#because waking up together is one of the best things

[shadesofjinx]

Answering all of these because I have truly nothing to hide!

1. What are 4 tabs you have open on your browser right now?

swim team membership page, one of my own fanfics on ao3, my ao3 bookmarks, my dining hall’s daily menu

2. Have you ever thought about seriously harming someone?

Yes, my abusers:) and also because of intrusive thoughts and those being super horrible bc of certain traumas

3. How are you feeling emotionally right now?

Pretty damn good. I feel lucky, where I’m in college rn is pretty quiet and I feel like I’m in a bubble and privileged enough to not be dealing personally with the backlash of trumps administration here but I do my best to spread info around for those who need it

4. What type of place(like building) are you in right now?

My college dorm room / dorm building

5. Does anyone know your deepest, darkest secret?

Well no, not yet at least. There are some things in the past that are so fucked up we’d just rather go to the grave with it but we may get the courage to tell our therapist these things

6. Have you ever tried to feign mental illness for personal gain?

Thank God no, you heard it here first we haven’t ever done that

7. Do you have any enemies?

Donald trump, my abusers, and the American healthcare system that personally failed me <3

8. Do you have people you only pretend to like?

Absolutely not?? The people who pretend to like others are fake as fuck I’m sorry (not including people who are genuinely unlikable re: terrible people). I’ve been the victim of this several times and it hurts very much so don’t be that kind of person, be genuine in your connections or else you won’t wake up tomorrow:))

9. What is one item you never let anyone look at or in?

The one sex toy I have . Prettyyy self explanatory

10. Do you have any talents people say you have but you don’t actually have?

My dad likes my singing and I never believed I had the potential to be a singer or be in a choir (I thought my singing sounded horrible) but now I am and my choir teacher has been very encouraging I love her!! My singing has already gotten a lot better

11. Something you like that apparently other people don’t like?

Cats. A lot of people I used to know, key word used to were avid cat haters and I was not here for that

12. Are you a virgin?

Somewhat unfortunately. I say that cuz sex would be great but we have sexual trauma so go figure

13. Is there anyone your grandma would hate that you’re subscribed to on YouTube?

Yes, Tommyinnit cuz he swears quite a bit, and DanandPhilGames because both are out queer men who live together and she’s homophobic and conservative

14. Introvert or extrovert?

Bruh I mean I’m autistic so introvert I guess but i prefer to be alone unless I’m with my bestie

15. Most used app on my device?

Chrome because use it to read ao3

16. How much fanfiction have you actually read?

Good question! I don’t know! But I’ve been on that site for 4 years and have let’s see 81 pages of ao3 history

17. Worst Fears?

Deep water, touch (in some instances), dying alone, dying unmarried, heights (I say as if I’m not a rock climber and also want to go bungee jumping but it’s ok I’m an adrenaline junkie so the fear and potential adrenaline cancel out)

18. Biggest mistake you’ve ever made?

Trusting certain people in my past 👍🏻

19. Worst lie you’ve ever told?

When my brother was stalking me online for years and found out that my therapist and I thought I had DID at the time (diff therapist, now diagnosed with DID with specialist) and I lied to his face (that I didn’t have DID) for my own safety

20. Do you consider yourself a trustworthy person?

Pretty much yeah I’m not good with like positive secrets (like a surprise party, I’d just get too excited and want to tell the person yk!!) but if anyone ever tells me deep dark stuff and I’m told to keep it a secret (as long as they’re not in danger/a danger to themselves) then yeah I’ll take that shit to my grave nobody’s gonna know

“I have nothing to hide” Asks

(For those daring enough to reblog)

1. What are 4 tabs that you have open on your browser right now?

2. Have you ever thought about seriously harming someone?

3. How are you feeling emotionally right now?   

4. What type of place(Like building) are you in right now?       

5. Does anyone know your deepest, darkest secret?

6. Have you ever tried to feign mental illness for personal gain?

7. Do you have any enemies?

8. Do you have any people you only pretend to like?

9. What is one item that you never let anyone besides yourself look at or in?

10. Do you have any talents that people say you have but you don’t believe you actually have?

11. Something you like that other people generally do not like?

12. Are you a Virgin?  

13. Is there anyone that your grandma would hate that you are subscribed to on youtube?

14. Introvert or extrovert?

15. What is the most used application on your device?

16. How much fan fiction have you actually read?

17. Worst Fears?

18. Biggest mistake you’ve ever made?

19. Worst lie you’ve ever told?

20. Do you consider yourself a trustworthy person?

[always1star]

valentines day with jjk men

Gojo who goes all out: taking the day off, spending thousands of dollars, making sure the day is absolutely perfect for his darling. He takes Valentine’s day very seriously. He wakes you up with your favorite breakfast in bed, one that he spent way too long making in the very early hours in the morning. He finishes off breakfast by gifting you a considerably large bouquet of red roses and a teddy bear the size of an actual bear. He beckons you to eat and get ready so you two can spend the rest of your day together. You go shopping (and come home with armfuls of designer shopping bags), go to a restaurant (that costs basically your entire paycheck for the appetizer alone), and drive around the city in one of his all-too-nice cars. You both fall asleep the second you come home, exhausted from all the love shared throughout the day. 

Geto who likes to treat Valentine’s day as if it were any other date. Don’t get me wrong though, because every date with him is special and unforgettable. He picks you up from your workplace with an assortment of purple, pink, white, and red flowers. He plants a kiss on your lips as you get into his car, and the two of you head to the restaurant that you seem to always come back to. Dinner is eaten, conversations are spoken, and the two of you head back home to watch a movie. Whether it be The Notebook or The Conjuring, movies are always enjoyable with him. The two of you bundle up under one blanket on the couch and share a couple snacks, very much enjoying your Valentine’s this year.

Nanami who prefers to do Valentine’s at home. Although going out and spoiling you is nice too, he would much rather stay at home with you. A mundane day is his favorite, considering his incredibly demanding life. So, for Valentine’s day, he skips out on whatever overtime he may be forced into, and comes home to you with some white tulips. You two make and have a candlelit dinner, bake a cake, watch a shitty romcom, have a warm bath while talking about your days, and sleep entangled with each other. It’s nothing special, but it’s something the both of you couldn’t keep yourselves from looking forward to. 

Toji who truly is trying his best. It almost makes you hysterical, seeing him be so stupified by a holiday for love, but you know he just wants to try for you. He comes home with totally irrelevant gifts: lilies (which is normal), a whisk, red towels, and play-doh. You’re dying laughing, clenching onto your core and holding onto the counter for support as you fall over from laughing. He’s just utterly mortified. So, in an attempt to make it up, Toji invites you out to dinner. Toji loves to see you all dressed up, so this is great for him too. He treats you to dinner, but the wait for a table during Valentine’s is absurdly long at every restaurant. Toji ends up taking you to get some random ramen place he knows, and after treating you to ice cream. The two of you come home and fall asleep. Some people may not have considered your day favorable, but you think it’s absolutely perfect and wouldn’t trade it for anything else. 

Sukuna who doesnt give a single flying fuck about Valentine’s day. But, he is willing to give it a chance this time around, just for you. He grumbles as he walks through the store staring at all the people deciding what to buy for their loved ones. He eventually picked up a box of chocolates, a bouquet of pink carnations, and a white stuffed bear because those just happened to be the things that were popular amongst other shoppers. He looks online for date ideas, and figures tickets to a museum wouldn’t be so bad. He surprises you with the gifts when you come home, and you are so excited. He thinks that maybe this whole “Valentine’s” ordeal isn’t so bad after all. He’s trying, and maybe soon he will see improvement, and that’s wonderful to you. 

lowkey a filler post bc my real valentines special is not done... enjoy this instead. happy valentines, everyone!

[transformers-spike]

I've been loving all the sparkling hc and such it's giving me brain rot

You're sleeping in bed until you wake up and see your creepy little cybertronian daughter with a frowny face emoticon on her face screen.

"I threw up." She has a similarly monotone as Soundwave.

Also I'm imagining the human partner lives on earth while soudwave works back on the nemesis till his shift ends.

She likes to wrap her tentacles around you for hugs.

KO with split spark sparklings

One is a little angel baby princess who hates getting dirty or scratches on her paint and would rather play indoors. Knockout had to physically carry her at times because she refuses to walk or drive on dirt.

The other is a menace to society, loves driving fast even if it means wrecking himself. Absolutely enjoys human culture and earth as a planet. Best friendsb with Breakdown's sparkling. Sweet kid but is a huge mess maker.

You try not to snort as your kids hands Knockout an entire rose bush, stem, roots, dirt and all.

"I love it" Knockout smiles through thinly veiled disgust and your sparkling beams.You end up planting it in the back garden.

Starscream's kid is 100% his pride and joy even though he tries to pretend like she's not. His sparkling would either be the most arrogant thing possible or super sweet no in-between. When she's too small to fly on her own she rides in his cockpit but as she gets bigger they fly together and he definitely shows her fancy flight maneuvers. Father-daughter dates because he wants her to have high standards.

You watch your daughter's wings droop and lower derma pout as she begs you for the toys from her favorite cartoon.

"Pleeeeeeaase, they're limited time edition."

Her puppy dog eyes might work on Starscream but not you....right, right? Stay strong soldier.

I like to imagine megs with a daughter aswell (you get a daughter and you get a daughter 🫵) while it would be karmic debt to get a kid whos really sensitive it's much funnier if the child is a gremlin.

"Your time is up Megatron."

Optimus points his blaster down at him but he catches something the corner of his optic. A sparkling jumps infront of Megatron before Optimus can shoot him.

"Using your own sparkling as a shield is low even fo-"

He's cut off as Megs daughter tranforms into a gun and shoots him.

"You were saying, Prime"

Gun alt mode is so fucking funny to me.

YESSSSSS I LOVE THE SPARKLING BRAINROT Soundwave's kid is the scariest most intelligent baby ever. Very affectionate with her mom, but also very likely to eliminate whatever she thinks is "threatening" her caretaker. Her creepy voice is perfection - makes me wonder if her dad ever speaks to her despite his vow of silence - or if he just sticks to EM field communication Lmao Knock Out's split-sparks are are his punishment for being the way he is. They each adopted some of his worst traits lmao. You'd think the twins don't get along but - no - it's even worse. One of them is great at manipulation, while the other is an adrenaline junkie who keeps crashing into his sire's pedes - together, they're unstoppable. If they unite forces with Breakdown's kid, they'll end the world together I personally loveeee the concept of Starscream starting off being like ew towards his own child before eventually bonding with her and being overwhelmed by his need to protect this part of himself. Still in denial abt it- even tho he shadows her constantly during flights and acts way nicer than he does to anyone else. Also the type of parent who refuses to think his kid has done anything wrong lol Megatron with a feral daughter is the best. I'm telling you, she's been gnawing on him since day one. Imagine she turns into something similar to G1 Galvatron's alt-mode - a turret-gun of sorts. She may not cause all that much damage, but her role model is carnage incarnate. Now watch her follow in his pede-steps

[hardly-an-escape]

part two of this, originally inspired by @newtkelly's amazing art 🌹💕

The call is, blessedly, a very simple kitchen fire situation involving an aspiring but inattentive teenage cook and the charred remains of some former tacos. They clear the house, verify that there's no lasting damage and that all the smoke detectors are still working properly, and double-check the wiring on the stove just to be sure nothing drastically malfunctioned. Bobby gives the teen a friendly but compelling lecture on gas stoves and kitchen safety, and the cavalry rolls out.

The rest of the 118, to their credit, makes it a solid five minutes into the drive studiously not looking at Buck before the tension finally breaks.

"So," Chimney says.

"Flowers," Hen says.

"Lots of flowers," Eddie says.

"And a romantic ass speech," Hen says.

"In front of God and the captain and everybody," Chim adds.

"Shut up," Buck says, feeling his cheeks heat up, probably as pink as one of the carnations in the massive bouquet Tommy had given him.

Bobby says nothing, but his eyes in the rearview mirror are knowing and kind.

Tommy appears on the balcony as soon as the doors open and watches the engine back into the bay. His eyes seek out Buck's as soon as he hops off the rig, and Buck feels his heart leap in his chest. He changes out of his uniform in record time, and Tommy is waiting outside the locker room when he's done. He hands over the bouquet and takes Buck's duffel bag without a word, slinging it over one shoulder and wrapping the other arm tight around Buck's waist, and they walk out of the station like that, in lockstep with one another, out to Buck's car under the orangey-red Los Angeles sunset.

Buck is unusually warm when he wakes up on Friday morning.

It takes him half a second to realize why – that the extra heat is coming from the long, firm body wrapped around him from behind; that his bad leg is comfortably resting on a hairy thigh rather than the extra pillow he usually shoves between his knees; that the breath tickling his ear and the thumb stroking idly through his chest hair are both Tommy's.

God, he's missed this. They've barely been out of arm's reach of one another since Tuesday night, aside from when they'd both been scheduled to work, and yet all the time together isn't even a drop in the bucket of how much he's missed Tommy – missed his kisses and his voice and his dry laugh and his eyes and his body. He wriggles back against that body now, so naked and warm, and is rewarded by Tommy's arm tightening around his chest and Tommy's gentle laugh huffing in his ear.

"Oh, you awake now, sleepyhead?" he asks.

"No," Buck lies. "I'm fast asleep. I swear. You can keep watching me like a creep."

"If you insist," Tommy chuckles, dropping soft kisses along Buck's neck. "It's a shame, though. If you were awake I had some ideas for how we could spend the morning."

He grinds against Buck's bare ass, gentle and purposeful, and sucks an earlobe into his mouth, and Buck sighs happily and rolls in Tommy's arms so they're chest to chest and dick to dick, and kisses the laughter out of his mouth.

Some time later, Tommy's head is on Buck's chest and they're catching their breath, sweaty, the sheets kicked down around their ankles.

"Can I ask you something kind of silly?" Buck says.

"Mm. Go for it."

"How'd you know that I would be at work Tuesday evening?"

Tommy snorts. "Sneaked a peek at the citywide duty roster while Melton was in the john. I figured it was my best bet, instead of maybe missing you because you weren't home. And besides…"

"Besides what?"

"I felt like it was important to have an audience."

"An audience?" Buck parrots, confused.

Tommy nods against his chest. "I don't know, maybe that's not the right word. I wanted it to be witnessed. And I wanted you to know that everyone saw me come after you the way you deserved. Is that crazy?"

"I think you watch too many rom coms," Buck says. "But. It was also one of the best things that's ever happened to me, so I'll give you a pass."

"Nailed it." Tommy rubs his five o'clock shadow against Buck's chest and kisses the red patch it leaves behind. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"How come you didn't call, or anything? Afterwards? It felt – I know why I didn't. And maybe I don't have the right to ask. But is there a reason you didn't?"

Buck sighs. "I told myself a long time ago that I wasn't going to chase after people who weren't going to chase after me. And even with what you said that night, it didn't feel like you were chasing me. But I don't know, I kind of regret it now," he says, running a hand reflectively through Tommy's hair. "I missed you so much. I should've told you. Maybe we could've gotten back here quicker."

"I'm so sorry I made you feel that way, Evan," Tommy says quietly.

"It's okay."

"It's really not. But I meant what I said the other day. I'm going to do anything I can to make it better."

"This helps," Buck says, pulling Tommy a fraction of an inch closer.

"Then I'll keep doing this," Tommy says. He slings a leg over Buck's hip and kisses the patch of beard burn again.

Downstairs, three dozen roses overflow from the bowl of Buck's stand mixer – the only thing in his kitchen that had been big enough to hold them all. A couple of them are starting to look a little wilted, but most are still going strong almost three days later. He'll have replace the water today, pull out the spent blooms, rearrange the remaining flowers.

And he has to be at the station in a couple hours, and Tommy's shift starts an hour after that. It's Valentine's Day, but neither of them had bothered to request it off, so they'll have to get up soon; shower and dress and eat something and reenter the world once again.

But that's soon. This is now, in all its naked honesty: warm skin, and warm sheets, and kisses, and kindnesses, and the slightest scent of roses floating up to meet the morning light.

[cheeseceli]

Mornings with SKZ

Pairing: Ot8!Skz × Gn!reader (individually)

Genre: fluff, headcanons

Request: Ot8 skz and their s/o mornings together

Warnings: mentions of food, skinship, established relationship

A/n: posting this as a reminder I still exist 😭 | Daily click

Bang Chan

First three times you shared a bed with him freaked you out because Why'd you always wake up alone??

He'd already be starting his day

Showering, making breakfast, even working already depending on the day

But he'd always be as silent as possible so to not wake you up

Once you inevitably do, he stops whatever he was doing so he can say hello to you

Good morning hug 🙂‍↕️

"Hi babe, did I wake you up? Sorry, I'll be quieter next time. Come here"

Lee Know

You'd wake up with the smell of something delicious being made

Best breakfast ever!!

And he'd keep cooking after he feels you hugging him from behind

Asks you if you slept well 😔

Of course you slept well, how could you not with his three cats sleeping with you?

They'd only wake up later on though

It gives you two time to spend together before the day actually starts

"I'm almost done cooking it, you can go sit if you want."

Changbin

Please be someone who likes mornings

I see him as such an early bird for some reason

A very energetic one for all that is worth

So he'd love it if you wanted to be active since the early morning

Going out for breakfast, jogging a little bit, maybe just walking around the town

He loves to start his day with you, no matter what you're doing

"The day is so beautiful already! Do you want to go out? We can go to that cafe you like."

Hyunjin

He'd probably wake up before you, but he's not getting out of bed until you do

He's on the lazy morning racha, what can I say

But he's there, laying with you and cuddling you, sweetening your dreams a little bit more

It's a little bit funny cause he's waiting for you to wake up but he's not doing anything to entertain himself

Not even using his phone

Maybe he's still a bit dreamy and is just savouring this peaceful moment

Brightest smile ever when you open up your eyes

"Hello, love. Did you sleep well?"

Han

There's no such thing as morning with him

Bro is ready to wake up only after eleven am

And please don't be an early bird because he needs to be with him

Yes, he will be asleep, but he also wants to be with you

He's such a cuddler

Even if you woke up, I'm not sure you'd be able to get away from his hold

"C'mon, baby. Just five more minutes."

Felix

Breakfast in bed!!!

I cannot imagine a morning that is more him than that

He's so gentle when waking you up as well

Softly calling out your name and maybe even kissing your forehead

It would be like 8/9 am when he'd wake you up

So that gives you two quite a time to spend together

"Wake up, angel. I made some food for you."

Seungmin

It doesn't always happen, but whenever it's possible, he loves to watch the sunrise with you

Even if you're so sleepy you barely register the scene

It's kinda magical

He won't admit it though

Mornings with him are low-key quiet, you both still a little bit sleeping

It's also when he's the most vulnerable

"Come here" he asks with open arms, just waiting for your touch.

I.N

He's the second part of the lazy morning racha

He loves doing absolutely nothing with you

Just laying in bed or on the couch and catching up with your favourite drama energises him so much

He especially lives to this on his days off

It's rare to be able to do nothing for a while, so he won't lose an opportunity to do so

"Oh, there's a new episode of the drama we were watching last week. Wanna see it?

Masterlist | you'll probably like: first relationships

Reminder this is just fiction!! I'm not trying to portray real life and you shouldn't believe that this is how the members actually are. This is just for the vibe and the delulu!

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @dandelions-143 @sleepyleeji @jinnie-ret @sheraayasherrecs @rockstarkkami @urlocalmultigroupfan @aeinzzzketchup

Dividers by @cafekitsune | images 1, 2 and 3

[dreamsteddie]

Who Will Catch Me When You're Gone?

Content Tags: Platonic Sobin, major character death, grief, depression, major character undeath

Inspired by this beautiful art by @tarraing

------

When they found Steve, broken and bloody and scraped raw from the bats, all Robin could think about was that Steve's favorite sweatpants were ruined. She'd never understood those things or how someone so obsessed with fashion could wear them, but he'd always loved how comfortable they were. She razzes him about it every time he wears them.

Now they're ruined. Dirty and ripped.

She can hear Nancy ordering them to help her and Eddie freaking out but it's all just white noise to her right up until the moment everything comes flooding back in and the world has never been louder. Her breathing is deafening like she's trying to breathe for both of them.

Steve isn't breathing.

Steve isn't breathing but somehow she still is.

One moment she's stuck watching Nancy Wheeler try to patch her soulmate back together the next she's doing it for her so Nancy can start CPR. Eddie has stopped freaking out, she is dimly aware of him standing behind her, hovering because he doesn't know how to help. Doesn't know if there's any way to help.

Robin knows she's talking but it doesn't matter what she's saying. She doesn't think Steve can hear her. How could anything she says matter when her best friend isn't there to hear it? But she can't make herself stop, just in case.

But Steve never hears her. Nancy pushes on his chest and forces air into his lungs until her arms are shaking and she doesn't have enough strength to move his chest anymore. Then Robin takes over even though she has no idea what she's doing. Even though Nancy and Eddie are trying to tell her it's no use, that they need to go.

Like she could leave him here.

Then she's kicking and screaming because they're trying to pull her away. She's biting down on Eddie's ringed hand and kicking out into Nancy's ribs. She's not leaving, she's not. She can't do that to Steve, would rather lie down next to him, take his hand, and let the bats find her than leave him behind.

The last thing she sees before someone knocks her in the head is Steve's eyes, open and empty and staring right at her.

------

When Robin wakes up she's surrounded by people, but no one says a thing. She sees Dustin, red-eyed and empty standing in a corner across from the couch she's been placed on. Max won't look at her, Erica is glued to her side, Eddie looks lost, and Nancy looks like a block of steel. Steve isn't anywhere to be found.

But then again, Robin knew that. She'd know if Steve was her because their hearts beat as one, but now her chest feels empty. It's Max, brave, scared Max, who breaks the silence. Robin doesn't hear it. Doesn't listen as people start explaining plans around them. Can't channel the righteous fury she sees in Nancy, Dustin, and Max or the barely concealed fear in Eddie and Erica. All she feels is empty.

She's going to do whatever they want her to do because she knows it's what Steve would do. Knows without a shadow of a doubt that if she was the one lying dead in the Upside Down he would be on a war path in her name, so she needs to do the same.

When she launches that last fire bomb into Vecna's ugly head, it's a hallow victory.

Everyone else survives. The Byers move back to Hawkins. The town starts to rebuild. The big bad is gone for good.

But it doesn't mean anything to her. She lies in bed most days without saying a word. She lets her parents dote on her, listens passively as they try to remind her of the college acceptance letters waiting for her on the kitchen counter. Manages to sit up and smile just a little when Eddie brings Dustin and Erica by to see her. Cries with the two of them tucked under her arms, all three of them aware of how vulnerable they feel without a strong pair of arms wrapped around their other side.

Robin asks Eddie to hang back one day and makes a request. The next day he comes by with a clean needle and a pot of ink and Robin sits motionless as he engraves a sunflower inner her wrist, somewhere she'll always be able to see it. She always swore to Steve that she would never get a tattoo, too freaked out by the possibility of an infection, but those fears feel so distant now that the worst thing that could happen has come to pass. She catches Eddie with one of his own to match the next week.

------

A month goes by. She doesn't leave the house, even when Dustin comes by to beg her.

Then two. She can tell her parents are starting to really worry. They've given up trying to get to college and started trying to get her to think about therapy.

Then Five. She started going to work again. She puts on her Family Video vest and thinks about Steve. She walks through the door and imagines Steve leaning over the counter. Keith turns on Back to The Future and she goes home with a panic attack. She doesn't speak unless it's necessary, but she's trying to move forward. She knows it's what Steve would want for her, even on the days when it's not what she wants for herself.

And then Six months pass. There's a tap at her window.

She ignores it, at first. She refuses to go to a shrink, there are too many things she can't say to the ones her parents recommend, and she won't accept anything from those government goons who turned her best friend into a soldier. Into cannon fodder. Instead, she writes letters.

She sits down at her desk once a day and pours her heart out to Steve. She lets herself pretend for a few moments every day that he's just been dragged away by his parents for a few months. He's out there somewhere in the world relying on her to keep her updated on the kids and the drama at work and herself until she can go out and join him, wherever he is. Some days she writes about nothing at all, some days she rages at him for leaving her behind, sometimes she speculates about their future where she goes to college wherever he is and they get an apartment and two dogs. She seals every one in an envelope, tucks them in a drawer, and lets herself breathe in that perfect fantasy for just a moment. It's the best part of her day, and nothing can tear her away from it.

Except the tapping doesn't stop.

And Robin lives on the second floor.

And everyone she knows would just come through the front door.

She turns, so slowly, toward the window. The glare from her bedside lamp makes it impossible to see anything through it, but she doesn't need to.

There are fingers, claws, forcing their way under the sill. She sucks in a sharp breath as they curl upward, crashes to the ground as they start to pull.

She's scrambling back, getting ready to scream and make a run for the walkie she leaves on silent on her desk to call for help. To warn the others that their monsters are back before it mows her down.

But then the window gives way and she stops. Stops everything.

Because the thing in her window is wearing her best friend's face. It's wearing his hair and his moles and his stupid fucking sweatpants.

And at the end of the day it doesn't actually matter what he looks like. It doesn't matter if there are new hinges in his jaw to show off new, shark-like teeth. It doesn't matter mater if he can't say anything besides a hissed, garbled rendition of her name. It doesn't even matter when he latches onto her wrist, right above that little sunflower, and sucks, taking just enough blood to make her light-headed.

Because she can feel his heartbeat pounding along with her own, perfectly in sync.

Because she's not alone, anymore.

[ch33z3grits]

Crimson Obsessions | A Terry Richmond Vampire Series

pairing: Aaron Pierre as Terry Richmond x Justine Skye as Camille DeWaterson

summary: Camille attempts to return to her usual life in Houston, trying her best to forget the club owner that stays on her mind and in her heart. But a new member of her firm shows her that she won’t be forgetting that night anytime soon. Terry has used the time since the bachelorette party to find the best way to insert himself in Camille’s life. Taking advantage of a chance opportunity, fate if you will, he starts to put his plan into motion.

warnings: 18+ mdni, dark romance, manipulation, obsessiveness/possessiveness, mentions of sexual acts, mentions of BDSM, cyberstalking

word count: 6,624

a/n: thank you all for the feedback on the last part! This part is definitely less spicy... BUT, it does give a lot of background that's necessary for the rest of the story. Hope you all enjoy :)

Camille’s song: Can’t Get You Out of My Head-Kylie Minogue | Terry’s song: Excitement-Trippie Redd

Pt. Two

Camille

Camille was pulled out of her sleep by the soft harping of her alarm. Groggily, she blinked the remnants of her dream from her eyes. It was a dream similar to the ones she’s had every night since she had returned from New Orleans. The mysterious club owner, on his knees with her legs draped over his shoulders, slurping her dripping pussy like it was his last meal. Or he would be folding her like a pretzel, digging her out until she saw stars. Or he would press her into a wall, thrusting into her from behind. He would tell her she was being such a good girl for him. His eyes would bore into hers as he relentlessly sent her over the edge multiple times. She would be trapped in his gaze until her alarm came to her rescue every morning.

Like usual, her fiancé’s side of the bed was already empty. Aston McCoy was determined to make junior partner early at the law firm they both worked at. To show the leadership at Watkins & Grant that he was the perfect candidate for promotion, Aston would arrive at the office an hour and a half earlier than everyone else. His early arrival required that he leave the apartment they shared at 5:30 AM to get to the office by 6:00 AM.

Camille didn’t mind waking up to an empty bed every weekday morning. In fact, she looked forward to it. Don’t get her wrong, she enjoyed Aston’s company. But these quiet mornings were slowly becoming the only moments she had where she was away from him. After moving into his apartment three months ago, Camille realized that his presence consumed every part of her life. They worked together, lived together, ate together, shopped together, went to events together. And they always seemed to only do things he wanted to do. Camille couldn’t help but feel like she was losing her life and getting absorbed by his.

She threw off the comforter and stood from the bed, trudging towards the bathroom to begin her daily routine. After brushing her teeth and doing her skincare, she turned the shower on to let the water warm up as she walked into the closet to pick out her outfit for the day. Like her father, Aston was very concerned with image. Because of this, he always encouraged her to wear things that “whispered wealth.” He bought her expensive work dresses from brands that his old money friends mentioned. He encouraged her to keep her nails short and neutral. And he always wanted her makeup and hair to be feature enhancing, free from any distracting colors or textures. For the most part, Camille didn’t mind because she naturally went for the look that Aston wanted. But whenever she did drift outside of her comfort zone, it was always met with displeasure.

Camille reached for a black turtleneck sweater, a black maxi skirt, and nude pumps. The Houston weather had been all over the place. Even though it was mid February, the temperature climbed to 70 degrees some days then dropped into the 40s right after. Today was one of those 40 degree days, so Camille hoped her outfit was enough to keep her warm. She laid the clothes on the bed, then proceeded to strip and get in the shower. After washing up, she stepped out to apply her lotion and perfume. For her makeup, she took her sweet time at the vanity space, savoring the still morning. Once she applied the finishing touches, she returned to the bed to pull on her outfit. Lastly, she pulled her silk pressed hair into a sleek bun.

Same old same old, Camille thought, bracing herself for the somewhat stressful day. When she first took the paralegal job at Watkins & Grant that Aston helped her secure, she was beyond excited. She envisioned herself working with a diverse team of attorneys, diving into a variety of cases and tackling a wide range of legal issues. But Aston had other plans. He convinced his managers to funnel all his cases her way, effectively monopolizing her workload. Every once in a while, one of the other associates would pass along a case that sparked her interest—like something in Environmental Law—but those moments were rare. Most of the time, Camille was buried in Aston’s Property and Financial Assets portfolio. She appreciated the privilege of her position, she knew how fortunate she was. But working for her partner wasn’t easy. He ran a tight ship and his workload was more than average, meaning hers was more than average too.

After checking that everything was in her work bag, Camille moved towards the large apartment’s front door. I’ll get breakfast at the office, she decided as she rode the elevator down to the parking deck. She slid into her Lexus, placing her bag on the passenger seat. Aston preferred that she came to work with him in his Porsche Cayenne. But she loved the Lexus that her dad bought her after she graduated from college. Besides, she wasn’t waking up three hours early just so her coworkers didn’t see her older car.

Camille’s guilty pleasure, the NASA Curious Universe podcast, got her through her 30 minute commute to the office and her search for a parking spot in the packed deck. With a final sigh, she grabbed her bag and stepped out of her car.

“Good morning, Mr. Pat,” she waved to the security guard who watched the deck most days. Mr. Pat waved back, giving her a warm smile she didn’t know she needed. “Good morning Ms. Camille,” he replied. “Don’t work yourself too hard today!”

“I’ll try my best,” Camille called back with a giggle. But she knew that today would be like every other work day. Aston would pile on the work, she'd eat lunch at her desk, and stay late to finish it all. But she couldn’t complain. After their honeymoon, Aston wanted her to stay at home, which she didn’t mind at all. Though she dreamed of using her Economics degree to become a florist and open her own shop, staying home was still better than being Aston's glorified personal assistant.

“Good morning, Mr. Watkins. How was your weekend?” She said as she stepped into the elevator with one of her bosses. Camille always greeted the senior partner of the firm, Mr. Charles Watkins. He always extended kindness to her and often tried to get Aston to lighten her load. “Camille, how’re you doing?! My weekend was just perfect. The missus and I tried to go sledding in North Dakota with our grandkids. It was a disaster because of my bad knee,” he laughed. “But going anywhere with Mabel is always a great time for me.” Camille smiled brightly as he babbled on. Mr. Watkins always spoke highly of his wife of thirty-six years, Mabel. Maybe one day, if their love evolved beyond fulfilling their familial duties, Aston would talk about her like that. But for now, she settled for the mutual respect and attraction they had for each other.

In college, Camille had fallen deeply in love with Aston when they got together sophomore year. But two years into their relationship, she discovered he’d been cheating on her for eight months. The betrayal shattered her. They broke up, despite his protests, and Camille wasn’t swayed by his desperate attempts to win her back. Their fathers had to step in, reminding them that their relationship was never about love—it was a business arrangement. “We’re not here for love, Camille. We’re here to merge Texas oil with Louisiana oil refining,” her father had said. So, Camille and Aston reconciled in their senior year, but Camille kept her heart locked away, vowing to never to be as open with him, or anyone else, as she once had been.

“Oh Camille, by the way. Will you be in the office around 11:00 AM today? Grant and I have an announcement to make and we want to make sure the whole team is present.” Camille started to nod. Of course she would be, she never had time to leave the office.

“Yes sir, I’ll be there. Will the announcement be in the conference room?”

“It sure will be! You’re always one step ahead of me, Camille,” he chuckled as the elevator finally paused on their floor. “Well, I’ll see you then. Tell McCoy I said good morning.” With that, Mr. Watkins walked out of the elevator and rounded the corner towards his wing of the office.

Camille walked in the opposite direction towards Aston’s office, smiling politely at her coworkers along the way. The glass walls of Aston’s office showed him already hard at work. A coffee cup and an open Celsius sat on his desk, hinting as to why he had so much energy already. She knocked lightly on the glass door before letting herself in. He rose from his desk as a smile spread across his face.

“Morning baby!” He greeted with his Texas drawl. Camille couldn’t help but return his smile. Despite his past discrepancies, and some of his overbearing and superficial ways, he was a genuinely pleasant person. He maintained a positive attitude and he could always brighten up a room. He was like a golden retriever.

“Good morning,” Camille giggled back. “You seem to be in a really good mood. Did I miss something?” Camille said, placing her stuff on the desk in the corner of his office.

He bit his fist, laughing softly. “Baby… I think today’s the day. I think they’re going to announce that I’m the new junior partner!” Camille gave him a warm smile. “I’m so proud of you! Look at you, all of your hard work is paying off and ahead of schedule,” Camille stated, walking around his desk to give him a hug. He returned the hug with enthusiasm, rocking her back and forth in his arms. “Thank you, baby.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “You know what this means? No more early mornings! We’ll be able to come into the office together.”

Camille nodded, a pang of guilt going through her. She didn’t want to give up her mornings alone…

“Wow, I mean who would’ve thought that he would be making junior partner before his 35th birthday,” Aston sighed, looking at the picture of himself that sat on his desk. He was standing in the DKR stadium at their Alma mater, the University of Texas, his arm extended with his hand in a “hook ‘em Horns” gesture.

Camille smiled at his silliness and patted his torso before pulling away from their embrace. “Mr. Watkins or Mr. Grant hinted at it or something?” She asked.

“Yea, Grant was in the office early today and he swung by to tell me that they’re making a big announcement today that I’m going to be very pleased with.” Camille didn’t think his smile could get any wider, but it did. “Well I’ll be sure to be the first one in the conference room to get a good seat, so I can get a good picture of you,” Camille said, feeling a bit better about the day.

“Thanks for being so supportive, Millie,” Aston sighed happily. Camille inwardly cringed at the nickname she never had the heart to tell him that she hated. “But,” he continued, his tone getting more serious. “We gotta make sure this chapter of my career ends productively. You ready to do one final sprint, babe?” Camille nodded with a closed mouth smile as he dropped a thick stack of papers on her desk. She knew she would be glued to her desk until it was time to go to the conference. Bracing herself, she opened the file and got to work.

Two hours later, she sighed with relief as Aston’s watch went off, signaling that it was fifteen minutes until 11 AM. She rolled her wrist to bring her cramped hand back to life. Aston rose from his desk and began to pace between his office mirror and his coat hanger that held his suit jacket.

“What do you think baby? Should I wear the suit jacket or does it look too formal?” He asked, nervously looking at her through the mirror as he adjusted his tie. “The suit jacket,” she said. “It screams junior partner.” He smiled in agreement. He threw it on and gave himself one final look.

He opened the door for Camille and they headed down the hall to the grand conference room. Once inside, they sat near the head of the table, eagerly awaiting the good news.

Within the next five minutes, dozens of other employees began to file into the room. The early birds were able to grab seats at the long table, while those who dragged their feet had to find standing room. At around 10:57, Mr. Watkins and Mr. Grant walked in, quieting the chatter that filled the space. Aston squeezed Camille’s thigh under the table with excitement.

“Thank you all for making it to this meeting! We've been excited to share this announcement for some time now, but we had some logistical issues we had to work out,” Mr. Watkins proceeded after clearing his throat. “Since we started this firm, Tom and I have always been careful in our selection of partners. As the face of the firm, they had to be exceptional. We wanted a partner who is disciplined, innovative, and exceeds expectations. And we are glad to say that we found that partner. From the moment we met him, we knew that this young man would go far, farther than either one of us.” Aston’s grip on Camille tightened. “He’s so promising, that even at his age, he’s going to be made a partner instead of a junior partner. But before we dive into his bio, let’s introduce you all to our newest member of the Watkins & Grant family, Mr. Terrence Richmond.” Both Camille and Aston stiffened, his hand slowly loosening from her thigh. Camille looked at Aston from the corner of her eye, seeing shock cross his face.

Oh no, she thought as she joined the resounding applause that filled the air. She hadn’t yet looked at the large figure entering the conference room, instead focusing on Aston’s shifting expression. And he was so excited… the poor thing.

“Oh my God,” Stephanie, Mr. Grant’s secretary, whispered to her friends. “I’d love to ride that pony!” That statement made Camille’s attention snap to the newcomer. As her eyes landed on his face, her applause faltered and her stomach dropped. It was him. The man who had been consuming her mind since Chloe's party. The man who haunted her every fantasy, lingering in her mind when she least wanted him to. The man she’d been desperately trying to forget, to quiet the guilt that gnawed at her every night as she laid next to Aston.

Even with subtle changes, he was unmistakable. His cornrows had been replaced by a low, curly fade. His face was now clean-shaven, except for a sharp goatee and thick, commanding eyebrows. The gold chains were gone, replaced by a sleek silver watch. Despite these shifts in appearance, he was undeniably the same man she had danced on with four weeks ago, the one who still burned in her memory.

If he recognized her, he didn’t show it. His eyes only lingered on hers for a second before shifting to another person. Camille quickly regained her composure and resumed clapping. Maybe he doesn’t remember me, she thought. He’s probably gone through enough women by now that he’s forgotten my face. Camille relaxed slightly. Yea, there’s no way he remembers me.

“Mr. Richmond is an excellent attorney who, after a lot of begging on our end, has agreed to a one year rotation as a partner with us,” Mr. Grant, who never speaks highly of anyone, chimed in. “His portfolio will cover intellectual property, government contracts, and impact investing. Some of our associates, like Aston McCoy, have been trying to get us to add intellectual property and impact investing to our services for years. Now that we have Terry, we’ll be able to expand our reach in the world of law, and interested associates will be able to work under him.” Mr. Grant nodded in Aston’s direction. Aston gave him a tight-lipped smile as he continued. “Prior to law, Mr. Richmond served in the United States Marine Corps for seven years, where he was a MCMAP instructor while simultaneously earning his bachelor’s in civil engineering. After exiting the service, he attended Florida A&M University’s College of Law where he graduated top of his class. Out of several offers, he chose to work with the prestigious Washington D.C. firm, Cravath. Under Cravath, he worked with clients like the Department of Defense and Microsoft with cases surrounding crypto, AI, and energy systems. Now, Cravath is letting us borrow him for the year as a part of a national attorney swap program.” Mr. Grant paused to lead everyone in another round of applause. “Mr. Richmond, is there anything else you’d like to share with us?” Mr. Grant asked.

Terrence Richmond smiled brightly. “Mr. Watkins and Mr. Grant, thank you for such a lovely and thorough introduction. And thank you all in advance for welcoming me to your team. I hope I’m able to learn a lot from you all and hope that you all find that my presence adds value here. Please feel free to drop by my office at any time, I’m always happy to chat. And please,” he added, the entire room hanging on his every word. “Just call me Terry.”

A fresh wave of enthusiastic applause rippled through the conference room, signaling the end of the formal meeting. The room buzzed with energy as people eagerly swarmed Terry to introduce themselves. Camille wished she could melt into the wall, desperate to slip out unnoticed. But before she could formulate a plan, Aston was already on his feet, pulling her toward a door on the opposite side of the room, away from Terry. As they made their escape, Camille couldn't resist a glance over her shoulder. Everyone was too absorbed in fawning over Terry and his impressive resume to notice them leaving, except for one person.

Terry.

His eyes locked onto her like a hawk and he flashed her a sly smile that sent a wave of heat through her. She quickly looked away, heart racing. She still wanted to believe he didn’t remember her, but that look left her uncertain.

Aston continued to drag her into his office, closing the door once they were inside. Camille watched as he paced the room, thinking of the best way to calm him down. She swallowed. “Bab–” he cut her off swiftly.

“What the hell was that?! Are they fucking kidding me,” he yelled, making Camille wince. “I’ve been busting my ass for the past three years here and they just let this new guy waltz in and become, not even junior partner, but partner?! Well, fuck me in the ass,” he grumbled.

“Language Aston, please,” Camille sighed.

“No Millie. This isn’t fucking fair. I mean, who even is this guy? Should’nt he still be in the fucking Marines! What the hell is he practicing civilian law for?” He continued to pace. “And what school is Florida A&M? I’ve never heard of it. I went to Yale for Christ’s sake! Did they really think I’d be happy about this? Just because he expands our portfolio in the way I suggested?!”

Camille placed her hands on his shoulders, attempting to soothe him. “Baby, please. I know you’re upset and disappointed, but you can’t react like this. At least not here.” Aston pinched the bridge of his nose and took a few deep breaths. “What if someone sees you?” She whispered. He froze momentarily, glancing at the office’s transparent walls.

“You’re… you’re right, babe. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for cursing. Come on, let’s just get back to work,” he walked away from her and plopped down behind his desk. Camille released a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She knew he didn’t feel any better, but he put on a relaxed face anyway. That would have to be good enough for now. She slowly walked back to her desk, returning to the thick stack of documents. The office was silent except for the clacking of Aston’s keyboard and an occasional click of a mouse. But a few minutes later, Aston started back up again.

“I mean, where’d they even find this fucking guy!” He quipped. Camille groaned, dropping the highlighter in her hand.

“He’s on the goddamn MCMAP Wikipedia page. Watkins & Grant can’t let some damn jiu-jitsu instructor represent them. They–”

He was cut off by a knock. Camille and Aston’s head snapped to the door. Behind it stood Mr. Watkins… and the devil himself. Aston plastered on a fake smile and waved them in enthusiastically. “Come on in!”

“McCoy, Camille. You both rushed out of that meeting like two bats running out of hell. But I know how y’all like to keep yourselves busy. Just wanted to stop by so Mr. Richmond could meet you two,” Mr. Watkins explained as they stepped inside. Terry let out a deep chuckle, sending a ripple of pleasure through Camille.

“Please, just call me Terry.” He said, extending his hand to Aston. Aston’s fake smile twitched. “Great to meet you, Terry. Welcome to the firm!”

“I appreciate it,” Terry returned, his eyes settling on Camille’s. He licked his lips as his eyes swept over her figure, but the other two men didn’t notice. “Ms. Camille, a pleasure to meet you as well.” Camille gulped as she grasped his large, extended hand. She tried to pull away after a brief shake, but he gripped her hand just a little bit tighter, his thumb tracing light circles on the back of her hand. She shuddered. Shit, he does remember me. And he isn’t going to pretend like nothing happened between us.

“Nice to meet you too, Terry.” She looked away from his unyielding gaze.

“Now Terry, I told you plenty about McCoy on our walk over here. But not nearly enough about Camille! She’s the greatest paralegal that the associates have, but McCoy here likes to hog her. But I guess that’s to be expected of her future husband.”

“Future husband?” Terry interjected. “Y’all are engaged?” He asked casually, turning his attention to Aston.

Aston nodded vigorously. “Yep, for the past four months.”

Camille’s stomach sank as he looked back at her and gave her a predatory smile. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” she squeaked, feeling like a lamb in the jaws of a wolf.

“But we’ve gotta split these two up eventually, it’s only fair.” Mr. Watkins chimed in. “Camille will start having more diversity in the cases she helps with. So if you ever need a hand, Terry, please feel free to reach out to her.”

“Oh, I will. Most definitely,” Terry purred, causing Camille’s face to heat up.

“Great! Well, we will leave you all to it. Don’t forget to take your lunch,” Mr. Watkins called out, holding the glass door open for Terry. Terry gave Camille one last heated stare, before turning to walk out of the office.

Terry

Terry chuckled to himself as he thought about how Camille reacted to him walking into the conference room. Her fine ass looked exactly how he wanted her to. A doe caught in the headlights. Her dark brown eyes widened and her mouth fell agape comically. He had to hold in his laugh so he could give the rest of her colleagues a polite introduction.

When Terry pulled up her LinkedIn the day after she left Crimson, a satisfied grin tugged at his lips when he saw her listed as a paralegal. Fate was definitely on his side. Over the years, Terry had cycled through countless careers and identities, always one step ahead of those who might start asking too many questions or notice that he doesn’t really age. While he was deeply involved with Crimson and other ventures catering to the supernatural, he had also kept a foot in the legal world, practicing law on and off for the past four decades. He would spend years establishing himself as a sought-after attorney, only to disappear and reinvent himself in a new city when the time was right. Currently, he was one of the most respected lawyers in Washington, D.C. Last year, he joined a nationwide network of top-tier lawyers, offering their expertise to other firms. Firms across the country had courted him, but none had been as persistent as Watkins & Grant. So when Terry saw that a particular paralegal worked there, he decided to finally accept their generous offer. A few weeks later he was sitting in an opulent executive suite with his name on the door and his beloved Camille only a stone’s throw away.

Of course, Terry didn’t stop at Camille’s LinkedIn. After much digging, he found her social media handles, as well as the ones that belonged to her friends and family. Hundreds of pictures, tweets, videos, and articles helped him piece together her life. Camille was the second child of Colin and Anastasia DeWaterson, a business executive turned oil refinery owner and a celebrity costume designer. While Anastasia came from wealth, Colin came from humble beginnings. A country boy from Alabama who climbed the ranks of Georgia Power after gaining a business degree from Morehouse. The couple married in their early twenties and welcomed their first child, Colin DeWaterson Jr., after two years of marriage. One year later, they had Camille. Three years after that, they had their second daughter, Chloe. Their fourth and final child, Cole, came almost eight years after. 

The DeWatersons main residence was originally in Jonesboro, Georgia. But the children were rarely there. Colin Jr. was overseas in a German boarding school specializing in math and technology. Camille and Chloe were a bit closer to home attending a boarding school in Virginia. And Cole was in California at a school with a top-ranked basketball program. But in Camille’s sophomore year of high school, Mr. DeWaterson relocated his family to Louisiana after a distant relative passed, unexpectedly leaving him ownership of a few oil refineries in the state. From then on, Mr. DeWaterson attached himself to every wealthy family he could. And his connections seemed to pay off. The DeWatersons grew in popularity and became pinnacles of Black excellence in Louisiana.

But as time went on, the family seemed to attract scandals at every turn. A few years ago, rumors began to circulate that DeWaterson Sr. had an affair with a secretary, resulting in a baby. Although he denied the claims, he supposedly refused to participate in a DNA test and gave his secretary an undisclosed amount of money. Mrs. DeWaterson, battling stage three breast cancer, refused to make public appearances with her husband for over a year. At the same time, the youngest DeWaterson daughter began acting out. She dropped out of her Ivy League school to run off to LA with her then-boyfriend, a rising fashion designer. She got into a physical altercation outside of a LA nightclub, which was highly publicized. And she decided to go skinny dipping in a fountain at a well attended charity event. The DeWaterson sons also made headlines. During a sermon at his great uncle’s church, Colin Jr. came out to the entire congregation with his boyfriend. And Cole was accused of arson at his high school in Louisiana shortly after he transferred.

The only person who remained blemish free since the DeWatersons rise to notoriety was Camille. No scandalous articles, messy drama, or embarrassing incidents about her came to the surface as Terry continued his thorough search. Only mentions of her various awards, philanthropic acts, and social outings. But one particular article really piqued Terry’s interest. “The McCoy and DeWaterson Ties are Binding in More Ways Than One: The Engagement of the South.” The webpage outlined how the children of business partners Richard McCoy and Colin DeWaterson Sr. were soon to be wed. The author also accused the couple of joining together not for love, but to secure another level of wealth for their families. And Terry couldn’t agree more. As he analyzed the relationship further, he concluded that this was all orchestrated by their fathers. Camille would do anything to please her father and protect her family’s name. Even if that meant she had to sign her life away to some entitled white boy.

Terry let out a pleased sigh when he finally ended his investigation into Camille DeWaterson. It appeared he had a sweet, obedient, good girl on his hands. Women like her were always the most satisfying challenges. He was going to enjoy stealing Camille away from her fiancé and turning her into his personal slut. Overstimulation, edging, sensory deprivation, primal play, shibari… he would introduce her to it all. He would ruin her over and over and over again, breaking her down until she was a slutted out, cock-drunk mess. And when she breaks, he will gladly put her back together again. He would nail her to the cross just to resurrect her so he could be at her beck and call. She’d be his pampered sex kitten that he would spoil rotten, happily giving her the life that she deserved and freeing her from the exhaustion of being Little Miss Perfect. A kept woman who wouldn't have to do anything but love him.

But accomplishing this would require more than just working at Watkins & Grant. Terry would have to do much more to reel Camillle in and push McCoy out of the way. And he had to start now.

He opened the new laptop on his desk that was provided to him earlier that morning. All of the necessary accounts and applications had been installed and downloaded by the IT department. He only cared about one app at the moment, though.

Teams.

Every employee was just one message away. He scrolled through the names until he found Camille’s. He let out a ‘hmmm’ when he saw the green dot next to her name. She was available and online, prompting Terry to send her a quick, straightforward message.

Camille

Camille’s heart thumped loudly at the message that flashed in the corner of her computer screen.

Come here. We need to talk.

The devil was beckoning her to his office, and she had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. The man could easily reveal what they did a few weekends ago to Aston, and her life would go up in flames. He could dangle that night over her head for the next year if he wanted to. He wants to blackmail me, Camille thought as she chewed on her lip. Why else would he be giving me those taunting looks? What other reason would make him call me to his office?

Camille desperately wanted to decline, knowing that any interaction with him could only lead to trouble. But what choice did she have? Avoiding him might piss him off. And who knows what he’ll do if that happens.

OK.

She sent the response and immediately shut her laptop. He couldn’t make any more demands of her if she couldn’t see them. Aston paused briefly at the sound of her device closing. “You going to lunch now?” he asked. “Yep,” she responded. That’s the perfect excuse, she thought. “Where are you going?” he pushed further. Camille chewed her lip nervously. She was always a bad liar. “I’m not sure yet. I’m feeling a little spontaneous.” She grabbed her bag and moved towards the door to avoid more questions.

“Wherever you go, can you get me something with chicken?” She grimaced. Now, she actually had to leave the building. “Sure, babe. I’ll be back soon.” And with that, she began her journey to Terry’s office.

His office sat within the executive wing of the floor, where the top employees got to enjoy the best views, the sleekest offices, and their own personal bathrooms. Terry’s new office had sat vacant for months and was often visited by Aston when he made his rounds in the morning. “This’ll be mine one day,” he would tell Camille from time to time. She understood his admiration of the space.

The office featured twelve-foot ceilings with floor-to-ceiling windows offering an unobstructed view of the Houston skyline. The space was fully equipped with the latest technology: a sleek smart screen, a modern kitchenette, and remote-controlled blinds. While the walls were glass like the other offices, a simple press of a button gave the glass an opaque frost, instantly giving the occupant privacy. It even had a connecting room, dedicated for a personal assistant. All in all, the room exuded a sense of sophistication, making it a space where work and luxury effortlessly coexisted. Any other time, Camille would be excited to take a trip to the executive wing. But this time, she was terrified.

She softly knocked on the door bearing the plaque “Terrence Richmond,” still trying to think of a way to get out of this situation. But the butter smooth voice that said “Come in” on the other side of the door told her that there was no escaping. Camille quickly stepped inside and shut the door behind her. Tucking her hands nervously behind her back, she watched Terry lazily toss a mini Houston Rockets basketball up and down, up and down. One of his welcome gifts from Mr. Watkins, she assumed. She couldn’t help but admire the beautiful man for a moment. His perfectly chiseled face. His plump lips. The way his muscles flexed beneath his clothing. He was like a dream come true. But Camille knew she had to wake herself up, because he could easily make her reality a nightmare. She cleared her throat, snapping herself out of the trance.

“You wanted to see me?” She asked quickly, just wanting to get this over with. He gave her a cheeky smile, making her knees buckle momentarily. “Hello to you too, Camille.” Her cheeks heated up as she mentally chastised herself. That was a little passive aggressive. She let out the breath she had been holding and approached his desk. “Look Terry, I know you probably want to make this as torturous for me as possible. But can you make this little game of yours quick, I have to get to lunch.”

Terry’s smile faded into confusion, his tossing coming to a stop. “What are you talking about?” Camille forced herself not to roll her eyes as she sat in the plush leather seat across from him. “You have some leverage that you can use against me. So what do you want? Let’s not dance around this.”

“Woah, woah, woah.” He threw his hands up innocently. “Honestly Camille, I called you in to say that if you stay cool, I’ll stay cool. I don’t want to make any problems for you.”

Her chest tightened as she searched his eyes for any insincerity. She didn’t find any. Shit. Camille had completely miscalculated his intentions. And had the nerve to accuse him of messing with her head! That whole interaction they had in Aston’s office was probably meaningless. She was the pervert for thinking that the looks he gave her or the tone he had were sexually charged. She slumped in the chair, upset that she had jumped to conclusions. With a shaky sigh, she said, “Terry, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have come for you like that. It’s just that…when I saw your message, I-I panicked-”

“Camille.” He interrupted gently. “You don’t have to apologize. This is exactly why I wanted to talk. I don’t want you to think that I would try to hurt you or your career. I was serious when I said that what happened would stay between us.” Terry’s words soothed her frayed nerves, but intensified her guilt. She was the one who risked her relationship and made him out to be the bad guy, but he was handling her like an innocent puppy.

“So do we understand each other?” Terry asked, his voice soft with an authoritative edge. She nodded. “Yea…thanks for addressing this, Terry. Can we just start over?” His dazzling smile returned, and she swooned internally.

“Yes ma’am.” he chuckled. “You can start by telling me a little bit about yourself.”

Terry

Ignoring the erection painfully brushing against his boxers, Terry nodded politely as Camille gave him a brief, humble introduction. Her feisty little attack when she first came into his office almost made him lose his cool demeanor and devour her right then and there. Terry knew that his Teams message would get a reaction out of her. And he needed to see it to understand where her head was at. Did she feel guilty? Was she worried that he’d tell her business? Would she try to avoid him? The way she pounced on him told Terry that the answer to all of his questions was yes.

He swelled with pride as she attempted to put him in his place. Her face was all serious and she puffed her chest out a bit. It was absolutely adorable and a turn-on at the same time. Terry was glad to see that she wasn’t a doormat and could handle some confrontation.

Though she wasn’t sharing anything he didn’t already know, Terry couldn’t help but ask more about her life—why she moved to Houston, how she met Aston, what she enjoyed doing in her free time. He wanted to savor every moment with her, to stretch the time they had together. After all, it was the first time he had seen her in person since the incident at Crimson. For the past month, he had to survive off her pictures and videos to satisfy his need to see her face. But they only fueled the sexual dreams that have been plaguing him since their last encounter. Dreams where he would have her pressed into his bed with her ankles by her ears. Or she would be bent over his kitchen counter with his fangs in her neck. Or his tongue would be slipping through her folds and sucking on her sensitive bud. Each dream would end the same. With her wetting up his dick, those pretty brown eyes clouding over with pure ecstasy.

His fist and imagination hadn’t been enough to satisfy him most nights. So he would invite women who were more than happy to please him over to his place a few times a week. But still, they couldn’t fulfill his deepest desires. He knew he wouldn’t have what he truly needed until he was between the legs of the gorgeous, intelligent, and sweet woman who sat before him.

As they spoke, he couldn’t help but observe the little details that made her so captivating. The way her eyes lit up when she mentioned her family, the subtle shift in her gaze when their eyes lingered too long, the warmth of her voice that seemed to wrap around him. He even noticed the delicate crinkle of her eyes when she laughed. Each small gesture, every word she spoke, was seared into his memory. As she shared a story about her favorite class from undergrad, her gaze drifted to the clock on the wall of his office. Realizing the time, she jumped to her feet. It had been twenty minutes.

“Oh, I completely forgot I had to go get lunch,” she said, shooting Terry an apologetic smile. “I hate to cut this short, but…” she trailed off. Terry quickly concealed his displeasure at her leaving. “Don’t worry about it, we’ll find another time.” She gave him a small wave as she opened the door. “Bye, Terry.” He waved back, groaning slightly as his dick jumped from his name slipping off her tongue.

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. From his brief exchange with Aston, it was clear he’d have to tread carefully with Camille—at least for the next few months. Terry could tell that the motherfucker didn’t like him, and the feeling was mutual. But he would stay civil, for now. He couldn’t risk Aston getting pissed off and discouraging Camille from building a friendship with him.

His strategy would take longer than he liked, but Terry was willing to be patient. For Camille’s sake, everything had to feel effortless, natural, like it was always meant to be. He would play the long game, staying under the radar, making sure nothing disrupted her world. He would start subtle, appearing as nothing more than a friendly colleague. But slowly, he would weave himself into her life like a shadow she won’t be able to escape, but will eventually begin to crave. This next year, patience would be Terry’s virtue. Because there was no way he was returning to D.C. without Camille on his arm.

----------------

@nayaesworld @slvt4her @writingsbytee @notapradagurl7 @23jammy @kaylaahisthebestest- @theogbadbitch @wabi-sabi1090 @hotgyalaroad @nubiagurllll @lovedlover @dimepiece09 @lavaniiii @simplyzeeka @susanhill @next-bex-bet @sparklytemi @sonotlauryn @ranikyani @loveschrisbrown20 @daddyslittlevillain @blackchickinthedesert

i think i added everyone this time!

[moonwalkingprincess]

The red top

Summary: You slept with Marhall and in the morning, you meet the ray of sunshine: Kim Mathers.

Y/N wakes up in a messy room, the sheets are a tangled mess and her clothes are scattered everywhere. She stretches out her right arm to the empty side, then opens her eyes. Marshall isn’t there. She sighs. But then she catches a glimpse of a post-it note on the nightstand. She picks it up and reads, “I’m so not a chef, so I went to buy breakfast. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Y/N smiles and gets up to explore. She tries to find her clothes. She lies down and sees a glimpse of red fabric on the floor. She picks it up—it’s torn up, lying on the ground. She blushes, remembering why... Marshall had ripped it and kissed and licked over her chest... She’s interrupted by the doorbell. She finds one of his shirts in his drawer and throws on the first one she finds. She also grabs her leather pants that aren't torn and puts them on.

She rushes out of the bedroom and takes in the view of his place. He lives in a gigantic penthouse. His penthouse was huge. There are no walls, only windows with a view of New York City. She heads toward the door and opens it. Her eyes widen when she sees it’s not Marshall. There are two little girls, around 8 or 10 years old. They look pretty alike. One of them looks a little older, though. Behind them stands a blonde woman, glaring at Y/N.

“Who are you?” she hisses.

“Uhh...” Y/N stutters.

“Hey!” says one of the daughters. “I’m Hailey. What’s your name?” she asks. Y/N realizes who they are and gasps. This is Hailey Jade, the one Marshall wrote ‘Mockingbird’ about?

"Oh my gosh, you're THE Hailey?" y/n said full of excitement looking at the famous girl infront of her. "Yeah yeah yeah, this is the girl he wrote Mockingbird for, can we come in? Or not?" asked Kim, trying her best to act kind.

“Uhh, yeah, come in,” y/n says, letting them in.

“Girls, go to your rooms and unpack. Mommy wants to have a talk with your dad’s friend,” says the woman to the girls, giving y/n a smile that sent a shiver to her spine. The girls ran upstairs and y/n heard the door shut.

“What are you doing in my husband’s penthouse, wearing his shirt?” the woman asks. y/n has never met her before, but this gotta be Kim.

Y/N scoffs, “He's not your husband anymore,” y/n says. She makes a face.

“We’re separated,” She says. “We were supposed to try to make things work, Hailey’s sake.”

Y/N raises her eyebrow and nods. “You really tried when you cheated,” she says. The woman looks like she’s about to attack her, but just then, Marshall walks in. His hands are full of bags from a bakery, and his mouth holds a holder with two coffee cups.

Y/N goes and takes the coffee cups from his mouth, and his face turns red. Y/N could feel the tension shift. It was suffocating. The woman stood with her arms crossed, lips curled in a scowl, her eyes scanning Y/N from head to toe with nothing but contempt.

”What are you doing here, Kim?” He asks. Yep it is Kim.

"Dropping of our girls” Kim spat, stepping further into the penthouse. "Like what the hell marshall? You bring some random girl into your home while the girls are visiting? Are you serious right now?"

Marshall scoffed, setting the bags of food on the counter. "First of all, Y/N isn’t some random girl." His eyes darkened as he turned to face Kim, his jaw tightening. "She grew up next to me. We went to high school together. You just never noticed her because she wasn’t getting high all the time."

Kim looked at Y/N for confirmation, and she nodded. Kim let out a sigh. "Oh, don’t start with that holier-than-thou bullshit. What happened with trying to fix things for Hailey’s sake?"

"Fix things?" Marshall let out a bitter laugh. "You mean pretend everything was fine while you fucked other guys? Yeah, real solid effort, Kim."

Kim stepped closer, her voice dropping to a sharp whisper, though the venom in her tone was unmistakable. "You weren’t exactly the perfect husband either. You were gone all the time, locked in the studio, drowning in your own demons. What was I supposed to do, Marshall? Just sit around and wait while you self-destructed?"

His hands curled into fists at his sides, his chest rising and falling with controlled anger. "Yeah, well, at least I owned up to my shit. What did you do"

Kim let out a humorless laugh. "Oh, congratulations! You want a medal for finally getting your act together? Meanwhile, you’re still making the same damn mistakes."

A movement in the hallway caught Y/N’s eye. She turned her head slightly, and her stomach dropped when she saw Hailey and Alaina standing there, watching the fight with wide, nervous eyes. Y/N took a step forward, attempting to defuse the situation.

"Guys, stop. The girls can hear you," she said softly.

Kim’s head snapped toward her, her glare cutting like a knife. "Ohhh, now you’re the parenting expert?" She took a slow, taunting step toward Y/N. "What, you think you’re a better mom than me now?"

Marshall’s entire body tensed beside her. He stood in front of y/n. His voice dropped, low and dangerous. "Don’t. You. Dare. Touch. her."

Kim smirked. "Oh I hit a nerve there." She was smiling now.

Marshall inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring as he tried to keep his composure. Finally, he exhaled and spoke in an eerily calm voice.

"Get out, Kim. Now."

Kim scoffed, grabbing her purse. "You’re pathetic, Marshall. Just wait till Hailey sees you for what you really are."

Marshall’s expression didn’t change, but his voice turned ice-cold. "Oh yeah, that's why she's begging to come and stay at my place all the time. Wondering why she doesn't like your place." he said.

Kim stormed toward the door, yanking it open so hard it nearly slammed against the wall before she disappeared down the hall.

The silence left behind was deafening. Marshall dragged a hand down his face before turning to his daughters. "You girls okay?" His voice had softened, losing all of its previous edge.

Hailey nodded but frowned. "Why do you always fight?"

Y/N knelt beside them, offering a small, reassuring smile. "Sometimes grown-ups don’t get along, but that doesn’t mean they don’t love you."

Alaina looked up at her dad. "Dad, are you okay?"

Marshall forced a small smile, ruffling her hair. "Yeah, kiddo. I’m good. Let’s eat."

Y/N followed them to the dining area, relieved that the tension had finally passed. As they sat down, Marshall’s gaze landed on her, his expression softening.

"By the way," he said, smirking slightly, "where’s that top you were wearing yesterday?"

Y/N arched an eyebrow at him, casually taking a sip of her coffee. "You tore it. Remember?"

"oh yeah" he said as he gave her a big smirk. Hailey tilted her head curiously. "Why did you tear her shirt, Dad?"

His entire body stiffened. Eyes wide, he looked at Y/N like a deer caught in headlights.

Y/N grinned "He’s dumb. That’s why." she said dipping her spoon into the whipped cream on her plate before flicking a dollop onto his face.

The girls started to laugh. Marshall smirked. He leaned in to kiss Y/N, but she quickly pulled back, laughing. "No," she protested, giggling, trying to protest by stopping him with her arms. Marshall smirked at her attempt to stop him, grabbed her arms and put them away and pressed a kiss to her lips anyway.

"Marshall!" Y/N squealed, pulling back with a gasp. The girls laughter filled the room. She wiped her cheek, now covered in whipped cream. "I told you no!"

He just laughed, being pleased with himself. "Too late," he teased. Alaina leaned closer to Hailey and whispered with a grin, "I really like her."

Hailey giggled and nodded. "Me too."

Masterlist

[goldfades]

never gets old ─── luka dončić⁷⁷

free palestine carrd 🇵🇸 decolonize palestine site 🇵🇸 how you can help palestine | FREE PALESTINE!

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 1.3k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | how valentine's always goes for you and the mister, because it never gets old and you don't need big gifts to show your love.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | fluffy as hell, literally that's it

The apartment smells like pancakes.

It’s the first thing you register when you blink awake, eyes still hazy with sleep, the soft weight of Luka’s arm slung lazily around your waist. The second thing you register is the sound—low music playing from the speakers, something easy and old-school, mixed in with the occasional clatter of dishes from the kitchen. And then there’s the warmth, the way Luka’s body practically molds to yours, his breath steady and slow against your shoulder.

Valentine’s Day.

You smile before you even fully open your eyes because you already know exactly how today will go. Because it always goes the same way.

No grand surprises, no over-the-top displays, just the two of you in this home you built together, moving through the day like second nature. Luka, who wakes up before you on mornings like this just to make breakfast (even though he’s an objectively terrible cook, but it’s the effort that counts). You, who will pretend not to notice the flour dusted on his sweatpants when he inevitably burns the first batch and has to start over. The way he’ll kiss your forehead when you shuffle into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, and act like he’s been cooking for years—like there isn’t a half-disguised takeout bag sitting in the trash from his backup plan.

The best part? It never gets old.

The first time Luka tried to do Valentine’s Day the way he thought he was supposed to—the big, flashy, dramatic way—it had been a disaster.

Not because he didn’t try. If anything, he tried too hard.

It was back in the early days of your relationship, when the world had just started paying attention to him, and by extension, to you. Luka was still getting used to the constant eyes, the cameras flashing whenever you so much as held hands in public. Back then, he was convinced that he needed to prove something—not just as a boyfriend, but as Luka Dončić, rising NBA superstar, man of grand gestures. So he did what anyone with too much money and too much influence at their disposal would do: he went all out.

A private rooftop dinner at one of the most expensive restaurants in Dallas, complete with a string quartet playing love songs in the background. A designer dress he had custom-ordered weeks in advance, along with the matching jewelry set that made you blink at the price tag in disbelief. Rose petals scattered everywhere—on the table, on the floor, even in the damn elevator up to the rooftop. And, of course, the final touch: a professional photographer hired to capture every single moment of the night, so perfectly curated that it barely felt real.

It should have been a dream. It should have been perfect.

It wasn’t.

Luka was nervous the entire night, checking in with the waitstaff every few minutes, his knee bouncing under the table. You spent half the dinner making small talk with the photographer, who was taking pictures of you at every possible angle, until eventually, you both looked at each other and realized—this wasn’t you. This wasn’t your relationship.

By the time dessert came, you could tell Luka was exhausted. He was trying so hard to impress you, but the thing was… he never needed to.

So you leaned across the table, rested your hand over his, and with the same quiet certainty that had always been there between you, you told him, This isn’t us.

And that was it. That was the moment things shifted.

Instead of finishing the dessert, you both left the restaurant, ditching the whole thing in favor of picking up burgers and fries from the nearest drive-thru. Luka had laughed—one of those real, unguarded laughs, the kind that made his whole face light up—and you knew then that this was what Valentine’s Day should be. Just the two of you, doing something easy, something simple, something that felt like home.

So that’s what you did every year after that.

No more extravagant plans. No more performances for the cameras. Just warmth and routine, the kind of love that settled into your bones and stayed there. A day that belonged to you, and only you.

Which is why, now, as you roll over in bed and hear Luka humming softly in the kitchen, the smell of slightly burnt pancakes filling the apartment, you can’t help but smile.

Because this?

This is perfect.

--

The pancakes are slightly overcooked.

Not burnt, exactly, but just enough that the edges are crispier than they should be, a little too golden-brown. Luka doesn’t seem to notice—or maybe he’s just pretending not to—because he’s already drenching his stack in syrup, more than any normal person should ever use. You watch as he drowns the plate, then tilts his head at you like he’s waiting for judgment.

“You gonna say something?” he asks, chewing as he gestures at you with his fork.

You pick up your own, cutting into the pancake and taking a bite, chewing slowly just to mess with him. It’s not bad. A little dry, but nothing a good amount of butter and syrup can’t fix.

“I mean,” you hum, swallowing, “it’s not exactly a five-star meal, but I will say it’s an improvement from last year.”

Luka scoffs, shaking his head. “Nah, last year’s were better.”

“Luka, you set the fire alarm off last year.”

“I was testing it.”

You roll your eyes, but your laugh slips out before you can stop it. This is how it always is—easy, warm, the kind of comfort that settles into your bones. The TV plays softly in the background, some random show neither of you are paying attention to, and the morning light spills through the windows, painting the apartment in soft gold.

And then you see it.

A small, perfectly wrapped box sitting on the table next to Luka’s plate.

You narrow your eyes. “Luka.”

He doesn’t look up, just keeps eating like he doesn’t hear you.

“Luka,” you say again, this time more pointed. “What is that?”

Finally, he leans back in his chair, wiping his mouth with a napkin, and gives you that look. The one that’s all boyish charm, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. “A gift.”

You sigh, but you’re smiling. “We said no big gifts.”

“I didn’t say it was big,” he says, shoving another bite into his mouth.

“You do this every year—”

“And you love it every year.”

You can’t even argue with that, so you just shake your head as you reach for the box, fingers tracing the smooth edges before carefully peeling back the paper. Inside, nestled in soft velvet, is a delicate gold bracelet—thin and dainty, the kind of piece that looks effortless but still means something. It’s simple, but there’s something intricate about the way the links are woven together, like they’re unbreakable. Like they’re made to last.

You blink, touched in a way you don’t quite have words for. “Luka.”

“You were talking about it the other week,” he says, watching your reaction carefully. “Figured I’d beat you to it.”

You remember, vaguely, mentioning something similar offhandedly—something about how you liked the way it looked, how it wasn’t too flashy but still had weight to it. You hadn’t even realized he’d been listening that closely.

You swallow past the warmth climbing up your throat. “You didn’t have to.”

“Yeah,” Luka grins, leaning forward on his elbows, eyes crinkling at the corners, “but I like spoiling you.”

You shake your head, fighting a smile as you slip the bracelet onto your wrist. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re stuck with me.”

He’s not wrong.

So instead of arguing, you reach across the table and take his hand, fingers slotting easily between his. “Good thing I don’t mind.”

[spiderb00]

In the spirit of Valentines which might be over by the time you read this but what type of dates do you think the kats prefer. Like who’s more to want a chill staying in type of date, who’s more of a fancy dinner or who’s more of a like fun activity like go karting or stuff like that. As always love your stuff and as a college student I totally understand your stress. Hope you’re taking care of yourself and wishing you the best for this semester🫶🏽

- 🇩🇴

Thank you anon, I feel less alone knowing that more people understand my tiredness. <3 (I'm a little late, sorry)

Sophia would love an intimate date, you'd be cooking together, romantic songs playing over the speaker and the two of you in the kitchen almost burning the meal you made when you were distracted making out.

You'd have dinner by candlelight and exchange gifts you'd made a point of buying. After dinner, you would watch a movie. Actually, it wouldn't be watched all the way through, because you and Sophia simply couldn't keep your hands off each other, especially after the wine you'd had.

Manon would love to go out anywhere with you, and that's really what you do. First you're going for dinner, leaving the restaurant you'd walk around the city, looking for something interesting to do, you'd buy anything she saw in the store windows, and you'd end up at a random concert by an even more random band.

The important thing would be that you would be having A LOT of fun, you both like to feel as free as possible, and exploring the world together was just wonderful. The next morning, you'd be waking up hungover trying to remember where you went, but you'd certainly remember that love was there.

Daniela was more than happy when you took her on a picnic on the beach. You planned everything, a small candlelit dinner in a tent away from people, all to see your girl happy.

You spent a wonderful evening talking, laughing and listening to the sound of the waves. The sparkle in Daniela's eyes made you remember exactly how you fell in love with her, and you were sure to do it again and again.

Lara would be treated like the queen she was born to be, you would take her shopping, buying anything she had her eye on. But soon after, things would start to get more romantic and well-planned.

You'd take her to a music gallery, and she'd be very excited. In the gallery you could play instruments, make your own cool-sounding productions and listen to different versions of songs by your favorite artists. At the end of the day, Lara would be even more excited than at the beginning, talking about all kinds of musical styles and cool things she'd seen.

Megan and you would be jumping for joy in an arcade, but not those simple arcades, but a really cool one that you found while exploring the city in depth. The girl would be like a happy child, and so would you.

Competing in games until you found a game you could play as a pair, then she'd be jumping on you and kissing your lips every time you won. In the end, you'd have lots of tickets, which you'd convert into a big teddy bear that you'd give to Megan.

[7-deadly-cats]

killing me softly (part three)

genre: slow burn fic, fluff with hints of angst, light drama, no explicit smut

kms masterlist | <- part two | part four (soon) ->

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!introverted!kook!reader

cw: swearing, light suggestive themes, overthinking/anxiety

synopsys: it's the last year of high school and you were paired up with rafe cameron for a 2 week long project in art class. this wouldn't be a problem if you weren't awkward as hell and well ... if there weren't your big fat crush on him. could this be the beginning of a friendship or maybe even more? one thing was certain: rafe cameron was intense, impulsive, and complex in ways that weren't always for the better, and your mind? that shit was even more tangled. but you hadn't spent all these years crushing on him from a distance just to let this chance slip through your fingers ... right?

summary of recent events: during lunch you and rafe brainstormed some ideas for your art project. despite your awkwardness and an unfortunate misunderstanding, rafe had been mostly chill the whole time. after you both said your goodbyes to leave for afternoon classes, you awaited a surprise: rafe had somehow gotten your number and sent you a text message.

word count: 3k+

a/n: i know this part is more like a breather but i promise next part is gonna have y/n and rafe interacting a LOT more + it’s all building up to sth bigger and i really don’t wanna rush this story, so bear with me please <3 however i decided to bring in some jj action hibihihi. anyway please enjoy and as always any kind of support, comments, reblogs etc. is appreciated <33

This was insane. So fucking insane. You were seriously starting to think this was one of those cruel dreams where you spend an entire fantasy life with your crush, only to wake up at the best part, heartbroken and pissed off at your alarm clock.

Ever since you got home, your heart had been running a marathon, and that weird, buzzing feeling in your chest just wouldn’t go away.

Your mind was racing with questions.

Where did Rafe even get your number? Why didn’t he just ask you for it during lunch? Why did he text you—what was his intention here?

WAS IT EVEN RAFE????

Maybe someone was messing with you. Your mind flashed back to English class, to Kelce Statter grinning like an idiot while having texted someone. Was it him?

You frowned. That would be a pretty fucked-up joke, and honestly, you doubted Kelce had the patience or brainpower to pull off something like that.

With a sigh, you flopped onto your bed, inhaling the familiar scent of your room, trying to slow your racing thoughts.

If someone had strapped a heart monitor to you today, you’d probably be in the ER by now. It had been ages since your adrenaline had spiked like this.

Rolling onto your stomach, you grabbed your phone again, elbows propped on your mattress.

Your brows furrowed as you opened Cara’s chat:

Of course. The one time you actually needed her, she was nowhere to be found. Probably got caught texting in class, and now she was stuck listening to Ms. Langford go on about the importance of English literature or whatever.

You switched to your chat with Rafe, biting the inside of your cheek as you stared at his messages.

You should probably text back. You’d already left him on read for an hour, just because you had no clue what to say.

Not that he actually gives a shit.

But still. He had taken the time to get your number and text you. That had to mean something, right?

Dude, you’re overthinking this again. It’s literally just two texts.

Pressing your lips together, you started typing:

As soon as you hit send, you tossed your phone to the other side of the bed and groaned, burying your face in your pillow.

God, you just said hi—so why the hell did it feel like your entire nervous system was short-circuiting?

Shit. I should’ve left out that stupid smiley.

:)

WHY did its face look both pissed off and kind of turned on at the same time?!

Great. Now he probably thought you were sexually frustrated. And the whole I assume this is Rafe? thing? Seriously, Y/N. Of course, it’s Rafe. What a dumbass question. His cute ass profile picture made it obvious.

So now, not only you seemed desperate—you seemed desperate AND stupid.

Bzzzrt.

You sat up so fast it gave you whiplash, grabbing your phone in record time. Heart pounding, you unlocked it—

Cara.

You exhaled, part relieved, part annoyed, and opened her messages.

You sighed and let your phone drop onto your bed again. If only you could somehow call this dating—but whatever was going on between you and Rafe… well, there wasn’t even a between to begin with.

There was nothing.

At best, you were classmates. Maybe project partners. Nothing more.

You ran a hand over your face. This whole thing was exhausting, and the worst part? Nothing had even happened between you and Rafe. Well—except for the fact that you’d acted like some socially inept, know-it-all nerd just hours ago.

And yet… you couldn’t deny that it was kind of exciting. For the first time ever, you’d had an actual conversation with Rafe Cameron, and he hadn’t just gotten up and left in the middle of it.

AND THEN HE’D TEXTED YOU?! LIKE, HOLY SHIT?!

Which, in turn, made you feel like some dumb, hopeless girl. Because, seriously—what were you even expecting from this? A friendship? A friends with benefits situation? A relationship?

You nearly laughed out loud. That thought was about as far from reality as it could possibly get. Honestly, you had a better chance of making a groundbreaking scientific discovery—and you sucked at science.

Alright, one thing at a time.

You caught yourself staring at your phone again, still no reply from Rafe.

It’s fine, you told yourself. You only messaged him ten minutes ago, and just because he texted you doesn’t mean you’re suddenly texting buddies or some crap.

Holy shit, I’m overthinking this again.

You needed a distraction. Like, right now.

But staying here was only going to make you lose it. You needed to get out, do something.

Your gaze drifted back to your phone, and you tapped on Cara’s number.

Her soft voice came through on the other end. “Let me guess, you need help coming up with a reply?”

“He hasn’t answered yet.”

“Asshole.”

You laughed. “It’s not even been ten minutes.”

“Yeah, well, ten too many,” she shot back, but you could hear her trying to hide a grin. “Okay, what’s going on?”

“I thought we could hit the beach, chill a bit, you know, whatever.”

“You’re losing it, aren’t you?”

You smiled. “Yeah.”

“I’ll be there in 15 minutes.”

----------------------------------------------- The afternoon sun shone brightly in the cloudless sky, casting a golden glow over the beach. The waves weren’t exactly massive today but they were still decent enough for surfing.

Not that you’d be surfing anyway—your head was way too all over the place for that. You’d probably wipe out the second you got on the board.

No, today was about chilling. Just you and Cara, away from the crowd, tucked under the shade of your beach umbrella. You lay stretched out on your towels, talking about everything and anything—everything except Rafe Cameron.

Diggory, Cara’s cute family dog, was happily lounging with you, curled up on a damp towel with his portable water bowl nearby.

“--and then I ghosted him because, like, what kind of guy eats salami, pickles, and Nutella for breakfast?” Cara finished, shaking her head as she recalled her short-lived fling with a Swedish Touron from last week.

You laughed, tossing the sunscreen aside after finishing your legs. “A psycho probably.”

“The worst part? His weird food choices—and yeah, plural—didn’t even make up for his performance in bed,” she scoffed, scratching Diggory’s head. “Two minutes in, he finished, and acted like he’d just found the love of his life.”

You shrugged. “What’s that saying? 9 out of 10 Tourons mistake a one-night stand for a love story.”

Cara let out a dramatic sigh. “Ugh, I think I’m done with Tourons for a while. Time to keep it local.”

You chuckled, but before you could reply, muffled voices drifted over from the side, catching your attention.

“Doesn’t get more local than that,” you noted, subtly glancing toward the new arrivals on the beach.

Cara propped herself up on her elbows, following your gaze. A slow grin spread across her lips. “Pogues?”

You smirked, eyes lingering on the tanned blond with a surfboard under his arm. “Maybank’s kinda cute.”

Cara shot you a look over her sunglasses, raising an eyebrow. “JJ Maybank? Okay, girl, you definitely have a type. He’s basically Rafe Cameron but like broke.”

You scoffed, furrowing your brows. “I mean, objectively, he’s attractive. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Objectively, they’re all one grade below us,” Cara said dryly. But then her expression shifted into an amused smirk. “But yeah, fair point. All four of them? Absolute smash.”

You both cracked up, the tension from earlier fading for a moment.

In the distance, a firetruck siren wailed, and Diggory let out a dramatic howl in response.

“Alright, alright, we get it,” Cara murmured, scooping up the still-howling terrier into her arms.

You chuckled but quickly went quiet as a 6-foot, sun-kissed Pogue strolled up to your little beachside oasis.

JJ Maybank’s cocky grin peeked under your umbrella, his surfboard left behind with his friends.

“Heard a dog over here,” he remarked, his gaze flicking between you and Cara. “Or was that one of you howling for me?”

You bit back a laugh, while Cara rolled her eyes. “Piss off, JJ.”

You knew better—she was flirting.

JJ let out a dirty chuckle, crouching down as Diggory leaped from Cara’s lap, tail wagging like crazy. “Your dog disagrees.”

He scratched the excited terrier behind the ears.

“Pfft, Dig would run up to a serial killer,” Cara scoffed. “He’s got no moral compass whatsoever.”

JJ smirked, glancing up at her, his eyes flickering over her sunscreen-glazed legs before meeting her gaze. “Neither do I.”

Okaaay, I’m definitely third-wheeling here.

"JJ!" Kiara Carrera’s voice rang out from a few yards away. "Stop harassing random girls!"

Cara smirked. “Your girl’s got a point.”

JJ scoffed, raising a brow before ruffling Diggory’s fur one last time. Then he stood up. “Just making new friends, Ki!” he called back.

His sunlit torso practically gleamed, and you quickly looked away when he caught you staring.

Awkwaaaard.

“You should let your dog run somewhere with actual grass,” JJ teased, turning back to Cara. “Poor guy’s paws probably got calluses from all that Figure 8 pavement.”

Cara tilted her head, amused. “What do you suggest? The Cut? Yeah, no thanks, I’d rather not get mugged and stabbed.”

“You wouldn’t if I was with you,” JJ shot back, flashing his cockiest grin.

You weren’t sure whether to laugh or gag.

Cara let out a laugh, waving him off. “One mutt's enough for me.”

JJ shrugged. “I don’t need a leash either,” he quipped before shooting her a wink and jogging back to his friends.

Once he was out of earshot, Cara turned back to you, a wide grin on her face and a hint of pink dusting her cheeks. “Okay, you’re right—he’s hot.”

You both burst into laughter as Diggory waddled back onto his damp towel.

And that’s how the rest of the late afternoon went: watching the Pogues surf (one cocky blond in particular), snacking on strawberries, and cracking up over dumb jokes and wild party stories.

As the sun began dipping the sky in shades of orange, you slowly started packing up your things.

And you hadn’t checked your phone once—not that it mattered, since it was turned off anyway.

As you folded up the beach umbrella, your eyes drifted back toward the Pogues, hanging out at their own little spot on the other side of the beach.

With a playful smirk, you glanced at Cara, who was rolling up your towels. “Not gonna say bye to your new admirer?”

Cara raised a brow at you. “Pfft, like I’d chase after a Pogue.”

You rolled your eyes. “Nooo, you’d rather ‘accidentally’ run into him while walking Diggory in the Cut.”

“Or maybe I just happen to be coming back from Barry’s, and Dig rips his leash and bolts straight to whatever hole Maybank crawled out of.”

You nodded slowly. “Riiiight.”

Cara stuffed the towels into her beach bag and added casually, “Speaking of Barry, every time I’m picking up my weed, he’s asking about you .”

For some reason, that made your face heat up. You frowned, leaning on the umbrella. “Cara, I’m not hooking up with your dealer.”

She just shrugged, kneeling down to clip Diggory’s leash on. “He thinks you're chill and that means something. He doesn’t like a lot of Kooks. I thought you also liked him?”

“He's cool. That still doesn't change the fact he's selling coke and other stuff,” you said flatly.

Cara met your gaze, looking almost dreamy. “Yeah, and? Imagine: he’s the bad-boy dealer, and you’re his sweet little Kook princess.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You need to stay off Tumblr and Wattpad.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Rafe Cameron Stan No. 1 for life.” She slung her bag over her shoulder and started walking off with Diggory.

You just rolled your eyes and followed after her.

-----------------------------------------------

Back at home, you had dinner with your parents, then retreated to your room. You dropped your bag and sank onto your bed, phone in hand.

And then it started again — the tingling nerves.

What if Rafe still hadn't texted you? The thought was somehow so depressing.

Oh my god, just check already.

You held your breath, waiting impatiently for your phone to fully turn on. The screen lit up and…

A huge smile spread across your face, and your heart skipped a beat.

SEEMED LIKE HE WANTED TO SEE YOU AGAIN.

Okay, okay, breathe. Don’t read too much into it.

AHHH, BUT HOW COULD YOU NOT.

You bit the inside of your cheek. Seriously, calm down.

And you did—until Cara’s words from earlier popped back into your head, and that heavy feeling settled in your chest again.

Rafe was probably just putting in extra effort so he could get a good grade on this project. This wasn’t about wanting to see you again or anything like that.

You scoffed. What a naive thought.

You know what? Who cares? He wanted to meet up again, and that alone was a nice thought—whatever the reason.

Alright, how were you supposed to respond?

One thing's certain: no more sexually frustrated emojis.

You checked the timestamp on his last message. A little over an hour ago. Okay, that meant enough time had passed for you to reply without seeming too eager.

That was fine, right? RIGHT?!

Ugh, not really. Again, you sounded like a stupid girl because of fucking course he had meant after school.

Frustrated, you closed your eyes and let yourself fall back onto your bed.

Why were you so bad at… this?

Cara had practically effortlessly won over JJ Maybank today (okay, maybe it had been the other way around but that wasn't the point), and she hadn’t done anything except be herself.

She always just said what was on her mind and if she got rejected or received a weird look in return, so be it. Even outside of flirting, she handled social interactions with ease.

Why couldn’t you do that? Why did you have to overanalyze every single move?

It had already cost you so many potential friendships—maybe even relationships. And no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t turn that part of your brain off. At least not during in-person interactions.

The worst part? You weren’t even truly shy. Well, okay, kind of. But you, you know, the real you—how you usually acted around people you felt comfortable with—was always trapped behind this stupid barrier your own mind had built.

It was so frustrating because—

Bzzrt.

Your eyes snapped open as you grabbed your phone.

Rafe.

It hadn’t even been five minutes.

You sat up quickly and tapped into the chat:

You scoffed amused.

Your heart was racing again, adrenaline kicking in.

You clenched your teeth, fingers hovering over the keyboard. You wanted to reply right away, but wouldn’t that seem too much?

Then again, he had answered quickly too…

But what if you texted back now and then he took another hour to reply, or worse, didn’t reply at all…?

Fucking hell, enough.

What if you just… shut your brain off for once?

Just do it. Who cares how it comes across?

You’d already reached peak embarrassment today—you had nothing left to lose.

So you typed your message and hit send without second-guessing it.

…

And it felt good. It wasn’t even a big move or anything, but still, it made you smile.

Your phone buzzed again, and you couldn’t help but laugh when you read his message.

Ruthie Whitmore was an arrogant bitch. Loud, annoying, stuck-up—the biggest pick-me girl in Figure 8. No, probably in all of North Carolina. And she was obsessed with your Economics teacher, Mr. Collins, who was at least in his late 30s.

You didn’t know what it was—Rafe’s bluntness, the fact that you could hide your awkwardness behind a screen, or maybe just how tired you were of your real self always being held back by your own hesitation—but texting Rafe Cameron suddenly felt easy.

Okay, maybe it was also because, deep down (yeah, you still couldn’t fully shut off your brain), you knew he wasn’t actually interested in you.

He just needed to pass art class because his high school diploma depended on it.

And that’s exactly why you saw this chat for what it really was: a conversation with a project partner who was hoping you’d help boosting his Art grade.

And just like that, the conversation was over.

For a moment, you stared at the chat—or more specifically, his stupid little profile picture which had to have been taken by Kelce or Topper at some party. Then you let your phone drop onto the bed and a huge, stupid grin spread across your face.

Normally, the way you had just texted him would have sent you into a spiral of overthinking. Shit, you’d been cheeky (yeah, yeah, nothing crazy but for you it WAS)—nothing like the awkward girl you had been this afternoon.

But the thing was, this was you. You had loud thoughts and strong opinions, you enjoyed joking around, saying stupid shit, and holy shit you LOVED the banter that came with it.

You were a loud soul trapped in a silent body.

I’m basically a closeted extrovert, you thought, laughing to yourself. It sounded ridiculous and cringe as hell but let's be real, it summed you up perfectly.

And honestly, it didn’t even matter what you said or how you acted. No matter what Rafe thought of you, in two weeks, your paths would split again anyway. and you’d go back to your own little bubble—where you could admire him from a safe distance.

Sure, if only it were that simple.

You rolled your eyes at your own naivety. You already knew that the second you saw Rafe Cameron again tomorrow, your nerves would be doing somersaults, and you’d fall right back into being an awkward mess.

Because that was the cruel difference between texting and talking in person: There was no screen to hide behind and no digital barrier to mask your insecurity.

And that was a struggle you had yet to overcome.

-----------------------------------------------

kms masterlist | <- part two | part four (soon) ->

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Taglist (open):

@ursogorgeous13 @my-name-is-baby @moneybaby07 @jjasmiineee @sttaejoon-blog @vogueprincess

[ceo-of-sloppy-women]

No grave can hold my body down; I'll crawl home to her

Chapter 14

read it on ao3

Chapter 16

When morning finally calls you back to consciousness, you wake with Sevika’s arm wrapped around you, holding you tenderly to her chest. You can feel her lips pressed to the back of your neck, a soft, relaxed smile stuck to your skin. Sinking into the moment, you are at ease for the first time in nine years, protected on all four walls guarding the most dangerous woman in Zaun. You rest your hand overtop of hers, slowly lacing your fingers with hers, taking what you can like a starving dog.

Sevika must feel the shift in states, as a moment later she’s yawning against the scruff of your neck. Your hand tenses, worried she’ll pull back, heart thundering in your chest. Yet, her arm remains firmly wrapped around you, thumb now stroking back and forth across your stomach.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Sevika hums, her voice full of gravel from slumber.

“Did you sleep okay?” you ask, resting your eyes in the safety of her watch.

“’Course I did, I –“

A loud crash sounds from downstairs, and both of you bolt up in bed. It’s a mad scramble for pants and socks, feet thundering down the stairs as your hand tenses over your holster. Both of you fearing the same thing: infected.

Sevika’s around the corner first, freezing when a kid loudly shouts her name, giggling happily. You run right into her back due to the sudden stop, nose colliding with hard muscle. Pulling back, you rub your nose with a cranky groan. Sitting in the kitchen are Jinx and Isha, with Isha covered in pancake batter (flour mostly, if you’re being honest) and Jinx holding a flipper, a mess of pancakes already in the pan.

“What are you two doing?” Sevika sighs heavily, like she’s on the verge of scolding a misbehaving child.

“Making you breakfast, duh! Isha wanted pancakes, and then she wanted to share them with you two, so we came here,” Jinx says innocently, as if she hadn’t just broken into someone’s house.

“Why couldn’t you just have invited us over?” Sevika grumbles, straightening out her shirt as Isha launches herself at her. She catches Isha effortlessly, holding the kid on her hip. “You know, instead of teaching the kid to break into people’s houses.”

“Because this way, you can’t say no,” Jinx states matter-of-factly, flipping the pancakes. One of them smears against the pan, making a bigger mess. “Oh, maybe that one wasn’t ready.”

“She has a point, Sev’,” you butt in, walking around Sevika to help Jinx so she doesn’t make a worse mess of your kitchen.

“Don’t agree with her! You’re supposed to be on my side!” Sevika sputters, standing in the living room, flabbergasted.

You shrug: “I want pancakes.”

Sevika groans half-heartedly, trying to put on a show more than anything. You can see it plainly written on her face; you’ve already won her over. Just as she opens her mouth to argue further, Isha taps her on the shoulder, getting her attention.

Isha signs, her eyebrows raised upwards, an anticipatory smile on her face: “Can we draw together? Please?”

Unable to sign back as her only hand is holding Isha, Sevika nods her head and says “okay” as clearly as she can.

Isha grins, clapping her hands and squirming until Sevika puts her down. Then she runs off to grab some paper from the coffee table, stuffing a purple crayon in Sevika’s hand. Sevika chuckles, sitting cross-legged at the coffee table and accepting the paper Isha gives her. Isha rapid signs at Sevika, who does her best to keep up with the kid, asking her to repeat what she doesn’t catch the first time. Isha, happy someone’s playing with her, continues until Sevika understands completely.

“Hey, love-sick, you going to help or not?” Jinx demands after failing to flip another pancake.

Snapped out of your lovesick stupor you turn around, face flushed and take the spatula from her. “Let me do this; you can layout the spreads and syrups.”

“If you want to fail at pancakes, be my guest,” Jinx surrenders immediately, turning around to root through the cabinets.

“I’m going to be the one cleaning up the mess afterwards anyway,” you point out, managing to flip a pancake without ruining it.

“Hey, we’ll help clean up, I won’t leave you with this mess. Not after Isha dropped the flour – not a lot of it, but if you wonder why there’s white handprints everywhere, she’s to blame.”

“Oh? Pinning your butterfingers on a kid now, Jinx?” you tease her.

“Dodging the fact you’re head over heels for my aunt now?” Jinx counters, grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

“Hey!” you hiss, shooting a glare at her.

“Oh, shit you’re not even denying it,” Jinx whispers, staring at you with an open mouth. “You’re fucked, bottle-rocket. Good thing I like you already, otherwise, I would make you go through a grueling trial before I kept your secret for you. But fear not! I shall keep your secret safe and sound.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, ducking your head to focus on the pancakes.

“Don’t mention it!” Jinx giggles, grabbing a wet cloth to clean up the floury mess she’s made all across the kitchen.

By the time you’ve finished cooking the pancakes, Jinx has cleaned up the whole kitchen, making it shine (as best as it can in the apocalypse, at least). Sevika manages to drag Isha away from the coffee table long enough to get a plate in front of her. Isha stops whining the moment she’s presented with sweet, fluffy pancakes, scarfing down at least six (you’re not sure where she puts them all in her tiny body, but you’re not about to stop her; there are a lot of pancakes). Somehow, Jinx manages to wrangle Isha into helping with dishes, the kitchen cleaner than you’d left it by the time the four of you part ways. Jinx is off taking Isha to school, and Sevika’s trailing behind you like a lost puppy as you head to the printing shop. You vow to do laundry that night (hopefully), but today you need clean clothes.

As you walk in the store, you nearly run smack into Grayson. Thankfully, she moves at the last moment and the two of you share an awkward laugh.

“You are now the proud owner of a printing press. Make something good,” she teases you, winking as she slips out the shop. “I’ve got orders to fill, so if there’s any problems come find me!”

“Thank you!” you call after her as she walks off into the slowly thickening crowd of commuters.

“Need help?” Sevika asks, lingering in the doorway as if she’s still not sure whether she’s allowed inside.

“As if I’d say no,” you giggle, pulling her inside. “Come on, I’ll need someone to help me figure out what to print first.”

“Make it something useful – basic first aid or survival skills. Something we can print a lot of to get a hang of the press,” Sevika suggests, following you into the back.

“You’re so smart; what would I do without you?” you ask, beaming up at her as you hold the door to the press room open.

“You’d have come up with it yourself,” Sevika shrugs, stepping past you.

“Maybe, maybe not – who knows? Who cares? You’re here with me now, and that’s much better than doing all this myself. I wouldn’t even have gotten to this part by myself, I’d probably be dead to that horde back when you found me,” you say, taking in the (slightly underwhelming) sight of the printing press.

It’s gorgeously crafted, with carvings in the legs and as accurate to the design as possible. Yet, after weeks of waiting, it felt more like a mute point. You’re anticipating the process far more than the press itself, so you set to work figuring out how to get started rather than staring in awe at the truly gorgeous creation Grayson has delivered to your workshop. Besides, everything pales in comparison next to Sevika.

Together, the two of you spend the next eight hours printing pamphlets, getting covered in ink, and giggling – genuinely, actually giggling. You stop short the first time you hear it escape Sevika’s lips, floored at the beauty of her smile. Your heart swells in your chest, craving to kiss her tender lips – to take her right there and then on the workbench. Yet, you carry on, tucking away your beating heart in the name of art. There’s a time and place to swoon over her, even if that swooning won’t get you farther than a few wayward looks. You’ve come to terms with that. It doesn’t make it hurt any less.

When the sun’s finally setting, Sevika drags you out of the shop and to the grocery store. You pick up something easy to make, taking it home and stumbling through the door, already stoned from the walk over. Sevika had acquired new joints from God knows where, grinning as you tried to drag her sources out of her. No such luck.

“Alright, strip,” she demands the moment you step inside.

“What?” you squeak, face flushing scarlet.

“We need to wash your clothes; it’s disgusting at this point. You get dinner ready and I’ll wash ‘em for you,” Sevika explains, holding out her hand impatiently.

“Oh, right,” you giggle nervously, glancing upstairs at your bedroom. “Here, take this –“ you had her dinner – “I’ll be right back.”

“Be quick,” she grunts, disappointment flickering behind her eyes. You brush it off and race upstairs.

Ten minutes later, you’re standing in her shirt, preparing tacos as she fusses with an old washing machine. In solidarity, she’s stripped down and tossed her clothes in as well, wearing nothing but a white tank top and a pair of plaid pyjama pants now. You admire her back tattoo, wanting to ghost your fingers over it, yet you’re covered in salsa, so you let the feeling pass you by. For now, you lean into the quiet domestic life with her, wrapped up in the gentle current of the universe

Clean clothes have never felt better. You’d nearly forgotten what they felt like all together, but nothing beat the next morning when you slipped into a freshly washed pair of jeans and a bra that wasn’t stiff with grime. Well, almost nothing – it couldn’t beat waking up with Sevika’s arm thrown across your chest, a small puddle of drool soaking into the shirt she’d lent you. As if the universe has finally fallen into place around you, and all you have to do is linger within it.

Unfortunately, Sevika doesn’t join you in the print shop that day. Vander arrives at the house in the early hours of the morning to request Sevika’s help with the windmill. You had almost forgotten about the project! Frankly, you were taken aback that it wasn’t done yet; after all, it has been a little more than four weeks now. Though you supposed building a brand new structure, and all of the pieces that go within it takes far longer when you have to do everything by hand (and can’t import pieces from other sites).

Craving fresh bread made from properly ground flour, you don’t even put up a fight for Sevika’s help. You can work alone if it means the next bun you eat isn’t a little gritty.

Your sacrifice leads to the loss of Sevika’s help for the remainder of the week. It isn’t all bad – Jinx and Isha do stop by occasionally to “help out,” but neither were really all that much help. Mostly, Isha sat on the floor colouring, and Jinx rambled about all the fun things you were missing out on cooped up inside. At least it gave you a distraction while you printed the same thing over and over again – you’d moved past survival pamphlets and onto your first attempt at a book, deciding to reprint the novel you were reading the night Sevika had come to you. Hopefully, Grayson will be satisfied with your selection… but printing a novel meant you had to print several copies of the same page over and over again, fussing over spacing and trying to ensure you had the words spelled correctly. All while Jinx tried to steal pages to read them for herself. In the end, you had to keep two bookmarks in the book, one for your work and one for her reading, as she got far too invested while you were making endless copies of the pages.

Slowly, the quiet rhythm of life began to crawl back into your heart, and you melted into the normalcy that used to pervade your life before the apocalypse. It felt good to finally have the rhythm back – it had tried to return while Sevika was injured but never quite stuck after everything that happened afterwards. Finally, it felt like it’s here to stay; a realization you came to in the middle of printing the heartfelt love confession, swooning over the words as Jinx read them aloud in her giggling mockery that gave away how into the plot she actually was.

Before you headed home for the night, you stopped by the grocery store to pick up something special: steak, baked beans, potatoes and carrots. A dish reminiscent of the first night you cooked for her. You’re giggling to yourself as you pick out a new steak rub, indulging your creativity as you grab a stick of butter. By the time you’ve got everything you need, the basket is nearly overflowing (you might have grabbed an expensive bottle of whiskey and some candles too).

Rocking back and forth on your feet in the grocery line, a voice pipes up behind you: “What’s got you so excited?”

You spin around to see Salo behind you, staring at you with a knowing smile, Mel holding his shopping for him.

“Salo! It’s been too long; how have you been? You haven’t given yourself food poisoning again, have you?”

Salo scoffs and rolls his eyes, his smile refusing to budge an inch. “Occupational hazard. I should be asking you how you’ve been; no one’s seen you all week, except for Jinx claiming she visits you every day in this new… print shop?”

“Oh,” you chuckle nervously and rub the back of your neck. “I guess I’ve been so hard at work I haven’t taken the time for myself. Jinx isn’t wrong; I do have a print shop, though we’re not open yet. I’ve got to get two more books printed before I open my doors, so I have something for all ages.”  

“Please let me know when you are ready; I would love to make a larger announcement to the community on your behalf,” Mel interjects, drawing your attention to her. She holds out her hand: “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Mel. Jayce has told me quiet a bit about you.”

You firmly shake her hand, introducing yourself. “I’ve heard about you too – probably not as much as you’ve heard of me. I’d love the help, a little foot traffic would do the shop wonders when I’m ready to open the doors.”

“Excellent. Have you considered collaborating with any local authors to print their works?”

“I have –“ you begin to place your groceries on the counter for the clerk – “I’m not quite sure how to find them, but when I open, I hope to take applications. Printing is a long process; I want to make sure everyone gets a fair chance to have their work printed.”

“A very good idea. I can work with you to connect with local authors; perhaps you could print one of their books as your remaining two.”

“That – that might actually help me decide. If you find anyone willing to work with me, send them down the street, please.”

“Of course.”

You leave the grocery store with a beaming smile on your face as you rush through the evening crowd to get home. Thankfully, Sevika hasn’t made it back yet, so you still have time to roll up your sleeves and get to work. The old cast-iron pan is put to use to sear the steaks as you toss the potatoes in the oven with the pot of beans. The carrots steam in a pot in the far corner of the stove. Everything is given a hefty helping of honey (and other seasonings) to bring out your desired flavours. As things cook, you set the kitchen up around you, lighting candles, setting the whiskey bottle near two glasses, and making sure there wasn’t any dirt on the floor. You’ve even dragged Sevika’s boombox downstairs, plugging it in and tuning it to a local radio station – you’d overheard a group of friends talking about it in the grocery store and wanted to tune in for its first broadcast. So far the music is energizing, painting the kitchen in bright colours that compliment the heavenly scent of your cooking.

You’re so focused on the task at hand and the music that you don’t hear the backdoor swing open, or the footsteps behind you. Until a hand wraps around your waist, her chest against your back, head pressed into her breasts. You squeak loudly, jerking your head up to see Sevika’s sly smile staring back at you.

“Smells heavenly, sugar,” she hums, making you swallow thickly.

“You’ve gotta be louder, I didn’t even hear you come in,” you stammer, trying to make sure you don’t burn the steaks.

Sevika snorts: “That’s not my fault. I even said your name when I came in, you were just too invested in all this to notice.”

“Oh…” you’re thankful she towers over you so she can’t see the way your face flushes in embarrassment. God. This kind of obliviousness would get you killed these days.

“What ya cookin’ anyway? Smells heavenly,” Sevika continues, oblivious to your sudden embarrassment.

“Steak and baked potatoes,” you admit sheepishly.

“Just like the first night, hm? You trying to tell me something?”

“What would I be trying to tell you?”

“I don’t know, but you should write these recipes down; makes the whole house smell divine. Could turn it into a cookbook for your print shop.”

Your head still spins from what she could have possibly meant earlier, so all you manage is a sheepish head nod. You don’t have the faintest idea of what she’s insinuating – it’s not as if you wanted to do anything more than celebrate the good week you’ve had. It’s not as if anything really happened, beyond Grayson flirting with you, that first day. You’d only made steak so that Sevika would talk to you again! Did she think you were mad at her? Oh, God, have you pathologized her with cooking to make her think steak means she’s done something wrong?

“Hey, you even paying attention?” Sevika asks, pulling you out of your mental doom spiral.

“Huh? What?”

“Don’t space out on me now; you’ll burn the steak,” Sevika chuckles. “I said they’re holding a barn dance in a few days to celebrate the new windmill.”

“We should go,” you say immediately, reaching for a plate for the steaks. Sevika grabs one and passes it to you.

“If you want. I usually don’t go to these things, can’t really dance,” Sevika shrugs, giving you space to plate the food.

“All the more reason we should go – you’ve worked hard to help them put on the finishing touches. You deserve a chance to appreciate your own work,” you insist, carrying the dishes out to the table on the back porch.

“You’re just saying that because you want to go,” Sevika points out, taking a seat at the table. The clatter of silverware sings through the backyard as she sets them in the middle.

“Is that such a bad thing?” you ask, sitting down across from her.

Sevika merely grunts, shrugging her shoulders as she takes a steak from the serving platter.

The conversation dies away as the two of you pile your plates high and devour the delicious meal. You listen to Sevika’s day at work – all the dangerous chances she almost died yet unfortunately survived (in her opinion). She listens to your day at work and how Jinx giggled maniacally through the last few chapters of the novel. An air of domestic joy wraps around the two of you, even as you hurry to do the dishes and grab the whiskey off the counter. Sevika puts her feet up on the table – something you scold her half-heartedly for – swirling her whiskey before taking a sip. A contented sigh escapes her as she melts further into the porch swing. You tentatively lean against her shoulder until she pulls you closer, whiskey sloshing in the bottom of her glass so that you’re pressed up against her side.

“This is the life,” she hums, staring up at the stars.

“Certainly better than where I was this time ten years ago,” you scoff, taking a sip of your whiskey.

“Anything’s better than ten years ago. I could get eaten by infected tomorrow and it would still be better than that shit show.”

“Indeed,” you murmur, staring up at her as her face relaxes from a scowl back into the contented smile. Desperation bubbles up in your stomach, craving her lips. You barely manage to temper it down, sating yourself by tracing the line of her lips. Your eyes catch over the piercing at the bottom, tongue escaping to wet your lips as you stew in your own pleasant puddle of arousal.

Sevika, oblivious to your staring, takes a sip of whiskey and continues to watch the night sky. Finishing her glass, she sets it down and wraps her hand around your shoulder, thumb stroking your shoulder. No matter how desperately you crave her, you’re not ruining this friendship over an unrequited crush. You’ll spend eternity in this pleasant misery if you must.

Even if you wanted her thumb stroking somewhere far lower. At least you have the barn dance – maybe you can sway her toward seeing you in candlelight rather than the daylight.

[newkatzkafe2023]

wukong 1999 but this

https://www.tumblr.com/newkatzkafe2023/772443036089303040/we-seen-what-would-happen-if-they-found-out-they?source=share

Mad Love all over again❤️

(Wukong) The call it creeping I say loving, it's the only way for me, filling papers, sighing wavers but I stay outside her reach🎶🎵🎶

I name your mother, and your father, and the first pet that you keep, I know your favorite place to dine at when your cheque comes in each week🎶🎵🎶

I know you do your wash on sundays and separate your whites, and that your bike needs tires because last week I set those spikes🎶🎵🎶

(Lotmk Wukong) Mad Love is the best way to describe what you to had, Wukong had been tethering over the edge for a while. He was so cute to you looking like an adorable little stray, and to him you were a new goddess in his life looking up at you with hearts in his eyes. He would do anything for you and to have you near him even if he had to break your wheels, to your cart.

(Wukong) i got a million Polaroids, with the dates penned in red ink🎵🎶🎵

I sneak a walkie talkie in your room to listen to you sleep🎵🎶🎵🎶

Meanwhile you would cooed and snuggle and kiss his soft lips, never failing to give him endless affection. You would draw pictures of Wukong whenever you stalked him at the time, and you still think he might know your looking at him. As he would slowly strip out of his clothes looking over his shoulders with looks of lust and desire, begging you to come over and get him🫦. Wukong is also aware of the listening device as he would purpose moan and chirp pretending to be asleep.

(Wukong) You just down know yet, but you love me, and I love you the same. One day, we'll have a pretty wedding, and I'll be your everything🎵🎶🎵

We'll be together yes forever, we will never ever part oh you don't know it yet but baby I already got your heart🎵🎶🎵🎶

(Y/n) Some call it stalking I say walking just extremely Close behind, I'm sure if I sat down and asked you Well, you really wouldn't mind🎵🎶🎵🎶

You got those eyes that drive me crazy and I got eyes to watch you sleep, I brought a packed lunch and some tea for my stake out in your tree (outside your inn)🎵🎶🎵🎶

It's always fun to tempt Wukong whenever your with him, strip teasing him and calling him your baby boy. Wukong would give you this empty-headed look with foggy hearts as he lick his lips wanting to taste you. You would smirk and chirp as you watched over him sleeping away, the pilgrims didn't know about you quite yet. Though you would sneak in at odd hours and give his thick tall "staff" a good old wake up kiss.

Gotta be quiet as a mouse, or else they will call police and get done in for something stupid like disturbance of the peace🎶🎵🎶🎵

And piece by piece im collecting at the things you leave behind, and when you don't i rummage though your bins to see what I can find🎶🎶🎵🎶

The final straw being how Wukong would leaven many things behind, for you to swoop in and take. Building a collection of memories of your darling husband, while he would hold things that would have your senct on it and never letting go of it. Wukong hates how has to keep his darling peaches a secret away from heaven and the world, but it's also so hot knowing your his warm and sexy secret to have to himself forever and ever.

(Y/n) You just don't know yet but you love me and I love you the same one day we'll have a pretty wedding and I'll be your everything

We'll be together yes forever, we will never ever part you just don't know it yet but baby I already have your heart

Wukong and you love each other, more then anything in the world and nobody will separate you two.........God help anyone who tried🔪

(Both) You just don't know yet but you love me and I love you the same, one day we'll have a pretty wedding and I'll be your everything

We'll be together yes forever We'll will never ever part, you just don't know yet but baby I already have your heart🎶🎵🎶💚💚💚

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG💋

[iamlostsomewhereinthegarden]

A Valentine's Day with them

A Valentine's Day with some of my favorite characters

A Valentine's Day with Ryou is filled with running and hiding away from his fangirls who want a date with him after school, giggling all the while as you’re holding hands because it feels like a romance story where you guys are running away from everyone else in the world to pursue your secret love. Later it’s spent at a cute nerdy cafe where couples get a discount on their meals and a special monster world figurines of a couple meant to stay together forever. It ends with you gifting Ryou cream puffs you made for him for the special day and heading over to his apartment and playing a short specialized monster world campaign Ryou made for you as a Valentine's gift.

A Valentine's Day with Souya is filled with going to all the local ramen shops and benefiting from the Valentine’s discounts. But if you think that’s all it’s not! Souya stepping out of his comfort zone made you chocolates while you made him a cute stuffy for his bed that you’ll see later on in the future when you guys move in together (“You still have that old thing? Of course I do, it’s something you made for me and gave to me for Valentine’s day!”). It ends with sneaking into Souya’s room -because your parents don’t approve of delinquents so you guys can’t go to your house- but you can’t let Nahoya know you guys are there or else you’ll never hear the end of it! And still waking up with y’all faces covered in marker and teasing from Nahoya because that’s just how he is but you’re happy you got to spend the night with your adorable angry boyfriend.

A Valentine’s Day with Shikamaru is filled with you two not being able to meet up until late into the evening and that’s because you guys have plans for the day but it’ll take most of the day to do. So Shikamaru spends the day at Ino’s house doing his best to make some chocolates for you, and while they aren’t the best they’re made with love and make you cry because the lazy bum put in work for Valentine’s day. You on the other hand was preparing the best stay at home lazy date one could ever ask for, and surprisingly it takes a lot of work but you got it done and welcomed him home to the cutests but laziest and most loving Valentine’s day ever.

A Valentine's Day with Neji is weird at first because he really wants to do a lot for you so the normally stoic man is doing the most to show that he loves you! All while looking like a tomato and like he’s about to pass out lmao. Though after stopping him from being weird and letting him know that all he has to do with you is just chill and spend time with you on this special day calms down and you guys have the best and still most romantic Valentine’s day ever for the two of you.

A Valentine’s Day with Kalim is a crazy private party with just you two but filled with gifts sent to one another and cutesy Valentines themed meals to the heart's content. As a poor student that can’t buy much you end up being creative and gifting a bunch of adorable homemade crafts that Kalim does is best to preserve forever. Kalim's gifts to you were a bunch of expensive gifts but after being with you for a while still has a lot of meaning because as much as he can’t help spending money like crazy he does understand what to give to make you happy. The day is spent having fun and being stupid kids while enjoying the day that Kalim ordered.

A Valentine’s Day with Idia is spent in his room playing a bunch of romance and otome games together for fun, and not even the good ones the dumb silly ones like the one with the horses and the one with the pigeons and some of those games that can be played fast and in one sitting like “A Date with Death”, “The Kid at The Back”. You guys order some food and find some kitties to pet and hold onto and enjoy the day. For two anime obsessed gamers in love it’s a great way to spend a day like today.

A Valentine’s Day with Leviathan is different than what you would think, you might think you’d spend the whole day inside but why would you guys be if there are so many anime Valentine’s events today?!?! The day is spent going from event to event ranting and being crazy fans over the animes, games, mangas and manhwas and getting limited/special items along with signatures especially since you guys are a couple. What more could two anime geeks want?

A Valentine’s Day with Tamaki is spent inside ordering a bunch of Valentine's food and having an at home date then watching some romcom movies. And let me tell you, while Tamaki may struggle in public or in many situations he’s steeled himself for this moment in order to show you how much he loves you and cares for you. It’s a day that the Pro-Hero makes sure to take off just for you and if at the end of the night he ends up being dominant with his quirk making the night very fun (especially with his tentacles and maybe even a horse coc-) that’s for you guys to know! Unless you want to spill the beans to Neijire, Mirio, Fatgum and Kirishima, though Tamaki would prefer you not to for the sake of his health.

A Valentine’s Day with Feitan is a surprise because each year he somehow does something different, the first year you guys celebrated it was the severed head of someone who kept harassing you, which though it freaked you out you understood that he was trying and at least you never had to deal with them again! Another couple years later after learning and realizing that body parts wasn’t the best item to give to your spouse and the only reason you loved them was because it was Feitan who did/gave it to you his present was a bunch of the prettiest and most expensive jewelry he could get his hands on that you could only wear once the hype about finding them died down but were amazing! This year while you got him a new amazing and pristine sword that he could use which he really loved and appreciated he somehow got you dinner reservations at an expensive and top notch restaurant and even went with you wearing a suit and actually having manners. To say that this Valentine’s day was amazing would be putting it lightly and you were definitely happy that you were with the man that you’re with despite his quirks.

Hope you enjoyed that was all written within an hour because I had a Spanish composition to write, plus a busy af university day and had to scrap my original idea that I spent whole last night working on instead of studying for said Spanish composition. I really wanted to do more but time is running out for the day and I still have more homework to do lol!

Tags: @kisakis-boyfriend

[hitlikehammers]

steddie does the 🌷flower-blooming🌷 disease love thing—but make it ✨only softness✨

OR: think hanahaki with a princess romantic, ✨non-life threatening✨, horticultural🌿 streak

Honestly: after everything, the flowers should not have been a surprise. And look: sappy romance novels might talk about choking on them or what the fuck ever, about it being lethal if unrequited, blah blah etcetera. But as far as Eddie ever understood, it was kinda like…your body having too much of a thing, and needing to expel it, lest it cause some kind of imbalance. But when it was love—requited or otherwise—it expelled itself as something a little horrifying, but undeniably beautiful. Flowers. And you tend them as best you can. They’re a part of you. Because it’s terrifying. But it’s beautiful. You’re in love that big.

rating: t ♥️ tags: post-s4, falling in love, friends to lovers, fluff, romance, softness, hanahaki disease, or really more: hanahaki-adjacent 🌺🌻, as in: NO life-threatening angst ONLY big feelings and beauty, feelings reveal, love confessions, happy ending♥️

for @steddielovemonth day sixteen: “If I had a flower for every time I thought of you...I could walk through my garden forever.” ― Alfred Tennyson

A lot had changed since Vecna. Aches and pains that weren’t there before. Nightmares featuring a very new cast of characters. A family he never could have imagined cobbling together who actually took the concept seriously, in a way Eddie had never felt anything close to in his life—save with Wayne. Random worries that plagued a lot of random moments, unprovoked.

Steve goddamn Harrington sliding almost too-perfectly into every little crevice of Eddie’s life—except for the sexy ones and…that hadn’t started as a problem. In fact, it hadn’t started even as a consideration, because gorgeous as he is? Straight-hero-boy was never gonna be on Eddie’s metaphorical dance card. So it’d been a much less convoluted and earth-shattering experience—though it still very much was both of those things; just less—to wake up in the hospital with Steve napping at his side, or squinting at a pamphlets nurse had left about physical therapy; or waking up and Steve was already in the kitchen making breakfast, like real breakfast, when Eddie’s meal standards usually involved shoving his hand into a box and stuffing his mouth with theta he could grab. Or Steve just, stopping by before or after his shifts, to see if Eddie needed anything. To listen to Eddie ramble about a campaign, or bring Eddie the latest release from a band he said he liked probably one time. To fall asleep on the bed on top of the comforter and cut the nightmares short just by rolling over with a hand to eddies chest and a muffled S’okay.

Or most uncanny: coming over, just to hang out.

So getting used to all that made it easier to segue into going to visit Steve at work when Eddie could finally move around enough to drive again. Stopping at Steve’s place unannounced when he’d finally been convinced he was genuinely welcome—by way of Steve giving him a key, what the fuck—and that there really were no parents waiting with pitchforks. Trying his own hand at making meals for when Steve worked midday shifts, so he’d have something when he pulled in—so what if it’s frozen pizza. It’s the fucking thought that counts—and Eddie really does need to start small. He really can’t start a fire in Steve’s kitchen, so he needs to get a decent track record going here in his own first.

Because he does want to cook for Steve. In Steve’s kitchen. When he spent the night at Steve’s, even. When he kept some nightmares in check.

Honestly: after all that, the flowers should not have been a surprise.

And look: sappy romance novels—aimed either at horny teenagers or housewives who can’t get a refill on their antidepressants—might talk about choking on them or what the fuck ever, about it being lethal if unrequited, blah blah etcetera. But as far as Eddie ever understood, it was kinda like…your body having too much of a thing, and needing to expel it, lest it cause some kind of imbalance. Like lots of…body things.

But when it was love—requited or otherwise—it expelled itself as something a little horrifying, but undeniably beautiful.

Flowers.

So when Eddie starts growing jasmine from his fingertips; honeysuckle in the hairs on his arms and legs; bluebells from every line of scar tissue, no matter where it ran; alternating sunflowers, dahlias, and red asters, straight from the center of his sternum, always in the same order and always accompanied by whichever wasn’t steadily unfurling from his chest, the other two in spades were getting coughed up not violently, but persistently, in the meantime—always, like all of it, a little fucking terrifying—with blossoms of lisianthus to cover both his nipples—which he had to look up; they were real pretty but fuck if he’d ever seen one before it bloomed his tits like a Renaissance painting trying to be censored by a stray leaf—before he pulled them all the way out and sparked the cycle again: horrifying. But he knew enough that the point was to cultivate the growth, the encourage your own body doing its thing to keep you a-okay (or close enough), so he does what everyone’s taught to do, if this…challenge happens to visit upon them.

You fucking plant them. So they can take root the way they want to but can’t—whether because it’s too much for anyone to speak and show even their truest, most treasured partner, or because they don’t, or can’t, have a partner with whom to even try—but you plant the growing things, the living embodiment of what your heart’s beating out of your pores.

Literally.

And you tend them as best you can. They’re a partof you.

Because it’s terrifying. But it’s beautiful.

You’re in love that big.

And of course Eddie knows why. He watches Steve sleep too much, touches his chest to ease the nightmares too much, cooks next to him too much, feels his breath catch at his side on the sofa too much, for him not to know.

He’s kinda proud of it, actually. Because what he feels is this huge and terrifying and exquisite. No matter what he can never do about it with his gorgeous straight now-undoubtedly-best friend.

But it is massive and terrifying and beautiful, and fuck yeah his every cell should be blossoming a testament to the fact that he, freak-supreme Edward Munson, gets to feel it. No matter what comes or doesn’t—save for the flowers themselves.

It’s predictable, though, and definitely in line with both Eddie’s general mixed bag of luck, as much as with the life and routine and expectation of the presence of Steve goddamn Harrington, that…well:

“What is this?”

Eddie tapping down the soil around the last of this morning’s ready-to-transplant blossoms he plucked straight out the shower—good for like…watering and stuff.

He thinks.

He hadn’t heard Steve’s approach, is the thing. And he’s never shown Steve this little space, cordoned off at the edge of the woods behind the little house their government money earned them. It’s mostly out of sight. There no reason to poke around out here.

Save…well. This reason.

“Just my garden,” Eddie tries to say all casual, keep it light like his heart’s not in his goddamn throat.

“You,” Steve says slow, walks the perimeter like he recognizes on sight what this is, what this means, that it’s all terrifying and beautiful and something close to sacred.

All he says is:

“These can’t grow this fast.”

Like he actually does specifically know for a fact that the various species in the ground in front of them couldn’t naturally be this big, this fast, in the time since the Munsons moved in.

Eddie still asks, because he’s never taken Steve here, wasn’t expecting Steve to find him here now, and his heart’s still knocking wild at the base of his fucking throat:

“How do you know?”

Steve looks at Eddie for a series of blinks that feel probably a lot longer for how many heartbeats fit into the space of time. Then he shrugs, eyes back to the flowers:

“I like to garden.”

That’s news to Eddie.

“How do you know I didn’t like to garden, too? Y’know, before?”

Because Eddie could have. Not like they’d known each other. He doesn’t know where in the fucking trailer park he’d have done it, let alone hidden it from view so as to have no evidence, but he couldhave. These beauties could have been salvaged from a former home, a half-former life, for all anyone could prove—the trailer’s long been confiscated and the lot it’s sat on’s still quarantined.

Steve leans over the sad little fence Eddie’s put up around the edges, where the larger plants—mostly the ones that burst out from the center of his chest—make a border. His eyes flick up to Eddie’s as he reaches for a petal, but doesn’t touch: he’s asking permission.

And of course Eddie nods, because anything he has is Steve’s. No question.

“Who is it for?”

Eddie nearly can’t stop himself from snorting because: anything he has is Steve’s.

This, maybe most of all.

“No one I can have,” Eddie leans against the opposite line of fencing as Steve strokes bright red, bright yellow, satiny fronds that looks right in his hands.

“That’s insane,” of Steve’s response, more to the flowers than to Eddie.

Bur at the very least it lets Eddie get the snort he’d stifled earlier out as he deadpans:

“Gee, thanks.”

Steve looks up then. Petals still held delicate between deft fingertips.

“No, I just,” and his eyes are wide when he glances back down, releases the petals gently, makes sure they fall back to where they’re meant to lie. Pristine.

Precious.

Something pings like a plucked string in eddies chest, underneath where he’s due for a sunflower to appear real soon

“I mean, loving you would be such a,” Steve looks up and locks with Eddie’s eyes:

“A privilege.”

More plucking in Eddie’s chest for that, Jesus fuck. The sprouting of a petal above the sensation. Quicker; more urgent—his heartbeat slamming like it’s pushing the blossom out all on its own.

Eddie doesn’t know what to make of that, save maybe that’s how this works, when the reason for it all is standing in front of you, spouting…this.

This.

Then Steve’s glancing around a little more, taking in the varietals on display a little more intently before he adds:

“Flowers or no flowers.”

He says it almost a little breathy, but. It might just be Eddie’s imagination.

“I never really understood it,” Steve goes on, apropos of everything but still kinda out of nowhere all the same. “Like is it supposed to be a, a modern day dowry or something? But it’s not worth money which, I guess,” he licks his lips, and Jesus H, he’s so fucking beautiful.

Terrifying, but beautiful.

“That would be better, really,” Steve decides with a gentle little smile. “Means more.”

It means…everything, really. Steve means everything.

Flowers or no, he already did. And now, it’s…Eddie kinda appreciates the terror. He loves knowing, having tangible proof of how his heart’s that set, and unwavering with it.

“I wished for it. As a kid.”

Eddie tilts his head as Steve lifts a while sunflower—the one flower especially that Eddie knows gives full weight to the who of all this.

As if there was any question.

“So many times,” and Steve’s burying his face a little in the massive head of the flower—they don’t smell like much, Eddie’s learned.

But he kind of thinks what they do smell like, really is sunshine.

“Can I,” Steve swallows, straightens, looks hopeful, nervous.

Beautiful; terrified.

“Can you, just,” he clears his throat, and extends a hand; “cane you come with me somewhere?”

As if it’s a question. As if it’s ever been a question.

His hand’s in Steve’s between heartbeats.

“I need to show you something,” Steve whispers, but his smile is…golden.

The car ride is silent, but they done let go. Eddie gets led into the Harrington house, up the stairs, farther down the hall than he ever really goes.

He understands why once the door to one of the last rooms is opened, and as he’s led inside.

“Steve…”

He takes in the fragrance; he takes in a puzzling cross of chaos and maze-like intrigue in raised flower beds under greenhouse lights. It’s like a puzzle, a game, on a rich-boy budget.

It’s two lives, laid out in a single beautiful testament.

“I didn’t always love to garden, just always wanted to,” Steve murmurs low; terrified—but so so warm; “wanted to feel enough, to garden.”

Eddie turns from taking in the intricate lines from a bird’s eye perspective, appreciating how it draws him in, like it, like it’s for—

“Who,” he chokes around the question he can’t help but ask, hope to big and goring, a bubble set to burst through his ribs:

“Who’s it for?”

Steve leans closer, raises a brow.

“Eddie,” he says pointedly; it’s terrifying, how beautiful Eddie’s stupid simple name sounds in that voice, on that tongue.

Steve grabs Eddie’s hands again and walks the through the labyrinth slow, intentional, and eddies breath catches when it hits him: they’re all the same.

The flowers are familiar because their gardens are the same.

Save for one striking difference. A notable lack of yellow. But then—

Steve crouches a little, lifts a very delicate flower hanging from a broad-growing shrub, frames it in the hollow of his palm.

“What do they look like, to you?” Steve asks, but the answer’s fucking obvious:

Music notes. They’re, they’re…

They’re Steve’s garden’s sunflowers.

They’re the ones that make it undeniable, the answer to Eddie’s shaky-hopeful question.

But if they weren’t, if they somehow were not themselves enough—

Steve pulls Eddie close, close, closer.

Kisses his mouth as satin-sweet as a petal between fingertips.

And Eddie’s chest feels like it’s blooming every shade of loving, all at once, for the discovery:

He hadn’t even scratched the surface of just how much love he could feel. And there’s not terror in it, now.

But there is so much more beauty.

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @ajeff855 @allmyfavoritethingsinoneblog @anthrobrat @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @disrespectedgoatman @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @dreamy-jeans137 @estrellami-1 @friendlyneighborhoodgaycousin @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @gunsknivesandplaid @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @kimsnooks @live-laugh-love-dietrich @madigoround @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @ollyxar @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here

divider credit here and here

[softestqueeen]

if your prompt requests are still open, could you do prompt 17 with gn!reader x könig? maybe sprinkle in some friends to lovers if you feel like it as well🙏

prompt: "Don't be silly, I want to stay up with you." a/n: this is very out of character for könig, but oh yeah. i hope you still like it! enjoy <3 warnings: fluff, a lil bit of comofrt, brief mention of nightmares, love confession, kissing pairing: roommate!könig x gn!reader I 1,110 words special prompts I special masterlist

It wasn't often that you and your roommate König got to spend time together. Unfortunately, with him being on deployment most of the time and you woking a busy job, there weren't many opportunities for the two of you to spend time with each other.

Still, you and him both loved the movie nights you spent cuddled up on the couch or occasionally on Königs bed. In these rare cases he was very glad that he wore a mask, because you - his best friend - on his bed next to him, all cuddled up and comfortable made his heart beat faster and a blush creap up his neck.

The soldier had been harboring feelings for you ever since you first met about 2 years ago, when you applied to be his roommate. He immediately told you that you could move in and that his home was now also yours. Everytime he saw you, he couldn't belive his eyes, your face so perfectly balanced, you body so well shaped and your height - you were just so perfect in every way.

But he knew, a man like him, who had casued so much pain in the past would never deserve someone as pure as you. Still, he enduldged here and there with your movie nights.

You were currently sitting on Königs bed while he was getting snacks, ready to enjoy your next film pick. Tonight it was your turn after König got to pick last time, though it doesn't really matter. He always chose movies he thought you could like and didn't really think about himself during those moments.

Once he returned from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn and a bag of sweets, he slipped under the blanket next to you, wearing only a pair of sweats, a long sleeved shirt and of course his mask. Though you had seen him without, he prefered to keep it on and you respected that.

Now under the blanket he could feel your body heat next to him and for the next two hours he couldn't concentrate on anything but you, as usual. Everytime you laughed you felt his eyes on him and when the surprisingly sad ending made you cry, König offered you his beefy shoulder which you gladly excepted.

But, all good things eventually must come to an end, so you bid him a good night and slipped out of his bed, leaving only traces of your perfume behind.

This meant only one thing for König - a restless night of yearning was ahead of him. He desperately needed you close to him, his body practically calling for you but he wouldn't dare to confess his feelings. He'd rather be only your friend forever than be a stranger to you.

Surprisingly, he slipped into a light sleep very fast, though his mind wasn't as kind to him. At first his dream seemed more or less normal, there was you and him in a grocery store. The dream took a quick turn though and once his dream turned into a nightmare he jolted upright, a scream tearing from his throat before he could stop himself.

His breathing heavily and prayed to whoever was out there that he didn't wake you up. The fast and sudden footsteps that he could now hear in your shared flat though told him something else.

You didn't even knock before tearing open his door, you eyes quickly searching for an intruder. Once you saw König breathing heavily it dawned on you what happened and you let out a breath.

Slowly, you krept towards his bed and put one of your hands on his shoulder. He flinched slightly beofre relaxing into your touch.

"Did you have a nightmare?" though the answer was obvious you still wanted to be sure. König only answered with a short nod, before moving aside so you could slip underneath the blanket next to him.

You didn't hesitate to accept his quiet invitation. It wasn't often that you really noticed that he was having a nightmare, usually he wouldn't dare talk about it. But sometimes you did catch wind of it and never hesitated to comfort him.

This meant you also had a little routine for cases like this. You leaned back against the headboard, slightly propped up, allowing Königh to put his head in the crook of your neck and slightly cover your torso with his. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and drew mindless shapes on them.

You didn't ask about what the dream contained, he never told you.

"You don't always have to comfort me and stay up with me, you know. I appreciate it, but you can go back to your room and get some sleep," König interrupted the silence that had formed around you. It pained you to hear the slight insecurity and uncertainty in his voice.

"Don't be silly, I want to stay up with you. I wouldn't be able to sleep anyways if I knew that you would be here all alone with your worries," you reassured him.

The warmth in his words made his heart ache and in that moment he knew he had to tell you how he felt. He didn't care if it could potentially end your friendship, but he realised he had to take the chance.

"I have to tell you something, I haven't been completely honest with you," his words made your breath slightly hitch and your hand on his shoulder stilled, "I have to confess, I am in love with you and have been since we first met. Every time you show me so much kindness that I dodn't deserve it pains me to know that you are not mine. If you don't feel the same, that's fine, but I thought you should know." His head was now angled more towards you, his shiny eyes making contact with his. Moments like these were also the only instances where you saw him without his mask and his beauty made your heart roar.

"Hey, don't say that. You deserve so much love, you know. And it's silly that you don't think I feel the same about you, because I do. I love you too, so much. I'm surprised you haven't realised yet."

König couldn't belive what he was hearing. Once he had been staring at you for some time, he realised he should probably say something. Or rather, do something.

He propped himself up on one of his arms, so he wa face to face with you. He leaned forward and lightly placed his lips on top of yours, and oncce you kissed him back, he knew he would never let you go again.

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