, “So you don’t want to go on a date with me baby?”

This man was going to be the death of you, “Of course I do. Been waiting for you to ask.”

He laughed and took a step closer to you, “Sorry it’s taken me so long. I liked that little dance we were doing, but let me make it up to you.”

Your body was on fire at everything he was saying. This man had to have been created in a lab with the way he was speaking to you. He was walking closer to you now and you took a few steps back until your back hit the wall of the hallway.

“How are you gonna do that hm?” You tried to play cool as if your pulse wasn’t racing in anticipation. Now you weren’t usually a girl that hooked up with a guy before going on a date but that was going all out the window today if Rafe wanted to have his way with you.

He reached forward and stroked your cheek with his thumb. His eyes going down to your lips. His tongue poking out to wet his bottom lip as your parted, “By fucking you.”

Your eyes widened slightly. Thighs clenching at his non filtered confession, he really was done playing the cat and mouse game. You didn’t even care. Your brain became complete mush and you would let him fuck you in this hallway right now if he wanted to.

“You gonna let me do that hm?” He asked as if he didn’t already know the answer by the way your thighs clenched and your nipples hardened underneath your dress.

You nodded slowly as if you were under a spell. Your heart was erratic as you pictured this tall handsome man fucking you in his big arms. You could cum just thinking about it.

His thumb tugged gently as your bottom lip, “Words baby come on.”

“Yes please,” You said softly.

That’s all he needed to hear before he took your hand and dragged you into the room next to you. It was one of the rooms where they came to sleep during over night shifts. It had a desk, bunk beds, and one single bed. He locked the door behind him before pushing you up against the desk. Rafe and you were panting and you hadn’t even touched each other yet.

He cupped your face in his hands and groaned, “You’re so beautiful I can’t keep my hands to myself anymore.”

“Then don’t,” You murmured in a haze as he dove in to capture your lips in his.

He groaned and moved his hands down to your waist and then to your hips. Pulling you even closer to him as you parted your mouth to let him have more access. He was everywhere and it felt so good. His tongue explored your mouth as his hands grabbed and squeezed at your body. The light whimpers and moans leaving your mouth sending him into a frenzy.

He pulled away with hazy eyes and swollen lips, “Fuck I’ve been thinking about this for long.”

You nodded your head rapidly, “Me too.” You said breathlessly. You felt like you were in a Rafe enduced trance. He moaned at the sight of your swollen lips and the strap of your dress had fallen in the haste.

He pushed you back so you were sitting on the desk now with him between your parted legs. He leaned forward and began pressing open mouthed kisses to your neck. You tilted your head back giving him more room. Your fingers tangled in his hair. Tugging when he kissed that one particular spot below your ear. He bit at your neck and you gasped as his tongue soothed the sting. You had never been so turned on in your life, and he hadn’t even touched you really.

That changed when his hands slid down your hips to your thighs. He squeezed them loving the feel of them. Rafe couldn’t wait to have them wrapped around his head, he wanted you to suffocate him. He needed you to suffocate him with your pussy.

He played with the hem of your dress as he kissed your collarbone. He was being a tease, “I thought the teasing was over.” You mumbled with hooded eyes. You wanted him to just shove the dress up and fuck you.

He chuckled against the swell of your breast that he had been peppering with kisses, “Patience sweetheart. I’ll fill you up with my cock, tongue, and fingers in no time.”

You moaned at his words as he slipped the straps of your dress down and tugged the top part down to reveal your tits. He groaned at the sight of your perked nipples and leaned down taking one in his mouth. His other hand reaching for the other and brushing his thumb over the sensitive bud.

The moans that left your mouth were pornographic. It was like you had been touched in years which was only partly true.

“Mmm you’re so sweet,” He groaned as he moved to the other one.

You sighed with pleasure, “I need you.”

He laughed softly going back to kiss you, “Don’t worry baby I’ll give you what you need.”

His big hands grabbed your hips and pulled you off the desk in a swift motion. You thought he was going to take you to the bed and finally have his way. You should have known better with him, you’re starting to get that Rafe loves the anticipation. The chase of it all because he turned you around so his chest was on your back.

You could feel him aching agains your lower back. He felt so big and your mouth watered at the thought. You barely had any time to question what he was doing when you felt him press kisses from in between your shoulders and down your back. As he did he gently pushed you down to be basically bent over the desk. Then he was kneeling behind you.

His hands stroking your thighs as they shook in anticipation. He playfully bit your butt with a small groan. Rafe pushed your dress up to rest around your waist. Almost on instinct you arched your back and pushed your hips towards him. Needing for him to do something.

“Please Rafe,” You murmured desperately.

He grinned sweetly, “You sound so pretty asking nicely baby.” He reached his hand down to lightly stroke you over your underwear.

You gasped at the minimal contact. Then he was fully rubbing circles onto your clit. The wet patch at your center growing. He pulled your cheeks apart as he dove in and pressed wet kisses to your clothes pussy.

“Fuck,” He groaned, “Let me have a taste yeah?”

You whined. Literally whined, “Please Rafey please please.” You never thought you could be this desperate for a man. You could feel his smirk against your cunt.

He slid your panties to the side and dove in like a starved man. You gasped in surprised not expecting him to go all in since he had been teasing so much, but you’d thank God every day for it. You already knew you’d be thinking about his mouth for the rest of your life.

Rafe’s tongue massaged your clit in the best way and with the position his nose nudged at your entrance. His hands reached up to grab a handful of your ass and squeeze making you moan louder.

The room was filled with the sounds of his sucking and lapping as well as your whines. His hand then came down to slap one cheek. A motion that made you push yourself against his mouth even more.

Rafe would be a happy man if this is the way he went out. Drowning in your pussy. Your juices dripping down his chin as he mercilessly worked his tongue over you. The groans he let out adding to the pleasure.

Pressure built up in your lower stomach as that knot of pleasure tightened. You had never gotten so close so fast besides with your own hand. The way this man was lapping you up had your legs shaking.

“Yes Rafe!” You exclaimed, “Gonna cum!”

Your head flew back as your eyes shut in pleasure. The white hot euphoric feeling of your orgasm taking over.

“Mhmmm,” He groaned as he continued to lick and suck, “Fuck baby so good.” He mumbled as he continued his ministrations prolonging the intense feeling.

He pulled away once he had cleaned you up of everything you gave him, “Such a messy girl huh,” He mumbled as he pulled your hair so your back was against his chest again. Your head tilted back onto his shoulder. Rafe had a way with words, it had your mind in a haze.

He moved his hand to cup your face and tilt it towards him even more so he could capture your lips in his. The kiss was sloppy and so hot.

You pulled away slightly and mumbled against his lips, “Please please fuck me Rafey.”

He but his lip and groaned, “Of course baby anything you want.”

You expected him to shove his pants down and stuff his cock in you but you should have known him better. He spun you around so your back was pressed to the desk again. He tapped on the back of your thighs to get you to sit on it again and as you did he mumbled, “So obedient.”

The scene in front of him looked so vulgar. You were sat at the desk with your dress bunched around your stomach. All the delicious parts Rafe wanted to dive into exposed. He took a mental picture to remember it even though this definitely wouldn’t be the last time he’d have his way with you.

You reach out for him and tugged at his shirt wanting it off. He smirked as he took the hint and pulled it off. The sight of his toned chest and broad arms had you gushing all over again.

“We should be quick now before they come looking,” He muttered as he began to undo his belt. He pulled his pants and boxers down to rest around his ankles. His cock on full display for you and you bit your lip as you took in the sight. Glassy eyes widening at the size, you had never seen one like that.

He tugged at it a few times to relieve the tension. The way you were looking at him was making his ego grow, and Rafe didn’t really need that.

Grabbing where your knees crease he pushed your legs up so your feet were almost flat on the desk. Your core glistening and on display for him.

“Fuck I can’t wait to be in that nice wet pussy,” He couldn’t away. He let you hold yourself up now as he grabbed himself and began sliding his tip through your folds. You let out small whimpers at the feeling. Then rubbed it over your clit, making you even wetter.

Rafe was having the time of his life. You felt so good against him he never wanted to stop. The way your nipples perked and your eyes practically watered in pleasure.

“You’re so wet baby,” He slipped the tip into your entrance, “mmmph feel s’good huh.” He smirked cockily as he pushed himself in deeper and deeper.

Your brows furrowed in pleasure as he stretched you deliciously. His thumb finding your clit and rubbing soft circles. Your head fell back with a sigh as he bottomed out.

He leaned forwards and kissed you softly as he started moving. You both moaned as he pushed back in hitting that sweet spot. He pulled away and leaned down to take a nipple in his mouth. Sucking and gently tugging.

Your hands were tangled un his short locks. As his movements grew faster and harder your hands moved all over. His shoulders, chest, back anywhere you could touch. Your nails leaving crescents in his skin as he continued to mumble obscenities into your ear.

‘so good baby’ ‘the most perfect pussy’ ‘my good girl letting me fuck her so well’

The feeling of euphoria increasing as he continued. Rafe groaned as he felt you tighten around him. He was regretting one thing right now and that was waiting this long to fuck you.

“M’close Rafe,” You whined as that familiar feeling spread throughout your body.

“I know,” He panted and started working faster, “Cum for me baby come on. I know you can do it.”

His encouragement helped your release. As he felt you orgasm and tighten around him he neared the edge of his own orgasm.

“Need you to cum in me,” You mumbled as he milked you for all you had.

His eyes rolled back at your statement, “Fuuuck.” Then his hips snapped into you a few more times before he released inside you coating your walls in his cum. It felt so good to have him stuffed inside you. His head resting on your chest as he groaned. After a few minutes of your labored breaths Rafe slowly pulled out. The loss of him causing you to whimper and he just smirked.

You thought you guys were done but then Rafe looked down and slipped two fingers inside you.

“Oh Rafe,” You gasped, “W-what are you doing?”

He bit his lip as he continued to watch his fingers pump in and out slowly, “Feeling how well you took all my cum baby.”

Then as if he couldn’t be hotter and dirtier he removed his fingers and his cum was all over them. He took them and began rubbing it over your clit. The overstimulation made your toes curl and your mouth fall open.

The scene in front of him was so filthy and will be on constant reply for the rest of his life. The entire last hour he would be thinking about that forever.

He removed his fingers and you reached out grabbing his wrist to tug the fingers into your mouth. Licking and sucking his fingers clean.

“Dirty girl,” He mumbled as you pulled them out with a pop.

He leaned in and kissed you softly, no more lust behind it. It was something else now. Rafe helped you fix your dress and pull your underwear back on after he pulled his pants back up.

“I’m kind of sorry I didn’t take you out first but I also don’t regret it because I’ve been wanting to get my hands on you for months,” Rafe said as you fixed your ruffled hair.

You smiled at him, “I’m not at all. You can still take me out and we can do that all over again.”

A loud banging on the door made you jump and rafe whip his head around.

“You guys done yet? I need a nap,” one of the other guys yelled through the door.

Your face paled at the realization that you might now have been very quiet. Rafe just laughed, “One minute!”

“Oh god. I need to quit my job and move towns now,” You put your hands on your face in embarrassment.

Rafe laughed and kissed the back of your hands that covered your face, “Nuh uh. Not running from me now.”

[youryanderedaddy]

Yandere! Best friend

Tw: female reader, emotional manipulation, jealousy, toxicity, crude language, implied parental abuse/neglect, implied drugs, non - consensual touching, i love manipulative men too much for my own good :((

Summary: Toxic, codependent friendship turns sour. But that's really no surprise.

You love Lauren's flat. You know he's renting it for cheap because his dad is friends with the landlord - and he doesn't give a fuck about the place. You know by the wrappers on the ground and the cigarettes stacked burnt inside the drawers, the stench of weed stuck to the ceiling for what feels like forever - and it's no surprise. Lauren doesn't care about all the good things in his life. And you know by the broken mirror pieces never to be swept away and the pills hidden behind the sink.

Still, you like his flat. The kitchen alone is bigger than your mom's entire house. The fridge is never empty - full from top to bottom, to the very brim, bursting with everything from your favourite chocolate candy to cheap vodka, from top shelf whiskey to pickled onions and fancy imported foreign items you have never seen before with your own two eyes. All colorful, all set in alphabetical order - he's a neat freak like that, and it's no surprise. The central heating never stops, and it's never cold. It's a land of dreams, and some days you wish you could stay forever.

***

"Haha, aw." You whisper to yourself, shoulders moving slowly up and down in sync. You try to stop the slight blush from reaching your face, but it's inevitable, truly. You barely notice when your best friend sneaks behind you, quiet as a snake ready to bite into your open vein.

"You look awfully happy." He observes with certain distaste, almost grimacing - you don't have to look up from your phone, you know him too well, he must be grimacing, and clicking his tongue. "Did the old hag kick the bucket or somethin'?" His lips twist in a cruel little smile as he wraps his arms around your frame - which never ceases to make you feel as if you have a tiny mischievous demon on your shoulder. "No, wait, don't tell me you're getting fired from the burger place. That's even better!" His eyes glow with childish joy as he teases you, and you can feel your cheeks heating up.

"N-no, it's nothing like that. It's really stupid..." You try to look anywhere but at him, fiddling with your phone nervously. "Just go back to reading your book and leave me alone, jerk." You attempt to joke back, but your anxiety gives you away. It's foolish to lie to him to begin with - he's known you for years. He's known you since your father died, since your mother stopped caring whether you're alive or not. He's known you since you broke down in his arms for the first time. He's known you in nothing but smeared mascara and torn bottomless pockets, though empty wallets; he's known you, body and soul (and lips too, all those years ago). So of course he knows that you're lying.

"What is it?" He humms playfully leaning over your shoulder, chin resting on top of your breast. You feel the sweat sticking to his neck (was he in a fight again?), the heavy colognue coming off his black shirt as he tries to read the words on your screen. You quickly turn off your phone, and Lauren pouts, pretending to be upset. "What's so damn important that you can't even tell your best friend?" His voice is light and airy, privy, overwhelmingly sweet and sticky like burnt caramel.

You open your mouth, but no speech comes out. You feel embarrassed. You don't even know where to start. Then the man raises an eyebrow expectantly, eyes prompting Well?, growls in irritation quickly after, and reaches for a new thin cigarette, all in the same breath. He's always been like this - quick to set aflame. Impossible to predict. Hard to resist. Soft, sometimes. In your arms, mostly.

"Fine." He snaps at last, brows furrowed like an angered father as he stands up to get his keys from the table, heading towards the door. "Do whatever the fuck you want. It's not like I'm the only person in this ugly, shitty world who, like, dunno, gives a fuck about yo-"

"You'll just mock me!" You squeak out, crossing your arms together - regretting even laughing in the first place. Then, even more quietly. "If I tell you."

Lauren stills completely, slowly turning back towards you. Your heartbeat speeds up even more, if possible.

"What the fuck happened?" He remains serious, although slightly less aggravated now. "You know I hate this cryptic bullshit you do. Just speak up, you're not a child anymore." He gets closer to you, pointing at your chest. "M not your mommy, ain't gonna hit ya if you say the wrong thing."

You take a deep breath, eyes focused on the cigar hanging off his mouth - together with the sport hoodie and the cheap black beanie he looks like a small fish delinquent, and you have to stop yourself from laughing. But then you remember why you even fought in the first place, and you feel flustered all over again.

"I met someone." You blurt out in a rush to get it over with, averting your eyes to the TV still playing somewhere in the background. The sound has been turned to low - he says the commercials make him want to scratch his head from the inside.

"Huh?" His cigarette falls off. Ash all over the dirty wooden tiles.

"I met someon-

"Yes, I heard you the first time." Lauren pronounces slowly, lips stretching into his oh - so characteristic smile again. "I just couldn't believe it." He stomps over the half lit cigar, burning a hole into the floor. It doesn't look out of order with all the filth. "Who would have known. Heh." He stares at you for entirely too long - until you squirm with discomfort. "Who's the lucky guy?"

You want to ask him why it's so unbelievable for you to meet someone - but it's hard to find the words to. At the same time you know he's just joking, he'd never do anything to hurt you. He's just... rough around the edges.

"You don't know him." Warm heat travels through your body as you think about your secret admirer. "We met online."

"Of course you did." Your friend scoffs, rolling his eyes at you. Then he claps sardonically, lighting up another cigarette. He must have hundreds, if not thousands lying around. "Well, congratulations, princess. You may finally get pounded like a real bitch in heat. Isn't that nice?" The more you look at him, the more crooked his smirk seems to get.

"You're fucking disgusting." You hiss, standing up - ready to collect your things and leave.

You hate when he gets like this.

"Oh, not so fast. We're still talking, baby. Tell me everything." Lauren grabs your elbow, pulling you in with ease, and if he wasn't your best friend, you'd be terrified by how strong he is despite his seemingly slim build. "Does he tell you that you're beautiful? That you're just the most precious thing in the entire world?" His voice lowers down to a whisper in your ear. "Or is he even less creative with his lies?"

You pull away, eyes widening with disbelief.

"He's not like this! How can you even say all th-" You blurt out incoherently, but he stops you in the tracks with a single sharp glare. "He's not like that?" The man snorts in a rather nasty way, pulling you back in while you're too shocked to resist. "You're even dumber that I thought." His eyes narrow to two slits bleeding bile. "Did he fuck you already? Is that why you're acting so naive? You get some mediocre dick and now you're all star - eyed." He laughs with unhinged madness, orbs mudded with pure craze.

Before you can respond, your phone buzzes. You both stare at it for what feels like eternity - but he's faster, always. Ever since you were children. And as you're jumping away, fighting with teeth and nail to get your phone back, he's reading away at your most intimate thoughts and feelings.

"I feel like I've known you for ages." He reads out loud, trying to imitate the voice of the sender. "You must be my other half. I'd love to hold you and cherish you forever." The mocking nasal tone sinks with each word, and once he reaches "forever", it's almost silent. His hands are shaking, eyes blurry. The ink drowns the screen as if trying to get under his own fingernails.

And when he smashes the phone in the ground, it's really no surprise.

"Lauren!" You gasp, falling down to collect the pieces, grabbing at the broken plastic with feral grip. But there's just too many of them, and not enough glue in the whole wide world.

"I should have known you were up to no good in that miserable house. That crack-whore mother of yours is putting these... ideas in your head." He chuckles coldly, staring at you from aboving with unreadable expression - and from so low on the ground he looks like the sun. "She made you believe someone could actually love... you."

He suddenly squats down to your level.

"News-fucking-flash, sweetheart." His fist wraps around your hair, pulling at will. It burns your scalp, but you can't look away, hypnotized by the motion of his lips, the silky cruelty of his voice teasing your ears. "Nobody loves you. Nobody will ever love you - not your poor dead bum of a father, not that bitch you call mother and certainly not this fool you think you love. How could they love you? You're a fucking mess!"

He's laughing at the tears slowly pouring down your cheeks. You're so beautiful when you cry.

"How could they love you?" He repeats softly, stroking your cold wet cheek with two slender fingers - the same fingers that always dry your tears. Then his lips touch your eyelids, slowly, torturously - the same lips that always bring you to tears. "They wouldn't know what to do with you. Such a fragile girl." His nose rubs against your collarbone and suddenly you're drowning in your sadness like a sailor lost at sea. "Such a fragile, broken little girl."

And yet you still love Lauren's apartment, it's never cold, and it's always silent. So silent you can hear your own heartbeat - and so lonely you can taste your tears on his lips.

[ask-lala-and-lana]

Aight, Lana's turn.

1. Colorful things.

2. I can't find any child character with a speech impediment, so I settled for Marcella from Raggedy Ann and Andy.

3. Lana is kind of a mix but, she's main outdoor person.

4. Scripting and making lore.

5. She always dreamt of being a director! And now.. she kind of is..? But, she's more of a scripture and story writer :P

6. Her scars, once she was so insecure about them, she went into a Sephora and stole a foundation as an attempt to cover up her scars.

A bit of explanation on the scars : She got all those scars from her father, no, her father wasn't abusive he was possessed by a demon and got mind-controled to hurt the only kid he had left.

7. Every other part of her body <3

8. Horror stories and kids' books, especially Beetlejuice!

9. School books.

10. She really loves Epic the Musical, and her fav kind of music is pop!

11. Lana's not really the type of girl to fall in love, but she does have her crush on best friend, Mateo!

12. She only gets B's, in 1st grade she was know as "B girl".

13. In a beautiful enchanted forest.

14. Idk, Lana is too naive and oblivious to be embarrassed.

15. (TW⚠️ sensitive topic) Before any of her friends died or moved away, she had : Petunia, Costina, and Mateo. Petunia and Mateo ended up dying, Petunia because of Cancer and Mateo because of his abusive dad. As for Costina, she and her family had to unfortunately move back to Romania.. Hence, why Lana wears the red, green, and yellow bracelets, but Lana didn't lose all her friends. She still had her great friend, Wilbur Darling.

16. Lana love love, love, love, LOVES her parents, especially her mama, but she doesn't mind spending time with her papa too. As opposed to LaLa, Lana is more of a mommy's girl to s literally degree.

17. LaLa is her brother/sister and her trusty assistant, she loves her to bits!

18. Witnessing her uncle drown her other older sister (not LaLa)

19. (TW⚠️ sensitive topic) Her mother's death, her father's possession, her eldest sister leaving, witnessing her other older sister's death, the racism from her step-grandma.

20. Any memory that was happy.

21. Drawing, painting, playing with dolls, watching Winx, and Miraculous LadyBug, playing pretend with her step-siblings, playing with her sister.

22. Refusing to accept all her trauma and move on and instead make a show about it.

23. Her biggest flaw is that she's too naive and innocent, as for her strength she doesn't know it but she's really smart.

24. Way worse than how LaLa handles death, Lana was the one who saw her mom's dead corpse next to the crime scene, and absolutely she didn't take so kindly.. That's the reason she made Lesley.. To represent her mother.. and Roy as her father.

26. Hates gum for some reason and green.

25. Her fav color is purple, and her fav food is human hands because she's a picky cannibal as opposed to her sister as for normal food she likes cookies :3

27. Gemini :3

28. Lana loves both, but, as Caseoh once said, "KITTTTYYYYUHHHHH!!!"

29. She never had a first kiss because only 10-

30. Since she still a child who still loves fairytales, of course she does.

OC Ask Game

Thought I’d take a crack and make one you guys can reblog and enjoy and play amongst your mutuals.

does your oc have any motifs?

describe your character's voice. do they have a voice claim?

is your character an indoor or outdoor person?

what's your character's favorite recreational activity?

what was your character's dream job as a kid? is it different than what their career ended up being?

what is the thing your oc likes the least about themselves?

what is the thing your oc likes the most about themselves?

what book genre is their favorite?

what book genre is their least favorite?

what kind of music do they enjoy?

has your OC ever fallen in love and with whom?

how well does your OC do in school?

where would your OC like to go on a honeymoon?

An embarrassing secret about your OC?

who is your OC’s best friend?

how does your OC feel about their parents?

how does your OC feel about their siblings?

a memory that still makes your OC angry?

a memory that still makes your OC sad?

a nostalgic memory from your OC’s childhood?

hobbies your OC enjoys?

what is holding your OC back to achieve their goals?

what are your OC’s biggest flaws and biggest strengths?

how does your OC handle death of someone they know?

favorite food and color for your OC?

least favorite food and color?

your OC’s zodiac sign?

is your OC a dog or cat person?

when was their first kiss?

does your OC wish to be married someday?

[siddyyyyyyyy]

Unhinged

Jason Todd x Reader

MDNI wc: 0.7K summary: your roommate finds your messages you send your friend about him. warnings: suggestive themes, no y/n used, actually kind of cringe a/n: my dear friend accidently gave me this idea while spamming me with delicious Red Hood edits (@dollyure), evidence will be shared at the end. enjoy!!

You never thought this could happen. You were so careful to leave your own thoughts to yourself and never let Jason see the things you tell your friend. But of course, nothing really goes your way for some reason.

It took one thing for you to end up in this situation. One thing. And that was leaving your phone unattented on the sofa for a minute. Unlocked.

It was a typical evening as any other, just getting to relax and wind down at the end of the week on your favourite spot at the couch with your roommate. Jason was always pretty quiet but respectful of the shared space, a good friend if you want to wind down together. You rarely get to see him in the evenings but on days like this, when he stays in, it feels like a small reward for you.

Of course he doesn‘t know about any of this. Doesn‘t know anything about what your silly texts between you and your friends. You keep it a secret pretty well, so he won‘t think you are a complete weirdo.

Well, until that evening. Setting your phone quickly aside to get to your boiling tea kettle, you forgot to lock it. Jason sits at the other end of the fluffy couch and watches how you scurry away to get the boiling water to a stop. With an amused grin he gets back to his book but keeps getting distracted by the bright phonescreen just a little away from him. Glancing over, he sees the outlines of text bubbles but he can‘t see what‘s written in there yet.

He isn‘t trying to pry or get into your privacy, but the way the other person spams you non-stop is making him more curious. Whatever this conversation is about, he wants to know if it‘s a conflict or some sort of gossip.

Jason checks if you are still in the kitchen and sees you preparing your tea and some sweets. He technically has enough time to snatch your phone while it‘s still open and gets to have a look over the texts. Who knows, maybe he will find out some interesting things on there. So, with these weak excuses, he grabs your phone and starts reading through them.

UNTIL YOUR TONGUE FADES COLOUR??? I mean every word I say. Wow. Just…

His brows furrow. What does this even mean? Are tongues even capable of fading colour? With a quick glance to the kitchen, he scrolls up, reading through the older messages.

From the couch, to the shower, to the bed, from the wall to the floor from missionary to cowgirl, straddled on top JUST LET ME HITTT

His jaw drops. Jason quickly composes himself and sits up, clearing his throat. He is sure he will need extra therapy after this. Ignoring the unfamiliar, warm feeling in his lower abdomen, he continues to read through them. Unsurprisingly, he finds a picture of himself in the chat. His profile picture, some random pictures he didn‘t even you had in the first place.

Until my throat memorises every vein.

That‘s the last message he sees from you before you appear in his sight again. Tea in hand, some cookies in the other. But most importantly, your flushed cheeks and regretful expression. His hand drops your phone and his cheeks also flush.

You can‘t look into his eyes anymore. This is the next worst thing that‘s ever happened to you so far. There is no way you can talk yourself out of this situation at all. He knows basically everything now. From the fact that you crush on him to the fact that you literally want to devour him whole.

Silently, he sets your phone back to its original spot and gets off the couch to stand up. Again, he clears his throat and speaks up first.

»I‘m gonna pretend I didn‘t see all this...«

And before you could apologise or say something to your defense, he is gone, retreating himself into his own room. Maybe even for the better, you can‘t imagine how awkward it would‘ve been if you were to sit next to him for the next few hours.

here is the so called evidence ( from my friends perspective)

and this was the final message that made me do this:

hope you enjoyed it somehow(★‿★)

←MASTERLIST

[pickingupmymercedes]

Blessed - Lewis Hamilton

Part of 1K Jukebox Event

song: Blessed - Daniel Caesar - @goldenroutledge

pairing: Husband!Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

genre: fluff (bc we need a lil breather from the news lately)

wordcount: +1k

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

“Alright, alright!” The sound of a spoon tapping against a champagne glass drew everyone's attention toward the center of the room.

The reception room was glowing in warm hanging lights, the low hum of chatter filled the air as glasses were put down and chair were pulled closer. It was a night of celebration, of love and new beginnings – tale as old as time.

At the head table, the couple of the evening, Lewis and Y/n, sat side by side. Lewis’s arm draped protectively over the back of Y/n’s chair and she leaned into him slightly, her eyes sparkling as she looked out at their friends and family gathered around.

It had been a long road to get there. Everyone knew that.

Their love story wasn’t the clean, perfectly drawn-out romance people read about in books or saw in movies. It was messy. Complicated. And yet, they had made it there—newly married and completely in love.

Standing in the middle of the room, their friend held a mic in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other. Her grin promised a toast that would be anything but typical.

“As much as I’d love to pretend I’m not emotional about this... y’all know me too well,” she began, casting a cheeky look at the couple. “But first... let me just say—finally!”

A wave of laughter rippled through the guests. Y/n chuckled, nudging Lewis as he grinned wide, squeezing her shoulder. Their friend raised her glass, eyes twinkling.

“No, seriously though. I’m not gonna lie. There was a point where I thought, ‘These two? Getting married? Yeah, no way.’ But hey, life has a funny way of proving me wrong.”

The guests laughed, nodding in agreement. She looked around the room, drawing everyone in as she spoke.

“See, Lewis and Y/n... they were that couple. The one everyone’s always asking about. Like, ‘What’s going on with them? Are they together? Are they on a break? Are they—” she paused, turning to the person sitting next to her and raising her hand for dramatic effect, “Are they fine this time?’”

Everyone laughed, nodding along. Y/n exchanged a smile with Lewis, who shrugged as if to say, She’s not wrong.

“They always had this... thing, right?” their friend continued, making an animated swirl in the air with her hand. “Like, they’d walk into a room together and, boom, all eyes would go straight to them. You could tell they were just... magnetic.” She turned to Lewis’s mom, who was laughing and nodding knowingly.

“Oh, and don’t get me started on the families!” She gestured to Lewis’s mom with a playful smirk. “Carmen, you knew Y/n was family long before this day, didn’t you? You were still having your spa days with her even when these two claimed to be ‘over!’”

The room burst into laughter as Carmen raised her glass with a playful smile, shrugging unapologetically. “She’s family, with or without him.”

“And you sir,” Their friend pointed a finger at Y/n’s dad, shaking her head with a grin. “You’re just as bad. I remember calling Lewis during one of their ‘breaks’—you know, the ones we had to keep a calendar for—and he’d be like, ‘Oh, I just got off the phone with Y/n’s dad. We were talking about the race.’” She shook her head, laughing. “You all knew they weren’t fooling anyone, didn’t you?”

Y/n’s dad chuckled, glancing over at the newlyweds with a warm smile. “Some people need more time to figure things out.”

The friend shook her head with an exaggerated sigh. “Honestly, who didn’t lose track at some point?” She turned to a nearby table. “Raise your hand if you’ve ever had to ask someone else if they were ‘back together’ or ‘taking a break’ this month?”

A few hands shot up in good-natured fun, the crowd’s laughter rolling even louder.

“Yep! See? Half of us here had charts,” she added dead serious. “And the funny part is, every single time they said they were ‘done,’ deep down, I think we all knew. Because no matter how ‘done’ they claimed to be, they’d somehow find a way back to each other. Every. Single. Time.”

Y/n shook her head, laughing softly as if the memories were flooding back to her—late nights of arguments, quiet moments of reconciliation, times they’d sworn it was over for good, only to realize that no one else quite fit the way Lewis did.

She paused, glancing between Lewis and Y/n, before taking a slow sip of champagne. “You two are a pair, alright. A little unpredictable a lot stubborn. But that’s what makes it funny—and honestly, kind of beautiful— because you couldn’t stay out of each other’s orbit if you tried.”

Their friend took a breath, her grin turning into a soft smile. “And as much as we all like to joke about how confusing it was trying to keep up, deep down, we all knew. Because whatever you two have... It was messy, yeah. But it’s real. And it’s the kind of love that survives the storms because you make each other better.”

Her gaze shifted to Lewis, sincerity pouring into her voice. “Now, Lewis... yeah, you’re a lot of things. A goat, some would say... but let’s be honest—when it comes to Y/n, you’re the guy who can’t help but light up when she’s around. I mean, look at you!” She waved her hand, pointing as he grinned, clearly caught.

Lewis laughed, shaking his head, but the warmth in his eyes as he glanced at Y/n was undeniable.

She then turned to Y/n, her eyes softening even more. “And Y/n, girl... don’t think I haven’t noticed how you let him in, even when you’re stubborn about it. He’s broken through those walls in a way that, frankly, I’m still kind of mad about,” she teased, winking. “He really made me share my spot as your only confidante.”

Another wave of laughter and cheers erupted, softer this time, filled with knowing looks and nods. Y/n’s hand founding Lewis’s under the table, fingers squeezing his as she took in her friend’s words.

“And it wasn’t until you both finally stopped running from this, that the rest of us got to see the magic happen,” their friend continued, leaving her glass on the table to be able to use her hands to motion to the couple.

“And now? Look at you two. You’ve found your rhythm. You’ve learned that yeah, sometimes you drive each other nuts.”

“And us too, to be honest.” She pointed out as she motioned to the rest of the guests

“Sometimes it’s not perfect, and it never will be. But that’s not the point.” She paused, letting the silence hang for a second before speaking again. “The point is... you two, you’re so blessed to be stuck with each other.”

Y/n’s breath visibly caught in her throat. She glanced at Lewis, and the warmth in his eyes met her own, creating a small, private moment between them.

“I mean, look at them, guys. There he is, looking at her with the same adoration he always had, even back when they weren’t even ‘official’. They always saw each other, didn’t they? Even when they didn’t see themselves.” Their friend chuckled as she took their little moment to get her point across, just to cease the moment and break the atmosphere with another tease.  

“Gosh, I remember when you two were in those other relationships,” she said, eyes glinting mischievously as she winked. “And they were great, don’t get me wrong... But we all knew they were temporary. Because there’s no one else out there for you two. You tried to move on, I’ll give you two that. But you were just lying to yourselves. The whole time, you were still orbiting around each other, waiting to collide.”

The crowd murmured in agreement. Everyone there had seen their journey. Everyone knew how hard they’d fought, how much they’d both been through to get to that moment.

“So yeah, you two might be a little messy sometimes” she added, a grin spreading across her face again. “But who isn’t? The important thing is... you bring out the best in each other. Lewis, you make Y/n smile like no one else can. And Y/n, you keep this man grounded in a way that nothing else ever could.”

And it was true.

Lewis was Y/n’s grounding force, the one person who could calm the storm inside her, even when she didn’t want to admit it. And she did the same for him, though he’d probably never say it out loud.

They weren’t perfect, but they were perfect for each other.

“To Lewis and Y/n. To all the highs and lows, to all the moments that got you here. And to the future, because if this crazy, beautiful love of yours has taught us anything, it’s that you’re in it for the long haul. Here’s to being blessed... and a little bit of a mess.”

The room erupted in cheers and clinks of glasses. Y/n’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she turned to Lewis, her fingers reaching for his over the table. When their hands touched, he laced his fingers with hers, giving her that same familiar squeeze he always did when words weren’t enough.

He leaned in, his voice low as he whispered against her ear “I am blessed to be stuck with you.”

Y/n smiled, blinking away the moist that had been threatening to fall. She turned to him, kissing him softly on the lips, savoring the moment.

Because their friend was right. It wasn’t always perfect. It wasn’t always easy. But it was real.

And maybe they were a little bit of a mess.

But they were each other’s mess.

And that was everything.

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @itsmrshamilton @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf

@priopp123 @strqirlhrts @hmmmmm-01 @bisexual-babygirl-mj @bebesobrielo

@hiireadstuff @f1-football-fiend

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[depravitycentral]

yandere, 18+

I know I write about this kind of stuff a lot, but there’s just something about men humping inanimate objects that just really gets to me.

It’s the desperation that they can't control. It's the physical urge to move, to feel something underneath them, their body physically unable to stop itself from fucking something. It's the way their hips snap and buck and jolt all without them meaning it, their body betraying them on the most primal level because their subconscious is recognizing that they need something warm and soft and oh so pretty to sink into, to rut against until he's smearing pearls of white against soft, supple skin. It's the uncontrollable need to hump themselves against you, really.

Fucking their fist and mechanically bringing their wrist up and down again and again until cum oozes from the tip is fine and dandy, but they need more. They need the full immersion of the fantasy of fucking you, their brain needing the mental images and the physical motions of thrusting, pretending with every fiber of their being that its your warm, wet cunt sucking them in, the velvety feel of your walls leaving phantom touches against his skin.

(Some of them even go so far as to scratch at their own back, eyes rolling to the back of their head imagining that it’s you leaving your mark on him, that it’s your nails digging into his skin and digging into him, making him yours yours yours. They'll pinch at their own nipples, press fingertips hard against their biceps, even wrap a hand around his neck hard enough to leave the area red and irritated just to simulate the way that you'd touch him.)

Pillows, cushions, blankets, anything soft that could be a poor stand-in for your body is fine. Anything that he can clutch onto, that he can press his hips against tightly enough to be suffocating, something that can mold to the shape of him just as you would - all just to really feel like he’s got every single inch stuffed inside of you, giving everything he possibly can to you.

Even hard things will do in a pinch - perhaps the cover of a book you love and cherish, the texture of the binding leaving a slightly painful sting behind that blends into the pleasure and makes his eyes roll back. (Will you still smell the pages and sigh at that old-book smell, or will you perhaps notice the new presence of something slightly musky, slightly heavy, unexplainably male?) Your hairbrush - rutting against the handle he knows you’ve fucked your self with, alternating between rutting against it and bringing it up to his mouth to suck on, eyes squeezed shut as he tried to taste any traces of you.

The only rule is that it has to be something of yours, or something that connects to you in some way. Your pillow, a few wayward strands of your hair sitting against the plush, feeling like heaven and making him blush when he sees the way his sticky cum has left the hairs smeared again his skin, tacky and stuck to him. (The sight makes him suck in his breath, gulping harshly as he comes down from his high, a thumb coming out to carefully, nervously brush at the hair, unable to stop himself from feeling like the sight is somehow so very right.)

It’s better when things are stained - your underwear with discharge discoloration bleaching the fabric, your favorite skirt that you accidentally stained during your period, even a particular pair of socks that you once got dirt on. It’s been used and loved by you, and now he’ll use and love it, too, even leaving his very own stain behind.

There’s just something about it that makes everything feel better, more complete, more real. Of course nothing will ever compare to actually fucking you, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

And of course, the pinnacle, when he really gets desperate, is when he whips out one of the many, many photographs he's taken of you. (Or, photos he'd printed out from your social media accounts because he's too shy to actually photograph you - and this is less creepy, right? Right?) He's touching it with delicate fingers, barely pinching onto the corners, laying the image down on his bed and positioning himself to be right over it. He'll take his time to trace the outline of your face with the tip, sighing and biting his lip, before the urge takes over and soon he's groaning, hips rutting against the smooth surface of the photograph - your face, really.

(The cool feeling and the twinge of pain he gets when he angles wrong and catches the edge of the photograph only makes him grit his teeth, eyes squeezing shut harder because he has to do this - he has to keep fucking, to keep pushing himself because he needs to come for you, you deserve and he wants to give it to you so badly and oh oh oh - The photograph of you smiling is almost prettier with globs of his cum staining your pearly teeth and the apples of your cheeks.)

It's just so depraved, but they can't help it - they just want you so badly that they can't help it.

(In particular I'm thinking of the chronic humpers - Kageyama, who gets so, so whiny, his voice going high and pitchy and his face turning a bright pink color as his abs clench and flex, each drag of his hips making his arms shake even more, sweat beading at his temple leaving his dark hair matted to his forehead.

Or Sugawara, who tends to lay onto his back, humping at the pillow from underneath, pressing the cotton so hard against his pelvis that his biceps are taut, back arching and Adam's Apple bobbing as he chants yes yes yes under his breath, one hand even coming up to blindly grope and squeeze at the air where he imagines your bouncing tits to be.

Or Giyuu, who's thrusts start out slow, hesitant, embarrassed, as if he can't believe he's been reduced to his, worried to sully your good name. But then his hips get faster and he's burying his face into the crook of his elbow, whispering out a stuttered, broken p-please accompanied by your name as he cum seeps into the pillow material.

Or Tomura, who has all the fancy sex toys in the world that he's found on the deepest, most questionable parts of the internet, but finds that nothing is a good stand in aside from your pillow. He starts off animalistic, mounting the pillow and smacking at it, imagining the way your pretty ass would bounce back and ripple at the motion. But then his orgasm draws closer and the thrusts get deeper, more meaningful, like he's trying to reach as deeply inside of you as possible, and his grip is almost unbearably tight as his orgasm washes over him, hips quivering and twitching as he imagines the way you'd clutch onto him and thank him.

Or Feitan, who's biting into the pillow as he cock drags against it, teeth bared and practically snarling into the (stained) cotton, dark eyes squeezed shut as he tries so very hard to not whine your name.

Or even, on very, very specific occasions, Chrollo, whose sense of dignity flies out the window when you deny his romantic advances once again. You're just playing so very hard to get, and while he's invested into the game for the long run, he's still just a man - and the image of you spread out underneath him, wearing lacy, angelic lingerie and spreading those creamy, supple thighs of yours is enough to drive him mad.

It's just pathetic enough to be sweet, really, and although you aren't exactly flattered when you walk in on him heatedly grunting your name with the pillow tightly clutched between his thighs, just know he's doing it for you. Everything he does is for you.

[iamgonnagetyouback]

second request, and this one is frost bite ❄️ prompt 29 with theo, i just think it’s sooo him!! thanks <3

Yes, yes it is him! In fact, I am so happy you requested this with him cause I wrote this prompt thinking about him only (๑>◡<๑)

ivy's 1k celebration ❄️ navigation ❄️ prompt list

ˋ°•*⁀➷ THEODORE NOTT #29: "Are you flirting with me or just bored?" "Maybe I'm bored of you not flirting back."

Theodore Nott had been relentless all afternoon. Every time you glanced up from your book, he was already looking at you, smirking like he had some grand secret. Finally, you set down your quill, unable to ignore him any longer.

“Alright, Theo, what is it?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He tilted his head, still grinning that infuriating grin. “Oh, nothing. Just thinking how tragic it is that you keep pretending you don’t want to be close to me.”

You let out an amused scoff. “Close to you? Theo, please. I’m sitting here trying to study, and you’re the one doing all the staring.”

“Because I don’t need to study, I'm smart,” he said, leaning back with a nonchalant shrug. “Besides, I’m just here for the view.” His gaze dropped pointedly to your lips, and you felt a flutter of heat rise in your cheeks. He was shameless.

“Oh, you’re here for the view?” you replied, rolling your eyes. “Well, enjoy it, because 'the view' is all you’re getting.”

His smirk only widened. “We’ll see about that, love.”

You leaned forward, resting your chin on your hand. “Are you flirting with me, or just really, really bored?”

Theo’s eyes sparkled with challenge. “Maybe I'm bored of you not flirting back.”

You laughed, giving him an amused once-over. “Right, because clearly, I’m so smitten with you.”

Theo leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, playful whisper. “Admit it. You love the attention. You’d miss it if I stopped.”

You narrowed your eyes, a teasing glint flashing in them. “Oh? And what would you do if I flirted back? I don't think your poor heart will be able to handle it.”

He hesitated, just for a fraction of a second, but you caught it—and his expression softened just enough to reveal a flicker of surprise. “And you're underestimating my 'poor heart', amore mio. But to answer your question, I’d say it’s about time you stopped hiding your feelings.”

You laughed, hiding the blush that was threatening to escape at the endearment, leaning a bit closer, just close enough to see a faint blush dusting his cheeks despite the smirk he was trying to keep up. “Maybe I will… if you’re lucky.”

And before he could reply, you reached up, placing a soft, lingering kiss on his cheek. His smirk faltered, replaced with a look of stunned surprise as his cheeks went a shade darker.

You pulled back with a coy smile, meeting his eyes for one last glance before standing up. “See you around, Nott,” you said, turning to walk away.

As you left, you made sure to add just a little extra sway to your hips, feeling his gaze practically burn into your back. When you risked a quick look over your shoulder, there he was, watching you with wide eyes and a mixture of admiration and pure disbelief.

And for once, Theo Nott was absolutely, beautifully speechless.

[rainbowcaleb]

a soft familiar sight

Caleb’s hair is long enough to braid.

It has been for a while, a pleasure Essek has enjoyed intimately. The silver twined with copper makes for a lovely contrast as the strand becomes a twist becomes a weave. Like magic pulled from leylines and coaxed into the exact precision of spells, Essek eases the hair from the catch of pillow and cheek, gently so as to not interrupt the quiet snores of his bedshare. 

Caleb sleeps more than Essek, which could be a lonely endeavor in the early faded light of the morning when trance is not needed anymore, but it is a privilege to watch the rise and fall of a chest at ease. Caleb is beside him and he is quiet, he is at rest. It is an honor to know Caleb is so unbothered, and so Essek busies his hands and stills his now-awake mind with his gentle work. He is up to number five in clever braids, beating his previous record by one. 

He is a metalsmith in another life; perhaps also in this one. Essek loops soft red around his finger, then the next. Rings upon rings that join the one Caleb has already given him. He is careful to twine a precious silver into the band, a reminder of time and of choice. There’s an indent in the pillow on the side Caleb always sleeps; two bedside tables both stacked with their own treasure of books. The extra blanket, crochet carefully mended to keep age away; a gift that keeps Essek’s feet warm and the cats lingering on the bed until breakfast. He slides the hair from his finger, the curl gently heat set from his own touch. Essek tucks it behind Caleb’s ear.

Caleb has a tell, the way his breathing lowers. The unshamed snore quieting, the micro lift of the sides of his mouth.

Essek keeps twirling hair into braids, but there’s a speed that comes with no longer needing to be subtle.

“Schatz, six? Is that a record?” He murmurs. 

Essek could kiss that cheeky grin and so he does. “Counting in your sleep again, Widogast?”

“Is it truly sleep if one’s partner is playing hairdresser?” Caleb’s eyes still lie closed, all orneriness twinkling in the corners of his lips.

Essek drops the long strands and combs his fingers through the crown instead. “Good morning. Do not pretend as if you do not like it.”

Caleb shivers into the scratch. “I have never said otherwise.” He peeks one eyelid open. “Guten Morgen. I hope you have not been waiting on me long.”

A familiar song accompaniment to a familiar dance. As if this is not the joy they have shared for the majority of mornings over the last few years. 

“I am always happy to watch over you.” Essek slides both hands to Caleb’s cheeks, running his thumbs across the cheekbones. “Sleep well?”

“This night, yes.” Never a guarantee; always a celebration when it occurs. Essek also knows this feeling well. 

“It is your turn.” Essek removes his hands and sits up. He trades warm skin for the worn leather and paper of the closest book. “I’ll be down in fifteen or so.”

“Ah.” Caleb laughs and sits up in bed. “Make it twenty, Jester has lent me a new recipe for black moss pancakes.”

Essek squints at the page before him, a slight wrinkle to his nose. “I am fairly certain Jester is the only one who can make those palatable; it's her magic touch.”

“Sometimes literally.” Caleb pats Essek’s knee before getting out of bed and shrugging on the knitted brown cardigan he picks up from the side chair. “Apple honey toast it is instead.”

“I look forward to it.” Essek lifts his eyes from the page to send a smile Caleb’s way, and is met with a mirror of soft familiar sight. It can be years or decades or more, but Essek is certain he’ll never tire of that bright Widogast smile.

[syoddeye]

the warren, part seven - call

price x f!reader | 4k words | series page | ao3 tags: background ghoap, multi pov, animal death, mentioned oral both f! and m!receiving, manipulation a/n: new friend next chapter; had to split this into two since it was getting way too long. shout out to gemma and tats <3. mdni banner by @/cafekitsune. 🔪

Bonnie. Bunny. Rabbit. Skittish thing. Brave thing. 

Hasn’t met her face-to-face yet, but he likes her. Her scent carries. The sillage of her floral soap drifts through the air, lingering just as vividly as it does on her pillow. She reads a lot of books. Admirable. He doesn’t have the patience anymore. She must be clever.

From what he’s seen, her work isn’t half-bad. Rough around the edges but better than the shite he’d cobble together. Couldn’t pay him to pretend to care about some dead cousin or happy bride. She doesn’t know a thing about pay rates, though. Strangers robbing her blind. Makes him angry.

John orders him to sabotage the laptop. Says if he manages it, he’ll earn a spot on the boat. So, of course, it’s done. He slips in with Simon and works his magic. Doesn’t take much given the computer’s age.

He leans into it when Simon drags his nails from his scalp to his nape. He should’ve known then, when Simon called him a good boy, that he’d be sent below to check the rabbits. He sulks into the dark.

The reward for good work is always more work.

The air turns eldritch and metallic in the back of his throat the further he travels, a thick miasma prone to clinging. After all this time, he hasn’t grown accustomed. It fills his mouth with a heavy, sour tang, and swallowing doesn’t get rid of it. He should’ve stolen a pillowcase.

His nose twitches at the notes of an unfamiliar scent cutting through the fog. A faint, sickly-sweet rot, like meat left too long. The smell gradually envelops the passage.

A lantern illuminates the edges of the twin hutches. There is no movement in the shadows beyond, but that isn’t what stops him in his tracks. There is no sound. No rustling or thumps. The rabbits do not gather in their nervous, curious way to greet him.

Treading closer, his vision adjusts, and he spots the first rabbit. Unnaturally still with its limbs bent at strange angles. Milky-white eyes tinged red, blood seeping from every orifice.

Fuckin’ grand.

He fucking hates it when this happens. Always puts John in a foul mood.

Huffing loudly, he rolls his sleeves and slips on the gloves jammed into his pocket. Stomping toward the hutches, he mutters a string of curses.

The reward for good work is always more work.

~~~~

You wake with a start, your heart thrashing against your ribs. Beside you, John’s chest steadily rises and falls in stark comparison to the shudder of your own. Squinting, you latch onto his hand flat over his abdomen as a focal point, coming down from whatever nightmare you must’ve had.

Though as your breathing evens out, the vague scent of brimstone and iron tickles your nose. It drifts over the bed and disappears as quickly as the remnants of your dread, with no trace lingering behind when you sit up and take deep breaths.

You wince at the hour on your phone, and recheck the unknown number. No update.

>> F741 >> hold

> Who is this?

Cryptic, to be sure, but you’ve received a message by mistake. It’s likely a pocket text.

You return your phone to its place, and John stirs. His eyes remain shut, but he reaches for you, his voice rough with sleep.

“You alright?”

“A bad dream,” you almost laugh, because of how silly you feel. Old houses have their sounds. Odors, too, you suppose. In response to his rumblings, you let him pull you down, and trace a soothing line over his chest, hoping he won’t notice the tremor in your touch.

As you cozy in, already sweating from the furnace that he is, you cannot shake the feeling of something unseen, a shadow or a specter, hiding just out of sight. 

~~~~

Romance.

John snorts derisively at the garish covers depicting happy couples. Some far-fetched nonsense called Museum Muse and Just Sign Here. She is right. He’s not inclined to read them. However, it is reassuring to know she craves it, even if she’s wary of it—love.

She certainly fantasizes about it. She’d deny it if asked, but considering the collected evidence, that isn’t necessary. All her gasping and whining. The shame is the cherry on top, something to savor each time she smothers her noises, even when alone.

Hearing the shower across the cabin, the sound of its stream breaking against her body is enough to make his cock twitch. He’s half a mind to intrude, but after waking her up on his tongue, he reckons she needs a break. Instead, he double-checks Soap’s work and thumbs through the borrowed titles toward a bookmark, curious about her salacious stories. To see if there’s anything useful to—

His thumb catches heavy cardstock. He cracks the spine and his eyes narrow on official letterhead.

Phillip Graves.

That man is swiftly climbing his list of problems. A biting fly buzzing around the ears of the populace. He glances from the card to the bathroom, tongue swiping over his teeth. She’s proving to be quite the crafty liar, too, though it’s more from fear than intent. A wound that makes her flinch, learned from that ingrate husband of hers. That particular man’s one more bump in the road, but simpler to handle than a fed. Everyone knows what to do with rats.

His ears perk when the water shuts off. He makes an impulsive decision.

She doesn’t notice, padding from the bathroom to the bedroom in a towel, but she does when she’s dressed.

“Feelin’ better?”

The poor thing gawks, her big eyes not on him, but the novel. She fidgets. “I thought you didn’t like those sorts of stories.”

“No, sweetheart, you assumed,” He corrects, twirling the improvised bookmark in his free hand. “Don’t worry. I remember your place.”

That gets her moving. She closes the distance, hovering at his side, hands twitching and clearly caught between snatching up the book or card.

“It’s stupid to use as a bookmark, but it’s what I had after Phil gave me his card at the diner.”

“Phil?” What a peculiar familiarity. “I don’t recall him giving you a card.”

“Oh.” She falters. There it is. “That’s right, he…may have stopped by the other day.”

“May have?’ What was he after, darl?” He pats the arm of the chair for her to sit, and snakes an arm around her. His fingertips skim just under the hem of her shirt, her skin soft and smooth from bathing. Her vellus hair stands on end beneath his fingertips. He’s always found it curious that the human body knows before the brain. A narrow wire to walk, but he’s had practice.

“He…he wanted to know about those boys who came into the store. The ones who…”

“Crashed their car?” 

Fucking rats. It sets his teeth on edge. ‘Phil’ could’ve asked any number of questions. John doubts she will tell him everything. He needs to install audio as soon as possible. 

John grins. “Is he trying to claim we’re in trouble because we sold them beer?”

“He hasn’t contacted you?”

“No. That’s rather unprofessional, don’t you think? He’ll badger my lovely employee but not me?” He pauses, then hums as if he’s made yet another discovery. He rubs her hip, putting on a slightly dejected air. “Oh, I see.”

“What? What is it?”

“He came onto you, didn’t he?” He casts his focus elsewhere as if he physically cannot look at her. “You’re not seeing him too, right?”

Predictably, it pushes her buttons. “What?! No!” She angles toward him. A hand lands on his shoulder, journeying shyly to his face to cup a cheek. “No, John.”

He leans into her palm and kisses its heel. Such a lovely creature. “Sorry, sweetheart. It’s not you, it’s me.” He sighs. “It’s happened before. Two-timin’. Makes me paranoid. Nothing puffs up my chest faster than another buck sniffin’ around.” He slips his fingers under hers, minding how easy it’d be to hold on and never let go.

“Loyalty is everything to me, y’know. I may know just about everyone in these parts, but my inner circle’s small. I’ve lost a lot of folk over the years. Some ties severed by my choice, others, not so much. Fate’s been cruel, so I’m quite protective.”

John tilts his head, relishing the softness in her face. Romance.

“Sometimes, I think there’s a greater force at play. That I must’ve done something right to have found you.” He squeezes her hand. “Rather, you found me, didn’t you? Could’ve run to any corner of this earth, but you chose this slice of Eden.”

Her smile is a balm for the weary spirit, his most restless of all. 

“Maybe it’s luck,” she suggests, then adds, “Or something. I certainly feel lucky, with everything you’ve done for me…” 

Ah, this old refrain. 

He says nothing, just watches as she shifts her weight, her eyes flitting down before she slowly moves, as if testing her decision prior to committing to it. Then, to his surprise, she lowers. Kneels. It tests his restraint, every fiber of his being baying for suppliance. Her palms nervously fit over his knees.

It’s only polite to ask. “You sure?”

She reaches for his belt with a nod. “I want to.”

He forces his mouth into a shape passable for humility and studies her expression. Devotion practically radiates off her, and an eagerness to show it. That’s something the others lacked. This is a start. Initiative and promise. Love.

A contentedness spreads through him, rolling down his spine in sync with the descent of his zipper. Rich and heavy as honey, warming him with a satisfaction he’d longed to taste. 

He remembers her place. She’s learning it.

~~~~

When John leaves, you brush your teeth. You stare into the mirror, faintly disbelieving, as if your eyes belong to a stranger. Didn’t think you’d do that any time soon, but it must be growth. The months away from the desert have reshaped you, revealing a gentler line to your mouth, a brightness to your gaze, and an ease to your brow. The thought of being a little happier feels dangerous. Fragile and premature. And yet, you cannot deny the woman in your reflection. Soap’s words ring clear.

Love’s got a way of changing people.

A phantom weight presses on your tongue the longer you look, and your face grows hot. 

Still. You smile and like what you see. 

~~

Days pass, and the number never texts back. John doesn’t mention Phil again.

The peace is an uneasy one, but you’ll take it.

There’s a lull at the store after the holiday, a return to the usual pace. John’s business takes him around the area, leaving you to staff the counter for a few afternoons. However, you suspect Soap’s loitering outside is no coincidence. He doesn’t bother you, but you wish he would. He was friendly enough at the boat before Simon’s interruption.

Lover’s quarrel, John had said, but Simon’s face suggested otherwise.

You can’t help the twinge in your chest, a trip cord wrapped around your heart. Though Soap admitted he was scared of Simon, he didn’t seem frightened. You grapple with the urge to reach out, the impulse caught in your throat like a stone, weighty with your own memories.

When you finally work up the nerve to ask if he wants to chat while you close, Simon’s with him, a helmet tucked under his arm. 

Through the window, you watch the men, Soap’s face aglow with excitement, swaying foot to foot. You don’t interrupt, familiar with the possible consequences. You decide to wait and ask Soap to walk you instead.

Of course, you’re not so lucky. 

“I’ll take you. Johnny’ll wait for Price.” Simon thrusts a spare helmet into your hands the moment you step outside.

There’s no discussion or debate. Simon watches you shove the helmet over your head with a look of rancor, a harsh set to his jaw, then swings a thick leg over the ATV. He doesn’t help as you climb on, slotting awkwardly behind him. You try to leave space, but he reaches back, curls a hand under your knee, and hauls half of your body forward. Tilting nearly off-balance, you grab his waist, swiftly bracketing your other leg to his.

“Be good, Johnny.” He barks as the ATV roars to life between your legs.

Your hands slide around him as he backs up, burying into his shirt to feel a slab of muscle. A short, surprised cry bursts out when he abruptly accelerates, cutting off a car in the road as he peels out. You clutch tighter as the ATV jerks around the bend and forward, pulse revving alongside the machine as Simon throws it against the incline.

The ride itself is, thankfully, brief. The cats scatter as Simon veers sharply and sends a spray of gravel flying as he lurches to a stop. You clamber off, legs unsteady, and thank him as evenly as possible.

Simon does not immediately take the helmet from your outstretched hand. He stares with his mitts wrapped tight around the handlebars. Hard to believe hands the size of spades are dexterous enough for a trade like taxidermy. When he finally takes it, you flee with a shaky gait.

“Be good, rabbit.”

Laughter follows you to the door.

~~

Night presses in on the cabin. You tuck into the armchair with your book, grimacing at the business card. Such a stupid, stupid mistake, letting John find it. How close you’d been to spilling. Disappointing John worried you, but crossing Phil terrified you. His cryptic manner of speaking, all his dancing around what he meant. It didn’t inspire trust, nor did his badge. At least he’d gone silent. Not a word since his visit.

The agent lurks in your subconscious. You have some notion of how investigations work. If he’s run your name and if he’s discovered anything, wouldn’t he have dragged you back by now? Could he do that? Would he?

Eventually, you concede. Your mind keeps drifting and catching on everything else you’ve tried to avoid thinking about. You toss the book onto the coffee table with a huff and rise to prepare for–

The library’s label, clean and laminated, sticks out on the spine. The letters 'P', trailed by a line of digits.

Realization as cold as lakewater washes over you. 

>> F741 >> hold

It’s a call number. A book. 

~~

You reach for the phone as soon as the hour turns reasonable. Dialing Nikolai with one hand, you rub your eyes with the other, feeling hollowed out. You didn’t close your eyes all night.

To your relief, he answers. A jarring clang accompanies his greeting, underlaid by a rhythmic crank and humming.

“Nikolai, sorry if I’m interrupting, but I was wondering if there are any updates?”

“Ah, rabbit, darling, a moment.” It’s clear he’s set the phone down by the sound of footsteps and a distant grunt. His humming evolves into whistling, culminating in a faint rumble in Russian. What follows, erupting through the receiver, is a cacophony of mechanical sounds, jagged and violent. Something thrums with a relentless chorus of metal grinding against metal, punctuated by deep, resonant clunks and crunches that make you pull the phone from your ear and hold it at arms-length. 

It’s a minute before Nikolai returns, and the terrible noise grows quieter. He cuts you off before you get a word in, providing a non-answer about your car and a reminder about the cost of towing it to the nearest city. It is sorely beyond your budget.

“So impatient. Where are you trying to scurry off to? Do you need transport?”

“No, it’s nothing urgent,” Your jaw aches from clenching it. “I simply don’t want to bother John.”

“Why not? He’s your man.” He almost sounds annoyed. “Listen, rabbit, I’ll do you a favor and tell John you need a ride.”

You freeze. “Oh, no, you don’t need to do that–”

The line goes dead with an unceremonious click.

~~

“Why didn’t you come to me first?”

The truck bounces along the road, the warm air through the window merging pine and with John’s tobacco. You rest against the frame, watching the forest.

“I was going to.” A white lie or two can’t hurt. “I’m just anxious about my car. It’s been weeks, and Nikolai keeps dodging my questions. I’m close to threatening to tow it if he can’t fix it by the end of the month.”

John snorts. “Good luck. He does not like ultimatums, speaking from experience.”

You glance at John out of the corner of your eye. Lying to him stings, especially after he poured his heart out, but you know he’ll think you foolish about the mystery text.

“Did you…know there’s a closed mine shaft behind Nikolai’s shop? When we were there, I followed one of his shop cats and saw it.”

John’s lip quirks around his cigar. “You follow every cat you meet?”

“They haven’t led me astray yet.”

“S’pose so. And I do know about the mine shaft. The area’s full of them. Folk used to say Mount Grouse is hollow from the silver rush.”

The smile slips from your face. Silver. The West’s full of it—silver and promises. Dusty whispers in your ear from hundreds of miles away, from years ago. You pinch the bridge of your nose and breathe.

“You alright?”

“Think I’m getting a headache.”

Guilt flares when John tosses his cigar, turns the radio off, and slides a comforting hand over your thigh. Why his affection is offered to you, of all people, a liar, you don’t know. Certainly don’t deserve it.

For the remainder of the drive to the library, John keeps his hand on you and his mouth shut. Only letting go to park the truck.

“I’ll let you get your books. Gonna return a missed call.” John leans against the tailgate and nods at the entrance, dismissing you with a playful pat to your ass.

Your face burns all the way to the doors.

“Back so soon?” The librarian asks with a big smile. “Already finished with your selection?”

“I’m finished with two, yes, but I was actually wondering if…”

“If I have the book on hold courtesy of Mr. Graves? I was wondering when you’d come in for it.”

>> F741 >> hold

Phil. Your stomach falls like a torn, wet paper bag. “Yes.”

You absolutely cannot tell John about the text—or this—now.

“Come with me.” She crooks a finger over her shoulder as she meanders toward the circulation desk. “He picked a good one. Locally authored. However, although we classify it as nonfiction and shelve it with our regional materials, it’s an anthology of transcribed oral histories and diaries from mining camps, so take it with a grain of salt.”

Your vision swims as you process. “Really? That’s good to know.”

Jeanne retrieves the hold and it is thinner than you expected, wrapped in a worn, brown cloth cover. Veins of Blood and Metal: Mining the Silver Valley. Grim yet hokey, just like the man who picked it.

“Would you like a reading room?”

Your eyes snap up. “Can’t I check it out?”

“Oh, no. We don’t check materials from the local collection out.”

“Could you make an exception? I’m in Grouse Bay and I don’t have a car of my own, and I hate to be a burden on my…” Several terms collide and tangle like a rat king. “To my boyfriend. I promise I’ll take care of it. I don’t dog ear or annotate. I won’t even keep a glass of water near—”

Jeanne’s face softens. She pats your hand, bracelets jingling. “Sweetie, it’s alright. I’ll bend the policy. You seem like a good kid.”

If only you knew.

“Oh, thank you.”

“Just promise to take good care of it. It’s already a little damaged.”

“Yes, ma’am. And, uh, do you happen to know why Mr. Graves left this for me? Did he say anything?”

She puckers her lips in thought. “I believe he said that you would find it ‘enlightening’.”

Your fingers itch. You’re tempted to call, tired of his enigmatic nonsense, just to demand why he bothered masking his number if only to leave his name. If this is his way of operating, it eases your worry over his capabilities as a fed.

“Right. Thanks, Jeanne.” 

You stow the book from Phil in your bag and meet John outside as he hangs up. 

“Ready to go, darl?” He asks with a strained smile.

“Yes. Everything alright?”

“Right as rain. Need to make a couple of stops while we’re in town.”

Thankfully, he doesn’t ask about the library, but he’s unusually reticent again. After you stop at the depot and an outdoor supply shop, it’s back to Grouse. He grips the wheel tight and gazes at the road with a flat, distant focus. It’s impossible that he knows, but doubt sticks between your ribs.

Dust seeps in.

You remember how it felt with Dusty, that weight in the air, thick with the silence he would settle into for days. You’d wait, always, for some change in his facial expressions and the tension in his body, but somehow, it never felt like you were meant to know. It afflicted you with the need to both placate and pry.

You lick your lips and look at him through the rearview. “Are you sure everything is okay?”

“Nothing for you to worry about. Just a minor problem.”

The question rises in your throat, uninvited, like it’s pushing its way out despite the warning signs flashing. Curiosity runs headlong into self-preservation and makes it impossible not to ask. It’s not as if it’s outside the realm of possibility.

Your hand finds his knee in a bid to soften it.

“Is it at all related to those boys? To…Phil?” 

His attention flickers to meet yours in the mirror, a slight furrow to his brow. You wonder if he’s thinking the same thing you are—whether asking was a mistake. A millisecond later, he huffs and grins, shaking his head.

“Still worried about him? Oh, sweetheart. Didn’t I tell you? Must’ve forgotten, what with all the running around I’ve had to do.”

“Tell me what?”

“I had my own tête-à-tête with Mr. Graves. Answered his questions and sent him on his way. Said he’s going to Kellogg to continue his little investigation.”

“Oh, that’s a relief,” You swiftly assure, despite that revelation piling atop all your questions. “I was worried. He seemed dogged.”

A hand drops from the wheel to cover yours. “Not our problem anymore.”

Despite the strange book in the bag between your feet, despite Phil Graves’s odd behavior—you settle into a calm, a boat gliding into port to avoid a storm. John’s happy. You’re happy. The book can wait, especially after he sweet talks you into staying the night at his place for the first time. 

On the drive, you talk about nothing, mostly. The trees, the towns, how the road is barely wide enough for two cars. John teases you for holding onto the handle at every bend, and you laugh in your defense. There’s a gentle warmth, easy and growing familiar. It’s more organic, more natural, than what you had before.

You’re still giggling when he pulls around back. You hop out of the truck and pause, spotting a large patch of blackened, dead grass. The gears turn in your head until they click into place. 

“Where’s the hutch? The rabbits?”

You nearly walk into him with his abrupt stop. John’s face twists, and he sighs and rakes a hand down his face, then coaxes you into his arms. “This week put me through the wringer. Yet another thing I neglected to mention…It’s terrible, sweetheart. A rabbit got sick. It was infectious. Had to do the humane thing. Then I burned the carcasses and the hutch to avoid it spreadin’ to anything else.”

John’s grip shifts to your waist to lead you inside, but your gaze returns to the charred earth, and you stumble at sulfur wafting past your nose, brief and sudden but unmistakable. It plucks at your memory like a harp playing a discordant note.

His lips find your temple, his voice in your ear. “I’ll have fresh does, soon.” 

[emeritusemeritus]

Ok so I was wondering if you could write a Fred Weasley X sarcastic hufflepuff reader and everyone kinda wonders how shes a hufflepuff because she comes off as bitchy but like she super caring with Fred and he’s like the only one that really sees that side of her

Hi Anon! I have to admit I got a little carried away with this one (what’s new). I started writing just a normal fic but it grew beyond measure because I fell in love with the snarky little Hufflepuff I was writing. I hope you enjoy! 🖤

**Part 2 is is HERE**

**important: I wrote this in mind following a masquerade ball that had already happened within the story to mark the anniversary of Hogwarts. **

Warnings: Unrequited love, idiots in love, friends to lovers all the usual divine tropes. Happy ending I promise. Minor sexual references, 1 mention of masturbation, George fancies Angelina. Slight angst? We have a massive crush on Freddie. Bonus points for anyone who knows where the title is from.

Word count: 3.8k (Oops I did it again)

But who can name the face?

"Nerds," you nod in greeting, a wide grin plastered on your face as you barge through their dorm room door, smirking to the two twins who sit hunched over their creations, trying to perfect a new product. George's nose was almost pressed into the book he was reading and Fred was tinkering with something you couldn't make out, probably an explosive of some sort. You jump onto George's bed, the closest one to you and kick off your shoes.

"Make yourself at home," George snarks, shooting a playful glance to you.

"Thanks Georgie I will," you beam, purposefully ignoring the sarcasm dripping from his words. He rolls his eyes with a smile before focusing back on the page.

"Earth to Fred?" You say, noticing a few moments later that he hadn't greeted you. You frown, hearing nothing back and George shoots a glance to you again before turning to his twin, kicking him swiftly in the shin.

"Git," Fred mutters, rubbing his shin and finally noticing that you were here.

"Hello to you too," you snark, watching as his eyes squint mockingly at you.

"Sorry your ladyship, didn't realise you required my full attention," he snarks, expecting a reaction that he doesn't get.

"Well I do," you nod, your voice and face completely blank until you erupt in a smirk that he mirrors.

"What are you working on?"

"Wait how did you get in here? You're a Hufflepuff!" George gestures to the Gryffindor boys dormitory you're sat in, but your face reveals nothing. Fred knows because of course he does, you've been here more times than you can count but George is usually not here when you sneak in.

"I believe I asked a question first, but if you must know," you lean in towards George, acting as if you were going to reveal an entire catalogue of secrets to him. "I'm a witch."

The deep sigh that George lets out only increases your devilish smile that you share with Fred, widening still when you hear him burst with laughter, the sound of his boisterous laugh filling your body with warmth. He had the most gorgeous laugh and you couldn't help but admire how handsome he looked when he laughed, eyes shining.

"Sodding woman," George mutters under his breath as he picks up the book again, pretending to read. You don't miss the smirk that's threatening to slip from his lips that he's trying so hard to conceal, making you feel a little victorious.

"So back to me, what are you working on?"

"Love potions," Fred says absently, as if it wasn't a big deal.

Your stomach roils dangerously, a sinking feeling settling in your lower tummy as Fred's words.

"Love potions?" You repeat, hardly hiding the frown on your face. You look between the twins but they offer nothing in the way of clues. Fred finally looks up to you again, shrugging slightly as he explains.

"Figured we could start selling them at the shop, break into the girly market. These are just drafts, we realised early on we don't have a bloody clue what we're doing with them."

"Draft draughts?" You joke, squashing down any uneasy feelings you felt. George snorts and Fred chuckles at your words as he nods, enjoying the stupid pun.

"Fancy helping a mate out?" He asks, trying to reel you into helping with whatever he was tinkering with, holding his hand out for you to take. "Could do with your expertise little badger."

You roll your eyes at the nickname but hop off George's bed to grab his hand, letting him lead you over to look at his little experiment, seeing a kind of heart shaped bottle that he was trying to transfigure. You offer to help him transfigure it into more of a heart and somehow manage to tint the glass pink which they both like.

"So why the sudden need to break into the girly market?" You ask, head cocked slightly as you look upon the bottle that you're quite proud of.

"Got love on the brain doesn't he," George says with a laugh, only to duck a moment later when Fred lobs a book at his head.

"What?" You ask, trying to sound neutral but fearing you were failing miserably.

"Met a girl the other night didn't he, hasn't shut up about her since," George adds, clearly unbothered by Fred's reaction as he ducks another flying object thrown by his bemused twin.

"You wouldn't shut up about her if you met her," he grumbles, cheeks filling with a vibrant blush. "Didn't even know girls could be that attractive, she was perfect mate."

"What from the half of her face that you saw?" George snarks, a loud 'ow' echoing through the room as he fails to duck this time.

You don't hear anymore, your heart pounding in your chest and you feel sick almost instantly, the room seeming to spin around you. Fred had met someone at the masquerade ball.

The Masquerade Ball was an extravagant affair marking the one thousandth year of Hogwarts since the founding of the school in 996AD. In honour of the ancient traditions, a masquerade ball had been held which would bring all the students together regardless of their assorted houses. You could be as anonymous as you wished, no need to disclose your house or your name and dates were not permitted in an effort to unite the school free from the usual restrictions that naturally came from house only events. Due to the enchantments upon the school, the masks were implemented to hide your identity for the night with made everything even more magical. You'd had a wonderful night, second only to the Yule ball though you really couldn't compare them.

You remembered now that you hadn't seen Fred all night, not for your lack of trying and now it all makes sense why. You need to get out before the tears really start, your world feeling like it was crumbling around you.

"Sorry, forgot about my potions work," you say quickly, reaching for your shoes and rushing out of the door before either of them could notice your tears.

You barely make it out of Gryffindor tower when your tears begin to stream down your face, lip wobbling as their words echo through your mind. You run to the nearest bathroom, praying that it's empty and rush into a cubicle to allow yourself some privacy in your heartbroken state.

You'd had a crush of Fred Weasley forever. The unlikely pair that you were, the hufflepuff and the Gryffindor brought together by mischief. You'd started falling for him in your second year but managed to keep it quiet, to push it away and keep it hidden in the hopes that it would fade over time... but it didn't. By your fourth year you had a full blown crush and by your fifth you were convinced you loved him. Every summer you wished that upon your return to school that your feelings would have disappeared or at least faded but the second that he'd smile at you, throwing his arm around you in a warm greeting you knew that your hoping was pointless. You'd spent years perfecting your ability to hide your feelings from him, torturing yourself in private to allow you to keep feelings-free around him. You reasoned that it was better to have him in your life as a best friend than to be without him completely and you were fine with that, at least until now. There's never been another girl as far as you remembered. Sure his friendship with Angelina sometimes made you jealous but you were sure that George fancied her and Fred was just trying to rile him up most of the time to get a reaction. But this mystery girl, he'd fallen for him without even knowing her, without even seeing her full face. She's stolen him away from you without a single thought and you didn't even know who she was to hate her.

Once you'd gotten most of your feelings out, you thought of the one thing that had kept you going all week. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on you, but it was different for you.

You'd also met someone at the ball, the masked man with the black hair and robes so entrancing that he'd actually made you forget about Fred entirely for the short time you spent together. He had a magic laugh, magnetic really that made you feel drawn to him even without knowing anything about him. You'd felt connected to him instantly, even as your eyes searched for Fred in the crowd of people but finding nothing. At least now you knew where he was.

You let out a sigh, wiping your last couple of tears with the sleeve of your robe as you took deep breaths to steady yourself. How could you go on from this? The masked man had been your dirty little secret that you'd never intended to go anywhere, as much as he kept sneaking into your mind.

Fred Weasley would never be yours. It was a fact, as excruciating as it was to admit. Someone else had turned his head, not that he was ever really looking at you and all you could do is sit back and watch with thoughts of your mystery man to keep you company.

You managed to avoid Fred and George for the next two days pretty successfully. You weren't as popular as them but you had some good friends in Hufflepuff that you chose to sit with at meal times and stayed within the common room for most of your free time, knowing that Fred and George couldn't find you there.

"Are you coming to dinner?" One of your friends asks, waiting for you in the common room as you finish up the chapter of the book you were reading.

"Yeah sure," you say, placing in your bookmark and casting your book onto the side.

You follow her out of the common room past the barrels into the dark corridor and scream as you're dragged away by two strong figures. You look back to your friend in alarm seeing her mouth a half-hearted 'sorry' and try to fight off your attackers, quickly getting the sense of who was manhandling you.

"Put me down, idiots!" You say struggling against their weirdly strong grasps, not stopping until you were placed onto a bench in the next corridor. You look up and see Fred and George towering over you, their eyes fixed into hard stares as they look at you, Fred with his arms crossed and George with his hands in his pockets, shoulders stiff.

"You've been avoiding us," George accuses, openly saying the words that you knew were true. You can't bring yourself to deny it, or avoid the question, all you can think is how to make an excuse that would explain it all.

"No excuses," Fred says, clearly reading your face. Damn him for knowing you so bloody well.

"I've been busy," you say, lifting an eyebrow at them.

"Yeah, busy avoiding us," Fred says, his lips pursing a little as he looks down at you.

"Busy doing school work," you counter.

"Oh yeah what class?" George asks, though you can tell in his void that he's not falling for it one bit.

"All of them," you say, quickly adding, "you know I get surprisingly little work done when I'm with you two, funny that."

"Yeah nice one, tell it to my mother," Fred says completely deadpan. You sigh, knowing you're not going to get out of this one alive.

"I've just been busy," you say, lowering your barriers a little but keeping that little confession of love stored neatly tucked away where it would never come out no matter how open you were being. "Needed a couple of days to myself... people were starting to think I was a Gryffindor."

Fred's face remains unchanged but you can see the ghost of a smile pulling at George's face.

"It wasn't you, I just had a lot going on," you say with complete honesty, well maybe not complete.

"Needed a couple of days to get my head together, I've been drowning in homework and I'm think I'm failing charms. I honestly just needed a couple of days to sort myself out before they send an owl home and my parents would know how much in disappointing them."

Okay so not a complete lie, but not the complete truth either.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Fred says, his harsh glaze slipping from his face as he crouched down beside the bench you're sat on, his head still inline with yours at his astronomical height. George relaxes in front of you, scooting you across so he can sit on the other side of the bench. You feel awful essentially lying to them, though it was more altered truth but you could face them knowing, especially Fred.

"Embarrassed, mortified, horrified, you choose."

"It's us, you don't need to be embarrassed with us," George says softly. Usually your relationship was filled with vicious banter so seeing him so soft and kind with you was nice if not a little off putting.

"Anyway, now I have you back," Fred says with a smirk blooming on his face.

"We," George adds, shooting a look to his twin.

"Eh? Oh yeah... how come you never told us your common room was down here?! You could have been sneaking us treats this whole time!"

"Would have saved our legs many a trip to the kitchens!"

"Length of your legs it only takes three steps," you quip back to George who smiles widely.

"There she is," Fred says smiling at you. It's a beaming smile, eyes glimmering and it makes your heart burst to know that it's all for you. Fred suddenly stands, holding out his hand for you to take as you hop off the bench but to your surprise he doesn't let go and instead pulls you away, still holding your hand as you walk around the corner to the kitchen corridor, passing the painting of the silver fruit bowl that conceals the entrance to the kitchens.

"See all those times you've apparently come up to our room, could have brought the snacks," george says, bumping your shoulder as he nods to the door as you make your way past it. "All you have to do is," George says, walking in sync and surprisingly saying nothing at his brother's hand in yours.

"If you think I'm going to stop and tickle the pear every time I come to see you," you begin to say, only to be cut off by Fred.

"You can tickle my pair anytime, babe."

"Shove off Weasley," you say with a bite, trying to recover from his words quickly and fight off the blush that threatens your heating cheeks as they laugh amongst themselves.

"Well if you're offering," George says from the other side, to which you side step and hold out your foot, causing him to trip. He catches himself quickly before he falls but it's still pretty funny, as made apparent by yours and Fred's laughter.

"Thought you Hufflepuffs were supposed to be nice!"

"Coming from you?" You counter, sending a frown towards him, able to list off the top of your head a multitude of times he'd pranked someone, caused damage or injury and that was mainly just to yourself.

"She is nice," Fred quickly defends, shooting his brother a dung-eating grin, "to me at least."

You chuckle and carry on walking, watching out for George's revenge.

"Hold up, wait here," Fred suddenly says, coming to an abrupt halt near the main atrium. He grabs your arm to stop you, his hand breaking free from yours as he holds up a finger and runs back down the corridor.

You watch his figure disappear and squeeze your now unoccupied hand, your body already missing his touch. Truthfully the past few days had been torture being away from them, namely Fred, but it was necessary to contain the feelings that has threatened to burst out of you like a broken remembrall.

Suddenly there's a gasp to your side and you spin around quickly on your heel to face George, who is looking at you with wide eyes and a Zouwu like grin etched upon his face. You frown in confusion, not knowing what he's looking at until your entire body fills with dread with his next words.

"You're in love with him!"

You panic, not knowing what to do with the information. You can hardly deny it, it would be impossible to hide from George now he knew and you're certain that your reaction has given you away, so you go to the next default setting: threats.

"One word comes out of your mouth to anyone and I'll tell Angelina that I walked in on you wanking over her!"

George faces pales for a second before his cheeks heat up with a vivid red blush that spreads the full length of his face.

"But that didn't."

"Your old friend... Angelina Johnson... the Qudditch team captain," you say, ignoring his looks as you tilt your voice to sound more and more disgusted at his behaviour with every passing word.

"What? You can't."

"Naked on a broom, George Weasley! Could you be any more depraved?"

"Alright fine!" He says, holding his hands up in surrender, not wanting to push you further and find out that you weren't bluffing.

"I won't say anything to Fred," he promises, looking genuine in his agreement.

It's awkward now, the silence that follows as you come to terms that George is in on your secret now.

You don't look at him any longer, instead fixing your gaze to the stone floor as you consider the implications. Had you looked at George, you'd have noticed him battling with himself, fighting over what to say next. It wasn't his secret to tell, he shouldn't even be considering breaking him twin's confidence but the look on your face right now was enough to break whatever morality he had.

"You know... he's," George begins to say, your gaze drifting up towards him as you look into his eyes, expecting laughter or mocking but finding none.

"He's what?" You ask, confused about his sudden stop, eyes widening.

"He's coming."

"I was only gone for a minute, you two haven't fallen out already have you?" Fred jokes, his pockets clearly stuffed with treats that he'd acquired from the kitchens.

"No," you and George say at precisely the same time. So much for not looking suspicious. Fred trots off ahead urging you both to follow and you do so willingly and silently, hardly trusting yourself to speak in that moment as you feel George's eyes on you.

"Everything alright with y/n earlier? She seemed upset when I got back. Are you sure you didn't say anything to her?" Fred asks, taking off his tie and his school shirt as he undresses for bed, calling to George who's doing the same on the other side of the room.

"I didn't say anything mate," George says, "reckon you're thinking about her too much."

"Just being a friend," Fred says, perhaps a little too quickly.

"Well between 'being a friend' to y/n and your mystery woman, you certainly are doing a lot of thinking... reckon if you ignore one of them you might finally figure out that love potion," George says grinning as he climbs into bed.

"Shove off," Fred says, climbing into his own bed and pulling the curtain across with a harsh shove. He lays in bed unsettled for what seems like hours, his mind spinning between his friend and his mystery woman, realising with a sad conclusion that he'd gotten absolutely nowhere with either one of them.

♡

Fred Weasley was certain that his eyes had never been blessed enough to look upon something so captivating, so enchanting that it made his mouth dry. There was a sea of people around dressed in their fanciest clothes, an opulent symphony of colour and glitter, yet she stood out amongst the crowd like a singular lighthouse in a vast, dark ocean.

He was enthralled by the way her dress moved, clinging perfectly to her figure, highlighting the delicate curves and lines of her body whilst staying modest. It was arousing, the way her dress offered so much but showed so little, Fred's imagination running wild of what lay underneath.

She was beautiful, the most beautiful woman Fred had even laid eyes upon, he was certain. Her dress shining under the twinkling lights, her seductive smile and those eyes that seemed to twinkle all on their own even without the glistening reflection of the lights above her.

He was certain that he was the luckiest bloke in the room; that every other male was envious of the way his hand was wrapped tightly around her waist. But he didn't care what anyone thought or of their jealousy in the moment, he just couldn't believe his luck. They were pulled together as if my an invisible string, finding each other quickly as the music played around them, the soft lights acting like a runway between them both, eyes connecting almost immediately.

"Are you going to tell me your name?" He asks with a smirk, losing himself in her eyes as they seem to glimmer even more at his words.

"I don't think that's how masquerade balls work," she says with a laugh, earning a chuckle from him.

"What about your house?" He follows up, needing to know something about her even if it's tangible evidence.

The smile she flashes him makes him almost dizzy, sparkling eyes peering up at him from beneath her mask.

"Only if you can guess it," she counters, leading him down a dark path of guessing who she might be.

"Sorry I think you've hit your limit on questions," she says as the song changes. "Perhaps I could ask you some?"

"You can ask me anything... except my name," he smirks from under his mask, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips briefly under your gaze.

"Are you single?"

His laughter is contagious and she finds herself chuckling along with him as his hand at her waist squeezes her tighter momentarily for her cheekiness.

"Definitely," he replies softly, though he can't help but feel a little stab at the thought of his best friend, wishing for years that he could say that he wasn't single in the slightest.

♡

Fred wakes with a start, confused for a moment as to his whereabouts having jumped so quickly from his dream to reality. He was back there again, his mind so fixed on his mystery woman that every dream was a recollection of that night, though this time he was certain that there was something different. Had his mystery date always sounded so much like y/n?

Part 2 anyone?

[itsabouttimex2]

What are the cookie run “fams” and what do the Y/Ns look like?

Yandere CRK Families

Alright this was a fun question, so I’ll go over three of them!

Chocofam

In terms of personality, I think that this particular Y/N is going to be very timid and withdrawn after an entire life spent within their father’s desolate and quiet castle.

As someone who believes in the necessity of strength and discipline, Dark Cacao Cookie doesn’t hold back from piling on consequences when he thinks you’re making a mistake or putting yourself in danger. His guidance is often harsh, but he genuinely thinks it’s what you need to become resilient enough to survive.

The king is strict- but he’s convinced that it’s only because he wants to see you become the best version of yourself. He frequently gives you strenuous “lessons” in survival skills or fighting techniques, preparing you for any misfortune or struggle that may come your way, but deep down, Dark Cacao knows he’s not willing to cut your lead enough slack to allow to those scenarios to manifest.

…and maybe it allows him to tuck your tired room in nice and tight when all is said and done, and maybe leave you with a treat or two.

But only if you’re good.

Caramel Arrow Cookie guards you as she guards the king, willing to trade her life for yours- I think she manifests her “yandere” behavior in sheer devotion and loyalty to His Highness, Dark Cacao Cookie, which spills over onto you in turn. If you are safe and happy, then Caramel Arrow knows that her king can focus on his duties as sovereign.

Because she’s unwilling to go against an order levied by the king, Caramel Arrow is strikingly strict with her care- not brutally so, but she’s definitely not the sort to waver once an order has been given. To help pass the time, she’ll set up targets and guide you through nocking and loosing arrows, ensuring that you’ll be just as grand an archer as her, all in time with your father’s ceaseless swordsmanship lessons. She’s warm-hearted in spite of her unwavering devotion to your safeguarding, which means it’s not impossible to get a pep talk or even a piggyback ride back to your room when you grow exhausted- and she also makes all of your meals herself to prevent any poison from being snuck in.

As for Crunchy Chip Cookie, he’s a little more hands on when it comes to dealing with you. He’ll roughhouse and tease and pester, though always with a measure of restraint- his job is to keep you safe, so no going all out or actually fighting. Still, a wrestling match or two is good for your spirit and allows for the burning of excess energy.

Though you aren’t allowed outside, there’s no rules against bringing outside in… which means that the Cream Wolf pups can “secretly” visit you as much as they’d like! It’s an immediate mood-booster for both you and the puppies, so he doesn’t mind cutting into training time.

Dark Cacao knows about all these canine rendezvous, of course. Crunchy Chip ran it by him beforehand, but they pretend that all of it is happening just under the rug. Maybe a little bit of presumed “troublemaking” does your heart good.

Well, until you inevitably get attached to a ring and then shuffle into his throne room to guiltily ask to keep it as a pet after “confessing” to playing with them it frequently.

(…he says yes, to everyone’s surprise.)

Probably your name is something like “Chocolate Milk Cookie”, “Cocoa Powder Cookie”, or “Dark Truffle Cookie”.

(Though the many soldiers tasked with caring for you will inevitably slip in enough nicknames to fill a book…)

Constantly nervous/bored and frowning, the soft gifts you’re spoiled with can only do so much to keep your wanderlust and frustration at bay- not that Caramel Arrow and Crunchy Chip ever stop piling them on. You prefer the books over the plushes, but anything new gets your little sad face twisting into a gleeful expression, encouraging your guardians to continue piling the gifts on.

Dark Cacao has you permanently bundled into the traditional garbs of his people, constantly wearing a reminder of the long-buried soldiers who bravely gave their lives for their people.

Unfortunately for you, you aren’t granted the privilege of owning thick woolen socks or fuzzy fur-lined boots- instead, your father ensures that even a step out of line would have you freezing and desperate to return to the warmth of your room.

Instead, you are forced to remain barefoot all through the day, walking only in halls and rooms that have plush carpet laid out for your little feet- else you begin to crumble from the cold. Of course, if the weather ever gets to you, you can always return to your room and request a fluffy blanket or a hot meal…

So long as you do what father says.

Oceanfam/Gemfam

(Not sure which one yet… name pending, basically. “Mermaidfam” is a little long, haha)

Probably you’re a little thing who falls overboard after rowing out a little too far, caught in the careless waves and dragged under the tide, then beaten mercilessly against rough rocks and jagged coral. The event leaves you soggy, close to crumbling… until a tender mermaid comes to your rescue under the veil of moonlight, dragging you to her underwater palace.

White Pearl Cookie is happy to meet you, to know you, to drink in every last story you can share with her about your warm and dry home back on land- until you pass out in her arms, dough so broken that your jam spills into the waters of Tearcrown.

Luckily for you, the Little Moon of the Sea has no end to her patience and kindness! Given that you’re unarmed and somewhat crippled at the moment, there’s little harm in bringing you back to the palace and settling you in for an extended stay.

Her sisters, on the other hand…

Though she’s kind, Aquamarine Cookie doesn’t think much of you at first. Really, with your wobbly lips and tearful eyes that scrunch each time a wound is cleaned and patched, she mostly just pities you. Eventually you end up wandering into her garden, where she warms up to your curiosity and enthusiasm over her lovely array of foliage. Especially if you take notes as she speaks. Expect lots of veggie dishes to aid in your healing.

Though she finds most two-legged cookies to be far too odd to bother with, Gold Citrine Cookie has already raided your personal effects and taken a liking in your interests- after all, a cookie that loves the sea can’t be that bad, right? She snatches the prettiest shells from your bag and takes them to her reliquary, hoping to gild them until they’ve reached a level of sparkle that satisfies even her.

Maybe some two-legged cookies are worth getting to know, if you like the same things that she likes. If you make White Pearl happy, you can’t be too bad.

Given her powers of foresight, Mystic Opal Cookie has very little trouble finding where you’ll be or what you might want, often drifting into sight to offer up a warm shroud or a nutritious snack, then slinking back into the shadows without a further word. She won’t never indulge to you her visions, but it’s safe to assume that you’re at least in them.

Crimson Coral Cookie doesn’t exactly like having a dubious and dying land cookie in their ward, but like her other sisters, understands that you basically can’t do anything to harm them without ensuring a death sentence for yourself, and you’re clearly not stupid, so… she allows your presence to slide.

Once she sees how happy you make her littlest sister, Crimson Coral does genuinely lighten up and make a decent effort to understand you, especially if you have knowledge of aquatic animals- it’s an easy thing to bond over.

I’m guessing that this particular Y/N might be something like “Shoal Scavenger Cookie”, “Seaweed Sailor Cookie”, or maybe “Tide Tracker Cookie”- having ties to the sea certainly helps them earn the trust of the Gem Mermaids by proving that you aren’t too different in terms of what you and they cherish.

With components like seafoam or algae in your dough, you’re surprisingly resist to growing soggy in the water, even more so when you’re granted a jewel to ward off the condition entirely- albeit in the form of a bracelet or necklace that locks tight around your dough and can’t be removed by hand.

Gold Citrine enjoys dressing you in a dazzling array of glittery and luxurious clothing, often custom-tailoring flowing garbs that sway with each gentle wave that billows through Tearcrown… though she often forgets that you don’t have a tail.

(…not that they aren’t looking for a way to give you one.)

Darkfam

Y/N is a Cake Hound Cookie. There’s no way around it. Red Velvet Cookie finds your little form after it toddles out of the oven, delirious from heat and fear, shivering and quaking- and he fucking snaps.

You’re him.

A mixture of Cookie and Cake, beast and being, in a neat package with a tail that nervously wags as he brings food to your mouth, his clawed hand cupped around the back of your little head, feeling your squishy strawberry ears…

You are a seamless culmination that he can only dream of being.

In reverence and awe, he brings you back to his master’s lair.

For all that Licorice Cookie isn’t on board with having a freshly baked cookie on the team (especially with how much trouble Poison Mushroom Cookie causes him), he’s also aware that letting a child who is immediately and unmistaken visible as “half-monster” wander freely in the world would be worse, and the mage doesn’t have it in his heart to send you off after you’ve already settled in.

As for the shroom-fanatic themself, Poison Mushroom Cookie essentially just clings to you and offers an endless supply of “shroomies” with abated glee, constantly hanging from your sleeves and tugging on your tail as you go about the day, just happy to have a new friend after a certain swordsman left…

Pomegranate Cookie graciously agrees that Red Velvet should keep you alongside his other Cake Hounds, if only because she’s intrigued to see what you’ll be capable of doing. After all, another set of hands to aid their master isn’t exactly a bad thing- and you very well may have powers granted to you by nature of your birth as a cookie-cake amalgamation. In time, she comes to treat you as she treats Poison Mushroom- almost as a troublesome little sibling who needs watching over.

Never one to spurn decent company, Schwarzwälder is happy to have a cookie young enough to do as he says- you’re probably too young to grasp his born name, and settle for calling him “Brute”. I imagine he’s got some decent ground rules for being a canine, knowing what you can or can’t eat, what methods for tending to your ears and tails is best, etc, etc… probably the safest yandere we’ve gone over so far.

Perpetually confused at the new and strange world around you, your eyes are frequently wide and your face pulled into a contemplative frown, overwhelmed with all that your sensitive ears and nose pick up on.

Red Velvet wants to be the one who does your hair, but his cake hand makes it nearly impossible to complete without damaging your frosted strands, so Pomegranate or Licorice will do it instead. Poison Mushroom will, uh, “try”… but their version of “trying” is to braid little mushrooms into the frosting.

(A+ for effort, Poison Mushroom Cookie.)

However, Red Velvet does get to help keep your ears glossy and tail clean, spending hours each week tending to your canine appendages. He’s got specialized polish (by Schwarzwälder’s recommendation) for the strawberry ears that flick and swivel with each barked order and every little coo, and a brush for the cream dollop tail that waggles at Bat-Cat and Schwarzwälder’s antics.

All your clothes are custom-sewn, of course. Red Velvet simply won’t tolerate any less than the about best for his favorite little soldier.

Once Pomegranate has grown fond of you, she’ll take to stitching any tears or fraying in your clothes, mending them with a sleek red and black thread that resembles her beloved master’s color scheme.

(Schwarzwälder is probably your favorite, though- after all, he’s the only other dog!)

[virginiaistyping]

"It was simple, it was sweetness, it was good to know."

k. bakugo x gn reader

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a little look into what katsuki is like behind closed doors.

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warnings: reader likes reality tv and romance novels

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Since your first day at UA, you saw the gruff, rough-around-the-edges version of Katsuki. You saw how he’d groan and growl towards anything that came his way. It wasn’t until you slowly but surely befriended him that you saw the more tender side of him.

You noticed how he’d begrudgingly cook you soup when you came down with a cold. Or the times he’d slide a pack of your favorite snacks on your desk and would pretend that he never did it. (You caught him sneaking into your dorm before, you know it’s him.)

It wasn’t until spring that Bakugo confessed to you while walking with you back from the local convenience store. He tried to keep the entire thing casual and didn’t want to make a big grand gesture out of his confession.

Katsuki prefers to love you quietly. He isn’t ashamed of you, but he likes to keep his romantic gestures private because he likes to keep those moments between just the two of you. He trusts you and only you with his much calmer side.

Katsuki is so in love with you that it’s like you flip a switch in him every time you see him. He’ll gladly yell at Kirishima, Sero, and Denki for the tiniest things, but the moment you’re with him he’ll just grumble to himself about the little things that piss him off.

When you’re all alone together, he suddenly becomes the clingiest person ever, not wanting to let you go when you have to get out of bed to use the bathroom.

And with this newfound intimacy, you learn about the little things he does and likes in secret. You learn about his addiction to sudoku puzzles, or sometimes you’ll catch him scrolling through Facebook (he’s logged into his mom's account) stalking the posts of random people he remembers from middle school.

But your favorite thing you’ve learned about him is his obsession with your favorite media. He loves watching your reality TV shows with you and reading your corny romance novels in secret so you can talk about everything that happened in your book with him. It’s the best when he gets more into the story than you do.

“An’ then he crashed the car an’ fuckin’ died?”

“I know!! How do you end the story like that!!”

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thank you to everyone who liked my last story!! Feel free to recommend me ideas to write about :))

[strnilolover]

player!chris and ditsy!reader headcanons

• player!chris who … is a very competitive person. whether that be games, sports, bets, etc. he’s always turning things into a challenge and doesn’t let others win easily.

• player!chris who … is a big dog person. completely opposite from ditsy!reader who loves cats. he has a great dane named atlas who he loves and honestly looks like.

• player!chris who … likes to work out. he’ll show off with his friends, trying to one up each other to impress the girls — and he never fails.

• player!chris who .. can get anyone into his bed if he wanted and he has. but when he started getting closer to ditsy!reader, he stopped seeing girls less and less.

• player!chris who … absolutely loves teasing ditsy!reader. calling her angel and darling just to watch her stammer and blush.

• player!chris who … pokes fun at ditsy!reader for her clumsiness or forgetfulness. “Try not to trip over ya own feet next time, a’ight?” but if anyone else tries to make fun of her, he immediately shuts it down, acting as if only he has the right to tease her.

• player!chris who … is gentle with ditsy!reader. if she’s upset or overwhelmed, he’ll dial his teasing down and might even let her vent a little, listening quietly. He won’t talk about it afterward, pretending it never happened, but he’ll remember the details.

• player!chris who … gets possessive when other guys try to flirt with ditsy!reader. she often can’t read social queue’s so she never knows when people are flirting with her. he’ll glare them down, and will probably get mean. she’s his to bother.

• player!chris who … is fiercely protective of ditsy!reader. if he hears about anyone giving her trouble, he’ll confront them, acting like he’s just doing it for his own amusement, but in reality, he genuinely cares.

• player!chris who … will take multiple photos of ditsy!reader once they’re close enough for him to tell her he loves photography. he’ll take pictures of her reading, completely caught off guard, etc.

• ditsy!reader who … will let any stray cat she sees. she’ll even talk to them as if they’re listening, telling them things she probably wouldn’t share with regular people.

• ditsy!reader who … isn’t the best at watching where she’s going. so she has a habit of accidentally walking into people or knocking things over, making her apologize profusely.

• ditsy!reader who … is horrible at remembering people’s names, often giving them little nicknames to keep track of who they are. she’ll get embarrassed when she has to ask for someone’s name again.

• ditsy!reader who … is curious about everything. she’s the type to always asks questions like, “how do bee’s make honey?” or just asks chris about everything he does.

• ditsy!reader who … can’t really handle horror movies that well. she’ll jump at particularly scary scenes, covering her ears or eyes. but she’s very fascinated with the paranormal and such.

• ditsy!reader who … avoids eye contact with chris. his intense gaze tends to make her nervous, so her eyes are always pointed down or pretends to be focused on something else while she fidgets.

• ditsy!reader who … when she gets comfortable enough, will start to ramble to him. either about books, music, her classes, etc. she may even vent to him at some point, not meaning to but it just sort of happens.

• ditsy!reader who … gets jealous whenever she sees chris talking to other girls, she tries to brush it off, but she can’t help feeling a pang of jealousy. she knows she has no reason to feel that way.

• ditsy!reader who … when chris flirts or leans in close, she feels like her brain short-circuits. she’s used to characters in books doing these things, not real people, and it leaves her flustered beyond words.

• ditsy!reader who … will try to compliment or make moves on chris, but will ultimately fail. if she goes to give him a small pec on the lips, she swerves and pecs his cheek or just doesn’t do it at all. if she try’s to compliment him, she stammers off. “you’re uh.. really good at — er — i don’t know, never mind!”

© strnilolover

a/n : talk to me abt them y’all PLEASE, idk who to talk to about them😞

[goblin-jr]

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

part 3 of 12

Synopsis: rafe apology, wheezie is the best cameron, rainy confessions

Pairing: unrequited JJ x Reader, Eventual Rafe x Reader

masterlist

---

The afternoon was steady at the country club. Y/N’s shift had been busy enough to keep her distracted, and with her coworkers absorbed in their own tasks, she’d managed to slip away a few times to shake off the throbbing pain left over from the boat incident. The last thing she wanted was pity—or worse, anyone worrying about her.

But when she turned around to restock a pile of guest towels, she froze. Rafe Cameron had just walked in with his family. She could see them through the grand glass doors of the club’s dining room, his parents trailing behind him, polished and imposing as ever. He looked over and spotted her before she had a chance to slip away, and his eyes narrowed as if he had something to say.

Y/N tensed. She still couldn’t shake off the anger from that night. Her bruises had faded, but her loyalty to the Pogues hadn’t. Whatever Rafe thought he had to say, she wasn’t interested. She busied herself with folding the towels, pretending she hadn’t noticed him watching her.

It didn’t work.

“Y/N,” Rafe’s voice was quiet but firm as he approached, hands shoved in his pockets, his posture almost… unsure. She’d never seen him like this—reserved and even a bit hesitant.

She didn’t look up. “I’m working,” she said bluntly, hoping he’d take the hint and leave. But Rafe didn’t budge.

“Just wanted to talk. About the other day.”

Y/N clenched her jaw. “No need. You said enough then.”

He sighed. “Look, I know things got out of hand. I’m… sorry, okay? I didn’t mean for it to go like that. I didn���t know my friends were going to—”

“Yeah? And what did you think would happen?” She finally looked up, her expression steely. “You show up, insult us, throw a few things around, and expect everything to be fine?”

Just then, a younger girl joined them, glancing curiously between Y/N and Rafe. It was his sister, Wheezie, her wide eyes betraying the same curiosity and innocence that Rafe seemed to lack. The irritation in Y/N’s chest softened just a little as she watched the younger Cameron—a reminder that not everyone in Rafe’s family carried the same smugness or sense of entitlement he did.

“Rafe!” Wheezie chirped, tugging on his arm. “Did you get the book I asked about?”

Rafe’s face softened as he looked down at his sister. He ruffled her hair lightly, which made her wrinkle her nose but also grin up at him. “Yeah, yeah, I did. I had to go to three stores to find it, but it’s waiting for you in the car.”

Y/N watched the exchange in silence, surprised to see this side of Rafe. He spoke to Wheezie with a gentleness she didn’t associate with him. Gone was the antagonistic, arrogant guy who had pushed her friends’ buttons time and again. Here, he was just… a big brother.

“Really?” Wheezie’s eyes widened in excitement. “You didn’t have to do that!”

Rafe shrugged, as if it was nothing. “It’s not a big deal, Wheeze. You asked, so I figured why not.”

Watching him interact with Wheezie, Y/N felt her defenses waver, if only for a moment. There was something unguarded in his expression, a hint of someone who wasn’t just the entitled, reckless Kook she’d come to know.

Wheezie turned her gaze to Y/N, her brows knitting together. “Hi. Do you work here?”

Y/N managed a small, polite nod. “Yeah, just part-time.”

The younger girl’s face lit up with interest. “Oh, that’s so cool. Do you like it?” 

Rafe ruffled Wheezie’s hair, his face easing into an unexpectedly gentle expression. “Not everyone loves work as much as you do, Wheeze.”

Rafe turned back to you and let out a resigned sigh and nodded, stepping back with his hands still tucked in his pockets. “I really am sorry, Y/N.” Rafe’s face softened, but he didn’t defend himself. “I get it. You don’t have to believe me. I just… wanted you to know.” 

“Well, I’d better get back to setting up,” Y/N muttered, sidestepping Rafe and allowing the Camerons to reunite with Ward and Rose. 

After Rafe walked away, Y/N kept herself busy around the dining room, making sure the place settings were perfect and double-checking that every glass sparkled. She glanced up as she heard Wheezie’s cheerful voice down the hallway, joking with one of the waitstaff. Rafe was still nearby, now talking with his younger sister.

Y/N watched from a distance as Rafe bent down slightly, giving Wheezie his full attention as she animatedly told him some story. He smiled at her, nodding and even laughing a little. It was such a simple, everyday thing, yet it felt oddly intimate—a glimpse of Rafe’s life that Y/N hadn’t expected to see.

Why was he… kind of sweet? She hated the thought as soon as it popped into her head, but she couldn’t shake it.

He looked up, and their eyes met for just a second. Flustered, Y/N busied herself with a table setting, heart pounding, wishing she hadn’t been caught watching him like that.

—

A few hours later, Y/N found herself in the storage room. /N made her way to the back, feeling the familiar ache in her ribs from the altercation on the boat. She needed to restock the shelves with glassware for the evening setup, but as she reached for the heavy box, a sharp pain shot through her side, forcing her to stop and catch her breath.

She steeled herself, attempting to lift the box again despite the discomfort. Just as she was bracing herself, a familiar voice interrupted her struggle.

“Need a hand with that?”

She turned, caught off guard to find Rafe leaning casually in the doorway, hands in his pockets as if he owned the place—which, she reminded herself, wasn’t far from the truth. The Camerons had invested heavily in the club, and Rafe’s family essentially had free rein over the entire building. Still, seeing him there felt strange.

“I didn’t ask for help,” Y/N replied, her voice edged with defiance as she let go of the box.

Rafe didn’t seem fazed by her tone. He walked over, looking her over as he reached for the box himself, easily lifting it and placing it on the upper shelf she’d struggled to reach.

“There. Now you don’t have to break a rib over it,” he said, a faint smirk crossing his face. But he softened, giving her an earnest look. “Look, about the boat… I really am sorry. Things got out of hand, and my friends—they can be idiots.”

Y/N raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You’re telling me.”

Rafe looked down for a second, his expression almost sheepish. “You have every right to hate me for that.”

She paused, watching him with guarded curiosity. “Why do you care, Rafe? I mean, it’s not like we’re friends. You’ve got your whole Kook thing going on with Topper and Kelce.”

He shrugged, shifting uncomfortably. “Doesn’t mean I want you to get hurt. I don’t know… Wheezie always says I could be better about that kind of thing.” He scratched the back of his neck, as if realizing he’d said too much.

Y/N couldn’t hide her surprise at the mention of his little sister. “Wheezie? So she’s the voice of reason?”

Rafe chuckled softly. “Most days, yeah. She keeps me in check.” He leaned against the shelf, his gaze thoughtful. “She liked meeting you, you know. Thinks you’re cool for working here. She’s a weird kid, but she’s got good instincts.”

A faint smile tugged at Y/N’s lips. The last thing she’d expected was to see Rafe’s protective side, let alone hear him talk about Wheezie like this. She softened, just a little, feeling the defenses she’d thrown up after the incident on the boat begin to waver.

“Your sister’s pretty sweet,” she admitted reluctantly, shrugging. “I guess you got lucky there.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, his tone almost wistful. “Guess I did.”

There was a beat of silence between them, the unspoken tension from their past encounters ebbing, if only for a moment. Rafe glanced at her again, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

“Anyway, I didn’t mean for any of that stuff on the boat to happen. I get it if you still don’t trust me. But I really am sorry.”

Y/N studied him, the frustration and resentment from the boat incident lingering but softened by his sincerity. After a long pause, she exhaled, crossing her arms.

“Fine. Apology accepted,” she muttered, trying to sound casual. “But don’t think this changes anything.”

Rafe shrugged, a hint of that familiar smirk returning. “Didn’t expect it to. But maybe it’s a start.”

As he turned to leave, Y/N watched him go, her feelings unsettled. She couldn’t shake the impression that, for once, Rafe didn’t seem like an enemy, and the realization left her with more questions than answers. 

—

Y/N’s shift ended later than usual, and by the time she left the country club, the sun was already dipping below the horizon. She started down the familiar path toward home, her footsteps echoing in the quiet of the evening. The air was cool, and as she walked, her thoughts drifted back to the strange encounter in the storage room.

Rafe Cameron. Of all people, he was the last person she’d expected to see there, let alone be willing to lend a hand. His apology, his quiet mention of Wheezie—none of it matched the person she thought she knew. He’d always been a Cameron, a Kook, someone she’d learned to keep her distance from. But today had left her feeling unsettled, like there was something more beneath the surface she hadn’t anticipated.

Despite herself, she couldn’t deny that she was a little curious. What Wheezie saw in him, maybe, or how the two of them interacted away from the glaring reputation he carried. For a moment, she even entertained the idea that Rafe wasn’t as bad as she thought.

But then her mind went back to the people who mattered most to her—JJ and the rest of the Pogues. They’d been her family through every up and down, no matter what. And there were things about JJ, memories she could never share with anyone else, that tied her to him in a way no one else would ever understand.

Her pace slowed as a particular memory of JJ surfaced. She could picture it as clearly as if it had happened yesterday.

---

They were twelve, maybe thirteen, and it had been one of those stormy nights on the island when the rain fell in heavy sheets, and thunder rattled the windows. Y/N had been curled up on the couch, reading, when a faint knock sounded at the door. She knew it was him before she even looked. JJ always came to her when things got too heavy at home.

That night, he’d been soaked through, his clothes clinging to him, hair plastered against his forehead. She’d let him in, wrapped a blanket around his shoulders, and led him to the old beanbag chair in her room. He was quiet, almost too quiet, and she knew better than to press him for details. His father, Luke, had always been a volatile presence in JJ’s life—a shadow that loomed over him, especially when things were bad.

They’d sat there together in silence, listening to the rain and the distant rumble of thunder. After a while, he’d finally spoken, his voice barely a whisper.

“I wish I didn’t have to go back,” he’d said, his tone full of something both broken and resigned.

Y/N had reached out, taking his hand in hers. She didn’t have to say anything. The promise was there in the silence: I’m here, and I’ll always be here.

It was moments like those, when JJ had shown her pieces of himself he’d never let anyone else see, that had woven an unbreakable thread between them. They weren’t just friends—they were each other’s safe places.

---

As Y/N walked, she was jolted out of her memories of JJ by a soft drizzle that quickly built into a steady downpour. She pulled her jacket tighter, hunching her shoulders against the chill as the rain soaked through.

She picked up her pace, hoping she could get home before she was completely drenched. Just as she turned a corner, headlights swept across the path in front of her, and a sleek, dark SUV slowed to a stop. She squinted, wiping rain from her eyes, as the passenger window rolled down.

Rafe leaned over from the driver’s seat, brow slightly raised as he took in her soaked figure. “Need a ride?” he asked, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the rain.

Y/N stifled a sigh, a wry smirk pulling at her lips despite herself. “Thrice in one day, Cameron?” she called out. “Are you following me now?”

Rafe chuckled, leaning one arm over the wheel. “Guess I can’t shake you, huh? Or maybe you’re the one following me.” He glanced out at the rain. “C’mon, get in before you catch a cold. You’ll ruin the club’s good towels.”

She stood there for a moment, watching the rain hit the ground in heavy sheets, then glanced at him through the window again. “You know, I could be stubborn enough to walk home in this,” she said with a teasing glint in her eye.

“Then you’ll be stubborn and wet,” he shot back with a grin. “Get in. I’m not leaving you out here.”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N opened the door and slid into the passenger seat, feeling the warmth of the car surrounding her immediately. She closed the door with a soft click, the sound of the rain intensifying for a moment before the windshield wipers kicked into motion.

She looked at him as he shifted into drive, silently grateful for the warmth, but still skeptical of the conversation that was about to happen. “Thanks for the ride,” she muttered, brushing water from her hair as she settled in.

“No problem,” Rafe replied, glancing over at her with a faint smile. The tension in the car was subtle, but Y/N could sense it. The day had been strange, and she wasn’t quite sure where she stood with him—if she was just another face, another person he had to deal with, or if maybe, just maybe, there was more to him than he let on.

The car was quiet for a while, only the sound of the rain and the soft hum of the engine filling the space. Y/N didn’t mind it, though. There was something oddly comforting about being alone in the car with Rafe, despite all the history between their families and the awkwardness lingering between them.

Eventually, Rafe broke the silence. “You know, you’re pretty hard to get a read on.” His voice was low, almost like he was speaking to himself. “It’s like… you’re always in your head, trying to figure things out.”

Y/N glanced at him, surprised by the observation. She shifted in her seat, slightly uncomfortable with the truth in his words. “I’m not really the open book type,” she replied after a moment, her fingers absently tapping on the seatbelt.

Rafe chuckled softly, the sound easing some of the tension. “Yeah, I figured. But you’re not the only one who keeps things locked up. I get it.” He paused, looking out at the rain-slicked road. “But it’s exhausting sometimes, you know? Trying to keep everything together.”

Y/N turned her head to study him, her curiosity piqued despite herself. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice quieter now.

Rafe exhaled slowly, keeping his eyes on the road. “I mean, we don’t always get to choose how things turn out. Like, with my family. Everyone expects me to be… I don’t know, something I’m not. They put all this pressure on me to be perfect. To do things a certain way.” He glanced at her briefly before returning his attention to the road. “It’s like no one ever really sees me. Not for me. Just the image they want me to be.”

Y/N studied him carefully, noting the weariness in his voice. She didn’t respond immediately, unsure of how to react. Was he being genuine? Or was this just another side of Rafe Cameron who liked to keep people at arm's length?

Finally, she nodded, the words coming out more carefully than she expected. “Sounds like you don’t get a lot of room to breathe.”

He glanced over at her with a small smile. “That’s one way to put it.” His eyes lingered on her for a moment, and there was a brief pause in the air between them, charged with something unspoken.

Y/N shifted in her seat, her mind spinning with his words. “Well, I guess I get it,” she said softly. “We all have our own stuff. No one’s life is as easy as it seems.”

Rafe nodded, the faint smile still on his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah. Exactly. Anyway, you’re almost home.”

The ride felt quieter after that, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Y/N looked out the window, her thoughts a mix of confusion, curiosity, and something else that she couldn’t quite name. She wasn’t sure what to make of the sudden vulnerability she’d seen in Rafe, but there was a part of her that was intrigued. Maybe he wasn’t just the entitled, spoiled Kook she’d always assumed.

The car slowed as they reached her house, and Rafe turned off the engine. Y/N hesitated, not immediately unbuckling her seatbelt.

“Thanks again, Cameron,” she said, looking over at him with a small but sincere smile.

“Don’t mention it,” Rafe replied, his tone easy. “You sure you don’t want me to walk you to the door?”

Y/N’s lips curled up slightly, though she shook her head. “I’m good. Don’t want to ruin your streak of being a decent person.” She opened the door and slid out, but before she closed it, she turned back. “Take care, Rafe.”

“You too,” he said, his voice steady.

As the car pulled away, Y/N stood there for a moment, watching the taillights fade into the rain. She couldn’t help but wonder—maybe there was more to Rafe than she’d originally thought.

[ejnaa]

a kiss or nothing

cw ɞ ˚ ‧ ｡ ◞ fluff, ooc, slight suggestive (?), not proofread

pairing :

about me || masterlist

deciding to make the most of a dull day, rin, bored and uninspired, suggested the library. with no other plans in mind, he dragged you along to join him.

with nothing else on your plate, you didn’t bother turning down the ‘offer’. you've heard from your friends that the new library is pleasantly cozy, and they weren't lying at all.

as he reads something associated with soccer, you pretend to study, sneaking glances at his focused look. his intense look, in an odd way, seems quite adorable to you. “you’re always so serious,” you murmur before adding more, “you’d probably crack under pressure in a kiss challenge.”

rin glances up briefly, seeming to get your attention. “what was that?“ he pulls his airpods from his ears awkwardly.

“nothing!”

he exhales in annoyance. “don’t lie. i know you’re saying something unfavorable about me,” he speaks, closing the book with a soft thud.

rolling your eyes, you reach for another romance book, better than the movies, and begin reading, shamelessly retorting, “i said you'd probably crack under pressure in a kiss challenge.”

hearing your bold dare, he swiftly cupped your cheek with one hand and place you on his lap gently, making sure you met his soft gaze. “crack under pressure? you’Il need to do better than that to make me give in.” his eyes stay locked on you, and it's clear he’s not going to make it look easy.

amused by his competitive side, you nod slightly, mentally counting down before meeting his gaze with a playful smile. “on three,” you say quietly. “one, two…” the air feels thick with anticipation, and your heart skips a beat. rin remains still, refusing to back down.

he watches you intently, his focus sharp, and there's no sign that he'd let you win. he’s hell-bent on winning, no matter how trivially pointless the challenge may be.

and you, yes, you, the reader, if you're wondering “will anyone even notice us?” the answer is no. rin picked a quiet, empty hallway near a shelf against the wall. it's a spot that most people overlook, according to the booksellers.

setting the challenge aside for a second, you’re glad rin picked this space. the wooden floor is clean and sleek to the point that you and rin can sit on the floor comfortably, not gonna lie, and it's even comfy thanks to the warm light tones on the store’s ceiling.

though rin, on the other hand, still seems like he's staring into your soul, he finally gets bored and decides to tease you just a bit with a slight playful grin. “hope you're not expecting me to go easy on you.”

with a teasing smile, you lean closer, your voice just above a whisper. “don’t worry, i wouldn’t want you to take it easy. i’ll make sure you give it your best.” your eyes shine with mischief, ready for whatever he throws at you.

rin inches closer, his eyes locked on yours, his voice teasing. “say whatever you want, love. but you might as well admit it now,” he murmurs, his lips nearly brushing yours. “one of us is going to break. might as well be you.”

staring at your lips, rin envisions how you'd lose control and kiss him without hesitation.

“you pretend to be tough, but i can see right through it. i know i can make you break,” you replied with even more flirty gaze, teasing him to the point you can clearly see his ears went red.

“stop… staring at me like that,” he grumbles, narrowing his eyes in an attempt to look tough, but a slight blush on his cheeks this time betrays him. “i’m not going to lose just because of your gaze.”

you look at him with amusement after replying, “what gaze, hm?”

you lean slightly closer again, and rin’s eyes flicker down to your lips before he catches himself. “nice try,” he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. “but i’m not that easy to break.”

you spot his hesitation and decide to press a little further. “what’s wrong, rin? feeling nervous?” you tease, leaning your face a little closer as you tilt your head. his gaze flickers, showing the internal conflict. he awkwardly clears his throat, attempting to regain control. “shut up,” he mutters, though it lacks his usual sharpness. you know he’s fighting the moment.

“you know you wanna kiss me.” his attempt to sound confident falters, and you can hear the nervousness that makes you smile.

you lean even more closer, your lips almost grazing his. rin’s breath hitches, and you can see the tension building in his body. his eyes flicker down to your lips, and he exhales shakily. “tch, damn it,” he mutters, his voice softer than usual. he gives you a small, forced pout. “fine, you win.”

he swears; he’d rather get hit by shitdough again rather than hearing that endearingly stupid laughter came out of your lips.

“you couldn’t keep up with me,” you tease rin, remembering how sure he was before. but you’re not cruel enough to not steal a quick kiss from his pink reddish lips, making his lips pouty and all adorable just for you.

rin’s lips stay pouty, but he can't deny the embarrassment bubbling up beneath that expression.

weekends are finally here: you know what’s up. a cuddle session with the japanese soccer prodigy  for spain awaits!

you and sae lazily cuddle on the couch, you lying on top of his muscular chest while he's stretched out, accompanied with his batman blanket covering you both that you bought for him. the living room’s air conditioner creates the perfect relaxing environment as you both remain glued to the tv.

promising you'd pick the show, sae can’t hide his regret, now stuck watching a cheesy 2000’s romcom full of love triangles.

as the scene unfolds, a guy kisses a girl for five minutes under the rain, and sae finds himself wanting to shut off the tv and sleep with you. just as he considers it, you teasingly interrupt, “bet you can’t avoid kissing me like this male lead here.”

sae quirked an eyebrow, “what makes you think that?” he asks with that unoriginal blunt tone of his, avoiding from the smirk to appearing.

“we could definitely win a court debate if it's about agreeing that you’re emotionless 99% of the time but still hide your soft side, sae.”

he lets out a soft annoyed huff, clearly irritated by the fact that you're right. “oh yeah? i don't think so,” he responds smugly, but his competitive nature kicks in and he won’t back away from this dumb kiss challenge.

“you’re not as unaffected as you pretend to be.”

an emotionless statement that calls, spurring his determination further.

“do you really think you’re getting to me? that’s cute.” is tone is playful but dismissive, as though you're not even a challenge.

you eye him with intense focus, like a predator eyeing its target. yet, the difference here is that he's your teddy bear, casually returning your gaze.

you let out a soft laugh, feigning offense. “you’re not scared, are you?” you tease, inching a little closer on top of him, your face just inches from his. “i know you’re competitive, sae. don’t tell me you’re giving up.”

his expression remains cool and unreadable. “i’m not interested in your games. you’re the one desperate for a kiss.”

“sure..."

“‘sure’? that’s all you’ve got?”

he raises an eyebrow, unimpressed, clearly expecting more from you.

you release a gentle, teasing breath, settling slightly on top of sae. a playful grin forms on your lips, and you say, “alright, i'II concede to that for now.” your gaze meets his as you trail a finger delicately across his chest, creating a charge in the air between you. with a low, playfully provocative voice, you add, “but don't get too comfortable, you’re not the one calling the shots here,” you add, your voice low and teasing, the playful tension between you two palpable.

sae raises an eyebrow, clearly unfazed by your words, though his gaze follows the movement of your finger. “we’ll see about that,” he says, his voice steady and cool as ever. but there’s something in the way his eyes linger on you that suggests he’s not as unaffected as he lets on. you smirk, knowing full well that the challenge isn’t over, and if anything, it’s just getting more interesting. you lean in a little closer, your lips brushing against his ear, your breath warm against his skin. “i’m just getting started.”

sae remains silent for a while, his gaze unwavering but increasingly distant as if he’s getting tired of the game. you notice the subtle shift in his demeanor—his body relaxing, his eyes losing some of their usual sharpness. it’s as if he’s decided that this challenge isn’t worth his full attention anymore. a small, almost imperceptible sigh escapes him as he leans back slightly, a bored expression creeping onto his face. “you’re not as fun as you think you are,” he mutters, a trace of impatience in his voice.

you’re left a bit surprised, watching as he finally gives in, his competitive edge melting away. without saying much more, sae shifts and pulls you just a little closer. you’re not sure what he’s up to, until you feel a gentle kiss on your cheek. it’s quick, soft, almost tender—an unexpected gesture of surrender, yet somehow, it feels like a victory prize. “i guess you won this round,” he says with a smirk, clearly not bothered by the outcome, but his lips lingering near your skin just a second longer than necessary.

✧˖° a/n ⋮ this is so rush omg, i’m sooo sorry. ‘m studying for my upcoming exam rn but i still feel the need to write smth likes, reblogs and follows are always appreciate!!

⌢   ꒰੭ ejna ’s — 2024 © strictly NO plagiarizing my fic , and copying .

[cellophaine]

Chapter IX: GAME

Masterlist

Pairing: Art Donaldson x F!Reader

Warnings: The big three – fluff, angst, and smut.

Author's Note: have fun with this chapter :)

GIF Source (I couldn't find the gif when they're at the Cincinnati Masters so let's just pretend that this gif is that gif)

2019. New Rochelle.

You drove the rental through the city, your eyes roaming over the unfamiliar scenery with a languorous curiosity. The sun was hung high, its view unobstructed by the cloudless sky, casting harsh blocks of shadow onto the street. Despite the storm warning, the only indication was the strong gusts of wind that fluttered the tree branches, wrapping the leaves in their grasp and blowing past your car window.

The Authors' Exchange conference was the reason you came to New Rochelle, which would begin tomorrow and expand over three days. Afterwards, you'd drive to Manhattan and stay with Sophie for a week before heading back to San Francisco. The event organizer, Jennifer Roux, had sent you a message earlier in the day detailing the tour of the conference area that would take place after you'd settled in your room.

The GPS's alert chimed for a right turn. You took it and found yourself heading towards a big advertisement that scaled along the side of a building, featuring Art and Tashi prominently. You sucked in a deep breath as old emotions threatened to bubble. You hadn't seen Art in almost ten years, and during all that time, the brief sight of his face, the casual mention of his name were enough to make your heart clench. Affliction, indifference, frustration, and guilt. They all fought one another to claim their place when you tried to place exactly how you felt. But you could never get it right. It was a mess, and it was different every time. But you had moved on. The old feelings were here a moment and gone the next. It dissipated just as you drove past the wallscape advertisement, heading straight for the hotel.

/

Jennifer was much more bubbly in person than in formal emails, which was something you didn't expect. After gushing over your books, she insisted on taking you to your room herself despite your polite refusal. With the keycard in one hand and your suitcase in another, you followed her into the elevator. A voice called out.

"Hold it, please!"

You stepped back as much as you could to make room for the strangers, drawing your suitcase and bag closer to yourself. Hurried footsteps followed by two blurry forms. Jennifer asked for their floor, and the door closed. Your breath caught at the sight of the taller silhouette.

Art.

His name was a noiseless whisper on your lips. His mouth parted slightly, and his eyes widened as they drilled into you. The shock seemed to mask the hurt and guilt behind his features, but you used to know him so intimately, just like how he knew you. Your eyes latched onto his face, tracing the familiar traits that had changed slightly over time. He looked good, even though you didn't want to admit it. His hair was shorter than when you saw him last. His face was sharper and more angular, as if time was an infatuated sculptor obsessed with their subject, barely taking away his youthfulness and leaving his beauty whole. Your eyes locked, its pull intense and undeniable. A movement drew your attention away from him to the little girl he was with. Her hand was clasped in Art's, and the other tugged on yours.

"Hi."

Her timid voice broke the spell. You forced your eyes away and looked down to address her. Her sweet, innocent face beamed as you crouched down to her level. She looked so much like her mother, but you could see traits of Art in her as well. You responded with a smile of your own.

"Hi."

"I like your cherries."

She pointed to the charm on your bag.

"Thank you. Do you want to feel how soft they are?"

She nodded eagerly. You held out your bag, and she carefully petted the synthetic fabric. She squeezed the cherries in her hand, and you took that moment to ask.

"What's your name?"

She looked up at her dad, and only after getting a nod of approval from him did she turn to you.

"Lily."

You smiled warmly at her, even though your insides were punctured with a thousand little cuts.

"What a pretty name."

Her toothy smile deepened as she shyly thanked you. You introduced yourself.

"I like your name."

"Aww, thank you. You're so sweet."

"This is my dad."

Lily let go of the cherries, using both of her hands to tug on Art's attention, which was temporarily reserved for you. She craned her neck to look up when her dad failed to respond.

"Daddy, say hi."

"I–"

You stared at him, wondering if he was going to say anything at all. But you'd never know. The elevator dinged, announcing your floor. You stood up, extending a sweet smile to Lily.

"This is my floor. It was nice to meet you, Lily."

You rushed out with your luggage, and thankfully, Jennifer was right behind you. The elevator doors closed, and you looked away, refusing to make eye contact with Art despite him seeking you out.

Jennifer left quickly after walking you to your room and reminding you of the tour. In the quiet room with only the hums of the air conditioner presented, you sat on the pristine full bed, your luggage forgotten on the side. Pressing a hand to your chest, you could feel your heart's frantic beat as the memories of what happened years ago came rushing back all at once.

2009. Stanford.

After the fight, nothing was the same. There was a passiveness in your relationship that you were forced to come to terms with. You could keep yourself suspended in denial or cut yourself free of the entanglement and the exertion to keep up the illusion. And you chose the latter. Art rarely called and texted, and even when he did, your conversations were brief and awkward. You took his lack of contact as a sign for you to step back. You ceased all communication with him, even though you still kept his number on your phone. You even went as far as avoiding places you often went to with him. Art seemed to know not to visit the coffee shop. Eventually, by the end of that summer, you fell out. There was no final explosive fight, no goodbyes. Things just ended.

But your mind always strayed back to him. How you'd been a bother, you'd been too much, and this distance was his way of telling you that. The way you completely depended on him for comfort after Christmas made you wince in embarrassment whenever you thought of it. Perhaps he felt like you were a burden. You took that as the truth, and no matter what Art might tell you then, it could never change your mind.

In the two years that followed, unexpected yet welcoming changes were made. Your story was featured in the Stanford paper as the first-place winner's prize, along with a cheque for $500. The exposure caught the eye of your current literary agent, Avery Clarke, who then showed interest in the possibility of representing you. She was from a small agency that focused on finding new writers. After reading through your collections of short stories and much anticipation, she decided to take you on her team. You spread yourself even thinner across school, work and writing. Your book took form in the dimness of late nights, many of which you were accompanied by your roommates. And the hard work paid off. Three publishers expressed their interests, and after a long conversation and lots of consideration, you decided to go with The Paper House. Now, you were waiting in a nervous yet content state while Avery worked on negotiating the finer details of your first book deal. Life and new purposes took over the place Art used to be. But, eventually, he found his way back into your life, as if there was an invisible thread that connected you, and Art was pulling on it.

/

It was early October. You remembered it so clearly. The air was brisk, and the sun was warm, making the perfect weather that you were looking forward to enjoying. Your shift at the cafe ended in the early afternoon. When you came out from the back, Art was there, standing by an empty table near the entrance. He looked good, as he always did. The soft smile that was one of your many weaknesses played with your heartstrings, making your breath catch in your throat. In a polo shirt and jeans, he looked like he came here just for you, and this wasn't a standard smoothie run. His lips parted, and his throat worked to form what he had planned to say into audible words. But you got to it before he did.

"What are you doing here?"

"I … I just wanted to talk to you."

You responded to that with a discontented hum. Art picked up on it.

"I saw that you got a book deal on the newspaper. Congratulations."

You nodded warily.

"Thank you."

"How do you feel about it?"

You shrugged.

"Just fine. It's just a book deal. It's not like it will define my career or anything."

Art laughed softly at your sarcastic response. The low vibrato reminded you of how much you'd missed it.

"Do you want to talk about it over a coffee?"

His tone was casual, yet there was a deliberate calculation as if he was laying down a chess piece and waiting for your next move. You arched an eyebrow at your surroundings.

"Here?"

"No. Somewhere else."

His smile was endearing, and you found yourself persuaded by its charm. You reluctantly agreed. On the stroll to the all-day breakfast bar nearby, the two of you walked side by side but left a distance in between. Your conversation remained formal, but after you'd sat down for some crepes and waffles, it returned to a liveliness that it hadn't been for two years.

"You'll do great. I read your story in the newspaper."

Your eyes on him were nothing if not skeptical.

"You have?"

Not that your win was kept a secret. You just didn't think Art was keeping up with you after your fallout.

"Of course I have. I read the whole thing in one sitting. You have such a brilliant way with words."

You rolled your eyes playfully, and your cheeks warmed at his compliment.

"Thank you. That's just one story, though. How are you so sure of it?"

"I just know."

His smug smirk drew a chuckle from you. Your talk, just like your food, was piquant and smooth. You missed the conversations you had, the casual flirtiness, the way being yourselves felt so easy, like how it was meant to be. You took a sip of your water, watching Art staring back at you from the other side of the table. You tilted your head, enticing him to speak his mind.

"What happened to us?"

"You know damn well what happened."

He chuckled, but when he talked, there was no trace of humour.

"I know. It was my fault. I'm sorry for acting like a dick to you. For what it's worth, I liked you a lot …"

You stayed quiet at the past tense use.

" … and I would be lying if I said my feelings for you had completely gone."

You placed your fork down and levelled him with a guarded stare.

"What are you saying?"

Art took a moment as if he was giving his words great consideration. And after what felt like an agonizing wait, his voice carried the significant weight of his confession.

"I still like you."

You let it settle in. This moment had passed through your head many times before, but you never thought it would come true.

"What about Tashi?"

"There's nothing going on between me and her."

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm being honest. The last time we talked was two years ago. During the summer break, actually."

"Why me? Why now?"

"I was a fool messing up what we had."

And there it was. All that you wanted to hear. Art admitted that there was something akin to love between you, before everything that happened. Your hope was a small ember, and all it needed was the tiniest spark to burst into flame. Your eyes locked with an intensity that nestled deep in your bones. Neither of you could look away.

"Are you asking me for a second chance?"

"No. I'm asking you if I deserve one."

"We'll see."

You continued to see Art after that. It was a second chance at being casual friends, and things almost went back to how it was before. But something was different this time.

You remembered not leaving Art's single room until the morning the night you slept with him for the first time. It had to be his room because, by that point, Ashley and Grace were unaware of your involvement with Art. If they did, they would strongly oppose your reunion, as they knew all too well about the aftermath in 2007.

His skin was soft and warm, and the way he draped over your body made you arch against him for more. Art kissed his way down to your body, worshipping every inch of your skin with fervour kisses, drawing whimpers from your clenched lips. As eager as he was to taste you, the man knew how to tease you until you begged for it. And when he did, your body shuddered in response. He worked you up with his tongue, swirling it over and over on your dripping lips and sensitive clit before dipping it into your entrance. Your hips bucked into his mouth, seeking for release, but he had none of that. With one hand over your belly, holding you down, the other was two fingers deep into your cunt; he was relentless. You came quickly after that, and all you could think of was how much you wanted him. You pulled him up to meet your lips in a sloppy kiss. Your hand skimmed down the length of his torso, and when you almost reached what you wanted most at that moment, he stopped you with a hand on your wrist. His flushed face tinged with a little embarrassment, and the stickiness under your calf told you what you needed to know. You shared an awkward laugh, and you pulled his face down so you could kiss his forehead. Pushing him back onto the bed, you took over by crawling down the length of his body until you reached his leaking cock. You touched him with tenderness, and it didn't take much coaxing and sucking until his cock became hard again. Art was gentle and took his time with you, slowly working you up to your climax with his thickness pushing all the way in and out. In the final moments, your bodies worked in tandem; your hips were pressed flush against each other. The fervorous thrusts, the barely contained moans and the creaky sound of his twin bed helped create an obscene sound in the small room. You came just moments before he did. Afterwards, as you basked in the afterglow and the sweat of your bodies, you chuckled to yourself.

"If we did this two years ago, we wouldn't have broken up at all."

That drew a laugh out of him. You found yourself falling for Art again. He felt the same. Your lives were better with the other in it, and that was enough. You didn't put a label on your relationship, but you mutually agreed that you were exclusively seeing each other. The ever-evading title wasn't a cause for concern, especially now that Art hadn't talked to either Tashi or Patrick in a while. You were surprised when you found out about the latter but didn't inquire further. All you cared about was Art, and how good it felt to have him back.

2010. Mason, Ohio.

Art had been on a good streak during the Cincinnati Masters tour. He was heading to the next rounds with ease. And you were there to cheer him on for every match. You graduated with honours back in May, and now that your first book was on its way to the production stage, your life finally felt like it was under your control. The water was still and peaceful, but you should have known better than to blindly believe that nothing could disturb it. The ripple came in with shoulder-length hair and a slim body, the object of your deeply rooted self-contempt, of the haunting idea that you weren't good enough for Art despite telling yourself that you weren't the same person anymore. You had changed.

But some things were harder to forget and forgive.

You were watching Art and his coach practicing from the outside of the fence when Tashi came in. When you noticed her, she waved, her languid pace undisturbed, as if she was in control of everything and everyone around her. Helplessness surged as you thought about how Tashi was too close to Art for your own comfort. You put on a smile, hoping that it didn't look strained.

"Hey Tashi."

"Hey. It's nice to see you again."

"You, too. How have you been?"

"Oh, uh, I've taken some time off tennis to recover."

You thought it was strange how Tashi seemed to think of herself as a tennis player first and a normal person second. But since she mentioned that, you asked.

"When can I see you back in court?"

Tashi went quiet at that. She briefly looked down at her shoes before answering.

"I'm not sure yet."

There was a kind of pensive sadness in her eyes, and you found the Tashi in front of you now were miles away from the Tashi you often watched on the tennis court a few years ago. Your heart broke for her. Tennis seemed to be her whole life, and from the sound of her answer, it was now something that would always be out of reach.

"I'm sorry. I thought you were here to compete as well."

"No, I'm not. I'm just Katerina's hitting partner. She's the one who's competing."

Tashi looked over to Art and waved at him. You craned your neck to see that Art had seen her as well, his hand lowered from reciprocating her. She then turned to you.

"Anyway, I'm here because they told me that Art was here. And I wanted to talk to him."

You nodded and looked at your watch.

"I think he'll be done soon."

His practice ended five minutes later. You walked to him, and your innate need to stake your claim compelled you to put on a show. You pulled Art into a hug despite the playful protest he put on because of his sweaty shirt, and when you pulled away, you kissed his cheek and whispered.

"Looks like you guys need to catch up. I'll leave for the restaurant and get us a table. I'll see you there?"

"See you there."

You left the court, but not before looking back to see them talking. You turned away as old insecurities threatened to resurface.

/

After that day, Tashi sat in the audience for Art's matches. You knew because she often opted for the bottom row while you went for the higher view. During Art's semi-final, you couldn't be there as you had a meeting with Avery and The Paper House in Norwood. You made it to the court as the match had ended; some people were waiting around for Art's signature and photos. You weaved your way into the court and stopped dead at the entrance. Even though they were only talking, your jealousy and insecurities coloured it into something else. They looked good together. Her height almost matched his. The way Art listened to Tashi, his attention was fully wrapped in every syllable she uttered and hand gestures she made. You stayed quiet for most of the ride back to the hotel, even though you should've put on a smile, a show, anything because Art made it to the final. Later that night, during dinner, the weight of your thoughts had become so unbearable that you surrendered yourself to its whim. You didn't even look away from your plate when you spoke.

"It's nice to see Tashi doing so well."

"Yeah, it is. She had a tough time after her injury."

"Oh yeah? How do you know?"

"She told me."

"Oh, right."

You fell into silence again. What Art had to say next drew your attention away from the dinner that you had no appetite for.

"I'm thinking of asking her to be my assistant coach."

You angled your head to look at him fully. Apprehension filled your tone.

"Why?"

"I think … she can make me a better player."

"But you're already great. You're in the final. You've beaten so many guys to get here."

"I want to be better than great."

You leaned back on your chair.

"And you think Tashi can help you with that?"

"Yes, she gave me some helpful tips after the match. She really watched the way I play and gave me corrections and they were things I didn't even notice."

You looked away from Art, your voice verged on bitterness with sarcasm as its coat.

"Right. To me it sounds like you want to spend more time with her."

"We were friends."

"Just like how you and I are friends?"

"That's unfair. It's different with us. We're seeing each other."

"But we're not exactly dating, are we? You're not my boyfriend, and I'm not your girlfriend."

"Isn't that what we both agreed on? That we would take it slow?"

You didn't like it, but he was right. Your answer was only a whisper.

"Yes."

"I guess we can both agree on that, then."

Dinner ended in an uncomfortable silence. It stretched on as you ignored Art on your walk back to the room. Tension brewed and bubbled, and it was only a matter of time before it exploded. You dropped your bag on the desk with a heavy thud, and Art couldn't stand your deliberate shun anymore.

"Could you please tell me what I did wrong?"

"No, you didn't do anything wrong."

You shrugged, pretending to be busy with unloading your bag.

"Can we not do this, please? Can we just celebrate my win tonight?"

"You can celebrate with Tashi."

Art was taken aback by your words if his brief silence was an indication.

"Why would you say that?"

"Go ahead, and call her. You have my permission."

He touched your arm, which was still moving as if you suddenly needed to empty everything.

"Please, stop. Can you please look at me?"

You jerked your arm away from his touch and whirled around to face him.

"Be honest with yourself. Don't you want to spend more time with Tashi? Don't you wish that she was here right now, in my place?"

"Is this because I talked to her? You can't possibly condemn me for that."

"Yes, I can! You basically ignored me when she came around three years ago after her break up with Patrick, who was your best friend, by the way. Sorry if I'm still sensitive about it."

Art stepped back as you leaned onto the table. It felt nice and awful at the same time, being able to say what you'd thought about.

"Tashi's just looking out for me. She sees who I can become, and I can become so much better."

"What about me? What about what I think? I think you're great already."

Art's face was flushed with a simmering anger.

"If I'm so great, why have I never won a game against a nobody?"

It took you a moment for it to click in. He was talking about Patrick. It renewed the anger inside of you.

"For fuck's sake! Is that all you guys talk about? Fucking tennis?"

"It's what I do."

"You know she's just using you to get back to tennis, right? It's all she's ever talked about."

"It's what we're both passionate about."

Art's willful ignorance irked you, and you exploded.

"Can't you see it? She wants to get back out there as a player and she can't and it's making her miserable. One day, you'll realize she has never seen you more than a mean to live through."

He pointed an accusing finger at you, and you felt like you were pinned down under his gaze.

"That's cruel, and you know it."

"It's the truth."

Despite the nonchalance in your tone, your voice said otherwise. You didn't even realize the tears that had run down your cheeks. Art's red-rimmed eyes stared back at you. His jaw ticked, working to put the thoughts in his head into words. And they cut deeper than a knife.

"This relationship will never work if you can't trust me."

"I'm sorry that I have trust issues. It's not like you've never given me any reasons to doubt you, right?"

"Are you talking about Tashi again?"

"Of course I am. She's always been a problem to us."

"No, she's not."

"Yes, she is."

Your name formed on his lips, a beautiful sound in the gravel of his voice.

"I love you."

The argument that poised on your lips held itself in place. You felt like the air in your lungs was sucked out of you in the three syllables that Art uttered. The world slowed, and you could hear the thunderous beat of your heart. If this was a perfect world, you would be over the moon. You would kiss him until neither of you could breathe and whisper those words back to him, and everything would be fine. But this was the real world, and you were a creature of pragmatism and self-destruction. Your voice shook, knowing that this would be the end of you and Art.

"Do you really love me for me, or do you love me because Tashi wasn't there?"

"How could you say that?"

"Let's be honest with ourselves. You know it, and I know it. You've always loved Tashi more. For as long as she is around, I will always be second. And I really, really, don't want to feel that way again."

Art shook his head. You closed the distance in between and held Art's face in your hand. You caressed his jaw, smudging the wetness on his cheek and whispered.

"You can love more than one person, Art. I just don't want to be put second to someone else. I don't want to wait around for love and, approval and affection. I'm tired of having to beg for it, like I did with my parents."

Art held onto your wrist, squeezing it softly.

"Please don't leave me."

With an equally shaky voice, you forced yourself to say it.

"I need you to make up your mind. Or else, I will do it for you."

"I can't."

"I know."

The finality of your situation settled in, and deep down, you knew that it was for the best. You wouldn't be able to support Art like Tashi would. Tennis was everything to Tashi, and you, on the contrary, were only an outsider looking in. She would be able to help Art achieve his professional goals. What would a writer like you have anything to offer to an athlete like him?

"Can you hold me until I fall asleep, please?"

You nodded, kissing his forehead. You settled in the softness of the bed, with his head on your chest. He slept soundly next to you while you were wide awake. Morning came, and you quietly packed your stuff and left. No note, no goodbye. There was nothing else you could say that could change the situation. Even though you blocked his number, you still looked out for news of him. You convinced yourself that you were okay with your decision. You were selfish; you couldn't share. You'd rather have none than half of him. In the end, you were unable to come to a compromise. You left Art, knowing that he loved you, too, and that somewhat soothed the ache that seemed to be a permanent attachment to your heart.

The news of his engagement to Tashi was everywhere in 2011. Your heart shattered all over again. Even though it caused you so much pain, you still tried to be happy for him. You truly loved him with every fibre of your being. But from then on, you avoided news from Art, hoping the physical and virtual distance could heal you.

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