#and that I failed because I couldn’t figure it out like them

[gay-vampire-with-a-violin]

during my freshman year of high school, there was a day that i just couldn’t get out of bed. i had an assignment due that i was panicking about not having done. i was terrified. to me, it was better to miss the day than to face the teacher. that day turned into a week, which turned into a month, which turned into half a dozen changes to my psych meds that honestly didn’t do anything. (actually, one of them made me much worse but no one figured that out for months.)

some of my teachers were gracious enough to excuse me from the work i missed, but the weight still felt like it would crush me. i failed my AP US History exam in 9th grade, and dropped out of AP World History in 10th grade, along with half my other classes. i probably missed about a third of 9th and 10th grade. it’s a miracle i passed.

fast forward to my senior year: i have an internship and a full day’s worth of classes scheduled. (half of them were electives but i think i would’ve truly gone insane without them.) i spent the last three and a half years trying to teach myself that it’s okay to not be perfect, that it’s okay to turn stuff in late or incomplete. i have a whole host of accommodations that don’t actually help me, because they based it on a diagnosis of depression and hardly consulted me on it. (i probably have ADHD and maybe autism but it’s been a nightmare trying to get diagnosed.) any suggestion i made for stuff that would actually help was shot down because i have to “get ready for the real world.”

my psychology teacher, of all people, tried to tell me that i should have told her about the one accommodation i actually use before trying to use it (teachers are supposed to read the paperwork), and that “15 minutes of working at home” would have been enough to finish a project that actually took me 2 hours to do halfway. she talked about people with mental conditions as if we’re some mythical being that couldn’t possibly exist right there in the classroom. that one class period had the power to negate what would have been an otherwise great day.

TLDR: i’m begging people to use their fucking brains and consider that not everyone can function at 100% all the time. it is not a moral failing to be disabled, it is not lazy to know your limits, and the vast majority of us aren’t just lying for “special treatment.” i just want to live a life that’s some amount of normal, even if i’m not.

When I say “school should be disability accessible”, I don’t just mean we need handicap rails and EAs. Kids should be able to miss a day without failing out of school. You shouldn’t be dismissed from clubs because your attendance record is “spotty” (true story). I once missed an entire week of school because of a terrible, unending migraine. I was expected to keep up with my studies despite the blinding pain that came with working on my computer. When I heard my teachers say that you couldn’t miss exams, I asked what I would have to do to be excused from them. Their response? “Either get a doctor’s note an hour before the exam or death of an immediate family member.”

I cannot express how rigid this expectation was. First of all, with my condition, I wouldn’t have enough warning about my sickness to go to the doctor and request a note. For many people, this is exceptionally difficult, especially with the current shortage of medical professionals. Next, it ignores the fact that my schedule may not line with theirs because of my medical needs. Once, I had to visit a hospital a province away (which I was on the waiting list of for over a year) on the same day as an exam. I begged my mother not to take me because I was so nervous that I would be marked as an automatic fail. I was lucky enough to make it work, but that’s only because of my spectacular support system consisting of family members and wonderful doctors.

Disabilities aren’t always about needing a bus that can accommodate wheelchairs. It’s already difficult enough for many of us to maintain school attendance without the harsh punishments involved for skipping a day. We need to be able to miss school without being punished. Only than can you claim that the school is “accessible”

[msilwrites]

The Mystery of Who Dressed the LT Like That? (Simon 'Ghost' Fic)

Sassy! Ghost, Sassy! Simon 'Ghost' Riley, Sassy! Simon Riley, Stylish! Ghost, Dapper! Ghost, Domestic! Ghost, Domestic Goddess! Ghost Genre: Comedy

A/N: Same Y/N (Which is You! :D) from How I Met Your Mother? and Midnight Snack Mystery! This one’s all about the lads at the base figuring out the mystery of why their LT. suddenly looks like he stepped out of a posh catalogue. Spoiler: It’s not as complicated as they think—Simon’s just got a good woman (YOU!!) behind him making sure he’s looking his best. But when it comes to teasing, it’s a whole different ball game, and the lads are getting a taste of their own medicine. Enjoy the banter, because it’s all being thrown right back at Johnny and Roach!

Summary: As Simon's partner, you’ve taken on the unofficial role of his personal stylist—dressing him, picking out his clothes, and making sure he’s always looking sharp. The lads at base start to notice the transformation, and they can’t help but poke fun at their LT, who now looks like he’s stepped straight out of a Zegna/Uniqlo/MUJI catalog. They can’t quite figure out what's going on, but they’re determined to crack the case of why their tough, no-nonsense Ghost has suddenly become the poster boy for high fashion—and, more amusingly, started baking, flower arranging, and fully embracing his inner domestic goddess. But Simon? He’s perfectly comfortable in his masculinity, and no amount of teasing is going to ruffle his feathers. In fact, he’s got the perfect comebacks for every jab, turning it all back on Johnny and Roach—leaving them in stitches as they try (and fail) to get under his skin.

----------

It all started with a haircut. Not the usual military buzz or the "I couldn’t care less" trim they were used to seeing, but something deliberate—a sharp undercut with just enough length on top to sweep back neatly. The kind of cut that suggested time spent in front of a mirror, not the usual wake-up-and-throw-on-a-mask routine they associated with Simon. That was the first clue.

Then came the glasses. These weren’t the standard-issue, utilitarian frames meant for reading classified reports or aiming downrange. No, these had sleek black frames, with lenses that darkened automatically in bright light. Practical? Sure. But also stylish—the kind of stylish that made Soap and Roach exchange looks the moment they first noticed them.

And the hoodie Simon used to wear on endless rotation? Gone. Replaced by a knitted beanie that somehow managed to suit him. Sometimes it was dark green, other times navy blue, charcoal, or black. Even the ever-present balaclava he used to wear religiously underneath his hoodie had disappeared. In its place, he’d adopted other ways to cover his face—a sleek black surgical mask, occasionally printed with a faint skull design. Paired with those transforming glasses, which doubled as reading glasses, the whole look naturally drew attention to the hair underneath—the very hair that started their suspicions in the first place.

Price noticed too. He didn’t say much, just raised an eyebrow now and then, his sharp gaze taking everything in. Kyle, of course, already knew the full story. But he wasn’t the type to share someone else’s secrets, so he stayed quiet, leaving Simon to decide when—and if—to let the cat out of the bag.

But Soap and Roach? Patience wasn’t exactly their strong suit.

The clues just kept piling up. Take his boots, for example. Those scuffed military-issued clunkers he used to wear without a second thought? Replaced. Was that a pair of full-grain leather, dark brown Doc Martens the other day? And hold on—were those reddish-brown Derby boots last week? They’d exchanged a quick glance, equal parts impressed and suspicious.

Then there were the trousers. Gone were the tired, faded jeans that had been his off-duty staple for as long as they’d known him. Now it was joggers on some days—still practical, but clearly high-end—and fitted chinos, khakis, wool, or even linen trousers on others. Twill made a regular appearance too, all in a careful rotation of muted tones: black, navy, charcoal, and an occasional deep green. It wasn’t just the variety that threw them; the cuts were sharp, tailored just enough to make it obvious they weren't just off the rack. They were chosen so well, it might as well have been. It was, frankly, unsettling. Simon Ghost Riley had gone from “whatever fits” to looking like he’d just stepped out of a bloody catalog.

And the hoodie? Either styled differently or swapped out entirely, paired with pieces that screamed effortless style in a way that definitely wasn’t effortless. It was only a matter of time before Johnny cracked, unable to keep the teasing at bay.

"What the bloody hell, LT? You hire a stylist or summat?" he blurted, a wide grin plastered across his face.

Roach, standing off to the side, stared expectantly, arms crossed, waiting for some kind of reaction. Captain Price, ever the one for a bit of amusement, arched an eyebrow and waited too, clearly curious. Kyle, however, had a different approach—he crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, a smirk tugging at his lips. He already knew the answer, but he wasn’t about to spoil Simon’s fun.

Simon, as usual, didn’t flinch. His answer came out in that trademark raspy, nonchalant tone. "It’s called a magazine, Johnny."

Johnny and Roach exchanged looks, clearly unimpressed. Roach let out an exaggerated sigh, "A bloody magazine, Simon? Right. And I suppose next you’ll be telling us you’ve picked up a proper skincare routine, yeah?"

Simon didn’t even bat an eye. "Actually, I do," he said, his voice dry as ever. "‘The Ordinary,’ if you must know. It’s decent, keeps the skin smooth, and softens scars too. Might even help with those ones you’ve got under your eyes, Roach."

Roach’s face twisted in mock horror. "Wait, you’re telling me you’ve gone and started doing all that face mask, serum nonsense now? You’ve officially become a bloody beauty guru, mate."

Simon smirked. "Could be worse, I could be slapping on cucumbers and calling it a 'spa day,' eh?"

Roach shook his head, muttering, "I swear, you’re becoming like Kyle. Into all this skincare bollocks now."

Simon’s eyes flickered towards Kyle, who was quietly observing the scene with a small grin. He didn’t miss a beat. "Well, at least Kyle’s got good taste. Besides, better a smooth face than looking like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards, Roach."

Kyle chuckled, adding, "He’s not wrong, mate." Roach rolled his eyes dramatically. "This is just bloody brilliant. The whole team’s turning into a bunch of bloody posh lads, I swear."

Johnny rolled his eyes dramatically. "Oh, here we go. What’s next, LT? You getting a bloody personal shopper? Or did you pick up some new hobbies like yoga or bloody knitting?"

Simon just looked at them, unfazed, and shrugged. "Not yoga," he muttered, taking a sip of his drink. "More like running, hiking—stuff that actually gets the heart pumping." He paused, eyes narrowing playfully. "I’ve picked up embroidery as a hobby now. And, uh... flower arranging."

Roach froze, eyes wide. "Flower arranging?!" he spluttered, utterly dumbfounded. "What in the actual hell, Ghost? You’re out there on Ops, dodging bullets, and then you come home to stick flowers in a vase? Are you serious?"

Johnny burst into laughter, leaning back in his chair. "Oh, this is brilliant. The 'Ghost' , now picking daisies like a bloody florist." He wiped a tear from his eye, trying to calm down. "Next thing we know, you’ll be hosting a garden party for the lads."

Kyle, who had been quietly listening, was now laughing hysterically, clutching his stomach.

Simon, completely unfazed, took another sip of his drink. "It’s a lot more relaxing than you think," he said dryly. "You two should try it sometime. Might help with all that anger you’ve got pent up."

Johnny’s expression darkened, and he slammed a hand on the table. "Oi, what’s that supposed to mean?!" he snapped, clearly annoyed. "I ain’t got anger issues!"

Simon leaned back in his chair, a knowing look in his eyes. "See what I mean?" he said coolly, his voice laced with dry amusement.

Johnny’s jaw tightened, and he shot Simon a glare, clearly more annoyed than ever. "You’re pushin' it, LT."

Kyle and Price both chuckled in the background, not saying anything, but clearly enjoying the exchange. Roach, who had been holding back his laughter, finally lost it, nearly choking on his drink. "Mate, you've definitely got a temper," Roach laughed, nudging Johnny. "I don’t care what you say, you're wound up tighter than a drum."

Johnny shot him a death glare. "You wanna say that again?" he growled, clearly not finding the humour in it.

Simon raised a brow, unfazed, clearly enjoying annoying Johnny. "It’s all right, Johnny. We can’t all be as zen as me," he said coolly, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

Johnny sighed heavily, knowing that if he lost his temper again, he'd be playing right into Simon's hands. He clenched his fists briefly, trying to keep his cool.

Kyle and Price chuckled quietly in the background, very much enjoying the back-and-forth. Johnny shot them a glare, but they didn’t back off, their grins widening. Finally, Johnny turned back to Simon, raising a finger in exasperation. "You know what? I can’t even keep up. You and Kyle, you’re both turning into bloody high maintenance. What’s next? Face masks, spa days? Gonna start wearing silk pyjamas instead of camo?"

Kyle burst into more laughter, clearly enjoying Johnny’s frustration.

Simon’s lips curled into a smirk. "I can’t help it if I like to look after myself," he said coolly, his tone laced with sarcasm. "You lot should try it sometime."

Johnny groaned, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. "Don’t start with that. You two are like the bloody dynamic duo of luxury now."

Roach grinned, shaking his head. "What happened to the hard-as-nails lads we knew?"

Price, who’d been quietly observing the whole exchange, finally spoke up, amused. "Aye, keep it up, Johnny. The man’s still got his edge, don’t worry."

Kyle, still chuckling, chimed in, "Yeah, Johnny, Ghost still got that edge. Don’t worry about it."

Johnny’s eyes narrowed. "Oh, right, now you’re both ganging up on me, are you? Just because you and LT have turned into a couple of posh lads, now you’re clearly siding with him!"

Kyle raised his hands, feigning innocence. "Oi, I’m not siding with anyone. I’m just enjoying the banter," he said with a grin. "And for the record, Price isn't 'posh'—he’s bloody Captain Price. But Ghost? Still got that edge. You don’t lose that after a few bloody flower arrangements."

Johnny groaned, rolling his eyes. "You're all useless."

Roach laughed, shaking his head. "Bloody hell, Johnny, you’re just jealous 'cause they look good, aren’t ya? Posh lads clean up right nice."

Johnny whipped his head towards Roach, eyes narrowing. "Oh, so you planning on being one of them now, Roach? Gonna start sprucing up, get yourself a bloody silk robe?"

Simon laughed under his mask, clearly enjoying the chaos he’d caused.

Roach raised his hands in mock defense. "Oi, don't get your knickers in a twist. I'm just saying, they look sharp."

Johnny scoffed, his voice dripping with frustration. "Yeah, well, I don’t need to look like I’m about to sign up for fine dining classes to get the job done, mate."

Roach grinned, leaning back in his chair, clearly enjoying himself. "Maybe you should give it a go, Johnny. Could use a bit of refinement."

"Refinement?" Johnny snapped, now fully turning on Roach. "I’ll tell you what I need, mate—someone to knock some sense into you."

Roach raised an eyebrow, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, I think you’re lacking refinement, Johnny. Don’t know if that’s your temper or your manners, but something’s definitely missing."

Johnny's face flushed with annoyance. "You think I’m lacking refinement? Look at you, mate, wearing a smile like you're a bloody tea butler."

Roach chuckled. "Oi, you’re the one who’s about to blow a fuse over it. Maybe I should suggest you try a bloody spa day for that anger problem."

Johnny’s eyes narrowed dangerously. "Spa day?" he repeated, as if the very idea offended him. "I don’t need a spa day, Roach, I need a bloody escape from you lot."

He paused, shooting a pointed look at Roach, "Spa day, yeah? Maybe I’ll sit in a mud bath with cucumber slices on my eyes, calm me right down—while I think about how I’m gonna throw you in one."

Roach grinned wider. "Oh, I reckon you'd benefit from it, Johnny. All that anger you’ve got pent up? A nice, warm soak might do wonders. Hell, I’ll even join you. We could make it a bloody spa day bonding session."

Johnny shot Roach a glare, his temper flaring. "You’re really taking the piss now, aren’t you? You wanna go to a spa with me? You and me, surrounded by candles and scented oils? You bloody trying to get me to join the soft-lad club or something?"

Roach just shrugged, unfazed. "Hey, I'm just trying to help. Might even get you a nice lavender-scented massage while I’m at it."

Johnny clenched his jaw, struggling to keep his cool. "If you think I'm getting a bloody massage with you, Roach, you’re out of your mind. I'll take you to a pub, buy you a pint, and let you cool your head down the proper way."

Captain Price, clearly entertained by the back-and-forth, finally chimed in, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Stand down, Mctavish, Sanderson, please, don't start a bloody pub brawl over a trip to the spa."

Kyle and Simon couldn't hold back their quiet chuckles at the Captain's comment, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

Price, still smirking, added, "Although, Johnny, you might actually benefit from it."

Johnny's eyes went wide, and he snapped. "Oh, for the love of—!"

The team burst into laughter, and even Price gave a low chuckle at Johnny’s reaction. Roach slapped his knee, trying to stifle his amusement, while Kyle wiped away a tear. Johnny, now thoroughly flustered, shot them all a death stare, but the laughter didn’t stop.

"Not helping, Price," Johnny muttered, but there was no denying the grin creeping onto his face despite the playful roast.

----------

During Deployment.

The team was deployed on a covert operation, deep in enemy territory. The quiet hum of the comms filled their ears as they moved through the dense terrain. Simon’s mask had clearly evolved since the last time they’d been in the field—no longer the rough, stitched-together skull it once was. This new version looked more refined, almost sleek, the skull etched with sharper, cleaner lines. It wasn’t just a simple piece of fabric anymore; it had depth. The 3D skull design made it look more menacing, almost as if it had been custom-crafted for maximum intimidation.

Johnny, who had been giving Simon a hard time the whole mission about his ‘high-maintenance’ look, couldn’t resist another jab.

"Oi, LT," Johnny’s voice came through the comms, the hint of a smirk in his tone. "What is this now? You hired someone to redesign your mask? Looks like you’re auditioning for a bloody fashion show."

Simon’s voice came through, dry and unbothered. "It's called 3D printing and fabric glue, Johnny. You should try it sometime. Might improve your style."

The silence over comms was deafening for a moment as the rest of the team heard Simon’s response loud and clear. Roach snickered in the background, and Price let out a quiet chuckle.

Johnny, clearly annoyed, grumbled into his mic. "Bloody hell, don’t start with the tech talk. I can barely keep up with your bloody mask upgrades."

But Simon was already back on track, unaffected. "You just focus on keeping up with the mission, Johnny. Leave the aesthetics to the professionals."

As the team continued their watch, the occasional chuckles from the comms echoed, but it was clear: Johnny wasn’t winning this round.

The truth behind Simon's mask wasn’t as complicated as Johnny might have thought. It wasn’t some random upgrade or designer piece—it was all thanks to Simon’s love. Sweet, sweet love. She had taken the time to 3D print, back stitch, and fabric-glue the skull head onto the balaclava, making it look far more refined and menacing than before. She’d made several of them, so Simon didn’t have to wear the same one all the time. The way she had 3D-drawn the skull made it seem almost alive, a sharp, intimidating look that Simon couldn’t get enough of. He loved it.

The evening came, and after the usual MREs, the team settled down to relax. As they unwrapped their meals and poked fun at the blandness of the pre-packaged food, everyone was caught off guard when Simon, usually the quiet one, reached into the pocket of his bag and pulled out a mix of dried fruit, candies, and confectionary, all wrapped up in a single bag.

He unrolled a toffee caramel-flavored sweet, casually lifting his mask just above his mouth, popping the candy in with a satisfied look.

The team stared at him, taken aback by the sudden indulgence. Kyle, however, wasn’t fazed. He had his own homemade stash of treats, happily consuming his goodies on the side, clearly uninterested in sharing.

Johnny couldn’t hold back his disbelief. "Wait a bloody minute, LT," he said, eyeing the bag of sweets. "You’ve got all this—caramels, dried fruit candy—and we’re stuck with MRE desserts that taste like cardboard. And Gaz has his own little stash, too, but he’s off in his corner like some sneaky, stingy bastard, not sharing with anyone. Where the hell did you get all that, huh?"

Simon glanced at him, his tone as dry as ever. "It’s called baking and confectionary making, Johnny."

At that, Johnny and Roach exchanged a glance, grinning like a pair of wolves who’d just spotted their prey. They could already tell this was their opening.

"Ah, so you’ve gone soft now, eh?" Johnny said with a mock gasp, leaning in. "What’s next? You baking cakes, wearing an apron, putting strawberries on top like some bloody pastry chef?"

Roach smirked, picking up on the game. "Yeah, maybe a little tea party for the lads next, LT? You can serve us biscuits and jam while we talk about our feelings."

"Or maybe we’ll all sit around, and you’ll teach us how to frost cupcakes with your fancy icing tips. I can already see it now—‘Here’s a batch of skull cupcakes, topped with ribbons and flowers. Really adds that tough guy flair, yeah? 'Who’s the hardest in the bakery' vibe.'"

Simon raised an eyebrow, his voice low and measured as he looked Johnny up and down. "You know, Johnny, I’d offer to teach you, but it’s clear you’d eat the icing before you even knew how to pipe it."

Johnny flushed, his jaw tightening as the rest of the lads snickered.

Simon then turned to Roach, his tone dry but sharp as ever. " And Feelings, Roach? Last I checked, I’m a pastry maker now, not a bloody shrink. You want to cry about your feelings? Book an appointment with someone who’s trained in making grown men weep. But don’t do it over my desserts—if you’re sniffling and snotting everywhere, you’ll miss the flavor entirely."

Roach burst out laughing, throwing up his hands. "Fair enough, LT. No tears near the baked goods. Got it."

Simon unwrapped another piece of candy, this time a marshmallow coated in smooth chocolate. He popped it into his mouth without a care in the world, the faintest trace of a smile ghosting over his lips. The sight was almost smug, though Simon, true to form, paid no attention to the reactions of the others.

Johnny and Roach exchanged a long, drawn-out sigh, their eyes drifting toward Simon’s carefully sealed bag of treats. The temptation was practically carved into their expressions, as plain as day. Neither of them bothered to mask the silent scheming that was clearly going on—both biding their time for the perfect chance to pilfer something from Simon’s stash.

Price, meanwhile, had been quietly grimacing in the background, his irritation thinly veiled. Between Kyle off in the distance munching on his private stash of homemade snacks and Simon now indulging in sweets without so much as a glance in anyone’s direction, it was becoming too much. With a pointed clearing of his throat, he finally broke the silence.

Price cleared his throat, stepping in before Johnny and Roach’s plotting could escalate further. “Alright, Ghost,” he said, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow. “Give me a piece, yeah? You don’t have to share with those two.”

Johnny and Roach immediately protested in unison, their indignation loud and theatrical.

“Oi, why not us?” Johnny exclaimed, throwing up his hands. “What makes you so bloody special?”

Roach nodded in agreement, pointing an accusing finger at Price. “Yeah, We’ve been suffering through these MREs just as much as you!”

Price ignored their complaints entirely, keeping his eyes locked on Simon with a faint smirk. “C’mon, Ghost. Just one. For your captain.”

Simon tilted his head slightly, his voice as dry as ever. “Or else?”

Price’s smirk stretched into a full grin. “Or else, I’ll have you scrubbing all the pots and pans after Johnny’s cooking. And trust me, after the mess he made last time, those little pots and pans are practically welded together from the burnt food.”

Johnny immediately shot up from his seat, face reddening. “Oi! What’s that supposed to mean, huh? My cooking’s perfectly fine!”

Price didn’t even look at him, keeping his eyes locked on Simon. “It’s your call, Lieutenant.”

Simon raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, I’ll happily scrub. I’ve always wanted to experience the horror of Johnny’s cooking firsthand.”

Johnny’s face turned a shade redder, his annoyance evident. “You two are bloody awful, you know that? You’re both on my list for this!” He crossed his arms, glaring at both Simon and Price. Roach, in the background, was laughing hard, clearly enjoying the show.

Simon, however, still wasn’t fazed. As much as possible, he really didn’t want to share. Those pastries were a rare treat—something he’d made with his partner, and in a world full of MREs that tasted like cardboard, those sweets were one of the few things that felt remotely normal. He wasn’t keen on giving them up, not for anything. But if Price pushed him, Simon would fold. After all, he could always make more, but for now, he’d enjoy every last crumb of his stash.

Price huffed, clearly not getting what he wanted. “Alright, Ghost,” he said, uncrossing his arms. “If you’re not gonna share, then I guess I’ll have you do some sit-ups. See how long you last, yeah?”

Simon raised an eyebrow at Price's suggestion. "Sit-ups? You trying to kill me, Price?" He smirked, eyeing the sealed bag of treats. “Tell you what—save me from physical exhaustion, and I’ll give you three pieces.”

Without missing a beat, Simon tore open the bag and handed the sweets over to Price with a resigned, yet amused look. "There you go, Captain. Enjoy the sweets... before I’m forced into a bloody workout."

Price, satisfied with his victory, sauntered back to his seat. He eagerly unwrapped the confectionery, popping a piece into his mouth with a grin. He chewed slowly, clearly enjoying it, savoring the sweetness.

Johnny and Roach, arms crossed, stood off to the side, both narrowing their eyes at their captain with obvious irritation. Johnny's lips were pressed into a thin line, and Roach let out a frustrated huff. They were both seething, but neither dared to make another move.

As they fumed, Gaz strolled back in, having just finished his own share of treats. He quickly glanced around before hastily shoving his stash into his bag, attempting to keep his own little stash under wraps. His eyes flicked nervously between Johnny and Roach, knowing exactly how this game was about to play out. Gaz had learned from experience that whenever food was involved, those two couldn’t resist stirring the pot. Johnny’s temper was always on the edge, and Roach’s humor was sharp enough to keep things uncomfortable. Gaz quickly stashed his treats away, hoping to avoid being the next target of their banter. ----------

As Simon and Price gathered their things, preparing to leave their watch and head back to camp, Simon reached into his vest pocket. With a practiced flick, he unwrapped the last of his pastries, the soft rustling of the paper catching Price’s attention. The Captain narrowed his eyes, studying Simon closely as he popped the treat into his mouth.

“Got any more of those, Ghost?” Price asked, his tone a mixture of curiosity and barely-contained frustration.

Simon looked at the last pastry in his hand, then met Price’s gaze. “Last one, Captain,” he replied, offering a small shrug.

Price groaned, clearly irritated. “Bloody hell, you’ve got me all worked up for nothing.” He didn’t bother hiding his bad mood. Simon could see the shift in him—the tight jaw, the way his brows furrowed. Captain Price in a bad mood was a whole different animal.

Simon chuckled quietly, reaching for the last pastry in his vest pocket before finishing it off. "Tell you what," he said with a grin. "When we get back to camp, you can have the rest of my stash. I’ll just make more for myself when we’re back on home."

Price, still irritated from earlier, gave Simon a side-eye as he followed. "Good," he muttered with a nod, clearly pleased by the promise of more treats.

But when they finally reached camp, they were greeted by chaos.

Johnny and Roach were already at Simon’s stash, both of them hunched over the sealed bag, shoving and laughing like a couple of kids. Their movements were erratic, each one trying to outmaneuver the other in a ridiculous game of who could grab the most. The bag was half-open, with bits of wrappers spilling out onto the ground, and both of them were clearly struggling to keep their hands off the rest of the sweets.

Simon sighed deeply, watching the two fight over the remaining pieces. His arms crossed, looking resigned to the chaos unfolding before him. He had known it was coming.

Price, on the other hand, looked furious. His eyes narrowed, and his jaw tightened as he watched Johnny elbow Roach in the ribs to grab another pastry. “You’ve got to be bloody kidding me,” Price muttered, clearly losing his patience. “How much sugar can two grown men stuff in their faces?”

Johnny let out a triumphant laugh as he held a piece of pastry aloft, dangling it just out of Roach’s reach. "Sorry, Roach, this one’s mine!" he grinned, eyes dancing with mischief.

Roach responded by shoving Johnny to the ground, grabbing the piece, and popping it into his mouth with a self-satisfied smirk. "Told you, mate, this one’s mine now!"

Simon shook his head, arms crossed, watching the ridiculous scene unfold. "And this is why I couldn’t bring more back," he said to Price, a smirk tugging at his lips. "See how they act with it? Can you imagine if I’d brought extra?"

Price didn’t even answer. Instead, his eyes locked onto the mess in front of him, and he marched straight toward Johnny and Roach. Both of them froze when they saw him coming, instantly on high alert. Price reached into the bag and yanked it away from Johnny's grasp, the movement swift and unforgiving.

Johnny and Roach stood there for a moment, completely silent, as Price looked down into the bag. His eyes scanned it quickly before his face twisted into a scowl. There, in the middle of the wrappers, was one lone pastry—no more, nothing else.

Price's jaw clenched. "Are you bloody kidding me?" he growled, his temper flaring. "This is what you’ve left me with?"

Johnny and Roach exchanged nervous glances, suddenly very aware of the storm they’d just unleashed.

Johnny gulped. "Sorry, Captain. We didn’t think—"

“You didn’t think? That’s the bloody problem!” Price cut him off, stepping closer. His voice dropped to a dangerous low.

Roach’s face went pale, and Johnny instinctively took a step back, clearly regretting the situation. The Captain’s bad mood was enough to freeze the air around them, and right now, they were square in the line of fire.

Price didn’t give them a chance to recover. “Now get moving!” he snapped. “Both of you—laps. Around the whole damn camp. I don’t care if it’s a hundred degrees, you’ll run ‘til I say otherwise. And if you stop, I’ll add more.”

Johnny and Roach exchanged worried glances, but neither of them dared to argue. They hurried to start running, the weight of Price’s gaze heavy on their backs.

Simon watched, an amused smile tugging at his lips. He gave Price a sidelong glance, who now looked like a man who’d had a weight lifted off his shoulders, but still clearly pissed off.

Price shook his head, watching Johnny and Roach running their laps around the camp, both of them visibly regretting their decision. The Captain turned his attention to the bag, now completely emptied except for the lone remaining pastry. With a sigh, he unwrapped it, popping it into his mouth with satisfaction, despite the sour mood that still clung to him.

His gaze then shifted to Kyle, who had been standing off to the side, laughing at the commotion. Price raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk. He knew Gaz had a stash of his own.

“Oi, Kyle,” Price called out, his tone casual but commanding. “You got anything hidden away in there?”

Gaz, knowing exactly what was coming, shrugged with a grin. “I might,” he said, reaching into his bag. He didn’t put up a fight, just casually pulled out his own stash of treats and handed it over. "Here, Captain. Take it. Wouldn’t want to end up running laps with Johnny and Roach."

Price took the bag from Gaz without hesitation, nodding in approval. “Good call,” he muttered, already unwrapping a pastry. Gaz wasn’t wrong—they were about to head out in an hour anyway, no point in exhausting himself with the other two.

----------

As the plane touched down on the runway at camp, the familiar hum of the engines winding down as they came to a stop, Simon exhaled in relief. The long deployment was finally over, and home was just ahead.

He made his way off the plane, nodding to his team as they began unloading gear, and headed straight for his 4x4. The familiar surroundings of camp didn’t need to come into view—they were home now.

Pulling into the driveway, Simon got out of the vehicle and made his way inside. The door swung open as he entered, and he could hear the faint clink of pots and pans from the kitchen. His smile stretched as he walked towards the source of the sound.

When he stepped into the kitchen, he didn’t hesitate for a second. He wrapped his partner up in a tight hug, the weight of the past weeks melting away the moment her arms were around him. The comfort of her, the warmth of home—nothing else had ever quite compared.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, cupping her face and pressing a soft kiss to her lips, letting the simple pleasure of being home linger.

“Hey, love,” he said, his voice low, “missed you.”

She smiled up at him, eyes twinkling with affection, before asking with a teasing tone, “How was the deployment? Everything all right? Anything you want adding to the stash, or need more of anything?”

Simon shook his head, shrugging. “Nah, it’s all good. The stash is perfect, love. But…” He paused, a cheeky glint appearing in his eyes. “I could do with something extra next time.”

Her eyebrows arched. “Oh? What’s that?”

He grinned, leaning in a little closer. “You know that ginger candy you make? The one with the proper kick to it?”

“Yeah?” she replied, looking at him curiously. “What about it?”

Simon’s grin widened, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Make sure there’s a bit of that in the stash next time. Just enough to get up Johnny and Roach’s noses when they help themselves. They’ll never know what hit ‘em. A proper surprise.”

She let out a laugh at the thought. “You are evil.”

“Only when it’s deserved, love,” Simon smirked, already picturing the chaos it would cause when Johnny and Roach got a taste of the ginger burn.

A/N: Well, I hope this gave you a good laugh and you enjoyed it in some way! I’m thinking about writing another one-shot for the same Y/N (Which is still You! Lol!)—maybe a continuation, but that depends on if inspiration strikes me again. 😂 Cheers, and thanks for reading!

[waitforyrlove]

the aftermath with slytherin ! matt leaves you conflicted.

PART ONE. PART TWO.

the week after your last encounter with Matt was nothing short of maddening. His presence had always been unnerving, but now it was consuming.

every interaction—every glance across the Great Hall, every smirk thrown your way in the corridors—felt charged. It was as if he’d marked you in some invisible way, and you hated that you couldn’t shake the feeling.

the memory of that night in his dorm, the way his lips had brushed against your skin, lingered far longer than you wanted it to. You replayed it against your will, analyzing every word, every movement, trying to decipher what it meant, if it meant anything at all.

but Matt was infuriatingly unaffected. If anything, he seemed to enjoy watching you squirm.

on Monday morning, you caught him at breakfast, lounging lazily at the Slytherin table, his tie undone and his gaze sharp. When he noticed you looking, he raised an eyebrow and smirked, as if he knew exactly what was on your mind.

by Tuesday, he had escalated to casual teasing. You were in the library, hunched over a Transfiguration essay, when his shadow fell over your desk.

“Still playing it safe, are we?” he murmured, leaning in just close enough to make your breath hitch. “Thought you’d learned how to take risks by now.”

you glared up at him, determined not to let him win this round, “I have. That’s why I’m ignoring you.”

he laughed, low and amused, before plucking the quill from your hand and twirling it between his fingers. “Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.”

and then he was gone, like a light, leaving you fuming and more distracted than ever.

by Wednesday, it was worse. You were on your way to Potions when he appeared beside you as if out of nowhere, his stride matching yours.

“Morning,” he drawled, his voice far too casual for your liking.

you didn’t reply, hoping silence would deter him. It didn’t, it never does.

“Aw, come on,” he teased, leaning in slightly. “Don’t tell me you’re still upset about our little… arrangement.”

“Upset?” you snapped, finally looking at him. “I’m not upset. I just don’t have time for your games.”

his smirk widened, “Oh, but you make time for them anyway, don’t you?”

and you hated how right he was.

by Thursday it was the breaking point. You were sitting in the common room, trying and failing to focus on a Charms assignment, when one of your friends, Anabella, plopped down beside you.

“You’ve been distracted all week,” she said, her tone light but probing. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you lied quickly, avoiding her gaze.

she tilted her head, unconvinced, “Is this about that bet?”

you froze, the memory of the dare flashing through your mind, “No,” you said too quickly.

“Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes. “You were acting weird the moment you got back that night. Did something happen?”

your silence was answer enough.

her eyes widened in realization, and she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper., “Wait… did Matt catch you? What did he do?”

“Nothing,” you said again, though your cheeks betrayed you, heating under her scrutiny.

she smirked, clearly not buying it, “Right. Because Matt is the picture of mercy.”

“Just drop it, okay?”

“Fine,” she said, holding up her hands in mock surrender. But her grin told you she wasn’t done prying.

by Friday, you were at your wit’s end. Every encounter with Matt, every sly comment, every stolen glance, had worn you down. You hated how much space he occupied in your mind, how effortlessly he got under your skin.

but what frustrated you the most was that you couldn’t figure out what he wanted. What game was he playing? And why did it feel like you were already losing?

but you weren’t gonna stay distracted, you need to finish out a essay by tonight, and you still had to sneak at the library.

the castle was eerily quiet at this hour, the stone corridors bathed in pale moonlight streaming through the high, arched windows. You clutched the library book tightly to your chest, your footsteps light on the cold floor as you made your way back to the your common room.

sneaking out for this wasn’t your brightest idea, but the nagging feeling of needing to finish your essay had outweighed the risk.

the quiet comfort of the night was shattered the moment you rounded a corner and nearly collided with someone.

“Careful there,” a familiar, lazy voice drawled.

your heart plummeted, of all the people in this vast castle to run into, it had to be Matt.

he was leaning casually against the wall, his tie undone and his green-and-silver robes hanging off one shoulder. His hair was slightly messy, and his lips were curved into that infuriating smirk that seemed to haunt you.

but there was something different about him tonight—his usually crisp, composed demeanor was frayed, and his expression carried a smugness that made your stomach twist.

“Out for a midnight stroll?” he asked, his tone dripping with mockery. His eyes flicked to the book in your hands, but he didn’t linger there. No, his gaze raked over you, sharp and piercing.

you straightened your shoulders, trying to hide the flutter of nerves his presence always seemed to spark. “I could ask you the same thing,” you shot back, though your voice wasn’t as steady as you’d hoped. “What are you doing out this late?”

His smirk deepened, and he took a slow step toward you, “I’ve been busy.”

the way he said it, the way his voice dipped, made your breath hitch. There was no mistaking his meaning.

you suddenly noticed the faint trace of lipstick smudged on the collar of his shirt, the hickies im his neck, the slightly disheveled state of his clothes, and the air of satisfaction radiating off him.

your stomach churned, you didn’t want to think about what—or who—he’d been doing. But the thought planted itself firmly in your mind.

“Busy,” you repeated flatly, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “With what? Being an insufferable rat?”

his laugh was low and warm, but there was something dark in it, “You’re jealous, and y’ know yourself that and you don’t have the ability to hide it.”

“Jealous?” you scoffed, your cheeks burning. “Of what? Whatever poor girl had to discover how bad you are at fucking someone?”

Matt tilted his head, his smirk softening into something more dangerous, more intimate, “Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart, I think you are just waiting for your turn.”

your breath caught in your throat. You hated the way he could unravel you with a single look, a single word. It wasn’t fair. He had you wrapped around his finger, and you weren’t even sure when it had happened.

“Anyway,” he continued, brushing past you so close that his shoulder grazed yours. “Don’t let me stop you from sneaking back to your dorm, unless…” He paused, glancing over his shoulder, his eyes glinting in the low light. “You’d rather join me for a proper distraction.”

your pulse spiked, a mix of indignation and something you didn’t want to name flaring in your chest. You spun around to face him, your grip tightening on the book. “I think I’ll pass.”

the brunette chuckled, the sound low, as though he knew something you didn’t. “Suit yourself. But if you keep crossing my path like this, we might just have to start calling it fate.”

“More like bad luck,” you snapped, your voice sharper than you intended. But it only seemed to amuse him further

he gave you one last lingering look, his smirk firmly in place, before turning and walking away, his figure disappearing into the shadows of the corridor.

you stood there for a long moment, your heart still racing. As much as you hated to admit it, his presence had a way of getting under your skin. You hated the smugness, the teasing, the games—and yet you couldn’t deny the strange, inexplicable pull he had on you.

with a frustrated sigh, you turned and continued your way back to the your common room, but no matter how far you walked, the echo of his words lingered in your mind.

fate, that’s what he called it.

© waitforyrlove. all rights deserved. do not copy my works. or modify my work.

˙ . ꒷ 🪽 notes from author ˙— send reqs about him pleasee :)

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[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 63

ao3 link| part 1 . . . part 60, part 61, part 62

this takes place after part 44

The water is cold around his calves. On that stretch of skin that keeps dipping in and out of the water. Not deciding whether or not it’s just best to jump in or stay on the land.

This is probably the deepest Steve’s been in pool since Barb died. Every time he tried before, he never made it past his ankles. The water stung too much with regret. The feeling that he failed, the wrongness of knowing that this was someone’s final resting place.

He let the kids use it. Took care of it. Made it look like everything else in this house, perfect. But to Steve, to Nancy, this water would be better off drained. That way it wouldn’t be a reminder of that night.

When he came outside, he didn’t know why. Just that the moonlight reflecting off the water was taunting him. Danced across his bedroom ceiling. Reminded him of the truth that rested within him. The truth that everyone can see.

Eddie saw it. Read him like a book and threw it back to him. It hurt more than Steve thought it would when Eddie figured it out, the rotten secret of him. That when the crown got ripped from his skull, there’s nothing else of worth left to keep. It’s something Steve’s known all his life. If the crown were still in his grasp, he’d cling to it like his last lifeline.

The water was a fitting reminder of that. No matter how hard Steve tried, he couldn’t find someone that he was enough for. They all eventually ran from him, turned on him. Left him alone. It was here, in this water, that the most meaningful romantic relationship in his life broke before it ever properly began. Nancy never forgave them for abandoning Barb that night. Steve was too busy trying to forget enough to be able to sleep at night to be there for her. He loved her, she didn’t love him. He was bullshit.

Love was bullshit. It was stupid, and reckless, and just left him hurt in the end. And for the first time, it really felt like Steve was building something again. Eddie was hurting, and he knew that. It’s why he didn’t stop him. Just let him keep yelling, saying insults that Steve’s heard before. None of it stung, because he knew the reason.

But then the house was put up for sale, his paycheck was eaten up by the rent his dad was still making him pay, and he was left vulnerable.

Those words left Eddie’s lips and proved Steve right. This was going to end just like the others.

The door slides open and shut behind him, the sound of crutches approaching him.

“Would I be too much of an asshole to ask you to help me sit down?” Eddie joked, but it came out wrong. The levity refusing breaking through.

Steve stayed quiet, looking down at his hands. He didn’t know what to say.

“I’m going to take that as a yes. Give me a second.”

Eddie backs up, setting down one of his crutches behind Steve, using the other one for stability as he bends to the ground. Getting into a sitting position before scooting forward to the edge of the pool. He takes off his shoes, and dips his feet into the water, and waits.

If he thinks Steve is going to say something, he’s wrong. Steve said what he needed to, more would come in time. He’s angry at himself more than anything. For letting himself open up to someone and give them just the right ammo to kill him. For thinking it would be different this time.

After a few minutes of silence, just the sounds of the bugs and the water, Eddie starts to speak.

“I’ve spent the past hour trying to figure out what I can do to make what I said go away, and I can’t. Normal apologies won’t cut it, not with you. Not with how I just hurt you. And I’m not sure if you’ll believe me when I tell you I didn’t mean it. That I think it’s wrong. But it is, and I believe that. What I said was out of pain so bad it clouded any solid train of thought I had, it doesn’t mean I believe it.”

What’s worse, is Steve does believe him. The small spark that he holds tight in his chest ignites. Hope rippling through his body. Foolish hope. He believes that Eddie didn’t mean it. Simply because he wants to believe it too.

“You just,” Eddie continues. Steve glances over at him, seeing how Eddie stares off in the distance. The water reflecting in his eyes. “You keep surprising me, Steve. You haven’t stopped. I had this image of you in my mind, and every time I rewrite it, you do something that makes me rewrite it again. And each version is so much better than the last. You are so much more than anyone ever gives you credit for, and I hate that I made you think that you’re not.”

Eddie looks at Steve, and for the first time, the words aren’t betrayed by the look in someone’s eyes. For the first time, Steve believes them.

He turns. “Barb Holland died right over there,” he points to the diving board. “While me and Nancy were in my room. I had thrown this party that night, invited her. It was really just Tommy and Carol, but I wanted to impress her. She brought Barb, her best friend, and we were too wrapped up in each other to make sure she got home.”

Eddie is listening to him closely, looking at Steve with something he can’t comprehend. That look in his eyes, that affection, it isn’t earned. It feels so wrong to try to keep but so right to have.

“Right before we broke up, Nancy told me that our whole relationship was bullshit. That she didn’t love me. She was drunk, but I think she meant it, even if she didn’t realize it. She never forgave herself for what happened to Barb, never forgave me. It was going to end eventually; I just didn’t think it was going to like that. I was bullshit.”

It’s what kept ringing through his mind when Eddie said that he was never good enough for anyone to stay. Bullshit. That damned word swirling around every example his mind pulled to prove Eddie right.

Now that the pain starts to subside, he can see the ways that people show him it’s not true. How Robin, even when she had every chance to leave, stayed around. Trusted him enough to tell him her secret, and trusted him enough to know that it didn’t matter to him. He loved her for her. She was the best friend he’s ever had.

Dustin looked up to him for a reason he didn’t understand. He worked a shitty retail jobs while trying to figure out what to do with his life. Didn’t go to college, probably never will. When Dustin had so much promise it was crazy. But he still looked up to Steve. Cared more about him than he ever knew.

Then there was Eddie. Who looked at him like he had nothing to prove. Didn’t make Steve justify why he was different, why he changed. Saw it and accepted it as truth. He didn’t make Steve feel stupid for not getting references, or for taking an extra step to get to the conclusion.

“I’m scared someone’s going to look at me again and tell me that she was right,” he finishes.

“You’re not bullshit, Steve. You’re like the furthest thing from it.”

Even now, he’s trying to make Steve feel better. He’s in pain and is trying to make Steve feel better. He can disguise it as an apology for what he said, but this was deeper than that. It was so much deeper than that to Steve.

What Steve felt for Eddie, without even trying, was deeper than anything he’s felt in a long time. He hasn’t felt like this since Nancy, but it was totally different this time. He wanted to run from it, wanted to pretend it didn’t exist, but he couldn’t.

It was the most terrified Steve had been in a long time.

“You’re like,” Eddie smiles, “one of the most caring people I’ve ever met. And you’re brave as hell, strong, courageous. Kinda really funny and fun to be around.” He gets really close to Steve, practically leaning on him.

Steve pushes him away with his shoulder, the tension leaving his shoulders. A smile coming back. “Shut up, man.”

“What,” Eddie exclaims. “It’s true. I see it, Robin sees it, the kids see it. I’m sure if you asked Nancy now, she’ll tell you that.”

“Yeah, ok, sure.”

Eddie leans close again. The warmth making Steve’s heart beat loud in his chest. “I’m right and you know it. You’re a total catch, man. Anyone would be lucky to get to date you.”

“Ok, I’m not that great of a boyfriend, you haven’t seen that.”

“Don’t need to, I just know. I’m not sure why you’re so terrified, someone has to see that. Hell, I’m not sure how anyone ever let you get away. I know if I ever got the chance, I’d—"

Eddie lets the sentence trail off, his tongue traveling faster than his brain, but Steve doesn’t let him regret it. Instead, Steve does something reckless. Reaching out his hand and pulls him closer before he has the thought to back away.

He didn’t have to do much, they were practically this close anyway. Still, his muscles tense with that anticipation he knows so well. That feeling that rushes through his veins only encourages him. The motions he’s done so many times before.

But really, if someone were to ask him later, he had no idea what he was doing.

Eddie stills when their lips meet, taken by surprise. Steve almost pulls away before he feels him press back. Hand coming up to grip his arm, keeping him still. Keeping them in that moment, just a bit longer.

“That’s why I’m terrified,” Steve says when they break. Eyes flicking up to meet Eddie’s. The intensity held in them burning right through him. “When you said that in the kitchen, I thought it was the same thing again.”

Eddie blinks. Keeping Steve’s gaze. “It wasn’t. It was the opposite really. I was trying to push you away before you got the chance to leave.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want to burden you.”

Steve shakes his head. “You can’t burden me. You’re not burdening me. We all have our own baggage, the things we have to deal with. I know that. I care about it because I care about you, but not because it’s burdening me.”

Silence fills again. The two of them trapped in this moment, in this gaze. It’s so heavy, meaningful, real. Steve wants to drown in it. Fall so far deep into it he can never get back out.

“Eddie,” his voice breaks off. The intensity of what he’s about to say makes the words get lodged in his throat. He breaks the gaze, just so he can be brave enough to say it. “I haven’t felt this way about someone in a long time.”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever felt this way about someone before,” Eddie adds his confession. He can hear the hesitancy to say it. Just as afraid as Steve is.

Eddie’s hand comes up and rests on his neck, slides back into his hair. So easily bringing him in again. Kissing him like it will all break the moment it’s over. With such care and delicacy, it makes Steve feel like he’s worth it. That his fears, his hope, are mirrored back at him.

It doesn’t feel risky anymore. It feels carefully curated the way a famous painting is. Meticulously planned and cared for. Loved. Everything falling into place that as it should, nothing standing out to take perfection away. The ending exactly as it was meant to.

It feels right. The voices in Steve’s head silenced, letting the excited hum take over. Because, despite all the nervous fear, in this moment, Steve was excited.

i can't believe there's only one more part of this fic, what am I supposed to do when this is done?

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[revelations-mp3]

I keep making the mistake of thinking that if anyone would understand it would be my mother. But she really doesn’t and it makes me feel sad and stupid . But also if she did understand then maybe I would have gotten help a long time ago so idk

[rosicheeks]

oh yes you were at court! i forgot that was at the start of that post lmao. i've been to court twice when i was super young for drinking underage and then smoking lool it was so boring and long and shit but thankfully you were just there for moral support, i hope it wasen't such a bad thing your friend had to deal with! I remember seeing you post about moving but i forget if it was TO or AWAY from your parents but that clears it up. I totally get you on that though, i'm living at home right now and i feel kind of similar about not feeling comfortable in your own home. Its a bit different for me, but similar enough. Hell my stepdad even sleeps in the living room too! hes always done that so ive always felt like i had to be on eggshells when night time hit. I used to sneak smoking in the backyard back in the day myself, i got caught once when i was in highschool he made me throw all my pieces out which sucked big time. ahhh i love that, art! you should totally show more stuff on here too, at least if you're comfortable and its not stuff you'd wanna sell, i would absolutely love to see any of it 🖤i've dabbled in writing poems and things i planned to make songs, although only recently. I've always wanted to be a musician but my attempts at learning guitar over the years have never ended up lasting long and i try to learn singing but i just dont really think i can. plus i was always afraid of self expression so i never wrote until a few years ago. i still do, because music is so important to me (which is why i did pick 🎤!) and it makes me so happy but yeah. i have 2 shows im headed to in a few months even so im so excited 🥰my day though has been so boring, i mostly played video games and watched youtube videos. watched another episode of a show i've been watching called Silo, which i absolutely love. im so surprised you had room in your tags still after myself lmao, but i do that same thing i always talk in the tags! also i'm giving you tons of hugs and kisses 😘🥰 - 🎤

Hi hi hi ☺️ how are you doing lovely? 🥰

[illusioninfnty]

"it's a scream, baby!" ↠ day 15 ; keeping quiet

↠ billy loomis x reader x stu macher

fandom: scream word count: 3.9k warnings: nsfw 18+, gf!billy and stu, DUBCON, semi-public sex, homoerotic undertones, mentions of gore, cheating, degradation, dirty talk, thigh fucking, double penetration, knife play if you squint, gagging, unprotected sex, creampies, cumplay, cum eating, fingering, my stu bias definitely shows sorry guys

kinktober m.list || read on ao3

You weren’t really much of a party person, and all of your friends were aware of that. It was why none of them gave much resistance to the idea of you slipping away.

Stu’s house was insanely crowded, more than his usual parties. It was obviously because of the recent killing spree by the mysterious masked killer who had yet to be caught. Your general anxiety in loud spaces mixed with that of the unknown killer running around had you even more paranoid.

“Be careful!” Sidney calls out and Tatum waves as you make your way up the staircase. You send a small smile back as you weave your way through drunk teenagers stumbling all around, looking for more drinks.

You’ve been in Stu’s house plenty of times, having been friends with him for years at this point. You make a beeline straight for his bedroom, hoping that no one was in there hooking up so you could have a quiet place to decompress. 

You knock loudly on his door, pressing your ear against it as the loud music and teens make it hard to hear inside. There’s no answer to your knowledge, and you slowly peek your head in.

No one is in the room, and you breathe a sigh of relief. You shut the door behind you and plop down on Stu’s bed, laying yourself out in a heap of exhaustion.

A bang from somewhere inside the room startles you, making you jump up from your seat. You notice that Stu’s closet door is slightly ajar, and figure that something inside fell down. You make your way over, the closet creaking as you open it.

A gasp leaves your lips and you step back after seeing what it was that fell.

It was one of the ghostface masks. 

You slowly back away, eyes wide in disbelief with what you were seeing. No. It wasn’t possible, right? Stu couldn’t have been the killer; it made no sense. You bend down and cautiously pick up the mask.

It looks like your average store-bought cheap costume accessory. You inspect it closer, but bring a hand up to your mouth and almost drop the mask when you see what’s stained on it.

Small flecks of blood, all spattered across the edges.

The sound of the door creaking has you throwing the mask back into the closet and slamming the door, chest heaving as you pretend as though you weren’t searching through it.

In walks Stu, his trademark grin spread wide across his face. 

“Now what are you doing in here?” he teases suggestively and wiggles his eyebrows. He closes the door and leans against it.

But clearly you’re not very good at hiding your emotions, because the smile instantly drops from Stu’s face. “Have you been…snooping in my things?”

You bite your lip and can feel your heart drop in your chest. “What? No! I just came in here to rest.” Your voice sounds incredibly shaking and you know there’s no way he’s buying it.

Stu’s eyes narrow, and he stalks closer to you. You back away in return, but his long strides make it difficult to put distance between the two of you. “I think you’re lying to me.”

He utters out your name in a warning tone. At this point, you know, he knows you know, and you know he knows you know that he’s the Ghostface killer. You make a feeble attempt to duck past Stu and make a run for it, but he grabs your arm and pulls you against his chest, completely restraining you.

You try your best at escaping. You pound on his chest, wiggle in his grip, and even try biting him. That fails miserably and Stu slaps his large palm against your mouth, preventing you from screaming for help.

He drags you over to the bed, and you start to kick your heels against his legs. You aren’t sure what he’s capable of anymore. Is this the moment you die? Is Stu going to kill you? You let out a choked sob underneath his palm, clawing at his hand but to no avail.

You push back against him with all of the force of your body, yet Stu remains solid. “Be quiet,” he mutters in your ear. 

And then you feel it. On your backside, you can feel Stu getting hard. You whimper in fear, and your body goes limp. But he clearly notices that you could feel it, and he chuckles darkly.

“Got me excited with all that struggling, babe.” He shamelessly rubs himself against you, his erection fully hard beneath his pants now.

Despite the terror that you feel in that moment, you couldn’t help but moan silently.

You would be lying if you said you never thought of hooking up with your friend. Stu was hot, he was funny, and if Tatum was a reliable source, he also had a huge dick.

If fucking Stu could save you from death, you would gladly let him use you however he wished.

You quickly concoct a plan in your head—a lame one, but a plan—to seduce Stu in an attempt to hopefully convince him not to kill you afterwards.

Before you can even attempt to put your plan into action, the bedroom door creaks open. “Shit,” you hear Stu mutter under his breath. Both you and him turn together, and in walks Billy, sauntering as he usually does.

He pauses and raises an eyebrow as he surveys the position you and Stu are in.

“Did I interrupt something?” Billy smirks, his eyes going dark. You look up through your eyelashes at Stu, who presses you closer to him, as if warning you not to signal for help. He shakes his head at Billy.

“She knows, man.”

Your body goes completely rigid in Stu’s grip. A chill runs down your spine.

Billy was involved in this Ghostface shit too? Well, that actually surprised you less than Stu. Billy was kind of a horror junkie in secret, even rivaling Randy, and he always had this strange look in his eye whenever he thought no one was looking.

His eyes narrow and his jaw clenches. “Oh?” 

The tone in his voice is sinister, much different than what you’ve heard from him before.

He strides over, pulling out a knife from his pocket and holding it out towards you.

You shriek, but it comes out all muffled. You try to tilt your head away from where Billy points the knife to your chin, but Stu keeps his hand solid, forcing your head forward.

He clicks his tongue at you, teasing you for your failed attempts to escape.

“I really didn’t want to kill you now, sweetheart, but I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

Tears gather in your eyes, threatening to fall. You still helplessly struggle against Stu’s grip, choking back sobs. You so desperately want Stu to release his hand, want to beg the two of them to keep you alive. You’re two seconds away from sounding like you belong in a bad porno that the boys rent from the video store where the woman says please! I’ll do anything!

But you don’t need to do any of that. Because before Billy starts slicing and dicing and stabbing at you, he backs away and looks Stu up and down. He then barks out a laugh.

“What, did chasing her around get you all stiff?”

Stu grins cheekily and grinds his erection up against your butt. You let out a surprised moan under his palm, grabbing onto his forearm. “You know I’ve always wanted to fuck her, man.”

Billy eyes shift between you and Stu, before pausing on you. A smirk slowly grows across his features until it morphs into a toothy grin. You can see the way his cock begins to twitch in his jeans and your heart sinks into your stomach.

“I’m not going to let you fuck her alone tonight.”

As if Stu was waiting this whole time for Billy’s approval, the hand that was restricting your mouth moves off and down to his jeans. Before you can even think about opening your mouth, Billy brings the knife back up your face, right under your chin forcing you to keep your mouth closed and head tilted up to meet his eyes.

“If you say a word I’ll cut your throat open and stick my cock in it.” He imitates the motion of slicing the knife across your throat. 

You swallow harshly and can’t control the way you tremble under Stu’s hold. But the depraved part of you has your core throbbing, at the carnal lust that fills his eyes, so desperately wanting them both to get to fucking you sooner rather than later. 

Scoffing in his face, you try your best to put up a calm front. “Are you guys all bark and no bite? All I hear is talking but no action.”

“Oh you’ll be getting action soon, baby.” You can feel Stu’s erect cock rubbing against your backside and the way that his arousal stains your shirt. His hand holds it at the base as he guides it between your legs, slowly fucking you between your thighs. You look down to see the bulging red tip of his cock leaking beads of precum as it penetrates the plush skin of your legs with every thrust.

Billy takes his knife and slices your skirt right down the middle, the two pieces falling to shreds at your feet.

“Yeah, there it is!” Stu yells as his long fingers poke and prod at your pussy through your underwear until it soaks the fabric through. “All nice and wet for us now.”

He moves the material to the side of your puffy lips and without so much as a warning sticks his cock right inside.

“Oh fuck,” you moan out as quietly as you can with the intense pleasure. It slides in easily with how wet you’ve gotten over the past couple of minutes. You arch your back into Stu as his long cock bullies its way inside of you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

Stu begins thrusting immediately, the sounds of your skin slapping together being the loudest thing in the room.

“Such a dirty little slut,” Stu’s voice teases, laughter evident in his tone. His arm around your waist holds you up as he pounds into you at lightning speed, bouncing you up and down his cock. Your feet lift off the ground ever-so-slightly as he pulls you up. “But I guess I’m kind of a slut to. Always wanted to fuck you like this.”

Through your lust-filled haze, you can see Billy stroking himself through his boxers, jeans already unzipped and pulled down. He stares at both you and Stu and where the two of you connect. 

“You gonna join man?” Stu lifts you up under your thighs. The action lifts your feet up in the air and exposes your pussy directly in Billy’s line of view. Stu pulls his cock out enough so just the head remains inside, and starts fingering around your lips.

You gasp at the sensation, your arms gripping his own and your walls clenching down desperately onto him. Stu’s fingers make a v shape and pull your lips open wide. “There’s plenty of room for you in here.” 

“N-no!” You sob out, clawing at Stu and kicking your legs. The implication is not subtle at all, and the fear has you clenching even tighter onto him. There was no way that you could fit both of them in your pussy. Stu’s cock is already thick and fills you completely; you don’t think you could take another one without breaking.

Billy continues to palm himself above his underwear, the head of his cock poking out from the elastic band. “Fuck yeah, now your speaking my language!”

“No! Billy!” You shake your head wildly, tears threatening to fall from your swollen eyes. “Stop! It won’t fit!”

He rolls his eyes and takes his hard cock out of his boxers, pumping it with a few solid strokes. “Stop complaining.” 

“He’ll make it fit,” Stu giggles from behind you.

A strangled sound leaves your lips, a mix between a choke and a sob. You’re powerless in Stu’s hold as he moves your limbs every which way he pleases. He never lets up in his thrusts, his stamina completely insatiable, and it doesn’t feel like he’s stopping any time soon.

You have no choice but to lay helpless as Billy guides his cock into your wet hole, pushing against Stu’s. The stretch from the two of their massive lengths is painful, and you bite the outside of your hand as an attempt to soften your cries.

“Fuck,” Billy moans, slotting himself fully inside of you. His eyes squeeze shut and his head is thrown back in pleasure. Your hands press against his chest to stabilize yourself. 

Your eyes roll back as you start moaning audibly, his cock stuffing you full alongside Stu’s. 

“None of that.” Billy slaps a hand over your mouth and digs his fingers into your cheek. “If any one of those sleazebags outside hears those moans I’ll have to kill them and fuck you over their dead body.”

His voice is deep, gravely, and completely serious—you believe him in his entirety. You nod rapidly under his hold. You don’t want the death of anyone to be on your hands, no matter how annoying they are.

“Good. Now stay quiet.”

Billy and Stu take turns fucking themselves up into you. They give you any chance for a break, when one pulls their length almost completely out, the other shoves it in. They take turns pounding themselves into you. Your walls clench hard around them, being stretched to the brim. It takes all your power not to cry out from the pain and pleasure, but the fear from Billy’s unpredictably overpowers all other emotions. 

Billy seems to be caught up in the haze of his own arousal, fingers digging in the skin of your hips as he thrusts his cock in and out of you rhythmically. He groans. “Forgot what it’s like to fuck a tight, wet hole. Sidney still hasn’t put out yet.”

Your body instantly freezes at Billy’s words. In the midst of all the chaos that involved finding out that two of your friends were active serial killers, both of them have been wanting to fuck you, and both of them actually proceeding to fuck you, you were ashamed to admit that you completely forgot about your the rest of your friends downstairs. Sidney and Tatum, two of your closest friends, were partying just below you and were blissfully unaware that you were in fact not resting from the partying, but instead getting your hole absolutely destroyed by their boyfriends just a couple hundred feet away.

The reality of your situation comes back to you and the dread starts to sink in. Instinctively, you begin thrashing your body all around, causing as much commotion as you can. Your nails end up scratching Stu on his arm. “Ow!” he whines out, but it’s a cross between a whimper and a turned on moan. He bites your neck in retaliation. “I like ‘em feisty, you know. Really gets my dick goin’.”

Billy, on the other hand, doesn’t take your failed act of defiance so lightly. His hand reaches up and squeezes your cheeks as he pulls your face close to him, not letting up with the pistoning of his hips.

“Not. A. Word.” Every syllable is spoken individually, heavily gritted out through clenched teeth. At that moment, an array of muffled voices is heard right outside the bedroom door. Billy and you turn to the source of the noise at the same time. Billy turns back to you first. “You know what happens if they walk in,” he trails off darkly, and out of the corner of your eye you can see the glint of his knife as it rests on the side table, within an arm's reach from him. If he wanted to, he could easily slip himself out of you and kill the unsuspecting partygoers within mere seconds.

He buries himself back inside of you as you say that, the two of their cocks fighting for their spots inside of your restrictive walls. Billy and Stu moan in unison at the feeling, both of you gripping onto them and the way they feel pressed up against each other.

As hopeless as your situation may seem in the end, you try to make due with what you have and not let the guilt consume you. There’s nothing you can do about it now unless you want multiple people to wind up dead. It’s fairly easy to erase your mind of anything other than the two guys currently surrounding you, whose relentless thrusts make your vision go white and limbs go numb.

Stu attaches himself onto your neck, no doubt leaving a trail of hickeys that’ll last for days. You lean your head back into him, giving him more access to the area. His long tongue licks all around the area, sending shivers down your spine.

His mouth eventually makes its way up to your own and Stu covers it, kissing you with great fervor. His tongue slides into your mouth, swirling it around with your own tongue. The kiss is sloppy and uncoordinated, but it feels perfectly like him. It’s intimate as he massages your tongue and brings his hand up to cup your jaw. In that single moment, you can pretend like your new revelation didn’t exist and that this is just a sensual moment between you and your friend, who’s kissing you like his life depends on it.

But that’s not the case, as Billy brings you back to reality once again. He spanks your ass which has you gasping into Stu’s mouth and your eyes opening wide.

Spit dribbles out the side of your mouth as Stu finally lets up, moaning into your jaw. He gives your neck a big kiss before sucking another hickey into it. “I can be romantic sometimes,” he whispers teasingly into your ear, causing you to shiver.

Billy and Stu pound into you, even harder than before if possible, their hips snapping up against your body.

You know that your orgasm is fast approaching, the various simulations making you feel desperate for a release.

“Please, please, please, please,” your voice is hoarse as you whisper out in a breathy tone to keep as quiet as possible.

“Yeah? You want our cum inside of you?” Billy coaxes you, but you can tell that he’s just as close to reaching his peak as you are given the uneven rhythm of his ruts, pushing slightly against the pattern he had set with Stu.

You nod your head as much as you can, your vision going blurry with the speed you move it. You can feel Billy’s cock throb furiously in you and it's enough to make you reach your own orgasm before him, clapping a hand over your mouth as to not alert your presence to anyone outside.

Billy’s orgasm follows your own soon after, with a strangled moan leaving his lips as his hot cum releases all inside you. The mix of your two juices allows for easier movement within your walls, and after he’s done climaxing Billy slides out of you with ease.

But Stu is nowhere near stopping.

With the result of your’s and Billy’s releases aiding him, Stu ruts himself even further into you. He manhandles you so that instead of your previous position of being twisted in the air as Stu stands behind you, he throws you down on top of the bed and climbs on top of you, humping into you from behind with a newfound vigor.

“Finally get you to myself for a bit,” Stu grits out of his teeth as his hips piston at an immeasurable speed.

You can’t speak at this point, completely cockdrunk from the brunt of the thrusts you’re taking. Stu’s broad body completely engulfs your form as he pounds you into the bedsheets. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, and your tongue lolls out of your mouth, only low whimpers and droll being produced from it.

You can hear the squelching of your pussy, the result of Billy’s cum and your juices, as Stu pounds his cock as far as it reaches. You can feel the release escape the sides of your pussy lips with the brunt of Stu’s thrusts and you can’t help but whine softly as some of the warmth and fullness from the cum leaves your body.

Stu’s hand runs through your hair until he grabs it at the base. He pushes your head down completely into the bed, using much more pressure than what was needed. The force of it causes your ass to arch further into him as he presses his front fully against your back, curving his form as if morphing to the shape of your hunched and fucked out form.

“Now that’s a nice view,” he groans out, one hand at the root of your hair and the other pawing at your ass.

Animalistic grunts leave Stu’s mouth and you can feel as he reaches the cusp of his orgasm. Curses leave his lips as he finally cums, pushing himself inside you as deep as he can and hitting parts never reached before. You can feel the jets of his hot release inside of you as it comes out in huge, thick spurts.

When Stu finally leaves your walls, the mix of all three of your orgasms comes flowing out, making you moan at the loss of the fullness from all three of you.

“C’mon now, push it all outta you,” Billy’s voice calls out from across the room, speaking up from his previous silent observer role as he recovered from his own peak.

You obey, squeezing as much as you can with your weak body. You can feel globs of cum escape your entrance, cooling as it runs down your thighs and onto the sheets below you.

You flinch as you feel Stu’s fingers scoop some out of you, and the smacking of his lips indicates he tasted it. You moan, only able to picture what the scene looks like.

“Oh? You want some?” Stu’s fingers hastily appear in front of you. The fingers from his other hand pull your mouth open and he shoves the cum covered ones inside, making you gag instantly. He rams them in and out of your mouth, barely giving you any time to properly suck on the cum. Flecks of the fluid fly out of your mouth along with your own saliva. Tears fall without a warning, your gag reflex working overtime.

Stu’s fingers fuck your mouth until all of the cum is virtually gone from them. When he finally pulls them out, your body completely collapses. It trembles furiously from all the overstimulation, unable to hold itself up.

Stu gives you a big wet kiss on your cheek and slaps his now-limp cock onto your bare ass. You can only whimper in response, your body too heavy to move any part of it right now. Your vision is blurry, but through it you manage to make out Billy, with his sweaty complexion and rumpled clothes back on his body, talking down to you.

“You stay put until we can get everyone to piss off. We’ll be back for round two.”

[aerialmirrorss]

𝐧 𝐨 𝐛 𝐨 𝐝 𝐲 𝐠 𝐞 𝐭 𝐬 𝐦 𝐞 ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆ rafe cameron

playing: 𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐦𝐞 by sza 𝜗𝜚˚｡˚ ⋆

synopsis! a kickback on the beach involving both kooks and pogues turns ugly after rafe sees jj maybank talking sweetly in your ear..

paring: rafe cameron x pogue!reader

warnings: friends? with benefits , angst , mentions of underage drinking , violence (fist fighting) , toxic!rafe , sexual content + rough unprotected car sex! , choking , fingering , mature , 18+ (minors dni!)

word count: 6.7k

notes: thinking about making this into a series but it just depends on how we all like it so lmk!

chapter two: 𝐰 𝐢 𝐥 𝐝 𝐟 𝐥 𝐨 𝐰 𝐞 𝐫 ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆

chapter three: 𝐜 𝐚 𝐬 𝐮 𝐚 𝐥 ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆

⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆

“you’re a fucking idiot,” kie says through a burst of laughter, watching jj attempt to shotgun two beers at once. instead of drinking, most of the beer spills straight onto the sand, leaving him grinning like it was all part of the plan.

a soft giggle slips past your lips as jj smashes the crushed cans together dramatically, then thumps his chest like he just pulled off something incredible—even though he couldn’t have failed more miserably.

you shake your head, pointing at the two crushed cans lying in the sand. “don’t give him any more if he’s gonna pull shit like that!” you say, half-serious, half-amused.

jj’s grin fades into a mock frown, his brows furrowing as he throws his hands up dramatically. “what? i was just getting started!” he protests, though the beer-soaked sand beneath him says otherwise.

you roll your eyes, ready to fire back at jj, when the vibration of your phone in your hand distracts you. the name on the screen makes your stomach flip, and you bite down on your bottom lip, fighting to keep a smile from slipping out where your friends could see.

kook devil: wya?

you: beach kickback on the cut

kook devil: omw

this time, the smile wins. you glance down at the screen, the corners of your lips tugging upward despite yourself. it wasn’t the first time rafe cameron had texted you late at night, asking where you were. but no one else knew that. and you weren’t about to admit it to anyone—especially not to your friends.

friends who hated kooks with a passion. and everything, and everyone, that came with them.

“what are you smiling at?” sarah asks, her voice light but laced with curiosity, as she and john b stroll over, his arm draped casually over her shoulders. her amused grin only makes you more nervous.

you lock your phone instantly, still smiling but scrambling for an excuse. “my package just got delivered,” you say quickly, trying to sound nonchalant.

sarah hums in response, the suspicion in her tone subtle but enough to make your stomach tighten. you don’t notice, too busy avoiding eye contact and silently thanking the chaos that erupts when jj and pope start arguing about something ridiculous, as usual.

you knew what you were doing was wrong. so wrong, especially to sarah. if she ever found out you and rafe were hooking up behind everyone’s backs, she’d lose it. they all would. and not just because he’s a kook.

it’s because he’s rafe fucking cameron.

it was kind of a blur how it all started with rafe. you remember being at a party—not sure if it was here on the beach or in figure 8—but of course, he was there, lingering in the crowd. all night, his eyes kept finding yours, holding your gaze just a little too long.

a couple of tequila shots later, you found yourself in his truck, attempting to ride him as he fucked you senseless, leaving you a trembling mess of moans and breathless curses.

ever since that night, you’d fallen into a rhythm—friends with benefits, if you could even call it that. except you weren’t friends. not even close.

you and rafe both knew the deal—just sex, no strings attached. it was made clear the second time you hooked up. after somehow getting your number, rafe texted you at 1 a.m. asking to meet. if it had been anyone else, you would’ve said no without a second thought. but rafe cameron always gets what he wants.

afterward, it was rafe who spelled it out: just sex, nothing more. and you agreed, even though the words stung more than you cared to admit. you told yourself you were fine with it, hoping that maybe, just maybe, if you played along long enough, he’d change his mind.

except he hasn’t.

and what really reeled you in was just the other day, you spotted him on the golf course with stacy thornton, topper’s cousin of all people. and of course he knew you’d see him—you work the country club as a bev girl. how could you not?

still, you swallowed the lump in your throat, pretending not to care even as your chest tightened. you quietly asked a coworker to handle his table, murmuring something about being swamped, and then buried yourself in busywork to avoid the sting of watching him laugh with her.

since that day, he hasn’t called or texted. not a word. until tonight.

because surely, stacy was busy.

“yo, y/n! come shotgun a beer with us!” kie and sarah call out, snapping you out of your thoughts. you force a small smile, pushing everything about rafe to the back of your mind as you stand up from the driftwood branch you’d been perched on. joining your girls, you grab a beer and do your best to play along.

as the night rolls on, the beach fills up with more people—kooks, pogues, and everyone in between. the music gets louder, and the air becomes a chaotic mix of laughter, shouting, and waves crashing in the background. drunk teenagers stagger through the sand, passing bottles and shots around, but so far, there haven’t been any issues. yet.

but you know how these nights go. when kooks and pogues show up to the same party, trouble is inevitable. it’s only a matter of time before someone says or does something to spark it. like clockwork.

bright headlights pierce through the darkness, momentarily blinding you as a familiar truck pulls onto the beach. your stomach tightens at the sight, but you force yourself to stay calm, laughing along with your friends as if you hadn’t noticed. even as the kooks around you start murmuring and shouting, announcing rafe’s arrival, you keep your eyes anywhere but on him.

your gaze flicks to sarah, catching the way her jaw tightens when she sees her older brother greeting her old friends with effortless charm. the tension is palpable. it’s no secret that sarah and rafe are far from good terms, and the thought of what she’d do if she ever found out about you and him is enough to make your chest ache. she’d hate you—no question about it.

and you didn’t want that. not now, not ever. so tonight, with enough liquid courage coursing through your veins, you’d finally do it. you’d end whatever this thing was with rafe. it was time. it had to be.

“hey, sweetheart,” jj slurs, suddenly draping an arm over your shoulders, his familiar, lopsided grin plastered across his face. the smell of alcohol lingers on his breath, and you can’t help but laugh. drunk jj was always clingy and affectionate, a far cry from his usual chaotic self.

“how are you? you good?” he asks, his voice softer than usual, his blue eyes lazily scanning your face for any hint of something wrong.

you nod, patting his knee where it rests against yours. “i’m fine, jay. what about you? having fun?”

he grins wider, squeezing your shoulder as if to reassure you. “always. especially now that you’re here.” his words are lighthearted, but his presence, warm and grounding, makes the knot in your stomach ease just a little.

“don’t start something you can’t finish, maybank,” you tease, your tone playful, something that’s always been a part of your dynamic with jj. it was harmless, never anything more than friendly banter. jj was like a brother to you, and you both knew it.

his smirk widens, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “oh, i always finish what i start,” he shoots back, his voice dripping with mock confidence. the comment makes heat rise to your cheeks despite yourself, and you nudge his side with a laugh.

“relax, jj,” you say, still grinning, but he just laughs along with you, clearly enjoying your reaction.

then his tone drops, more conspiratorial now, as he leans in closer. “can i tell you a secret?” he slurs, his voice low and exaggeratedly serious.

you play along, tilting your head toward him as he cups a hand over his mouth like he’s sharing classified information. “i’m so drunk right now,” he whispers dramatically.

a laugh bursts out of you, louder than you intended, as you push him off of you. “no shit, jay,” you say through your giggles, watching him sway slightly before laughing along with you. moments like these made everything feel lighter, even with the weight of everything else hanging in the air.

suddenly, the laughter dies in your throat as a familiar voice cuts through the noise, instantly tightening the tension in your shoulders. “i wanna laugh too,” rafe drawls, his tone sharp and laced with something dangerous.

your head snaps up, and sure enough, there he is, standing a few feet away with his hands casually stuffed into his pockets. but his stare is locked on you, unwavering, intense. your stomach churns as you quickly look away, pretending not to notice.

“what are you doing here, rafe?” sarah asks, her voice cold as ice, glaring at her brother like she wanted him gone before he could stir up trouble.

he shrugs nonchalantly, though the slight clench in his jaw betrays his calm demeanor. “well, last time i checked, you don’t own the beach, sarah,” he retorts, his tone sharp enough to cut. the sunset casts a fiery glow on his face, highlighting the tension in his features. he’s angry—at what, you don’t know, but it’s obvious.

sarah opens her mouth to snap back, but before she can, jj suddenly stands to his feet, his drunken bravado kicking in full force. “what’s your problem, man?” he slurs, his voice rising as he steps forward, shoulders squared like he’s ready to fight.

your heart pounds in your chest as the energy shifts sharply, the tension coiling tighter with every second. it’s like the whole beach can feel it, the calm before the inevitable storm. you glance around nervously, noticing the kooks starting to make their way over, drawn by the brewing conflict like moths to a flame.

what had been your comfortable little corner with your friends now feels suffocating as more and more people gather, the divide between kooks and pogues growing thicker with every step they take. rafe doesn’t move, his stance unbothered but his eyes flickering with something unreadable as they dart between jj and you.

you can hear your friends muttering behind you, tension spreading like wildfire. this wasn’t going to end well—you could feel it in your bones.

john b, ever the peacekeeper, steps in with a steady hand on jj’s shoulder, giving it a calming squeeze. “hey, bro, take a walk,” he says softly, his tone measured, trying to de-escalate before things spiral further.

but jj shakes his head, his expression twisting with frustration. “nah, nah, nah,” he says, shrugging john b’s hand off. his voice is louder now, sharp and angry, fueled by alcohol and pent-up resentment. “i’m so tired of these fuck-ass kooks ruining our fun. everything was fine before they got here.”

he turns to rafe, his eyes blazing with defiance. “so answer the damn question, rafe. what the fuck is your problem?”

the words hang in the air, cutting through the murmur of onlookers as more kooks and pogues close in around you, their postures rigid and ready for whatever’s about to unfold. the tension is suffocating, thick enough to choke on. your stomach twists as you glance between jj, who’s practically vibrating with anger, and rafe, whose jaw is locked, his eyes dark and unreadable.

rafe suddenly lets out a low, humorless laugh, shaking his head like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. he swipes a finger under his nose, his signature tell that trouble is coming. before anyone can react, he steps forward and throws a punch, his fist connecting squarely with jj’s jaw.

the sound of the hit echoes over the beach, silencing the chatter and gasps from the growing crowd. jj stumbles back, catching himself before falling, his hand flying up to his face as he spits blood into the sand.

“you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” john b mutters, stepping between them instinctively, trying to keep jj from lunging forward. but jj’s already shaking with rage, shoving john b aside as the crowd erupts around you.

the once calm beach party turns chaotic, the tension finally snapping into chaos, and you’re frozen in the middle of it all, unsure of what to do as your heart pounds in your chest.

mayhem erupts around you as everyone starts shouting, the noise almost deafening. jj and rafe are swinging at each other, fists flying with raw anger. john b and topper try to break it up, but their own simmering tensions (sarah cameron) boil over, and soon enough, they’re throwing punches at each other too.

“alright! alright!” you, sarah, and kie yell, your voices cutting through the chaos as you rush in, desperately trying to pull the four boys apart. it’s a mess of flailing arms, insults, and drunken fury, but with the help of the other pogues and even a few kooks who seem equally tired of the drama, you finally manage to separate them.

jj stands a few feet away now, chest heaving as he wipes blood from his lip, glaring daggers at rafe. rafe, meanwhile, is being restrained by two kooks, his jaw tight and his eyes locked on jj like he’s ready to go again at any second. john b and topper aren’t much better, breathing heavily and throwing venomous insults back and forth as they’re held apart.

you step back, your heart still racing as the crowd buzzes with murmurs and tension, the air thick and electric. this was far from over, and you could feel it.

“yeah, stay the fuck off our side of the island!” jj yells, his voice sharp and unwavering as the kooks start retreating. rafe lingers, of course, making direct eye contact with you. his gaze burns, but you glare right back, your frustration simmering beneath the surface. whatever you needed to say to him was definitely happening tonight after the shit he just pulled.

“take jj to the chateau. i think there’s a first aid kit in the bathroom,” john b instructs kie and pope, his tone calm but firm. they nod, each grabbing one of jj’s arms to help guide him away. jj, still riled up, mutters under his breath about how much of a pussy rafe is, his words slurring slightly from the drinks and adrenaline.

sarah walks over to you, concern etched across her face. “hey, you okay?” she asks gently. her voice is soft, but the sincerity in her eyes almost undoes you. you nod quickly, blinking back the tears threatening to spill over.

“yeah, i’m fine. just anxious,” you respond, your voice steady enough to sound convincing. it’s not entirely a lie, but it’s far from the whole truth. sarah offers you a small, understanding smile, her hand rubbing your arm soothingly.

“coming?” she asks, gesturing toward john b, who’s waiting for her a few feet away.

“i think i’m just gonna head home,” you say, your voice a little rushed. “my mom texted—she got off work early, so…” you let the excuse hang in the air, hoping it’s enough.

sarah nods slowly, her eyes flickering with a mix of understanding and suspicion. “john b and i can walk you,” she offers.

“no, it’s okay. i kinda need a moment,” you reply quickly, your voice firmer this time. you hold your breath as her gaze lingers on you, studying you for a beat too long. but thankfully, she doesn’t press it.

“okay, babe,” she says finally, her concern softening into a warm smile. “let me know when you get home, yeah?”

you nod, watching as she walks back toward john b, the two of them eventually disappearing into the growing shadows. only when they’re far enough away do you exhale, the weight of the night pressing heavy on your chest.

with one last glance at the party starting to settle back down, you turn and walk in the opposite direction, knowing exactly where you’re going—and who you’re going to face.

you make your way over to the truck, its headlights dim now but still parked exactly where he left it. crossing your arms over your chest, you lean against the back door of the truck, waiting. it’s quiet here, tucked away from the rest of the beach where no one can see you.

the sound of approaching footsteps pulls your attention, and there he is. rafe cameron, calm and collected as ever, despite the chaos he caused. he’s holding a red solo cup against his cheekbone, the faintest shadow of a bruise forming. but even so, you have to admit—he doesn’t look nearly as bad as jj does. of course he doesn’t.

his eyes meet yours, and for a moment, neither of you say anything. the tension between you is thicker than ever, the air heavy with unspoken words. you take a deep breath, preparing yourself for what you came here to do.

“i can’t see you anymore, rafe,” you say, finally breaking the silence. your voice is firm, but you can feel the ache behind the words, threatening to betray you.

rafe doesn’t move. instead, a small, almost smug smile quirks at the corner of his lips. “get in the truck,” he says, his tone low and even, like it’s not up for debate.

your brows knit together, your frustration bubbling up. did he not hear you? or worse, did he just not care? “no, rafe,” you snap, shaking your head. “what you did today—” you pause, letting out a sharp sigh as the memories replay in your mind. your gaze shifts over his shoulder to the road, watching cars pass by, their headlights a welcome distraction. “you hurt my friends,” you continue, your voice quieter now but still steady. “i care a lot about my friends. and that shit you pulled back there?” you point toward the spot on the beach where the chaos unfolded, the tension still lingering in the air. “wasn’t cool.”

rafe follows your gesture with a glance, his expression unreadable. but when his eyes flick back to you, there’s something in them—something dangerous, something unshaken. he doesn’t respond, just waits, like he knows you’re not finished yet.

“why would you do that?” your voice cracks despite your best effort to keep it steady. the words hang heavy in the air, and you curse softly under your breath, furious with yourself for letting your emotions bubble over. you promised you wouldn’t let him see you like this—wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry. but now, the tears are pricking at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill.

rafe’s face doesn’t change, his jaw tight but his expression otherwise calm, almost detached. it’s like he’s weighing his words, deciding what to say—or if he’ll even bother answering at all. the silence feels suffocating, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on your chest.

“are you fucking him?” rafe finally speaks, his voice low and steady, but the accusation behind the words hits you like a slap. you stare at him, wide-eyed, like he’s just grown three heads.

a laugh of disbelief escapes you as you shake your head, running a hand through your hair to keep yourself from losing it. “are you serious right now?” you ask, your voice teetering between anger and shock.

“are you?” he presses, his tone sharper this time, his eyes locked on yours, unrelenting.

“oh my god,” you mutter, another laugh bubbling out, this one laced with frustration. “is that why you did that? you think i’ve been fucking one of my best friends? are you shitting me, rafe?” you shake your head again, the absurdity of the accusation almost too much to handle.

he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t back down, his gaze still burning into yours like he’s waiting for you to crack. but you don’t—at least, not yet.

“well, since we’re just accusing each other of shit now,” you say, your voice sharp as a knife, “how’s stacy doing?” your eyes flicker between his, and just like you predicted, his confidence falters. there’s a moment—a flicker—where his gaze drops, and you pounce. “i assume she was busy tonight, right? that why you texted me?”

“what the fuck are you talking about?” rafe snaps, his chest rising and falling heavily as he steps closer, his frustration spilling over.

“oh, don’t give me that shit, rafe,” you fire back, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. your eyes dart away from his, landing anywhere but on him. “i saw you at the country club,” you continue, your voice cold, the memory still fresh.

his jaw tightens, but he doesn’t say anything, and the silence only fuels your anger. “and even then,” you add, spinning back to face him, your words cutting like glass, “what if i am fucking jj? what is it to you? you’re the one who said no strings attached, right?”

you see the way his nostrils flare, his jaw clenching so tightly you think it might snap. his eyes darken, and you know exactly what he’s thinking—the thought of jj seeing you the way rafe has, touching you, hearing the sounds you make. it’s killing him. but he won’t say it. not out loud.

“you’re mad, rafe,” you say, your voice quieter now but still firm. “but you don’t get to be. not after the rules you set.”

you push past him, deciding you were done—done with the accusations, the games, all of it. but, of course, you don’t get far. rafe’s hand closes firmly around your wrist, yanking you back toward him with enough force that you stumble. before you can steady yourself, you collide with his chest, the hard press of muscle against you taking your breath away.

his lips crash against yours without warning, rough and demanding, pulling a shocked gasp from your lips. the intensity of it sends a jolt through you, but it’s not enough to freeze you in place. your fists fly up, pushing hard against his chest, trying to shove him off.

“rafe,” you manage, your voice muffled against his lips, but it’s like he doesn’t even hear you. instead, your resistance only seems to fuel him, his free hand sliding up to wrap around your neck, not too tight, but firm enough to hold you there.

his lips move hungrily against yours, his breath hot, his grip unwavering. you can feel the frustration, the anger, and something else tangled in the way he kisses you—something you can’t name, something overwhelming. your heart races, torn between wanting to fight and the way your body reacts instinctively to his touch.

you hated it. hated how easily your body betrayed you, handing itself over to him without a second thought. and the worst part? rafe knew it too. he always did.

he used it to his advantage every time, just like now. the second your resistance began to falter, the tension in your fists loosening as your body instinctively softened against his, that familiar smug smile tugged at the corners of his lips. he could feel it—the way your resolve was slipping, the way the pull between you was overtaking every logical thought in your mind.

the familiarity of him started to seep through, clouding the anger that had burned so brightly just moments ago. rafe’s grip on your neck relaxed slightly, his fingers brushing your skin like he had all the time in the world, as if he wasn’t the reason you’d wanted to end this in the first place.

and god, you hated him for it. but you hated yourself even more. no matter how much you told yourself to walk away, to end it, your body always seemed to betray you the moment his hands were on you.

before you even realized what was happening, you were in the back seat of rafe’s truck, straddling his lap. his hands gripped your hips with bruising force, guiding your movements as you instinctively rolled against him. the friction of his hardened, clothed cock pressing against you sent shivers up your spine, a traitorous whimper slipping past your lips.

his breath was hot against your neck, his lips brushing your skin as he let out a low groan of satisfaction. you hated how easily he got to you, how the anger you felt just moments ago melted into something entirely different. but no matter how much you wanted to stop, your body moved on its own, craving the familiarity of him, the intensity only he could give you.

his hands move from gripping your hips to trailing up your back, his fingers deftly finding the string of your bikini top. with a quick tug, the knot unravels, and the fabric falls between you, exposing your chest to the cool night air. the intimate sound of your breathing mixes with the muffled noise of the distant beach party, but all you can focus on is him.

rafe wastes no time, leaning in to pepper kisses across your chest. each press of his lips ignites a trail of goosebumps on your skin, the sensation making you arch closer to him. his mouth finds one of your hardened nipples, pulling it into his mouth as his hand cups the other, his fingers teasing and rolling with practiced precision.

a moan slips from your lips, filling the still air around you. rafe hums in satisfaction, his hot breath fanning against your sensitive skin. his grip on you tightens as he continues, clearly intent on drawing every reaction out of you that he can.

“fuck, i missed you,” he breathes, his voice low and ragged as he pulls back just enough to let the words slip past his lips. before you can even process them, his mouth is back on you, his lips and tongue working their way across your skin, pulling a broken whimper from your throat.

you shake your head weakly, your fingers gripping his shoulders, trying to ground yourself. “no, you didn’t,” you whisper, your voice trembling, the words more of a desperate plea than an accusation.

rafe pauses, his lips hovering over your collarbone. his hands tighten their hold on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as he meets your gaze, his blue eyes blown out. “yes, i did,” he mutters, his tone firm, almost defensive, before dipping his head back down to kiss you again, as if he could erase the doubt you so clearly feel.

with one hand, he makes quick work of the button on your shorts, pulling them down just enough to give himself better access. his hand slips past the waistband of your bikini bottoms, his fingers brushing against your heated skin. the low groan that escapes his lips when he feels how soaked you are sends a jolt of heat straight through you.

“not surprising,” he mutters against your lips, his voice thick with smug satisfaction.

you gasp, your head falling back slightly as his fingers glide through your folds, gathering your arousal before starting slow, deliberate circles against your clit. the sensation sparks through you, making your hips instinctively rock against his hand, chasing the friction.

rafe’s smirk deepens as he watches you, his free hand gripping your waist tighter to keep you steady. “that’s it, pretty girl,” he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly, dripping with control. “just like that.”

a moan escapes your lips when his fingers pick up their pace, his breathing becoming heavier against your neck. “think that pogue could get you to cum like i can, huh?” he taunts, his words cutting through the haze of pleasure. before you can respond, his fingers dip into your entrance, filling you to where you feel the cold metal ring wrapped around his finger, while his thumb presses firmly against your clit. the double stimulation sends a shockwave through you, your hands fisting his shirt as you struggle to stifle the moans threatening to spill out.

you bite down hard on your lip, trying not to give him the satisfaction he craves, but it’s so hard—he knows your body too well.

“i know he can,” you finally manage to retort, your voice breathless but defiant. the second the words leave your mouth, you see it—the flicker of rage that darkens his eyes. his movements grow rougher, more deliberate, as if he’s determined to make you eat your words.

you sob out a moan, your body trembling as his pace remains relentless, refusing to give you even a second to catch your breath. “the fuck he can,” he growls, his voice low and feral, watching with a smug satisfaction as you struggle to keep yourself upright. his smirk deepens as he leans in, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, all teeth and desperation, swallowing your broken cries.

your hands cling to his shoulders as waves of pleasure crash through you, your body arching into his touch. his fingers work you expertly, his movements precise and unyielding as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge, your breaths coming out in ragged gasps.

“c’mon, baby,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough and dripping with desperation. “let me hear you.” his words send a shiver down your spine, and you feel yourself teetering on the brink, unable to hold back any longer.

you feel yourself start to convulse around his fingers, your body trembling as a broken cry tears from your lips. the waves of your orgasm crash over you, leaving you breathless and weak. rafe keeps going, his fingers guiding you through every pulse of pleasure, not stopping until your body begins to twitch with hints of overstimulation. but there’s no tenderness in it—not that you deserved any, not after what you said.

your earlier comment still burned in his mind, fueling a fire in his chest, the thought of you with jj maybank making him see red. it wasn’t about trust—it was about possession, and rafe couldn’t stand the idea of someone else touching what he considered his.

without warning, he grabs your waist and flips you around, pressing your head against the leather seat, your ass in the air. your shorts and bikini bottoms are gone in one swift motion, leaving you completely exposed. you barely have time to react before you hear the sound of his zipper, his own clothes hitting the floor of the truck in a mess.

“you wanna talk about jj?” he growls, his voice low and dripping with frustration as he positions himself at your entrance, the heat of him pressing against you. “let’s see if you’re still thinking about him when I’m done with you.”

before you can process his words, he thrusts into you without warning, burying himself to the hilt in one swift, punishing motion. the stretch is overwhelming, a cry slipping from your lips, quickly muffled as you press your face into the seat.

rafe doesn’t give you a moment to adjust, setting a relentless, eye-rolling pace that has your body jolting with every thrust. his hands grip your waist tightly, pulling you back to meet each snap of his hips, his frustration evident in the way he moves.

“you feel that?” he mutters, his voice rough and breathless as he leans over you, his chest grazing your back. “that’s all me. no one else, you hear me?” his words mix with the sound of skin against skin, every syllable driving him deeper, leaving you a trembling mess beneath him.

you nod dumbly, unable to form words as your body reacts to his every movement. a gasp tears from your lips when his arm snakes around your neck, pulling you upright slightly and holding you firmly in place. the pressure makes your head spin, amplifying every sensation coursing through your body.

the truck fills with the obscene sounds of wet slaps and desperate moans, each one louder than the last. your cries mix with rafe’s rough groans, the intensity between you reaching a fever pitch. you briefly thank your lucky stars that his truck has fully blacked-out windows, shielding this mess of tangled limbs and raw need from prying eyes.

rafe moans in your ear, his voice thick with possession, his breath hot against your skin. “all mine. no one else gets to have you like this.” his pace never falters, every thrust pushing you closer to the edge again, leaving you gasping and trembling under his control.

just when you think the pleasure is close to consuming you whole, rafe’s fingers snake down between your thighs, finding your clit with infuriating precision. he rubs quick, tight circles, the added sensation pulling a choked cry from your lips as your body jerks in response.

your arm flings back instinctively, your hand finding the back of his neck, clutching onto him desperately as if he’s the only thing keeping you upright. his breath is hot against your ear, ragged and uneven, matching the force of his thrusts.

“fuck, baby,” he groans softly, his voice laced with satisfaction as he feels you trembling against him. “you’re gonna cum, aren’t you?”

“rafe—“ you moan, your grip on his neck tightening as the overwhelming mix of sensations sends you spiraling, your body teetering on the brink. every snap of his hips, every movement of his fingers, pushes you closer, the pleasure crashing over you in waves as you fight to keep from collapsing back into the seat.

your body trembles uncontrollably as the wave of pleasure crashes over you, your walls tightening around him with a vice-like grip. rafe grunts, his breath ragged and uneven as he feels you squeezing him, the sensation tipping him over the edge.

“shit,” he moans, his voice low and strained, giving one last stuttered thrust before he stills, his release spilling into you. the warmth of him floods your core, the weight of his body pressing against yours as he rides out his high, panting heavily into the crook of your neck.

the air in the truck is thick, the only sounds now the mingling of your heavy breathing and the faint hum of the world outside—so distant it feels like it doesn’t even exist. rafe’s hand loosens its hold on your hip along with the arm around your neck, his thumb lazily brushing your skin as he finally starts to come down.

rafe’s forehead, damp with sweat, rests against your shoulder for a moment as he catches his breath. Slowly, he pulls out of you, leaving you trembling and weak-kneed. Sensing it, he carefully guides you to sit on the seat, his touch surprisingly gentle now, as if trying not to shatter the fragile silence between you.

but it doesn’t last long. the haze starts to lift, post-sex clarity hitting you like a wave. your heart pounds—not from pleasure anymore, but from the weight of everything that just happened. you don’t look at him, don’t say a word. instead, you scramble off the seat, your eyes scanning the floor of the truck as you rush to gather your clothes. the humid air clings to your skin, suffocating you, making it feel like the walls of the truck are closing in.

“y/n,” rafe starts, his voice softer now, but you don’t respond, just shake your head. You tug your shorts on with shaky hands, your bikini top still tangled in your grasp as you turn your back to him, your only thought being how fast you can get out of this damn truck.

as soon as you adjust your bikini top, you’re scrambling for the door handle, slipping out of the truck as quickly as you can. the door slams shut behind you with a loud thud, cutting off the heavy silence inside. rafe’s voice calls after you, his tone somewhere between frustration and confusion, but you don’t look back. you don’t even slow down.

his words echo faintly in the humid night air as you trudge across the sand, but you block them out, your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

you hated yourself in this moment—really hated yourself. how could you be so weak? jj was probably back at the chateau right now, an ice pack pressed to his bruised face, joking it off like he always did. meanwhile, you were here, tangled up with the very person responsible for putting him there.

it made your stomach twist. you felt pathetic.

the guilt gnawed at you, making every step away from that truck feel heavier, like you were sinking further into something you didn’t know how to escape. you wrap your arms around yourself, the night air cold against your skin, and silently vow—never again.

as you step into your home, the soft glow of the television catches your eye. your mom is asleep on the couch, the faint sound of some late-night show playing in the background. you pause, the sight of her peaceful face tugging at something inside you. quietly, you grab the nearest blanket and drape it over her, tucking it gently around her frame before turning off the TV.

you make your way to your room, your body heavy with exhaustion. pulling out your phone, the screen lights up with countless missed calls and texts—all from him. rafe’s name stares back at you, the words call me back and where did you go? flashing among the messages. with a sigh, you open the contact and quickly silence his notifications. blocking him would feel too final, too harsh, and you know it wouldn’t stop him anyway. rafe knew where to find you—where you lived, where you spent your time, even your favorite food spot. blocking him would only provoke him further.

you drop your phone on the bed and head straight for the bathroom, turning the shower dial as cold as it would go. the icy water hits your skin like needles, but you welcome it, hoping it’ll wash away everything—his touch, his words, the feeling of his hands on your body.

but no matter how long you stand there, no matter how hard you scrub, the memories resurface, unrelenting. the way he looked at you. the sound of his voice. the pull he always had on you. you press your forehead against the cool tile, biting back the emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

how did it get this far?

the muffled vibration of your phone stirs you from sleep, the name sarah 🐚 lighting up the screen. groaning, you fumble for the phone and press it to your ear, voice still thick with sleep. “hell—”

“is it true?” sarah’s voice crackles through the static, sharp and tense, jolting you fully awake. your eyes shoot open, the confusion and dread hitting you all at once.

“sarah, what—” you begin, but she doesn’t let you finish.

“got it,” she says curtly, and before you can protest, the line goes dead.

you pull the phone away from your ear, staring at the dark screen as if it could offer you answers. confusion twists in your chest, but then you see it—a new message notification from her.

your hands tremble slightly as you unlock your phone and click the message. the screen shifts to a video file, sent from an anonymous number. you hesitate, the dread creeping up your spine like ice, but you press play.

the blood drains from your face as the video begins. it’s you—you and rafe. the footage is grainy, but it’s unmistakable. you see yourself pressed against the back door of his truck, his hands gripping you as you melt into the heated kiss. the angle shifts slightly, shaky and invasive, capturing the moment he pushes you inside the truck. and then—cut.

the video ends abruptly, leaving you staring at the black screen, your heart racing so hard you can feel it in your throat. you drop the phone onto your bed, your blood running cold as the weight of it crashes over you.

someone had seen. someone knew. and now sarah did too.

© aerialmirrorss

[zylev-blog]

Batman opened the door, catching the falling body that had come out of the tube. Glowing green Lazarus water flowed around his feet, but he didn’t care. He gently laid the boy onto the ground, listening for breathing sounds. But he wasn’t even sure if his species could breathe. The boy was no older than Tim, with stark-white hair, and pale green skin. The boy wasn’t human, that was for sure, but as to what species he was, Batman had no clue. The teenager hadn’t even opened his eyes since being removed from the tube.

The Lazarus water didn’t smell quite like the pits he was used to. The water smelled cleaner, stronger. Less like battery acid and more like a strong-scented cleaner that he couldn’t give a name to.

He grasped the boy by the shoulders as he picked him up bridal style. He needed to take the boy to the cave, and figure out if he was even alive. A regular hospital wouldn’t be able to do anything for him.

“Batman, we’ve apprehended the last of the men in white suits.” Red Robin said over the comms.

“Good,” His voice was gruff, “Make sure they don’t escape before police arrive.”

Tim didn’t bother saying anything else to him. Neither of them were in the mood for jokes. Not after what they had seen tonight. They had stumbled across a lab in Gotham in an abandoned warehouse. They had thought that it was a Joker hideout when they first arrived, but they had quickly found out that wasn’t the case. After they had began to investigate, they had found corpses of many people that had been thrown into a pit. The bodies had evidence of vivisection, torture, and experimentation. The bodies had ranged from children to adults, but the results were all the same. They were all dead.

They had found tubes like the ones used at Cadmus. They held a few humanoid-species, but most of them looked like they were in varying stages of death. The only tube that looked like it held someone living had been the teenage boy he now held in his arms.

The worst thing about all of this were that they had no idea what this place was, what they were doing, or why they were in Gotham. They had stumbled in by mistake.

He had a lot of work to do.

“No survivors.” Nightwing’s voice sounded. Not even Dick was in a good mood anymore, and he had been joking around for the last few hours.

Batman looked down at the boy in his arms. The boy hadn’t stirred once, hadn’t moved, and hadn’t breathed. He might be carrying a corpse for all he knew.

“And the files?” He prompted.

“Downloading.” Red Robin’s voice was grim. “You’re not going to like it.”

He didn’t like anything about this situation already. How could it get any worse?

“From what I can tell from skimming through the files,” Red Robin continued, “They were experimenting with people’s souls. They killed all of these people because they wanted to catch their ghost.”

“Hrrn.” He looked away from the teenager in his arms. Maybe he didn’t have a corpse in his arms—but a ghost. A ghost of a teenager he failed to save.

What if it had been Tim lying in his arms? Dick? Jason? Damian? Did this teenager have parents before he died, or were his parents in the pit?

The boy stirred, whipping Bruce’s attention back to him. The boy moaned in pain, starting to writhe in his arms.

“You’re safe now.” He said to the boy. “You’re saved.”

“Nnnngh.” The boy opened Lazarus green eyes to look at him. The eyes were hazy, as if exhaustion plagued them. “Batman?”

“They won’t hurt you ever again.” He promised.

“Where is my sister?” The boy asked. “They took her.”

Dick’s words played on repeat in his mind. No survivors. But the boy didn’t need to know that. Not yet.

“We’re still searching the base. She’ll be here somewhere.” He lied.

The boy closed his eyes, letting out a deep sigh. But even with Bruce watching him, the boy did not breathe. Maybe he didn’t need to anymore. Tears leaked down the boy’s cheeks, as if he knew Bruce’s lie.

[callsigns-haze]

Little life

Summary: Jake "Hangman" Seresin has always been the centre of attention, but behind the cocky aviator façade, he cherishes quiet nights at home with his pregnant wife, Y/N, as they navigate love, routine, and a life the squad knows nothing about.

Warning: This fic contains fluff, pregnancy themes, and light teasing romance.

Word count: 1068 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x reader

English is not my first language so I apologies for mistakes

Part 2 Part 3

Jake Seresin was a man who always seemed to attract attention. With his easy charm and cocky grin, women flocked to him the moment they laid eyes on him. It happened every time—at the bar, after missions, during social events. The second a woman saw him, they’d saunter over, usually with a flirtatious smile, batting their lashes, asking him to buy them a drink.

And every time, without fail, Jake turned them down.

It confused the entire Dagger squad. They’d tease him relentlessly about it, nudging him with raised brows and playful smirks, wondering why someone like him—someone who had the looks, the swagger, the perfect call sign—never took the bait. They couldn’t figure him out. To them, Jake seemed like the type to indulge in a little fun, to soak up the attention and enjoy the benefits of being the golden boy.

But Jake wasn’t interested.

Not anymore.

Because the truth was, when Jake wasn’t flying missions or teasing his teammates, he was at home in Texas, living a life no one suspected. He had a routine, a life outside of the cocky, brash aviator persona he wore like a second skin.

That life began with you.

You sat at your desk, soft lighting casting a warm glow over your latest manuscript. The smell of ink and freshly brewed tea hung in the air, and the quiet hum of a summer night filtered through the open window. You were three months pregnant now, the couple married for a month now, and the bump had just started to show beneath your oversized sweater, a fact Jake never missed when he was home.

He sat nearby, like always, in his favourite armchair. His legs stretched out casually, one arm slung over the back, while the other held a half-empty glass of whiskey. His eyes weren’t on the drink, though—they were on you, as they always were.

You highlighted another line in your manuscript, frowning a little as you moved the neon marker across the page. The ruler in your hand—one you used to make sure your lines were perfectly straight—had gotten a little too stained with colour, and without thinking, you reached out and wiped the edge of the ruler off on Jake’s hand.

He chuckled, low and warm, shaking his head in amusement. “You know, sweetheart, there are other ways to clean that thing. Ever heard of tissues?”

You glanced at him, giving a half-smile as you continued working. “Maybe. But I prefer you.”

That made him grin wider. “Lucky me, then.”

It had become a sort of routine for the two of you, especially now that you were pregnant and he was often gone on missions. When he was home, though, there was no place Jake would rather be than right here, with you, basking in the quiet moments. To anyone else, he was “Hangman”—the sharp-tongued aviator with an ego the size of Texas itself. But with you, he was just Jake, the man who found peace in the most mundane of moments.

He loved watching you work. The way your brow would furrow in concentration, how you’d absentmindedly tuck your hair behind your ear, or bite your lip when you were thinking through a tricky plot point. Jake would tease you for your little quirks, leaning over to plant a quick kiss on the top of your head when he couldn’t resist anymore.

“Need any help there, author of mine?” he’d ask, his voice teasing but soft.

You’d roll your eyes in response, but your smile always gave you away. “I think I’ve got it covered, flyboy.”

Jake would laugh and go back to his drink, but you knew he liked being part of your world like this. When you’d first met, you had been a rising star in the literary world, already on your way to becoming a bestselling author. You were about to turn 20 in a couple weeks just before you wandered into 27 year old Jakes life. Jake never made a big deal about it, though he’d brag quietly to himself every time he saw one of your books displayed in airport bookstores. No one in the squad had any idea who you were, much less that you and Jake were married. And he liked it that way. He liked keeping this part of his life private, away from the chaos of the outside world.

With you, everything was simpler. Real.

Jake loved you in ways no one ever saw. He loved you in the stolen kisses between your sentences, in the lazy mornings in bed when you pressed your nose against his chest, in the quiet I love you’s whispered as he pulled you close late at night. You were his world—everything else was just noise.

As you finished another page, you sighed softly, stretching your arms above your head. Jake’s gaze was on you in an instant, taking in the slight curve of your stomach, his eyes filled with warmth and pride. He got up from his chair and moved behind you, his large hands coming to rest on your shoulders, gently kneading away the tension that had built up from hours of working.

“Time to take a break, darlin’,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple.

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes for a moment. “Just a little longer. I’m almost done.”

Jake let out a soft laugh, low and teasing. “That’s what you said an hour ago.”

You smiled, but your body relaxed under his hands. You couldn’t deny that the warmth of his touch and the quiet affection in his voice had a way of making you forget the world for a while.

“Alright, alright,” you relented, setting your highlighter down. “But only because you’re so persuasive.”

Jake grinned, pressing a kiss to your neck before straightening up. He turned your chair around so you were facing him, his hands on either side of the armrests, caging you in. His eyes sparkled with that mischievous glint he always had when he was about to say something that would make your heart race.

“Darlin’, I don’t need to be persuasive,” he drawled, his Southern accent thick and smooth. “I’m your favourite distraction, remember?”

You laughed, shaking your head as he leaned in closer. “You’re impossible, Jake.”

“And you love me for it,” he said, his lips brushing against yours before kissing you softly, his hand resting on your belly, feeling the life growing inside you.

And he was right, even though he was nearly seven years older—you did love him for it.

I may or may not have made this into a mini series so let me know if you'd like to be tagged

Part 2 Part 3

[wcters]

𝗧𝗘𝗘𝗡𝗔𝗚𝗘𝗥 𝗜𝗡 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

word count: 2k+

summary: your relationship with lando through the teenage years

warnings: pda, established relationship, mostly fluff, some angst | i know lando moved to glastonbury later in his life but 🤫 i also wrote this in 2 hours instead of doing because i got excited and had an idea

     You and Lando had first met when you were teenagers. Him being a lanky teenage boy with puffy cheeks and curly hair, and you being a young girl with frizzy hair and a youthful look in your eyes. It wasn’t a surprise to anyone when you first started dating, it’s like you both were on the same wavelength.

You still remember the day you met him ━━ how could you not? You two went to the same school so you knew who each other was, and you had heard of him from people around the town talking about his karting career. Your parents were family friends with the Norris’s, and they never failed to talk about how proud they were of their children.

It was the start of school after the 2013 summer break. You had quite a small friend group in school so when you had classes with no one you were friends with, you tended to be quiet and focus on your school work. That resulted in you being forced to sit next to the rowdy kids. Why? You didn’t know. It’s not like it changed them, and it just bothered you. It was one of those times, and it was Lando who was put next to you. Him and his friend group tended to be the disruptive bunch. They weren’t bad people or bad at school, just got a little too loud at times and forgot to pay attention.

You were sat in the middle row of your math class. The seat next to you was empty at the start of class, but at the end it wasn’t. Lando and his friends got a little too loud and he was “punished” by being put next to you so he couldn’t talk with his friends. You looked at him when he made his way over, but that was it. He was cute ━━ you could admit it. And it didn’t hurt that someone cute was being put next to you, but you shook your feelings off and forced yourself to focus. At them end of class when you were grabbing your things, a hand poked your shoulder. You turned around and came face-to-face with the Norris boy. He looked a little nervous, fidgety and a small smile on his face. You tilted your head. “Hey ━━ I uh ━━ didn’t have enough time to finish some of the notes. Do you mind if I borrow some of yours?”

You were a little surprised, you didn’t think he cared that much about school. Most kids wouldn’t bother getting down a little bit you missed ━━ not even you ━━ but he did. You smiled and nodded. “Sure,” you told him as you grabbed the paper out of your binder and gave it to him, “just return it once you’re done?” He nodded. The next day in class, he walked over to you and gave the paper pack, and you figured he would go back to his friends because the seat want permanent, but he didn’t. He put his bag on the ground and sat in the seat next to you. He did that, every day, for the rest of the year.

You two got to know each other well. You learned more about his competitive karting career and his family, while you told him about your family and friends. Nothing ever happened between you two, you were just friends. You had a crush on him, but you convinced yourself it was your mind tricking you because it was your first friend that was a boy. He thought the same, but he didn’t not believe his, he just didn’t act on it.

It was summer break, a year after you met him, when you realized you did like him. You were chatting with your grandma at her house as you were helping her sting stuff around the house. She had asked about your school semesters and how it was. You rambled on and on, not realizing that you mostly takes about Lando. It wasn’t until you were putting one of the last boxes down for her that it finally hit. “You must really like that boy, no?” You looked at her weird. “All you did was talk about him. You must like him.” It was when she said that that you had a moment of realization. After you finished helping her you went home to your mom and talked to her, confused on how to deal with this newfound information. She just laughed and gave you a hug, telling you that almost every teenage girl goes through this with someone in their life. That made you feel a bit better.

Your friendship turned into something more a couple weeks after that. The Norris family had invited your family to come watch one of Lando’s races at Buckmore Park. Your parents agreed as they wanted to catch up . . . You agreed because you wanted to see Lando. He did well, coming 5th place. You could tell he wasn’t happy about, but you were. You and your family met up with him at the end of the race. He wasn’t looking too happy, but when he saw you his face lit up. When you congratulated him he blushed. Your families talked for a bit ━━ mostly about how summer break was going ━━ and you were about to leave when Lando called out your name.

Your family continued to leave, saying they would meet up with you at the car with your mom winking at you. You blushed. At first there was some awkward silence, and then he asked “would you like to go on a date?” You were a bit shocked, not expecting it, and you were nervous. What did people do on dates anyway? You know adults went out to eat and drink but you were fifteen! You completely forgot that you had to answer his question, and he started sputtering out words saying that you didn’t have to, and he was sorry before you interrupted him with a “yes.” It was his turn to look surprise.

You went on a date the next week, both of you unknowingly doing the same thing and panicking to your parents beforehand. It went fine, a bit awkward ━━ obviously ━━ but you thought it was cute. You went out for icecream and walked around Bristol. Halfway through the date he slipped his hand into yours, and you accepted it, but didn’t dare to look him in the eye.

After that, you two were inseparable. You two were always together, and practically lived at each others houses. Sometimes ━━ for weeks on end ━━ your parents never saw you a lot because you were always at Lando’s house. His parents always updated yours on how you were, and they trusted you. During an interview for Drive to Survive, your parents swore during those times they only saw you in the morning and night, the rest of the time you were with Lando. This would switch between you staying at his and him staying at yours.

Though Lando wouldn’t admit it when he was a teenager, he would do anything for you. If you asked him to jump off a bridge, he wouldn’t even ask why, he’s just do it. There are so many pictures on your phone and Polaroids of him in “embarrassing” situations ━━ like one where he had a face mask on and his nails painted. You keep that one in the back of your phone case. He would let you braid his hair, practice makeup on him, help him with his skincare, and so many other things. This would always be in the secrecy of your room and when your families weren’t there because he dreaded the day his family saw him like that.

He had no idea that you had shown his sisters and parents almost every single one. They promised to keep it quiet, and they did. You also know they won’t tell him that they have some of those pictures on their phones. It’s a secret between you and them, a need to know thing.

Whenever you had sleepovers at his house, you would stay with his sisters because you weren’t allowed to be with him ━━ for good reason ━━ and because you loved his sisters. As you got older, you bonded more with them, helping them out with boy problems and girl problems, because everyone had those girls in high school who made your life a living hell. You broke down crying when you found out they were moving to Glastonbury. How would you survive without not being able to hug your boyfriend? How would you cope without the gossip sessions with his sisters? The talks about your life over helping Cisca with dinner and talking politics with Adam? Laughing at embarrassing moments of Lando with his brother?

Before that, you had put off getting your license. You walked or took buses to most places, and it saved you money. When you found out they were moving though, you made it your life’s mission it get your license and a car. You were on moving day, helping the family with setting things up and cleaning up the place. You still remember the dinner you had that night. It wasn’t fancy, just Chinese takeout on a table in the half put together living room, but it was one of the moments where you truly felt like family. It wasn’t that you hadn’t before, but it was the private ness of the situation that really hit your heart. You begged to stay over, not caring that it was a school night, but you couldn’t. You hugged everyone goodbye with teary eyes, kissing Lando, and promising to be back soon.

And you were. When you had that car, you spent an unbelievable amount of money on gas. You drove to his house almost every weekend. Sometimes he would come over to your house, but it was mostly you going over there out of convenience. If Lando wanted to go to yours, he’d probably have to pile all of his siblings in the car, while you didn’t have to do that. Besides driving to Glastonbury, your car was also used as a pick me up. Whenever something happened with his sisters, you’d be there in a heartbeat, telling them to get in ━━ telling Lando he can’t come with him grumbling something under his breath ━━ and you’d go and grab food. Whatever they needed, you were there ready to do it? Boy problems? Junk food and a sad playlist. School problems? Listening to them vent and giving them advice. Period problems? That depended on that they wanted. You even remember one time on March break Flo had an experience with a boy and you took her to a rage room . . . It was so fun, and you definitely did it again with Cisca.

While you were there for all the important events in Lando’s life, he was the same. He was there when your grandma died, and you swore he was one of the few things that kept you together. He was there when you graduated high school and got accepted into your dream school.

Your relationship stayed the same throughout his whole career, you to where you both were now, living in Monaco. You still acted like teenagers, jokingly fighting over little things and teasing each other. Your love baver wavered, it stayed the same for each other, maybe even became stronger. There were periods in your relationship like when he first started in Formula One and you moved to college that it was tricky, but you go through it. You always would.

As you sat on the sofa in your home and twirled the ring on your finger, you remembered the whole of your relationship and the future of it. You were broken out of your trance by a kiss on your head. You hummed, not turning to look at him. “She’s gone to bed. She’s been changed and given her bottle. You smiled and looked up at him, “thank you.” He kissed you on your lips, “of course. You ready to go to bed, Mrs. Norris?” You chuckled and got up, walking around to the couch to meet him in his arms.

“Always, Mr. Norris, always.”

[lxvsiick]

YOU CAME TO ME, MY ANGEL | PARK SUNGHOON X READER

SECOND PART TO CALLING ON MY ANGEL (read part one first!)

PAIRING: troublemaker! park sunghoon x good girl! fem! reader

SUMMARY: When the attention on Sunghoon starts to shift because of his smile, Y/n develops a weird feeling in her stomach.

GENRE: imagine, good girl x bad boy, fluff, a little bit of angst if you squint

WORDCOUNT: 4.6k

WARNING: a kissing scene at the end! sunghoon calls y/n "angel"

A/N: ngl, when i was writing this and rereading it over, the want to sleep on a highway was so tempting :D i'm glad you all like CALLING ON MY ANGEL! i was actually surprised by how many people liked it ,, i hope you like the second part! enjoy!

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The afternoon sun streamed through the tall windows of the school hallways, casting soft, golden light on Y/n as she walked with a noticeable bounce in her step. A bright smile lit up her face, and in her hand was a small cone of ice cream, which she licked contentedly. She looked like a sweet angel, her joyful energy spreading around her like sunshine.

Beside her, Sunghoon walked with his hands stuffed in his pockets, his eyes fixed forward, face blank, like he couldn’t care less about anything happening around him. His usual cold, intimidating presence stood in sharp contrast to the warm light she brought with her. The other students in the hall were wary of him, their eyes lowering as they passed, whispers swirling in the air.

“Isn’t that Sunghoon?”

“He looks so scary...”

“What’s Y/n still doing with him?”

The whispers weren’t lost on Y/n. She could hear the murmurs, feel the stares. Her steps faltered slightly, but then she leaned closer to him, nudging him lightly with her shoulder. Her voice was soft, like a secret meant just for him.

"Just ignore them, Hoonie" she said, her smile unwavering despite the growing tension around them. "They don’t know anything about you."

He glanced at her, expression still unreadable, but there was a flicker of something softer in his eyes. A small sigh left his lips as his gaze flicked back to the students.

"I don’t care what they think," he said, his voice low and casual, as if none of it mattered. His eyes briefly caught hers, a quiet warmth under the tough exterior. "As long as you’re next to me, Angel."

At that moment, her heart skipped a beat, the corners of her lips lifting in a shy smile. She always melted a little when he called her that. Angel—his pet name for her—was something so sweet and personal, it never failed to make her feel special.

But the effect of that single word was much bigger than she realized. The students in the hallway, already whispering, suddenly let out audible gasps. Heads turned, and the once-muted whispers escalated.

"He called her Angel?"

"Did you hear that?"

"What is even happening right now?"

The tension in the air was thick, but Y/n wasn’t fazed. She kept her head high, finishing her ice cream with a bright smile, completely unfazed by the reactions of those around them. Beside her, Sunghoon maintained his calm, unfazed by the stir his simple term of endearment had caused.

In that moment, it didn’t matter to either of them what anyone else thought. It was just them, walking together, as if the rest of the world didn’t exist.

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The sun hung high over the quad as Y/n walked with a couple of her friends, laughter and light conversation filling the space between them. They were chatting about random things—weekend plans, a funny moment from class—when her attention shifted to the other side of the quad.

In the distance, she spotted Sunghoon, his familiar, tall figure walking with his group of friends. As usual, students around them kept their distance, their heads low as they moved out of the way. His group, known for their intimidating presence, had that effect on everyone. The air around them felt thicker, quieter—until she broke it.

Without hesitation, she raised her arm and called out, "Hoonie!" Her voice rang out across the open space, bright and cheerful. She waved at him with a big smile, completely oblivious to the attention she had just drawn.

Her shout cut through the noise of the quad. Heads turned, curious eyes following the direction of her gaze. Sunghoon, hearing her voice, paused mid-conversation. His eyes scanned the crowd before locking onto her. For a moment, his usual cool expression lingered, but then, unexpectedly, his lips curved into a small smile. He raised his hand, giving her a soft wave back.

That single smile—the rare, fleeting expression—seemed to shift the very atmosphere around him. The students, who were accustomed to seeing his stoic, unreadable face, were stunned.

"Did he just… smile?"

"I’ve never seen him smile before…"

"Wait, that’s what he looks like when he smiles?"

Whispers erupted among the crowd as they began to murmur in disbelief. The quad buzzed with low, shocked conversations as people exchanged glances. Some students stood frozen, processing what they'd just seen. For the first time, Sunghoon, the one they'd always viewed as cold and unapproachable, looked human.

"He’s… kind of handsome, isn’t he?" one girl whispered, nudging her friend.

"Yeah, I never noticed before, but with that smile…"

It wasn’t just the smile—it was the way he looked at Y/n, the way his expression softened, just for her. There was something so genuine in that moment, and for many of the students watching, it completely shattered the tough, distant image they had built of him.

The shift in perception was palpable. As Y/n continued walking, her friends giggling beside her, she had no idea that the simple wave and smile had sparked a quiet change. The students who had once feared or misunderstood him were now seeing a different side—a warmer, more human side—thanks to her.

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The next day, the atmosphere around Sunghoon had noticeably changed. Walking side by side, Y/n chattered away about random things as he escorted her to her class. Though her words bounced around with lively energy, his focus never wavered from her, watching her intently, soaking in every detail of her presence.

As they moved through the hallway, something was different. The students, who used to avoid eye contact or shy away when he passed, were behaving… differently. No longer did they lower their heads or shuffle nervously to the side. Instead, some even made brief eye contact and gave short, polite nods of acknowledgment.

"Hey, Sunghoon," a student greeted as they walked by.

He didn’t respond verbally but gave a subtle nod back, his attention still centered on Y/n.

What really caught him off guard was when a couple of girls from another class shyly waved at him as they passed. "Good morning, Sunghoon!" one of them chirped.

Again, he acknowledged them with a small nod but didn't waver from his focus. His priority was always her. The smile he had shared the day before had sparked a shift in how people saw him, but he barely noticed. All he cared about was the angel walking beside him.

Unbothered by the newfound attention, he listened as Y/n talked animatedly about her latest interest. To him, the hallways might as well have been empty, because the only thing that mattered was hearing her voice, seeing her smile.

When they finally reached her classroom, they came to a stop in front of the door. She turned to face him, her eyes bright as she smiled up at him. "Thanks for walking me to class," she said, her tone warm and filled with gratitude.

His lips curled into a rare, soft smile reserved just for her. He raised his hand, gently patting her head in a gesture that had become second nature by now. "No problem, Angel," he said in that low, calm voice of his. "I'll come get you after class so we can go to lunch together."

Her cheeks flushed slightly at the pet name, but she nodded happily. "Sounds good!" she replied with a grin before turning toward the classroom.

As she disappeared through the door, he lingered for a moment, watching her go with a fondness that was impossible to miss. Then, with his usual composed demeanor, he turned and made his way back down the hall, the whispers and greetings of his classmates now background noise to his thoughts of her.

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After Sunghoon left her at the door, Y/n walked to her desk and sat down, pulling out her notebook and pens, preparing for the class ahead. She hummed a little under her breath, replaying the moment he'd patted her head. It was always sweet, the way he had his reserved moments only for her.

The quiet of the classroom was soon interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching her desk. She looked up and saw a group of three girls standing in front of her. Their expressions were friendly, but there was a hint of curiosity glimmering in their eyes. One of them, a girl with short, dark hair, Hana, spoke first.

"Hey, Y/n, right?" she asked, her tone friendly but direct.

She nodded, smiling politely. "Yeah, that's me. What’s up?"

The three exchanged a quick glance before the girl continued, "We were wondering… about Sunghoon. He’s always walking with you. What’s he like?"

Caught off guard by the sudden interest, Y/n blinked, her pen hovering over her notebook. She wasn't used to people asking her about him—most students were too afraid to even mention him in passing. But after yesterday’s smile in the quad, she supposed it was natural for some curiosity to grow.

"Um, he’s…" She hesitated, thinking of how to describe him. "He’s actually really nice once you get to know him. He’s just... quiet around others."

The second girl, with blonde hair tied in a ponytail, Jihye, leaned in a bit closer. "You mean he's not as scary as he looks? I mean, without all the bruises and cuts, he's actually really handsome."

Y/n felt her heart do a little flip at the comment. Handsome? She supposed she’d always known that, but hearing it from someone else felt... strange. "Yeah," she answered, smiling softly. "He’s definitely different when you get to know him."

The third girl, the quietest of the group, Sola, suddenly asked, "So, is he talking to anyone? Or, like... dating someone?" Her eyes widened with curiosity as she leaned forward, clearly eager for the answer.

Y/n froze for a moment, unsure of what to say. She wasn’t dating him, not officially, but the two of them were undeniably close. She could feel the weird sensation bubbling in her chest—a feeling she couldn't quite name. Was it jealousy? But why would she be jealous?

Trying to stay composed, she gave a gentle shrug. "I’m not really sure. We don’t talk about that much."

Jihye sighed in relief. "That’s good. I was hoping he wasn’t seeing anyone because..." She paused and exchanged another glance with her friends. "Would you mind introducing me to him? I’ve been wanting to talk to him, but he’s, well... hard to approach. You seem to know him really well."

The strange feeling in Y/n's stomach tightened into something more distinct—an uneasy knot. She wasn't sure why, but the thought of introducing someone to him, especially a girl who clearly found him attractive, made her chest tighten. Still, she kept her smile soft, trying to hide her discomfort.

"I can try," she said, her voice gentle. "He’s... a bit reserved with new people, but I’ll see what I can do."

The three girls beamed, clearly thrilled by her answer. "Thanks, Y/n! You’re the best," Hana said, before the group finally walked back to their seats.

As they left, Y/n stared down at her notebook, her pen resting idly in her hand. That weird feeling wouldn’t go away, and she didn’t know why. Was she... jealous? She shook her head slightly, trying to push the thought away. It didn’t make sense. But as she sat there, thinking about introducing someone else to him, she couldn’t shake the unease that now lingered in her chest.

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The lunch bell rang, signaling a break in the day. Y/n was still sitting at her desk, lost in thought. The conversation from earlier with the three girls had left her feeling unsettled. She was mulling over their questions about Sunghoon, when a familiar voice broke through her reverie.

"Hey, Angel," Sunghoon called softly from the doorway of her classroom, hands casually in his pockets, his usual blank expression on his face. "You ready for lunch?"

Snapped out of her thoughts, she blinked and smiled up at him, gathering her things before walking over. "Yeah, let’s go."

They walked side by side through the hallways, a familiar rhythm to their steps. But Sunghoon quickly noticed something was off. Y/n wasn’t her usual bubbly self, and her expression was distant, as if she was caught up in her thoughts again.

He glanced down at her, frowning slightly. "What are you thinking about?"

His voice pulled her out of her thoughts, and she looked up at him, blinking. "Huh?"

"You’re quiet today. What’s on your mind?" he asked, his tone soft but curious.

She hesitated for a moment before speaking. "I was just wondering... what do you think about making new friends?"

Sunghoon let out a small, amused snort, his lips quirking into a brief smile. "Don’t care. I’ve got my boys and you. That’s all I need."

Her heart skipped a beat, and she felt her cheeks flush. She wasn’t sure why, but his simple words—so direct and clear—made her feel warm inside. "Oh," she murmured, feeling slightly flustered. "That’s... sweet."

They continued walking, but the knot in her stomach, the one that had been brewing since this morning, tightened as they approached the cafeteria.

After they grabbed their lunches, they made their way to their usual table, where Sunghoon's friends were already gathered. The atmosphere was comfortable, familiar, but the tension inside her didn’t ease.

As they sat down, though, a voice interrupted the peaceful moment.

"Y/n!" came a call, cheerful and bright.

Jihye, from this morning, the one who had asked her about Sunghoon, appeared beside the table with her lunch tray in hand. She smiled widely, as if they were old friends, and without waiting for an invitation, asked, "Mind if I sit with you guys?"

True to her sweet, angelic nature, Y/n couldn’t bring herself to refuse, even though she felt a surge of that strange emotion bubble up inside her. "Uh, sure," she said, offering a polite smile.

The girl didn’t hesitate and took the empty seat—right next to Sunghoon. His friends exchanged knowing glances, but no one said anything.

As they began to eat, Sunghoon's attention was solely on his lunch, but the girl seemed determined to pull him into conversation.

"So, Sunghoon, do you like any sports?" she asked, her eyes bright with interest.

He barely looked up, responding with a curt, "No."

Unfazed, she tried again. "Do you hang out with your friends often after school?"

"Sometimes," he said, his tone flat.

The girl wasn’t deterred by his short answers. She continued asking him question after question, her tone almost flirty, though Sunghoon didn’t seem the least bit interested. His answers grew shorter, and eventually, he stopped answering altogether, merely shrugging or nodding when necessary.

All the while, Y/n sat quietly in her seat, picking at her lunch. Her usual bright energy was dulled, replaced by that growing, unfamiliar feeling in her chest. She wasn’t sure what to call it—jealousy? Frustration? Whatever it was, it made her stomach twist uncomfortably as she listened to the girl chatter away at Sunghoon.

His friends exchanged amused looks, clearly sensing the awkwardness in the air. Jake nudged Jay with a smirk, and he raised an eyebrow.

Finally, the lunch period was almost over, and Y/n couldn’t help but feel a small sense of relief. As the bell rang, she quickly stood up, grabbing her tray. "We should head to class," she said softly.

Sunghoon stood as well, ignoring the girl’s lingering presence and focusing solely on Y/n. "Let’s go, Angel," he said, his voice low and calm.

The girl’s face fell slightly, but Y/n hardly noticed. Her mind was too focused on the odd, swirling emotion that had taken root inside her. She couldn’t help but feel like something had changed—and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it.

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The hum of the engine filled the comfortable silence inside Sunghoon's car. Normally, the drive home from school was filled with the sound of Y/n chatting away about her day, excitedly sharing the details of her classes, her small victories, or even her frustrations. But today was different.

She was quiet—too quiet.

Glancing over at her in the passenger seat, Sunghoon noticed the way she was staring out the window, her eyes distant and lost in thought. Her hands, usually expressive as she spoke, were still in her lap, fingers fidgeting slightly.

His brow furrowed in concern. Something was bothering her, and he could tell.

Instead of driving straight to her house, he took a detour, turning the wheel in the direction of the small park near her home. The moment he pulled into the parking lot and cut the engine, the sudden stillness seemed to snap her out of her thoughts. She blinked and looked around, realizing they weren’t at her house.

"Why are we here?" she asked, her voice soft, almost distant.

Sunghoon turned in his seat to face her, his gaze steady and gentle. "Angel," he began, his tone low and soothing, "what's wrong? You’ve been quiet all day. I know something’s bothering you."

Her lips parted as if to say something, but she hesitated, her eyes dropping to her hands. For a moment, she fidgeted in her seat, unsure of how to put her feelings into words. But Sunghoon waited patiently, his gaze never wavering.

Finally, she sighed and looked back up at him. "It’s... it’s nothing, really. It’s just..." She trailed off again, struggling.

"Angel, you can talk to me," he encouraged, his voice soft.

She bit her lip, then took a deep breath. "Okay. Yesterday, after you walked me to class, some girls came up to me and... they asked me about you."

He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.

"They asked me about what you’re like," she explained, her fingers twisting together in her lap. "And then one of them—she asked me if I could... introduce her to you."

At that, Sunghoon frowned, his eyes narrowing slightly in confusion. "And?"

"I didn’t know what to say," she admitted. "I couldn’t refuse because, well, I didn’t want to be rude. But... I wanted to refuse. I wanted to say no. And ever since then, I’ve had this weird feeling in my stomach, like..." She trailed off, searching for the right words.

"Like what?" he asked gently, his voice calm and soothing.

She sighed, shaking her head. "I don’t know... like I don’t want anyone else to get close to you. It’s stupid, I know, but it just... bothered me."

For a moment, the car was quiet as her words hung in the air. Then, Sunghoon let out a small, playful chuckle. "Angel," he said, a teasing grin spreading across his face, "are you jealous?"

Y/n’s eyes widened, and her cheeks flushed a deep red. "What? No!" she protested, lightly smacking his arm in embarrassment. But her blush betrayed her.

He laughed softly, shaking his head. "You don’t have to lie. It’s okay if you’re jealous. It’s kind of cute, actually."

She groaned and covered her face with her hands, her blush growing deeper. "I don’t know what I’m feeling," she mumbled through her fingers. "Maybe I am jealous. I just... I don’t like the idea of other people wanting to get close to you like that."

His playful grin softened into a tender smile as he reached out and gently took her hand in his. The warmth of his touch calmed her slightly, and she peeked out from behind her hands.

"Angel," he said softly, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand, "no one could ever replace you. I don’t want anyone else but you. I’m yours. Okay?"

Her heart swelled at his words, and she finally dropped her hands from her face, meeting his gaze. His eyes were warm and sincere, full of affection. A small, shy smile tugged at her lips.

"Okay," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

For a moment, they simply sat there, hands intertwined, the weight of her worries slowly lifting. She felt silly for being jealous, but his reassurance made her feel better—like everything was going to be okay.

With a soft squeeze of her hand, Sunghoon smiled again. "Now, are you ready to go home? Or should we stay here a little longer so you can keep being jealous over me?"

She laughed softly, rolling her eyes. "Let’s go home, Hoonie."

With one last squeeze of her hand, he started the car and pulled out of the park, the tension between them melting away as they drove in comfortable silence.

˙ ✩°˖🫐 ⋆｡˚꩜

The hallways were bustling with students as Sunghoon walked alongside his six friends, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. They surrounded him, their voices a mix of laughter and banter as they discussed their morning classes and plans for later. Though he was in the center, Sunghoon wasn’t really engaging, just listening with a relaxed, blank expression.

Suddenly, Jihye stepped into their path, her bright smile directed solely at him. His friends quieted down, their attention shifting to her as she confidently strode up and stopped in front of him.

He came to a halt, the rest of his friends following suit, and looked down at her with an uninterested stare. His posture didn’t change, still nonchalant, but his eyes gave nothing away.

“Hi,” she greeted, her voice sweet and almost too eager. "You know, you’re not as scary as everyone says you are." She grinned wider. "Actually, I think you’re really handsome."

His friends exchanged amused glances, some of them snickering at the bold compliment. Jake elbowed Jay lightly, trying not to laugh out loud, but Sunghoon remained stone-faced, unmoved by her words.

“Thanks," he said flatly, the word carrying no emotion whatsoever.

Encouraged by what she perceived as an opening, the girl stepped a little closer, her confidence growing. "So, I was thinking... maybe we could hang out sometime? Go on a date?"

The air shifted. His friends went quiet, waiting for his response, some of them already stifling laughter, knowing exactly how this was going to go.

Without missing a beat, Sunghoon looked her dead in the eyes, his voice cold and blunt. "I’m not interested," he said simply, his words like a slap in the face. He didn’t even soften the blow. "And I never will be."

His rejection was firm and absolute, and her face fell slightly, the confident smile wavering.

Before she could even recover, he continued, his tone sharp now. "Stop bothering Y/n about me. Leave her alone."

Jihye's expression soured at the mention of Y/n, and her posture stiffened. Clearly offended, she crossed her arms and glared up at him. "Her?" she sneered. "You’d rather be with someone like her? She’s nothing special."

That was it.

The air around Sunghoon changed in an instant, his relaxed stance becoming tense. He took a step closer to her, his towering figure casting a shadow over her. His jaw clenched, and his gaze hardened into a menacing glare.

“Say that again,” he challenged, his voice low and threatening.

Her eyes widened, clearly taken aback by the sudden shift in his demeanor. She swallowed hard but held her ground. “I-I’m just saying—”

He cut her off, his voice ice-cold. "Don’t insult her. Not ever again."

The threat was clear, and she realized quickly that she’d crossed a line. His friends stood silently behind him, watching the scene unfold but not interfering, their faces reflecting the same unreadable expressions.

“You think you can just walk up to me and insult someone I care about? You’re not worth my time, and you’re definitely not worth hers." His eyes narrowed, and he leaned down slightly, his words sharp as a knife. "So, get lost."

Stunned and clearly humiliated, the girl stumbled back, her face flushed with anger and embarrassment. She glanced around at his friends, who were watching her with barely concealed amusement, and then back at him. She opened her mouth to say something but thought better of it and turned on her heel, storming away in a huff.

As she disappeared down the hallway, Heeseung broke the silence with a low whistle. "Man, she didn’t stand a chance, did she?"

Jay laughed, shaking his head. "I almost feel bad for her. Almost."

But Sunghoon wasn’t interested in the jokes. His expression was still hardened as he stared after her retreating figure, but after a moment, he let out a long breath, shoving his hands back into his pockets.

Jake nudged him playfully. "Guess she knows now not to mess with Y/n."

"She better," he muttered, his gaze softening only slightly as he turned away and resumed walking.

˙ ✩°˖🫐 ⋆｡˚꩜

The sun was starting to set as Sunghoon drove through the familiar streets, the hum of the engine a calming presence. Beside him, in the passenger seat, Y/n was happily chatting away, her voice light as she recounted the events of her day. Her words were full of the small details—her classes, something funny one of her friends said, and the little things she noticed on her walk to school.

She was radiant when she spoke, her face lighting up with every new story, and Sunghoon couldn’t help but watch her as he drove, a soft smile tugging at his lips. The world outside seemed to blur into the background; all that mattered was the sound of her voice and the way her eyes sparkled.

As they approached the park, he turned the steering wheel and pulled into the parking lot, the car coming to a gentle stop under the shade of a large tree. They’d been here before, a quiet place where they could steal a few moments together away from everything else.

“Let’s hang out here for a bit,” he said as he turned off the car.

She looked over at him with a smile, nodding as she continued talking, this time about something one of her classmates did during lunch. He leaned back in his seat, one arm resting on the wheel, the other draped casually across his lap as he listened intently to every word she said.

But after a while, Y/n noticed the way he was staring at her—his eyes warm, focused entirely on her, as if she was the only thing that mattered. Her words faltered for a second, a light blush creeping onto her cheeks as she realized he wasn’t just listening; he was captivated.

“What?” she asked, her voice soft and a little shy.

He didn’t say anything at first, just kept staring, the intensity of his gaze making her heart race. Then, slowly, he leaned in closer, his face mere inches from hers. The quiet rustle of the park’s leaves surrounded them, but in that moment, it felt like the world had stilled.

His voice was soft, almost a whisper. “Can I kiss you?”

Her breath hitched, her blush deepening as her eyes flicked from his lips to his eyes. She swallowed, feeling the warmth of his closeness, and after a second, she gave a small, shy nod.

That was all the confirmation Sunghoon needed.

In one smooth, gentle motion, he closed the remaining distance between them, his lips capturing hers in a soft, tender kiss. It was sweet, unhurried, like they had all the time in the world. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she felt her heart swell, her hands coming up to lightly rest on his arm as they shared the moment, lost in the quiet intimacy of the park.

˙ ✩°˖🫐 ⋆｡˚꩜

PART ONE | CALLING ON MY ANGEL

MASTERLIST

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, lxvsiick, 2024

[nocturnalcharm]

Faking It (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

𐙚 prompt: charles forces you and logan to do a mission together in order to help you bond. 𐙚 cw: enemies to lovers, one bed trope, if this does well i’ll do a part 2 w smut ;) cussing, 𐙚 a/n:  thanks to everyone who's sent me req's! this wasnt a req but id already started it haha if youve sent a req ill try to get to it asap.... also so many ppl wanted to be added to a taglist but for the nsfw alphabet post i dont think it tagged like half the ppl?? so im sorry if u dont get tagged, im trying to fix it :)

18+ blog!! you are responsible for your own media consumption. if any of the above makes you uncomfortable, do not proceed.

“Professor, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“(Y/N), it’s not me you should be apologizing to. It’s your team. That’s who you both let down.” He eyes flick between you and Logan.

“I’ll go apologize to them now.” You turn to leave.

“You too Logan.” Charles says.

On this latest mission, you needed to sneak into a factory and take down all of the enemies— But you and Logan were arguing so loudly, you alerted all of the rivals, turning a few quick sneak attacks into full blown fights. No one was badly injured but you still felt horrible about it.

“This is all your fault.” You mumbled, just loud enough for Logan to hear.

“My fault? You’re kidding.” He huffs.

“Shut up.” You walk ahead of him, on the way to the common room to see your team.

Everyone was sitting there, talking amongst themselves. Once you and Logan entered, they all stopped their conversations and looked at you.

“Guys. I am so sorry about this mission.”

“I’m sorry, extremely sorry, and I apologize for my behavior.” Logan mocked your expression of regret.

“You are such a child, Logan! I’m trying to apologize!” You raised your voice.

“I am too!”

“Can you two just stop?” Hank stood up, silencing you both. “Your attitudes have been getting in the way of every mission. If you guys can’t get along then maybe you shouldn’t be here.”

“Oh..” You didn’t know how to respond. You couldn’t believe you let your dislike for Logan get in the way of your job, so much that they thought you shouldn’t be an X-Man anymore.

They all left the room, leaving just you and Logan to culminate in your thoughts.

“I think it’s pretty obvious we’re not going to get along any time soon.” He broke the silence.

“We’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah, whatever you say.” He walked out, as you sat in the empty room.

The next day, Xavier called you and Logan into his office yet again. You were concerned, worried he might be kicking you off the team. But instead, he said he had a mission for you two.

“I need you to pose as a couple. You’ll be going to an upscale hotel in Manhattan. It’s a cover for a drug smuggling ring. You two will stay as guests in order to collect information. I need everyone that is there, guests and workers alike, to think you two are madly in love. We don’t know who could be involved, so we can’t have them think anything suspicious.”

“Professor, is that the best idea? We just blew the last mission because we couldn’t stop arguing.”

“If you two fail this mission, I will have no choice but to replace both of you. You are amazing at what you do, but your arguing affects everyone. Not just yourselves.”

“Okay. We won’t let you down.” Logan speaks up.

***

The trip to the hotel was long and frustrating. You two couldn’t agree on anything the entire time. You criticized his driving, he criticized what you put on the radio, and how loud it was. You called him an old man, which just resulted in the radio being turned off and continuing the last hour drive there in silence.

When you arrived, it was late afternoon. Logan, pretending to be your fiance, grabbed all the bags by himself and walked inside. The hotel was huge. It was upscale, classy. So fancy you were afraid to touch anything, in fear it might break.

“Hi! Checking in for Anderson.” He greeted the front desk clerk, giving his forged name. He dropped the bags on the floor and you wrapped yourself around his now-free arm, squeezing it.

“Hello, Mr. Anderson.” She smiled back, “Let’s see. You had the penthouse, correct?”

“That’s right.”

“We’re celebrating our engagement!” You beamed, holding out your hand, showing off your fake engagement ring.

“That’s lovely. Congratulations! We’ll have a bottle of champagne in your room for celebration.”

“Thank you so much!” You squeaked.

He finished the check-in process, then you headed to the top floor.

The penthouse was absolutely gorgeous. It was huge, the size of a decent apartment. Just like the lobby, you were afraid to break something.

“Wow.. This is amazing. Only time I’ll ever get to stay in a penthouse and it’s with you.” You said, as he shut the door.

“I was just thinking the same thing. Now, c’mon we gotta go to the pool. Get changed.” He handed you your bag.

You opened it, pulling out your bikini. It was the only one you had, admittedly from a few years ago. You didn’t have time anymore to relax by a pool or go swimming in the ocean, so this swimsuit had to do. It was a simple black string bikini.

You went inside the bathroom to change. Once you had your swimsuit on, you felt a little self conscious at the amount of skin showing, but figured it’d help with the whole ‘can’t keep your hands off your new fiance’ vibe you and Logan needed to exude for this mission.

You walked out of the bathroom, faking confidence you didn’t have. Logan had taken the opportunity to just change in the living space since he was alone. He was wearing black swim trunks. It was funny, it looked like you two had matched on purpose.

“Wow.” He said quietly, clearing his throat.

“What? You like what you see?” You joked at his clear uncomfortableness with seeing you in such little clothing.

“Whatever, let’s just go.” He spat, grabbing two towels, the key, and exiting the room.

The second you were out the door, you both had big smiles on your face. His arm was around you, holding your side as you headed to the pool.

It wasn’t too busy, just a few kids with their parents, and a bartender at the outdoor bar. You told him you wanted a drink, so that’s where you headed first.

“Hey, can I get two Mojitos?” Logan asked, handing him the room key “And can you just charge it to our room?”

“Of course,” He started working on the drinks immediately, while you two sat and people-watched. He finished the drinks, and gave you them and the room key back.

You said thank you as you walked off, hoping Logan would just follow. There was a small hot tub that was empty, so that’s where you went. You stepped in carefully, afraid of slipping, and sat down in the warm water.

“Really?” Logan whispered, a fake smile still adorned on his face.

“This is what couples do, Logan. And we’re a couple for this weekend. So sit down and act like you love me, sweetie.” Your grin was starting to hurt your cheeks.

He sat down across from you, and you mentally rolled your eyes. You got up, and repositioned yourself, sitting in his lap, “What part of ‘act like you love me’ are you not getting?” 

He was frozen for a moment, caught off guard but quickly acted like he was happy to have you there, to not draw suspicion. You both took sips of your drink, as you continued to nonchalantly looked around.

You two stayed at the pool for awhile, taking mental notes of the guests and employees you saw. Honestly, this hotel didn’t seem too strange. But Xavier said it was a front so you guessed that’s why it seemed so normal, for their cover.

Once your drinks were empty, and the sun had started to go down, you both decided to head back up to the room. He got out drying himself off before wrapping you up in your towel. He picked you up and carried you bridal-style to the penthouse.

“Logan!”

“What? Just acting like I love you.” He smirked.

Once inside the room, he set you down. “I’m gonna go shower.” You stated, not really knowing what to do. 

He just nodded, walking off to the kitchenette. You grabbed your bag and headed to the bathroom.

***

You mentally cursed yourself as you scrambled through your bag, searching for a pair of pajama shorts you thought you packed, but they were nowhere to be found. 

“This cannot be real.” You whispered. The only other clothes you brought were jean shorts, and you sure as hell weren’t going to sleep in those.

You pulled out your oversized sleepshirt, putting it on. The hem landed right above the middle of your thigh. It was a little shorter than the length of a nightgown, so you just hoped he wouldn’t notice. You slipped on a pair of panties, snatched up your things, and exited the bathroom.

You immediately bumped into Logan, who was standing right outside the door.

“What the fuck?” You raised your voice, annoyed. “Why are you right outside the door?”

“I was about to knock. You’ve been in there for over an hour.”

“It’s all yours!” You sassed.

You walked over to the small kitchen, and see he had already opened up the champagne. You had a glass as you sat on a barstool, writing down some notes about the people you’d observed earlier. Pouring yourself another glass, you headed over to the bed.

Just as you made yourself comfortable, Logan came out of the washroom, in just a towel. You stared at his wet torso for a moment, hypnotized.

“My eyes are up here.” He laughed.

You looked up, embarrassed.

“Forgot my clothes. Hey, wait, why are you in the bed?”

“…Because I’m the girl?”

“You're also the short one. I can’t fit on that couch.”

“Oh, c’mon. It’s a big bed. We can both fit just fine. Unless you’re nervous. Never slept with a girl before, Lo?”

He sighed, clearly not wanting to argue, before taking his clothes and escaping back to the bathroom. You silently celebrated your victory.

He came out a few moments later, turning off the lights, sliding under the blankets and getting comfortable. You both ended up facing the same direction. If he was any closer, he’d be the big spoon, but there was a few inches separating you.

You adjusted your body, and accidentally felt your ass rub against him. You went rigid from humiliation, before scooting away slightly, ignoring it since he didn’t say anything.

You tried to fall asleep, but it was difficult, for many reasons. One, you’re not used to having someone else in your bed. Two, he was breathing heavily. Three, you couldn’t stop thinking about how sexy he was.

Of course, you knew Logan was attractive, you’d thought that since the moment you first saw him. But today, probably because of the faux-gagement, the touching, the flirting, you saw him differently. He was still getting on your nerves, but the flames between you two… His body… It was unlike before.

You exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You twiddled your feet, moving around your body nervously, before unintentionally grazing your ass against his crotch again.

“Y’know, if you keep rubbing your ass against my dick, I’m gonna do something about it.” His words sounded gruff in your ear, but they gave you butterflies.

“Maybe that’s what I want.” 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

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[pastryfication]

oscar x reader who has a cochlear implant

sudden silence | oscar piastri

summary: your cochlear implant isn’t always your best friend, but when it fails you at the worst possible time, you feel panic like never before. note: i hope this is what you imagined!! i researched quite a lot to make it as accurate as possible but please correct me if i’ve written something inaccurate xx

everything was loud around you. the engines roaring to life again and again cut through the air and the crowds erupted in cheers whenever they caught sight of a car. the announcers were talking animatedly over the loudspeakers, their enthusiasm clear even if it was just free practice. and on top of all that, the general hustle and bustle also sounded in the background. the high-octane atmosphere was almost headache-inducing. everything was slowly becoming too much for you, the noise deafening, drowning out your thoughts, until suddenly, everything stopped.

suddenly, everything was completely quiet. not a single sound of oscar’s pit crew talking loudly. not a single tyre screeching on the track. just complete silence.

your hand immediately reached up to the small implant in your ear. don’t panic. you forced yourself to take a deep breath. glitches happen. just count to 10 and it should be working again.

1, 2, 3, 4 . . . you took a deep breath again . . . 8, 9 . . . 10 . . .

nothing happened. the silence lingered, the disorienting feeling wrapping around you like a heavy blanket. one of the engineers started shouting something and suddenly everyone was running around, but you couldn’t hear them. you couldn’t hear anything.

you could feel your heart beating away in your chest while your hands started to tremble, clamminess forming in your palms. you tried to steady your breathing again, tried to calm yourself, but everything was suddenly overwhelming. relax. you thought. you can fix it.

fingers fumbling, you reached for the implant, quickly checking the battery. it was still there. adjusting the settings didn’t work either, and it dawned on you like a comet from the sky. there was nothing you could do.

the panic gripped you from the inside and moved into occupying your entire body. hearing was crucial at the track. not just for communication but for safety as well. what if you missed an important announcement? or something critical happening on the track? what if oscar crashed and nobody could tell you?

the visual stimuli—the flashing lights, the cars zooming by, the people moving around you—became slowly overwhelming without the grounding presence of sound. the sensory overload only added to the panic already formed by your thoughts.

what were you supposed to do? alert some of the employees? no. you couldn’t disturb them from their job. find someone else to help? you mind did a quick once over of the people attending the grand prix, but no one who would be able to help you came to mind.

you were on your own.

୨୧

oscar immediately stressed when he exited the car after fp2, finding out that you were gone from the garage. and no one knew where you were.

you had left somewhere in the middle of the session without telling anyone.

it instantly worried him, and with a frown on his face, he made his way to his small drivers room.

you don’t hear him enter, but suddenly, his figure was standing in front of you, a frown on his face as he said something. you couldn’t hear it. it was as if he was miming the words, no sound escaping his mouth.

he must have noticed something in your facial expression, because suddenly, he stopped talking. his face morphed into an even deeper frown of concern, and his hand moved up to point at his right ear, his question evident in the unspoken.

you only nodded, looking down at your fingers instead of meeting his eyes. was he disappointed that you had left?

you didn’t get long to ponder, because he quickly took a step forward, his hand meeting shoulder first to alert you of his closeness before he pulled you into him, both arms wrapping tightly around your frame and squeezing you against his chest in a hug.

the two of you stayed there for a while, his hand rubbing your back gently as you sniffled slightly, trying to keep the pent up tears at bay.

someone must have knocked on the door, because you felt oscar chest vibrate as he lifted his head to shout something in reply, but he didn’t pull back from you.

there, in oscar’s embrace, with his arms shielding you from the outside world, his lips pressing reassuring kisses into your hair, you knew everything would be fine. you could call the audiologist in a moment, and everything would be fixed. but for a moment you actually enjoyed the silence, because you know that oscar won’t let anything happen. with him, you were completely safe, and as long as you had him, nothing could go completely wrong.

[glitterypinkconverse]

─ ⊹ ⊱ IN THE HEAT OF IT ALL

e-42!miles x fem!reader

summary after having an argument with miles, you get mad as to why he always brings up your plushies while you guys are arguing. so, you threw them all away.

request by @friedturtlewhispers ! i accidentally posted this without writing actual story, so sorry your request got deleted 😭

a/n this is a continuation of the 42!miles headcanon from these headcanons! i’m a sucker for angst so ofc i has to write this 🤷‍♀️

warnings angst to fluff, cursing

“Ma, you’re the one who sleeps with stuffed animals at night.”

You two have been fighting over God knows what for at least 30 minutes, and whenever he brought up the fact that you sleep with stuffed animals at night pisses you off. You scoffed, stuck your middle finger up at him, and went to his doorway.

“Fuck you, Miles.” That was all you said before you walked out of his bedroom, and out his apartment door.

New York at night was chilly, so as you left the building you silently cursed to yourself. You forgot your jacket again, as it was hot during the day but then it cooled down. Luckily, your apartment building was only a block away, so it wasn’t that bad of a walk.

His words still rang through your head. That was his only comeback nowadays ever since he found out. You thought he hated it, for how much he teased you about sleeping with the stuffed animals. But secretly, though he would never admit it, he found it cute that you do. It made him happy seeing you happy, although you weren’t feeling it right now.

You thought actually sleeping with them bothered him, so as your mind was overflowing with rage, you did the petty thing.

You threw them all away.

Well, not really. You just stuffed them all in a bag and put it in your closet. But, it felt like you did because your once overfilled bed was now empty, the only thing on it was your clothes, pillows, and obvious blankets.

Your phone was blowing from texts and calls from Miles. You looked over at it and rolled your eyes. You put your phone on do not disturb, charged it, and then got in bed. All you needed right now was some rest, so you closed your eyes and tried to fall asleep. Though, it was hard without at least one thing to hold.

Miles on the other hand, was freaking out. He was pacing around his room angrily, you guys never ended on bad terms. You would always make up, because he knew how important it was for you to have closure. He wanted to make this relationship work, and right now he felt like he was failing it.

“Pick up the phone, Y/N,” he mumbled, silently cursing everytime it went straight to voicemail. He groaned and left his room, saying a quick goodbye to his mom before leaving the apartment.

He walked, practically ran to your apartment where he barged in because you forgot to lock the door. Your parents were out on a work trip right now, so he reminded himself to scold you later on this. But for now, his only priority was to set things right and make it up to you.

He slowly opened your bedroom door, from the light being off he figured you were asleep. That was all until you turned around to look at the light that was entering your room, and groaned when you saw Miles standing in your doorway. “Fuck off.”

He scoffed and made his way towards you, “That’s no way to talk to me, now is it?” He joked, though you weren’t having it.

“What the hell are you doing here, Miles.” You turned away from him, so he couldn’t see the anger that was still looming on your face.

“Whatchu think I’m here for? I’m here to make it up to you. We’re not leaving on bad terms, and I swear by that.”

You didn’t respond, and that left Miles quiet. He observed the position you were in, and noticed your bed looked different.

“Ma, where’s all your stuffed animals?” He asked, concern in his voice. He shuffled around your bed, looking over you and looking at the end of your bed.

“Gone,” you mumbled. He paused in his tracks, looking over at you even though you couldn’t see him. Your back was facing the wall, so he immediately turned you around to face him.

“Fuck you mean gone?”

“I mean, gone, Miles. Like, they’re not here.” He was shocked, you loved those things more than anything. He looked around your room, for any sign of them.

None.

“I’ll be right back,” he mumbled before hurrying out of the room. You rolled your eyes and turned around in your bed again, feeling slightly bad that you lied to him.

However, Miles was going to the nearest store to get you something. He walked down the aisles of the store, searching for the perfect plushie. He grimaced at all of them, as they all looked unintentionally creepy. He decided on a pink teddy bear, as it looked the most tame and he knew how much you liked teddy bears. He went up to the register and paid for it, then rushed back to your apartment.

You were almost asleep when he barged in once again and sat on your bed. “Turn around.” When you didn’t, he turned you around himself and what you saw in his hands shocked you.

You sat up to face him, you didn’t expect him to buy you a teddy bear. You took it from his hands, admiring it slightly. “I’m sorry, Y/N. Y’know, I actually find it cute how you sleep with these.” You looked up at him and smiled, then fell into his arms.

“It’s alright, I guess. Thanks for the bear,” he hummed in response, to which you continued, “there’s a bag in my closet, do you think you can get it?” He pulled away slightly and raised an eyebrow at you, watching as you giggled against his chest.

He peeled away from you and walked to your closet, silently cursing when he saw the bag full of stuffed animals. “You’re full of shit, y’know that right?”

You laughed as he threw the bag at you, you throwing one of your pillows back at him in response. “You loooove me though.”

He walked back to your bed and put the pillow you threw at him back on the bed, and laid down with you. “You got one thing right,” he said as you adjusted in his arms.

“Oh, and also, don’t forget to lock your door. Can’t let anyone taking m’ girl away.”

“Go to sleep, Miles.”

TAGS ↣ @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx

[xveenusx]

Guilty

Paring(s): JJ maybank x fem!reader

Summary: it didn't matter that she did everything for him. it didn't matter that she loved him. insecurities ruin a great thing, love can't fix these problems

Authors note: angsty angsty angsty, bad JJ

Song rec: grave by tate mccrae

Part 2: Wanted

Perfect.

Everything had to be perfect. 

The perfect dress. The perfect makeup. The perfect boy. 

The past several days were borderline catastrophic with JJ getting arrested for sinking Topper’s boat. I begged and pleaded with my parents to help me get him out, promising them anything they wanted. They asked for the one thing I couldn’t give them. JJ. 

And yet, I said yes. I said yes because the thought of him sitting in a cell all alone, stuck with nothing but his thoughts made my stomach turn. He’s always thought that nobody needed him. Maybe that was something his drunken father drilled into him but it was far from the truth. I needed him.

Everything had spun out of control and it all started the minute I met JJ Maybank. But I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Being with him was like walking for the first time. Nerve wracking yet exhilarating--freeing.  

My life before him was just that, a life. Everything revolved around being the perfect little daughter to my parents. Debutantes, charity dinners, polo matches, and country clubs filled my schedule to the brim but they were rarely there. My mother was running a successful fashion line, working on her latest release while my father was a shark in the courtroom. While I loved every second of splurging on clothes, lavish trips to Europe, brunch at my favorite restaurant, I was missing something. I always felt like something was missing in a world where I had everything. 

That’s not to say I’m ungrateful for every opportunity my position and family has afforded me. But when you spend enough time with people you realize are only conversing with you for money or to step on you to increase their social capital, nothing seems genuine. 

Everything interaction was superficial and it became isolating. But with JJ, each and every moment we shared was intimate and unfeigned. 

He taught me how to surf the swells he spent hours in daily. I learned the slight touch of hand in the art of being a mild kleptomaniac. After several failed attempts and many loud complaints, I could finally balance on his dirt bike. 

None of these moments could be bought with money and maybe that’s why I cherished them so much. I cherished them so greatly that I refused to let them go.

And in turn, I couldn’t let him go. Despite the ever growing distance that's wedged itself between us the moment he was released from jail. Maybe it was a pride thing, or maybe it could have been the condescending jabs my dad threw his way, but JJ had pulled away. 

My father's threats to revoke the bail money hung heavy above our heads. So tonight, I was going to try and change that. I needed to bridge the gap that had us so far apart. Midsummers was how I was going to achieve that.

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and held it for several seconds to calm my racing heart. I open them slowly, dragging my gaze along my reflection on the floor length mirror at the entrance to the club. A silky number drapes my dainty figure in the softest brush of yellow with threaded pearls as straps. Ivory satin Jimmy Choo heels from their latest collection decorated my feet. 

The familiar rumble of a truck had a grin pulling at the corners of my lips. My parents were somewhere in the building, having been on the board and needed to sign off on some last minute details. 

I didn’t mind the constant abandonment. The loneliness that once clung to me had slowly evaporated the moment JJ entered my world. 

Grabbing my Chrsitian Dior clutch, I headed for the entrance of the Island Club. A familiar mass of shaggy blonde hair had my feet moving quicker. The minute his face came into view I knew something was wrong. 

His lips were tight in a grim line as he continuously shook his head. I quickened my steps, apologizing swiftly to several people who were trying to get my attention. 

“I’m sorry, sir. Are you a member here?”

“Well, no, but my girlfriend-.” 

“Then I’m afraid you're going to have to turn back around. This is a private club.”

“Listen dude, my girlfriend invited me and-”

“Sir, you need to get back into your vehicle before I call security.” The coordinator, who went by Ryan, dismissed JJ without a second glance.

JJ’s eyes narrowed. “If you’d let me speak-”

“This is private property.”

“Bro, calm down. You’re not protecting the president.” JJ huffed, shoving his hands into his pocket. His cheeks tinted a slight red which had my blood boiling. 

He was person. Period. One that didn't deserve to be treated like that especially in such a public setting. I was livid at the thought of Ryan managing to make JJ feel embarrassed. 

“You’re not a member-”

“No, but I am.” I snapped coming to a stop beside him, causing the event coordinator to rear his head back in surprise.

“Hey, baby. ” The familiar pull of his voice coated me like the warmest honey. A smirk tugged at his lips at the obvious irritation on my face. 

Pausing to give JJ my attention, I placed a soft kiss on his lips and pushed back a wild strand of blonde hair. “Hi.”

The smile he gave me was like a sudden beam of light that hit me square in the chest. 

“I am so sorry. I didn’t realize he was with you-”

“Add JJ Maybank to my member account,” My words were sharp and left little room for argument, though they were dripping with the sickeningly sweet tone I mastered at the young age of twelve. “Consider yourself up to date.”

“I’ll get it done.” With that, Ryan tipped his head and left quickly. 

I bristled once more, muttering under my breath, ”Dick.” My chest was heavy with guilt at his treatment, wondering if this was actually a good idea. I gnawed at my bottom lip nervously.  

This was not how I wanted our night to start. 

“I’ve never been a member before.”

Not bothering to conceal my giggle, I turned around and allowed my eyes to drift over every inch of JJ. The black suit I bought him was fitted and hugged every muscle in a way that had my stomach clenching. 

Sun kissed hands reached for me the moment I was within his reach. My arms wrap around the mass of lean muscles, my nose buried in his neck. Taking a deep breath, salt and sex wax filled my senses and I let myself relax. 

Home. He felt like home.

“You look very handsome.”

A rumble left his chest. “My sugar mama bought it for me.”

Hiding my face in his chest, a loud laugh slipped past my lips. JJ shushed me almost immediately, “People are looking. We can’t have them thinking we’re together.”

I pulled away, trying to keep a straight face at his antics. “We are together.”

“Shit, we are?” He held out his hand, amusement and mischief dancing in his eyes. “My sugar mama can’t find out or she’ll cut me off.”

How could I not love him when he made me laugh so hard my stomach hurt?

I hit his arm with my purse in mock outrage before taking his hand while his other touched my bare back. The feel of his rough calloused hands from all his hard work has me suck in a breath. Those rough hard hands knew my body intimately, inside and out. 

“Do that again and I’m finding the nearest bathroom.” JJ leaned down, his lips brushing against the top of my ear. 

A clearing of the throat had us both turning our heads. My father stood there with a stoic face, his eyes promising retribution later. 

Looking at my father directly in the eye, I place my arm in the crook of his, lacing us together. 

“I see you brought a friend.” The last word is spoken with clear disdain. 

My grip on JJ’s arm tightened. “I brought my boyfriend.”

“We’ll talk about this later.” 

As if they’d actually be home, I thought but decided to keep that to myself.

Deciding that this entire conversation was pointless, I was dragging JJ away from the pair when my father grabbed JJ, whispering something in his ear.

My stomach shrunk and apprehension filled me as the light look of JJ’s face fell, replaced with a flat look and hardened eyes. 

“Duly noted, sir.” His mouth curled in a sarcastic snark. 

I shot my father a disappointed look. Curling myself into JJ’s side, my arm wrapped around his waist and I tugged us into the party. “Ignore him, please.”

“Already forgotten, princess.”

My eyes watch his face for any sign of distress, but find nothing. Guilt ebbed aways at my walls.

“Let’s go find Mr. Adams. He owns a chain of surf shops. I’m sure if we schmooze him, we can get you a solid job or maybe even a board.” I tossed him a wink that had him grinning. 

“I like the way you think. Lead the way, gorgeous.”

Despite his hand on my back, all the warmth we had a mere moments ago was gone. I couldn’t help but notice the small distance he kept between us. One that didn’t exist until my father opened his mouth. 

Several hours later, the sun had begun to set and a cool breeze now caressed my bare back. I embraced the cool breeze due to the several glasses of champagne I had. 

Despite my love for the warm buzz it gave me, it did little for my bladder. “I’ll be right back.”

His eyes widened in alarm. “You can’t leave me here with these people.”

I smothered my laugh with my hand. “Did you want to come with me?”

“To the bathroom? Kinky, I’m in.” JJ responded, clutching my hand in his before expertly pulling us through the crowd. 

Nothing could peel off the cheesy smile that bore my face. Despite the slight hiccup at the beginning of the night, JJ charmed most of the members with his charm and humor. I was hoping with some networking, I could help JJ get some security. I believed he was capable of doing just about anything. He had such determination and never let failure keep him down. 

JJ knew how to hussle and I wanted everyone to see his potential, even if at times he didn’t see it himself. 

My heels clicked along the granite floor, our hands swinging in the air. A shriek escaped my lips as JJ twirls me around, my dress swishing around my ankles. “Gorgeous.” He puffed out his cheeks, his gaze boring into mine.

Our matching grins were nothing short of radiant. Being with him was easy in a world filled with difficult people. 

“Well this is disgusting.”

JJ went rigid. That wouldn’t have concerned me if he hadn’t muttered panicked curses under his breath. “If someone says one more thing to me..”

JJ never let Rafe intimidate him before but for some reason JJ seemed a little more hesitant with this exchange. Realization dawned on me. The boat. Fuck. 

I let my hands fall while rolling my eyes and turning to face Rafe. There he stood in all his stuck up glory, not a hair out of place and his suit neatly pressed. He looked every bit of a country member as one could possibly be with the light blue suit paired with a white undershirt and blue bow tie, brown dress shoes on his feet. 

“Don’t you have another line to snort?” I asked.

Sure, Rafe was conventionally attractive, if you didn’t pay attention to the blown pupils and the constant brush of his nose or the foggy look in his eyes. 

JJ snickered beside me, his hand softly tapping my ass twice in support. 

“JJ, go get me a drink.” Rafe cocked his head.

“I’m actually a member here now.” JJ responded, his hand caressed my cheek softly.

Shocked painted Rafe’s face. “That’s not poss-”

Kelce and Topper stood beside him, both in colored pressed suits as well. They kind of looked like the-”You powerpuff girls have fun.” JJ said with a crooked smile and a tip of the hat.

He seized me by the wrist and strode over to the exit. Relief at his plan to avoid a fight was fleeting at Rafe’s next words.

“If I knew a trailer home and food stamps was all it took for you to open your legs, I would have tried a long time ago.”

JJ jerked around in seconds, ripping out of my grip. He stalked towards Rafe, drawing his arm back before connecting with his jaw. 

A shout passed my lips, my hands covering my mouth in horror as JJ struck Rafe twice more, one blow hitting him directly on the nose. Blood began to gush out of Rafe’s nose, staining his dress shirt a deep crimson. “Say that shit again. Say it.”

Rafe let out a mirthless laugh, his lips pulled at the sides revealing his red stained teeth. “Once a pogue, always a pogue. Isn’t that right, JJ?”

Kelce jumped into action, his arm wrapping around JJ’s neck, pulling him off a Rafe into an effective headlock. That’s when I noticed two more hulking figures and suddenly we were surrounded. 

“Five on one, Rafe? Really?” JJ choked out, tugging at Kelce’s arm. 

Without thinking, I walked behind Kelce and slammed the metal clasp of the bag against the side of his head. Once. Twice. Three times. “Let go of him!” 

Kelce let out a yelp and jerked back, causing his grip on JJ to loosen just enough for him to get free. I went towards him in an instant, but he pushed me behind him as he surveyed the remaining men in front of us. 

Whispers dragged my attention from the scene in front of me as I locked eyes with several members who had poked their heads into the locker area. Shit, this really wasn’t good. I needed to get JJ out of here as soon as possible. I didn’t want to give my father any more ammunition against him. 

Clutching his arm, I tugged him once more towards the exit. I could hear more activity outside the locker room which had me pulling at him harder. I wasn’t going to let Rafe make him look bad in front of all these influential people. Over my dead body. 

“People are coming. We have to go.”

His chest rose and fell with quick breaths, his steele blue gaze not leaving Rafe’s.

“I’m serious. For me, JJ, please?” My final plea seemed to have pulled him out of his angry haze. Without wasting a second, he let me pull him further and further away from the group. Lacing his hand in mine, I made quick work of fixing his suit and his hair, pressing soft kisses as I went. 

“Whenever you’re done slumming it, you know where I am.” Rafe called out from behind us, earning us enough leers from fellow members. 

He tore his hand from mine. “Fuck this.” 

Apprehension coursed through me.

I could feel the storm brewing with each step he took. I trailed behind, my small steps nothing to his long strides. Rafe hit a nerve. One that JJ refused to acknowledge and let fester for months now. It was the elephant in the room any time I offered to pay anything at all. It bothered him, all the money my family had.

“Ignore him, Jayj.” I called out from behind him but his steps never faltered. “Rafe was just trying to get a reaction out of you.”

I could hear the soft melody of the music drifting over the wind from the party that was supposed to fix all our problems. Perhaps I was sticking a bandaid on a gaping wound. 

His shoulders were tense as he stopped a couple feet in front of me, shaking his head. Nerves had my stomach in knots. I only had one shot at trying to fix this. Feelings were never JJ’s thing. He spent months fighting our attraction before he finally gave in. Dating a Kook was never something JJ considered. 

Unfortunately, it was something others thought as well because they never failed to remind him. My father included. 

So here we are. JJ was backed into a corner and like any wounded animal, he had two choices. He could concede or attack and I knew JJ like the back of my hand. He would never give up, so instead he’d go for the throat. 

Too bad it was my throat he went for. 

“I understand-” I stopped speaking the moment JJ whipped around, his eyes cutting me deeply.

“You don’t.” I didn’t respond. My eyes lingered on his busted lip and bruised chiseled face. “You don’t understand so please don’t try to make me feel better by pretending that you do.” 

I pursed my lips. JJ was right, I didn’t understand what it was like to be in his position, but that didn’t mean I didn’t care. That I didn’t want to take away every ounce of pain if it meant he would be happy. 

“You’re right. But Jayj, it’s Rafe.” I argued softly, not wanting to draw attention to us. “He always says shit like that to rile you up but you’ve never let it bother you before. Why now?”

JJ’s face flushed. “Because he’s fucking right. That’s why it bothers me.”

My lips wobbled and I pressed them together. I had gone out of my way to ensure he’d never feel this way. I guess I failed. 

I moved closer, my steps unsure and clumsy. “You never said anything.”

My hand rested against his chest, and I could feel the familiar pounding of his heart. 

“That’s nothing new.” He lifted his shoulder in a half shrug.

That did little to ease the emotional storm brewing within me. Every interaction since he was little was nothing short of violent and negligent. 

He wasn’t used to softness and kindness. We were trying to navigate in uncharted waters but we’re thrown off the boat every time the water got choppy. 

“We can go. Let’s just go, baby. Let me just say bye to my parents-“

“Stop.” He demanded, his tone serve. So unlike JJ. 

I dropped my hand and instead chose to focus on the sound of our breathing. I had to keep my head on straight, because I could tell he was already building up his wall so high, making his fortress impenetrable. 

JJ had never had a consistent thing in his life and I’ll be damned if I let that happen to us. 

Squaring my shoulders back, I faced his heated gaze head on. If he wanted an argument, he’d get one, but we’d both be leaving together. 

I had no intention of going anywhere. 

“Stop?” I echoed, raising my brow.

His eyes were as cold and hard as obsidian. “Yes, stop. How is leaving going to solve any of this?” 

“You’re picking a fight with me for no reason. I’m not the one you’re mad at.”

JJ raked his fingers through the sun bleached golden strands causing them to fall along his forehead. “Maybe I am.”

My eyes widened at his words. What had I done? He’d shared every bit of his world with me and I only wanted to do the same. 

Was that not what people do when they’re in love? Aren’t you supposed to share your interests with your partner and aren’t they supposed to want to know them? 

“For what?” 

He tugged at his shirt collar. “Why am I here?”

My brows furrowed in confusion. Why would he even ask that? 

“Why am I here, at this Midsummer's bullshit?” 

“Because I wanted you to be.” I smoothed out my hair to give my trembling hands something to do. “It’s something that matters to me, it’s not bullshit.”

I had spent months planning this party since my parents were on the board. I wanted everything to be perfect for them and for him. It all seemed silly now. A part of that stung deep in my soul. Bullshit was never a word I used to describe any of the interests he showed me, yet he so easily spouted it at me.

JJ stayed quiet but continued to fidget with the silver ring on his finger. I wanted to close the distance between us but didn’t know how. 

“Don’t let Rafe of all people ruin this. His opinion means nothing.” 

He lifted his chin. “It matters to your dad.”

I barely held back my wince. “He doesn’t get a say in who I date, JJ.”

“Oh, are we lying to each other now?”

“W-What do you mean?”

“Are we going to pretend that you don’t care about what your parents think?”

I took a step back as though he hit me. “Stop talking before you say something you’ll regret.”

“Everything you do is to get their attention. You’d die without their approval.”

In a manner of speaking, he was right. My parents barely paid me an ounce of attention and it was hard not to think it had to do with me. There must have been something wrong with me for my parents to not want to spend time with me. I spent the majority of my life trying to live up to their expectations hoping to be the daughter they always wanted, but nothing worked. I couldn’t get them to love me.

And he threw it all in my face.

I stared at him with tears in my eyes, hurt and stricken. 

At the sight of my tears, he looked away with his jaw clenched. 

“Why are you with me?” He hissed, holding out his arms. “It’s not like I can take you to dinner in Paris or buy you the clothes you like so much.”

Insecurity was a cruel thing. It had the power to turn someone as confident and sure as JJ into a puddle of irate nerves. And as his insecurity continued to dig its hooks further into his skin, he continued to rip into me, piece by piece.

“Because I love you. Because you make me laugh.” My voice raised, my hands clenched into fists by my sides. “Where is this coming from?”

Anxiety wound its way up my throat clocking off my air. 

“You’re fucking shoes are four grand. Do you know what I could do with four grand? I could get the power turned on in my house, or better yet, pay for the house.” The look he shot me had me wanting to be six feet under. He’d never looked at me like that before. He made me sound vapid and superficial. Like I didn’t spend most of my time on his side of the island. 

The guilt I felt early came back tenfold. Guilt for my position. Guilt for the money my family had. Guilt for the things I enjoyed buying, both for him and myself. 

Maybe I was just as bad as Rafe. 

Pain sliced my chest as his gaze continued to penetrate me like bullets.

“The other side of the island is starving and everyone here is drinking champagne and gambling a mortgage for fun. It’s disgusting.” JJ began to pace, shaking his head in disbelief. “You had me kissing ass to all these people, and for what? A job? Stop trying to turn me into something that I’m not.”

I wrapped my arms around my waist. “That wasn’t what I was doing. I was trying to open doors for you so you had options. All I wanted was to help give you a fighting chance.”

“I didn’t ask for your help.” The words continued to pelt at me, hitting my heart every time. The pressure in my chest only tightened further.

“Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do for the person you love?” My voice shook, matching the trembling of my body. “It never mattered before.”

I'd never been in love before him. I didn't have anything to compare it too since the most affection I get from my parents is a card on my birthday. I thought by doing everything they didn't do for me, supporting and comforting and physical touch, would somehow translate into love.

“Of course it mattered. You’re a fucking Kook.” The raw and angry words seeped into my veins, the audible crack of my heart echoing for all to hear.

My throat constricted. Enough, I couldn’t hear anymore. No, no, no. But JJ seemed to have other plans.

“I mean, I’m standing here in a custom Tom Ford whatever that could have fed me for months. I’m out of my element and it makes my skin fucking crawl. John B is getting sent to CPS and Pope is getting jumped and I’m here at some stupid dinner with the people that did it to him. What does that make me?”

My chest cracked open and my heart caved in. I finally saw the broken boy in front of me. Bruised and broken, completely uncomfortable and unsure of himself. 

“Kiara’s a kook.”

“Kiara’s different and you know that.” It remained unsaid but I knew what he was referring to. Kie was a hippie rich chick who didn’t enjoy all the things I did: designer clothes, luxury dinners, expensive food. In other words, I was a self absorbed kook princess that didn’t care for those around me. 

It didn’t matter that I spent most of the summer with JJ helping him fix homes in the cut. It didn’t matter that I donated to charities or helped send care kits to those on the cut after the hurricane. It didn’t matter that I spent almost all my free time with him and the pogues just as Kiara did. 

To him, I represented everything he hated. It didn’t matter that I loved him so deeply I defied my parents. It didn’t matter that I upended my life and chose to be with him. He could never see past the money, something I had no control over.  

I may have been standing in custom Christian Dior and Jimmy Choo, but I’ve never felt more cheap as JJ continued to cut me down with each word. 

“Do you want me to apologize?” My pulse spiked as a burst of adrenaline had me spouting the truth. “I had just as much a choice of being born on figure eight than you did on the cut.”

He looked at me like he hated me. “I don’t know how we deluded ourselves into thinking this could ever work.”

“You don’t get to stand there and make me feel guilty for who I am. Just because I have money and like nice things, doesn’t make me an asshole. I’ve treated everyone in my life with kindness. Don't group me with them.” 

JJ scoffs, pointing at the crowd on the dance floor. “Them? Them--means your parents, baby”.

“I’ve never treated you less than me.” It was a last ditch effort.

“At least I know what Kook pussy tastes like.” He went for the kill. “Money and daddy issues.”

I stilled. The world stilled. Vicious hurt curled its way into my soul, etching every bit of it until I no longer existed. 

Like I said before, I had no intention of going anywhere. But, I guess to JJ, he always had one foot out the door.

I think I stopped breathing. I blinked at him, hoping cameras would pop out and the whole thing came out as a prank. But, no cameras appeared. 

Just him and I stood, in a field, an arms length apart but a universe away. 

“You don’t mean that.” The words came out strangled. “Take it back.” 

He said nothing. I had to bring a fist to my mouth to try and block out the harsh sob that threatened to escape.

“JJ, please.” I begged, my hands catching his arm. “Let’s just go.”

His normal vibrant eyes regard me coldly, a muscle jumping his jaw. I was drowning in my emotions. Everything had escalated to a level I couldn’t fix, because he wouldn’t let me. The bathroom seemed forever ago in the scheme of things. I can see the battle in his eyes of whether to give into his self destructive behavior or to come back to me. 

Any hope I had of him coming back to me dissolved in a matter of seconds. A security guard came up behind him, gripping JJ by the forearm and tugging us towards the front of the party. My eyes widened in horror as I realized they were going to parade him around in front of everyone which would just humiliate him more.

“Jeez Daryl, could you loosen up your grip,” JJ complained, attempting to jerk out of the large man’s grip. He didn’t so much as flinch at each of JJ’s gripes either.

"What do you think you're doing?" I snapped, "Let him go, Darryl."

Darryl shook his head and gave me an apologetic look. "No can do. Mr. Cameron complained."

JJ Scoffed. “I can let myself out. I have two legs.”

“JJ, please stop.”

“I appreciate the discretion, Daryl.”

He self-destructed right in front of me. JJ grabbed a drink off an unsuspecting member and chugged it down before tossing the glass on the floor.

In the end, JJ was always going to be JJ. I saw the moment he decided to destroy everything we had. It was a slight shift in his body and that penetrating gaze of his hardened into a cruel amusement. JJ shrugged my hand off his, before his eyes flitter across the crowd as though he's looking for someone. Then I watched as they landed on a familiar brunette. 

“Hey, let him go. I’m a member of this club and I invited him.” Kie shouted at Darryl who paused for a brief moment. I could see her parents trying to discreetly get her to stop but Kiara refused. At the sound of her words, an appreciative grin tugged at JJ’s lips.

It didn’t matter that I had said the same thing hours ago. It didn’t matter that I not only defended him but made him a member. I liked shiny flashy things and she didn’t. Apparently, that made her better than me.

“Mandatory power hour at Rixon’s, Kie.” He shouted, pointing at where she stood in front of her parent’s. “Pope, you as well, alright?”

I had a disposition for loving people too much, no matter how they treated me. And for the first time in my life, I didn’t care that I wasn’t presentable. I didn’t care that tears were falling down my face or that my hair was a mess. I didn’t want to be left behind. He promised.

“Let me come-”

Exasperation filled his features. "Take a fucking hint. You can go be with someone like Rafe now. You two deserve each other."

“Alright, Kie c’mon.” He didn’t spare me a second glance. I had to watch as Kie took off running towards him with Pope in tow. JJ held out his arms to catch her, arms she happily jumped into. John B lets out a humored shout while JJ spins Kiara around and they take off.

Leaving me all by myself. My parents nowhere in sight. 

And suddenly everything hit me at once. My dress was too tight, my heels were pinching at the skin on my feet, the music was too loud, my hair was a mess. Nothing I did was right. Once again, I was left alone. Abandoned by the one person I thought would never leave. All because I loved him too much and he hated everything I couldn’t control.

I stood there, feeling like a silly little girl in a silly little dress I spent hours looking for, urging him to look back. He never did. 

Authors note: I hope I hurt your feelings because I hurt my own writing this :) pls let me know what u think!!! I love hearing from you guys

Tagging my favs: @maybankslover @sipsthecoffee @alyisdead