#but I just hated sitting in cars so much at that age and usually got carsick

[noalikestodraw]

Saw there was a ghibli month challenge so I’m doing it and let me tell you this is a blast

This was for “fun way to travel” (I don’t think this is the most fun traveling scene even in this one movie but honestly I related to chihiro right here so here we are)

[beardedjoel]

oasis

dbf neighbor! joel miller x f!reader. one shot.

main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: your dad's friend is tasked with looking after you while he's out of town. he ends up finding you somewhere you absolutely shouldn't be. blackmail ensues. 8.3k words.

for @iamasaddie's writing challenge! my genre was dark and the prompt was "please don't tell my dad!" thanks for the amazing challenge! 💌

warnings: 18+ MDNI! dark themes, joel is pervy and sleazy, age gap (reader is under drinking age but an adult so 18-20, joel's age unmentioned but he calls himself an old man and he's 50+ in my head), consensual but there are elements of coercion and blackmail so... (it's dark! okay!), unprotected piv, lap sitting, lap dance, thigh/crotch riding, orgasm denial, pussy pronouns, dirty diiiirty talk, cumshot?, reader has hair that can be pulled and wears lingerie but otherwise is undescribed.

a/n: this is less edited than my usual work but i hope i did it justice! it was very fun and silly to come up with this idea and i ended up loooving how crazy it got!

Keep an eye on her while we’re gone, eh?

The words from your father ring through Joel’s ears when he hears the start of an engine from where he sits in his living room, his view on the plush couch offering a perfect view through the large picture window on the front of the house. Right to where you live with your dad, where he can see the lights of your car come on. Bingo. He’s got you now.

Obsession felt like a strong word, but Joel could describe it no other way as soon as you’d moved in across the street - your dad was a longtime friend and neighbor, talk of his little girl rampant for years before he’d had the chance to meet you. You were going to be going to college nearby, so you moved from where you lived with your mom in California down to your father in Texas, right across the street from where he’d had the pleasure of laying eyes on you for the first time.

Young. Supple. Beautiful. And so damn shy. 

He hated just how much it turned him on when your timid eyes would find his. The pervy old man who couldn’t keep his eyes off a young girl - what a god damned cliche he’d become. He kept tabs on you, at first not really realizing he was doing it, eyes peering out the windows to catch you on your way out the door or coming home soon escalated to trying to see into your bedroom window at the front of the house. His time with your father mysteriously seemed to double, then triple, any chance he could to get close to you, see you in your natural habitat, hoping to learn more about this special girl that had captured so much of his attention.

You dressed modestly, too - far too modestly for his liking - he knew your father was a strict man, and assumed just as much about your mother from the way your dad talked about his ex-wife. He never got to see enough of you, except for the few times you had on shorter dresses when the summer heat just got to be too much to bear, and those rare occasions burned themselves into his memory, a bank of images to pull from when he took a hand to his cock and thought of you.

He’s up in a flash, smiling softly to himself as he quickly slides on his shoes and swipes his keys from the front table, exiting the house and seeing your car still parked in the drive. You always sit there too long before driving off, probably playing on your phone, texting your friends, whatever the hell young girls like you do. All Joel knows is he’s grateful it gives him enough time to sneak to his truck before you can get too far, waiting until you pull out and start down the street before starting his own car.

Joel checks the time as he starts down his driveway and sees it’s well after 9:00 pm. Where the hell could you be going, you naughty thing? Your dad has a strict curfew for you, he knows, and if he’s tasked with keeping an eye on you, he might as well do it right.

So he follows you. You get on the highway, heading towards downtown, and Joel’s eyebrows raise as he turns up his music, cruising along behind you, so unaware as he sees the outline of your own head bopping along to your music when he can get a clear enough view.

When you finally park, the city streets bustling with people out late on a Friday night around you, Joel sits in his truck, eyes peeled as he watches you round a building, disappearing. Oasis, the glowing sign on the front says. It looks a bit seedy, this area of town, a bouncer on the outside that you’d given a curt wave to sending Joel’s expression into pure shock before a determined smirk crosses his lips.

It turns out it’s not as exclusive as having a bouncer would make it seem. Joel waits in line with the others, feeling a bit out of place but his appetite to bust you outweighs all of it. Not more than ten minutes later he’s inside, the dark hallway opening up to a massive room laid out in front of him. It’s busy - bodies everywhere, the smell of sweat, alcohol, and arousal permeating everything and Joel blinks to adjust his eyes to the dim mood lighting. A dance floor takes up most of the middle, crowded to the max as music bumps through the speakers, and two bars flank either side, fully packed as well. There are lounges everywhere - cushy leather couches with tables, and as Joel’s vision comes in in full, he sees more private spots along the edges of the room on a slightly elevated area, curtains closing them in.

Too busy taking everything in, he doesn’t even notice the most important detail right away - the waitresses. More specifically, the way they’re all dressed. Gorgeous bodies of all shapes and sizes, parading around in what is essentially lingerie - a lacy black bra paired with a matching set of panties, sheer black stockings and a garter trailing down their legs all the way to the heels that adorn their feet. Joel feels a twinge inside his belly, pulling low and taut when he spots one of the waitresses with thick thighs and a plush stomach grinding on a woman sitting on one of the couches, the receiver throwing her head back in teasing, pleased laughter before taking a long sip of her drink. He continues scanning the room, seeing another man closer to his age being straddled by a different waitress with one of the nicest pairs of tits Joel has ever seen in that same uniform, her hips swaying and grinding so close to his crotch as she gives him a lapdance.

Fuck.

His mind spins faster, blood going hot as it runs through his veins, his cock twitching under the denim of his jeans. It’s been too long - all the pining, the built up frustration, and he’s needy. He finds it hard to believe you’d just be out partying at a place like this, certainly not the neighborly girl he knows. Bringing over leftovers you’d cooked for you and your dad, always with a little treat on the side and a soft smile, your frilly socks and white tennis shoes, collars that never revealed much past the very top of your gorgeous tits. But it still made him fucking crazy, all of it. He wanted to be the one to ruin it, to see who you really are underneath all of the fluff and sweetness. Because at the end of the day, he knows he wasn’t imagining that glint in your eye that told him you had more to offer.

Joel shakes the distractions and his dirty, racing thoughts, eyes scanning the room for you, remembering his mission. He is about to internally ask himself the question when your appearance answers everything he needs to know. Slack jawed, he looks on as you step out from behind one of the bars, tossing a smile over your shoulder at one of the other workers as you start to move carrying a tray full of drinks. 

When you emerge in full, strutting your way across the room, you’re wearing it. The outfit. The skimpy bra and panties to match all of the other servers. Your coworkers. Oh, he’s so thoroughly fucked right now, he thinks in a rising panic. But then again, so are you.

“Thank god you’re here! You’re seriously such a life saver,” Kristina says breathlessly as you breeze into the locker room. She’s one of the supervisors here at Oasis, the club you’ve been working at since the beginning of the summer. Sure, you were underage to serve alcohol, but the owners of this club seemed willing to turn a blind eye to a lot of things to gain good talent. Good pay, direct cash, and an insane amount in tips. Enough to pay your way through college, you hoped. Beyond all of that, once you’d gotten into the swing of things you found that you liked it, too. The power you felt in these heels, the way eyes followed you everywhere, you’d never felt so desired, so free or sexually open in your life. Although the only time you’d actually had sex was with your one ex-boyfriend, and it never felt like you do here - sexy, with raw desire filling the air, something so tangible you feel you can reach out and touch it sometimes.

You pull your shirt over your head, unclasping your regular bra and swapping it for the black, lacy one that lives inside your locker. Kristina stands nearby, unfazed by your bare chest as she thanks you. She’d called you about forty five minutes ago, begging for you to come in on your night off when another server, Rochelle, got sick right as things started to pick up. Friday night tips hadn’t sounded so bad when you had no plans apart from watching TV in your dad’s empty house, so it felt like a win.

“No problem,” you say, smiling at her. “Happy to help.”

“You’ve got section five tonight - Justin has Laura covering right now, just switch out when you’re ready, kay?”

You confirm, quickly finishing up your swap into your uniform, admiring yourself in the mirror with a soft smile, still getting used to the look of lingerie on you. You’d have been stupid to keep something like this in the house with either of your parents, not worth the risk if they found out about it.

The noise of the club blares, making you wince for a quick moment as you step out from the calmness of the locker room to the deafening noise beyond and get your bearings behind the bar. It really is busy, but all you can see is money when you glance around, admiring how full the place is tonight. 

You’re stopped in the middle of your flow after swinging by the bar to pick up drinks for one of your tables. It’s an extra flirtatious group of men who are practically ready to feast on you, but for all the poorly managed things about this club, they at least have a strict no touching rule with the staff that is enforced by any number of the security guards around. So you get to have your fun, keep your distance, and hope they pay extra for a lapdance from you and tip you well for it.

“You’ve got a, uh, private request,” Justin says, speaking quietly but leaning close to your ear so you can hear him. You pull back, a look of surprise on your face, a questioning glance that he confirms with a nod. “We’ll cover your tables. Room seven.”

Your mind spins faster as you walk towards the room. The rooms aren’t fully private, just a halfway curtain that gives the impression you’re more alone than you are. That luxury doesn’t come cheap, so whoever booked this room and asked for you must mean business. In fact, management hasn’t even put you on serving private rooms regularly yet, reserving that right to the more tenured employees until you work your way up the ladder. You smile, wondering who it could even be that specifically requested you - a regular that loved the banter you’d offered? A new customer who was drawn to you from across the room? It makes your heart skip a little, anticipation and a hint of nervousness coursing through you as you reach the curtain, stepping beyond to see your mystery customer.

Holy shit.

The sultry smile you’d plastered on fades right off your face, replaced with a deep set frown, your mouth open but unable to speak. Your stomach is rapidly dropping to depths it's never known before as your face starts to burn hot, cheeks feeling like they’re on fire. Your arms fly up to your chest, crossing them over as some kind of futile cover of yourself, but his eyes are trained there unashamedly, seeing the way your arms have really just accentuated your cleavage. He’s spread out on one of the loveseats, completely alone, knees wide apart, lap open and desperately inviting when it absolutely should not be.

“M-Mr. Miller?”

Joel was having far too much fun with this. The priceless look on your face that had wiped off the pretty grin you’d had was worth every damn penny he’d spent on this ridiculous room just to get you alone. You think you can cover up, somehow, but it only really offers Joel a better view of your bottom half, the lacy shorts style panties a treat for his weary gaze, the garters sitting against your soft skin one of the most enticing things he’s ever seen. He instantly feels his cock getting hard as his eyes rake up and down your body, settling on where your tits are now pressed together against your crossed arms.

“Mr. Miller?” you stutter out after a long, dense silence between the two of you.

“Don’t cover up on account’a me, sweetheart,” Joel replies cooly, threading his hands together behind his head, looking even more relaxed than when you’d first walked in. Your arms seem to tighten around you, the complete opposite of Joel.

“Wh-what are you -” you start trying to ask, and Joel notices how you suddenly look unbalanced, legs shaking underneath you. You attempt a step forward, bringing yourself further into the room and it gives Joel an even closer look at you, and god damn you’re gorgeous. Your skin looks flawless, so smooth and soft looking - the apex of your thighs coming closer to eye level as you move forward, all adorned by that lace that’s making him wild. He’s never seen anything close to this much of your skin before, and he has half a mind to grab you right here and toss you over his lap, taking everything he wants from you.

“Could ask you the same thing, couldn’t I?” he questions you, enjoying the tease, the way he sees your face screw up a little tighter at the very valid point he was making. You’re caught, and there’s no way around it now, he thinks smugly.

Your face falls, eyes going to the ground and watching your feet shift nervously in your heels. “I-I get it. You made your point. I’ll go home, okay? I know I shouldn’t be here -” you stammer out, and the guilty look on your face tells Joel what he’d already suspected - your dad knows absolutely nothing about this job of yours. 

“No, you shouldn’t,” Joel says, but he makes no move to get up, keeping a steady, unrelenting gaze on you. When you flick your eyes up to him, he sees they’re watery, and it makes his insides twinge with a strange mixture of regret and pleasure as he sees the tears brimming along the edges of your eyes, the subtle panic he can see growing. 

“You’re bein’ very bad, ain’t ya? ” Joel tuts, and you seem to almost flinch at the words from where you awkwardly stand in front of him still, unsure of what to do, where to go. Joel feels that pleasure growing warm in his gut, knowing he has you right where he wants you. “I mean, look at that outfit, sweetheart -” Joel starts with a low whistle, sitting forward slightly so you can see just how much he’s admiring it, his eyes narrowed in inspection, the weathered lines in his face apparent with the way his brows are raised. “Thas’ a far cry from those clothes you wear on my doorstep, play actin’ a good little girl.”

“N-no! I don’t - I didn’t mean - I am good.” You’re more and more visibly flustered, your arms wrapping around yourself as Joel continues to tease you, intent on bringing you down a few more notches.

Joel gives you a condescending glare. “Darlin’, ain’t nothin’ good about this. Lemme tell you what I think…” He leans back again, staring up at you, not once inviting you to sit, and knowing you won’t unless he does - he wants to make you sweat. “You never got to have that rebellious streak w’ both your parents bein’ who they are, did ya? An’ you thought you deserved it, to have a little fun, didn’t you?”

Your lip quivers and you blink back another set of hot, embarrassed tears, eyes trained back on the dark, faux marble floors, refusing to speak.

“Didn’t you?” he asks again with more bite. Fucking brat. Good thing Joel had plenty of tactics up his sleeve to whip a wannabe brat back into a good girl, he thinks with a sly smile to himself.

“Y-yes! Okay? I wanted to do something… for me,” you finally admit, feeling yourself shake a little at his demanding words.

“Now was that so hard?” Joel asks, becoming acutely aware of just how hard he is, almost painfully so now that he’s been teasing you, fantasizing about this moment for far too long. You shake your head, still hung downwards in shame before bringing your eyes back to his. They look soft, youthful and desperate, and Joel has never felt so turned on in his goddamn life, all the power he’s feeling rushing right to his cock.

“J-just… please don’t tell my dad,” you say, almost quiet enough Joel can’t hear it over the distant bump of the music. But he made it out, the words he’d been hoping you’d say, the ones he knew you’d have to utter.

“I won’t,” Joel starts, seeing the relief flood your face, nearly laughing at how quickly you put stock in his words before even hearing what else he has to say. So naive. “But what’s in it for me, hm? Ain’t gonna keep a secret without a little… incentive.” Joel’s hands plant on his thighs, running up the length of them as he watches your emotions shift in real time, your jaw going slack, eyes widening and barely blinking. You just stutter, completely taken aback and Joel had expected as much - you’re too good of a girl to navigate a situation like this. Good thing he already has his next words planned and loaded up to help you along.

“Laps feelin’ mighty empty, y’know…” Joel muses, leaning back and spreading his palms out on the leather couch next to his thighs. You flash your eyes to his legs, then his face again, mouth gaping open, finally realizing just what he’s asking for. 

You can’t believe this is happening to you. You should never have taken this job, kept such a big secret from your dad that you knew he’d absolutely kill you for if he found out. You were technically an adult now, but that didn’t mean you could just throw away his rules while you lived at home with him. 

And now you were being blackmailed by his friend. His very handsome friend, but you’re trying hard not to think about that right now. There’s no way he’s serious about this, no way he could actually want this from you? The neighbor girl, his friend’s daughter? Mr. Miller had always been kind, just a bit of a grumpy edge to him but he loved to joke around with your dad. You often caught them laughing together, too shy to have inserted yourself enough with someone who made your skin grow hot just from glancing into his dark, chocolate brown eyes. But without that buffer of your dad, here alone in the dim lighting of the club, it was like he’d become another man. 

“Y-you want me to…?” you say, blinking hard as you stare at his thick thighs and crotch, all spread wide open. It’s enticing - normally even with an attractive customer you find yourself thinking of it more as work - fun work, but still work. But with Joel… you’d felt heat pooling between your thighs as he observed you this entire conversation, the desire starting to outweigh the embarrassment you were feeling. 

“Paid for it, didn’t I?” he remarks practically, a nip of impatience edging his voice as you swallow hard and step forward. 

“Y-you don’t have to… we can get a refund if you don’t want me to do it…” you say, trying to remind yourself not to mumble, but your nerves are getting the best of you. 

Joel’s head shakes slowly, his hand drifting out smoothly from his body towards you, tenderly locking on to where your wrist dangles at your side and pulls you closer. Closer. Closer, until he’s pulling you down so that you have to bend down, coming face to face with him. Your cheeks burn, breathing heavy and stunted as the tension in the air thickens, his lips so close to yours. You can’t help but glance at them, the inviting curve of his lips drawing you in, but Joel’s eyes are elsewhere, peering down right between your bodies where your tits are on such display for him, spilling out of the bra at this angle. 

“Like I said,” he coos softly, eyes obviously drifting up towards your face, “I need a little incentive to not spill your dirty little secret, darlin’.” A smirk grows on his face before he lets go of your wrist, and you stumble backwards a little. 

“Y-you -” you stutter again, trying to counter him, but you come up short. “O-okay…” you mutter with a sigh, taking a deep breath before you hesitantly turn around, facing your back to him. 

Joel tuts immediately at your lack of enthusiasm. “None of that, gimme the full show, sweetheart, or the deal’s off.”

You huff quietly, taking a few steps away from Joel, readying yourself. He can see the change in your demeanor already, the more confident strides you take before turning around, facing him again. Then you begin your routine, practiced and ready, pacing towards him with a feline, graceful energy, heels clicking on the floor as you slip one leg in front of the other, heading towards him. You almost hesitate, pushing yourself through the doubt as your hand reaches out, grazing along his shoulder, moving inward towards his collarbone.

Your fingers drag along his chest, where one button of his flannel shirt is open, wishing you could delve your whole hand inside and feel the more than likely gorgeous planes of his chest. Christ, he’s so meaty, so thick everywhere you touch. 

A soft rumble escapes his chest before you turn around, grinding your ass downwards and then back up, teasing him by getting a little lower each time. But it’s not enough, he knows you’re holding back, your movements a little stilted and awkward. His cell phone is out of his pocket before he can think much more about it, snapping a photo of the way your ass is grinding down towards him, just enough of your side profile in the photo that it’s undeniably you. 

“Come on, know you can do better’n that.” Joel clicks his tongue, making you freeze, hovering awkwardly above him. “Do this for a livin’ lord knows how many nights a week. If you ain’t gonna give me what I paid my hard earned money for I can call your daddy right now… maybe jus’ text him this picture. What d’you think about that?” Joel asks, holding his cell phone forward and into your eyesight. You gasp, hands grabbing for it just as he snatches it away. 

“D-delete that! Please!” you cry out, feeling panic squeeze at your chest. Fuckfuckfuck you are so thoroughly fucked right now if Joel has photo evidence.

Joel smiles down at his phone, peering at the image one last time before pocketing it. “No can do, sweetheart. Now, I don’t really wanna have to ask again, yeah?”

You only gape at him for a moment longer before snapping your mouth shut and positioning yourself above his lap again. “F-fine. Jesus,” you mutter angrily, finding that the irritation you’re feeling is starting to spur you on as you begin to move again, feeling yourself turned on by Joel’s musk in your space, the heat of his body radiating towards yours in this close proximity. Not to mention you can sense just how turned on he is, how much this is affecting him as you move with more conviction, hips delicately swinging in front of him. If he wants a show, you’ll give him your best yet, you think with determination.

“F-fuck… attagirl,” Joel lets slip when you brush his crotch with your ass. He’s barely holding it together with your curves swaying tantalizingly in front of him, something even his wildest dreams likely couldn’t have conjured up. He’d never think he’d see you like this - so sensual, so fucking gorgeously in control of your sexual aura that it could make a man lose control. Your customers were beyond lucky, he thinks with a pang of jealousy shooting through him, making his blood boil hotter, his possessive side come out. While he’d been at home pining over you, thinking about you with a hand stroking his own cock, you’d been here - rubbing your pretty ass on all those lucky fucks and their undeserving crotches. 

The thought makes him insane, the image of you doing this to any other man, so when you lean back against him, pressing your back to his chest, your ass just beginning to grind on his jeans, his hands go to your hips instinctively trying to bring you down onto him, to claim you. You slow your movements to a stop, leaning your head back towards his ear so that you’re almost entirely pressed against him now. 

“Not s-supposed to touch,” you say, you voice the only thing giving away just how nervous you still are. 

“Don’t fuckin’ care, if I’m honest,” Joel huffs back quietly, his voice husky and breathless. You bite back a moan as his rough hands wrap around each side of your waist tightly and help guide you that last inch downwards, sending your ass fully rolling over his crotch. 

“H-holy shit…” you whimper when you feel the rough denim brush along the outside of your panties. You feel a flush run through you, your skin burning hot as you realize you won’t be able to hide how wet you’ve gotten for very long. It began slowly, just with his brooding, questioning eyes on you, now reaching a fever pitch as you’re in his space and feeling the prominent bulge in his pants. 

It’s been far too long since you were satisfied. Truly satisfied. 

Your breath catches as Joel fingers wiggle inward a little after hearing how much you’re getting into it, even closer to the waistband of your panties, the two of you facilitating the grinding motion together as you bear down a little more on his lap. Joel lets out a pleased hum, still somehow giving you the sense that he’s the one holding back now. His hands still have an air of respect to them, like they’re vibrating with the need to wrap completely around you and pull you to him, to roam your skin and grab at all the forbidden parts of you. 

When the thought flashes across your mind, you realize you want him to. 

“T-touch me…” you whisper, immediately clamping your betraying mouth shut as the words float out into the air. You hold your breath, waiting to see if Joel heard you.

“What’s that, gorgeous? Couldn’t quite hear you,” Joel says, his tone a low, mocking sound that tells you he’s baiting you, that he wants to play with his food before eating it. Your eyes narrow before they shut completely, rolling back when he forces your ass to move along his bulge again.

“F-fu- touch me,” you spit out a bit louder. “Please.”

“You poor thing,” you hear him tut from behind you, forcing your hips upwards and away before grasping onto your hands, turning you around to face him. “Can’t get us in trouble now, can we?” he asks tauntingly, his eyes giving you a heated staredown as they widen, almost looking sympathetic if there wasn’t so much of an appetite behind them.

You whimper, visibly whining as your face screws up, squeezing his hands with yours. Joel tugs, so lightly that you’d almost think it was your own idea as you start to come back down towards him, pressing the warmth between your legs against his thigh. You sigh shakily, eyes fluttering shut as you slowly swing one leg over top of his and bear down a little more, straddling his thigh.

“We w-won’t… we won’t…” you breathe out, knowing it’s not the complete truth, but room seven is especially tucked back, hardly getting any traffic. In fact, it was known for bending the rules a bit. 

“She’s so needy, huh? You all wet for me, sweetheart, that it? She need a little relief?” Joel taunts, and when you open your eyes to meet his gaze, he’s practically pouting. Your cheeks burn at how desperate he’s making you sound, but your hips twitch of their own accord, sending a zing of pleasure up your spine and you whimper quietly again, giving yourself away even further. 

“Y-yes, Mr. Miller…”

“Keep on doin’ your little dance, pretty girl, jus’ right there,” Joel urges you, a hand finding the small of your back, the other locked onto your hip as you start to rock forward, then back again. Relief instantly floods you as your clit brushes against the ripples in the hard denim, making you move harder against him, mouth popped open in fresh ecstasy. 

“Close that mouth before I shove somethin’ in it, you fuckin’ tease,” Joel grits out, his eyes burning wildly, finally giving you a glimpse at how affected he is as he keeps his stare on your face, starting to sheen with sweat. Your mouth snaps shut, a stifled moan pulling from your throat and behind your closed lips, threatening to burst out of you.

“This ain’t against the rules? Havin’ a pretty girl ride my thigh?” he asks in cruel teasing, flickering eyes glancing down to where your hips are shamelessly rocking on him.

“I- I don’t - know-“ you choke out, your legs starting to tremble as the pleasure slowly, steadily builds deep inside of you. “I d-don’t care…”

“Riiight, she’s on her rebellious streak now, ain’t she?” Joel mutters facetiously, smiling a devious grin as he watches your face screw up in concentration. You truly don’t care, you can’t care anymore when whatever the hell is going on feels so good. Damn this job, damn Joel’s games, you’re going to get what you need out of this right now, too. Your head is thrown back as your whines and moans escalate, showing Joel just how close you’re getting. 

“That’s it, god you’re beggin’ for it, ain’t you? So dirty…” Joel’s hands grip tighter along your hips, starting to drag you inwards, towards his aching, clothed bulge. “Beggin’ for your daddy’s friend's cock while you make a mess all over his thigh, aren’t you? Who would’ve thought a good girl like you’d be wantin’ to get fucked by an old man?”

His words make you clench around nothing, the harsh tone making your insides twist in pleasure as you roll your hips a little faster. “F-fuck… I - I need to - Mr. Miller -” you plead aimlessly, feeling your core tightening, the obscene wetness driving you to full on madness as your pussy aches, cries out for Joel.

Your leg is being dragged over top of him, forcing you to fully straddle his lap, thighs stretched wide and burning at how wide you’re going to accommodate his huge frame. You’re in disbelief at the rough, needy noise Joel makes as soon as your cunt is pulled down onto him, Joel’s hands forcing your hips to start thrusting against him. You nearly lose your balance, wrapping your arms around his neck to hang on as he looks at you with determination. Hands planted firmly on your ass, squeezing hard as he relishes in the feel of finally having you like this, feeling your warm heat seeping through his denim right to where he’s desperate to have you most.

“Joel,” he corrects in his haze, stunting your hips to press down hard on his cock, sending a gasp flying out of your mouth at the sheer size of what’s to come. Your mouth is practically watering, so close to what your body craves now, what it needs. When your fingers graze the button of his jeans, he stiffens, seeming to snap out his lustful fog as he swats your hand away.

“Fuck… later,” Joel says suddenly, using every bit of self restraint to push you back, moving your heat from his bulge, the instantaneous lack of you devastating him to the core. 

Your brows quickly knit in confusion at the sudden change in course. “W-why…?” you whisper breathlessly, bringing your lips near his neck, kissing the rough skin, working your way up to his patchy, gray flecked beard. His hand is at the back of your head, yanking you backwards by the hair, tearing your lips off of him in a brutal rush. He holds you there, the pull on your scalp starting to prickle harder as you sit staring at him like a tamed animal being held up by its scruff. 

“Can’t fuck you properly in here. Too many fuckin’… people. Prying eyes wantin’ to see what all the fuss is about.”

“I-I can be quiet,” you retort, hating just how much it sounds like begging but the hold he has on you right now is so intense, so inexplicable that you’d say anything, you think.

Joel huffs, a tiny, incredulous snort coming out of his nose. “No, you can’t. Not if I’m doin’ what I plan on doin’ to you. We can’t have anyone come snoopin’, can we?”

You shake your head, suddenly wondering if he’s about to drag you out of here, take you home to his bed, or your bed, you think with a shudder. You feel a pull inside your belly, thinking you just might let him if you don’t get your head back on straight soon. 

“An’ you still gotta work the rest of your shift, make your money, don’t you babydoll?” Joel says with a smirk growing, making your face fall completely into a deep frown. “Call it a little punishment for bein’ such a bad, naughty girl, yeah? Then you can finish up givin’ me my piece of the pie.”

You find yourself gaping at him for the umpteenth time tonight in disbelief. He wasn’t going to just leave you… like this? Was he? You can feel your clit pulsing against your panties, your body tense and wound up, on the precipice of coming so hard you saw stars only a few moments ago. 

“Up, now,” Joel says, shifting his legs so that you’re forced to move, scrambling up onto your shaky legs, feeling like a newborn fawn getting your footing again.

“W-wait… I already - didn’t I… give you what you want?” you ask, suddenly feeling yourself snapping out of the heady, lust filled haze Joel had you in. This was insane, right? You can’t fuck him, you shouldn’t. It wasn’t right for either of you, and you’d been crazy to have just been this close to letting him stuff you full.

Joel’s head tilts, watching your slightly messy hair and smudged makeup for a few beats with a discerning gaze. “Nah, darlin’, you just gave me what I paid for. This is what I want.”

Your heart and stomach sink to new depths. “N-no. Joel! You said… if I gave you the lap dance you wouldn’t tell my dad. And I gave you a hell of a lot more than that -” Joel stands, interrupting you, coming forward and crowding your space, his hulking mass like a tower next to you, shadowing you with his commanding energy.

“Watch your mouth,” he snips, a hand gripping onto your wrist. “I’m the one callin’ the shots here, an’ I changed my mind once I saw just how pretty that sweet little pussy of yours can be. So here’s what’s gonna happen…” Joel’s fingers come up to ghost along your cheek, trailing down your neck, along the swells of your breasts as he speaks. You can’t help but shudder at the attention, how good it feels on your sensitive, needy skin.

“You go on out there, tell ‘em what a great job you did in here, work the rest of your shift like a good girl, thinkin’ about just how fuckin’ wet you got these pretty panties, how bad she needs a little help from Mr. Miller.”

Your breath is caught in your throat at his words, hitching further as his touch skates further down, sending your hips twitching forward. 

“An’ I’ll be waitin’ for you after, darlin’, for what I’m owed.”

Your heart pounds as you slip out the side door and into the alleyway, pausing to let the cool night air wash over you as you gather your thoughts. Your mind is at war with itself, one half of you knowing this is a terrible idea, setting you up for complete disaster in the future. How could you ever face Joel again if you two took it that far? Then again, you weren’t sure how you’d be able to face him in the daylight already, anyways, without your cheeks burning so hot they caught fire. The other half of you was winning, had been winning as you worked the rest of your shift in a complete daze, hardly recognizing your own movements as your body burned hot and needy, mind completely scrambled by the conundrum of your father’s closest friend coming onto you and more.

You spent the rest of your shift coming to terms with the fact that you do want to fuck him. So badly. Even if it’s wrong, a complete mistake in every single way. You also know your mind isn’t to be trusted right now, running on pure horniness and desperation, never having been fucked in the way you know Joel could. His experience, his power, the way his lustful eyes had drank you in like the sweetest balm - it was all too hard to turn down. You turn, looking the opposite way down the alleyway from your car, starting to think you might be able to sneak around the block and get in your car and drive off without him noticing, wondering exactly where he’s waiting for you. You don’t see a soul, hear anyone else in this alley apart from the distant music from inside and chatter from along the main street which is a far cry from where the employee exit to Oasis dropped you. 

You take the risk, heart thrumming wildly as you start down the alley, saying a silent apology to Joel in your head, and then yourself for letting this secret come out, knowing Joel was definitely not bluffing if you didn’t follow through on your end of the deal. Better to face punishment from your father than have to deal with the consequences of fucking his best friend and facing the feelings that would come after. You’re only halfway down the alleyway before a warm, rough hand is slapped against your mouth and an arm is draped around your middle and tugging you backwards. A wall of muscle meets you and you whimper loudly behind the hand, starting to yell.

“Shh, shh, no screamin’,” the voice coos, distinctly recognizable. Shit.

“Tryna sneak off on me, huh, pretty girl?” Joel says next to your ear, his neck craning down to breathe you in, groaning. It’s so feminine, so light and soft, the faded scent of your perfume and body wash makes him instantly mad with need for you. His hand slips down, giving your lips some room to answer now that you’ve stopped fighting him, leaning back into his hold a little more.

“N-no,” you choke out, lying. “S-swear.”

“Didn’t change your mind? Want me to send those pretty pictures to your daddy?” Joel coos, starting to walk you towards the brick wall of the building, pushing your body forwards until you’re pressed against the cool, scratchy surface. You hold back a moan when his body leans into you fully, completely dominating you as you’re at his mercy against the wall.

“I j-just d-don’t think we should -” you utter half heartedly, feeling heat rush to your cheeks, fearing what might come next after your suggestion.

“Why’s that?” he asks, dripping with condescension. “Seemed you couldn’t wait to get stuffed full of me not too long ago, yeah?”

“I-it’ll be weird after, w-won’t it? How can we… be around my dad? How can you?” You finally find your voice, your bravery, to ask him the question you’d been thinking the entire night.

A small chuckle blows past the side of your head from where Joel’s mouth sits against your head. “Think we both learned tonight I’m willin’ to keep a secret,” he says, his voice getting more harsh, a needy coarseness to it that sends goosebumps along your skin.  Joel feels a frenzy overcoming him when he notices your thighs clenching, how shallow and wanting your breaths are becoming now. He can’t wait much longer… can’t stand the torture he’s endured at your sweet teasing for a second longer.

“I-I want it…” you finally say in a harsh whisper, your resolve faded within seconds. Your ass ruts back into his hardness, an ache that hadn’t subsided in the least in the last hours as he waited for you. Patiently. Like he had already been all of these months. 

“You know I’m gonna ruin anyone else f’you, darlin’, don’t you?” he asks as his lips trace along your shoulder, now clad in a tank top that you’d changed back into. The bits of bare skin he touches taste like heaven, feel almost unbearably soft and inviting against his plush lips. He couldn’t possibly deserve any of this, but he couldn’t help but take it, anyhow. He could pay for his sins later. Your neck is next on his list, another supple spot of heaven to taste as he mutters the words again. “Don’t you?”

You just nod at first, dumbstruck by the feel of his lips, turning your head to try to meet them. “Yes,” you tell him softly, knowing it’s the truth, and there isn’t a turning back from this moment anymore. His lips are suddenly all there is, devouring your own whole as he takes in bounds, your tongues and teeth and mouths in a desperate clash, panting into one another as Joel starts to tug at your jeans, fingers flying desperately to tear them down.

You let him.

The second he’s pushing into you, you see bright white flash across your vision - that pulse of pain shooting through the very fabric of your being, your nerves lit up and screaming out from deep inside of you. Joel’s groan is barely audible through the ringing in your ears as he doesn’t stop, finding solace in your tight heat when he pushes himself into you in full. It’s heaven incarnate, you are heaven incarnate, he thinks, practically panting out the words as he feels your wet tightness pulling him in, walls pulsing as you adjust to the sheer volume that is Joel. Your cheek is crushed against the brick, mouth propped open in shock, the rough scrape on your face the only thing keeping you grounded as you whine out a long, wanton sound, something completely foreign to you.

“So… fuckin’... dumb on this cock,” Joel utters as he starts to move, a slow drag of his cock out and back in before he makes good on his promise to ruin anyone else for you, to never have a comparison to the blinding pleasure you feel rocking your entire universe as he quickly ruts into you. “Fuckin’ heaven.”

“J- fuck -” you stutter out, completely speechless. When one arm wraps around you, finding your clit, needy and puffy from hours of torturous edging, everything else melts away. The dark alley, the fact that you could be seen at any moment, the way you weren’t even sure you trusted Joel to keep your secret despite you following through on your end - none of it fucking mattered anymore.

“W-wanted this so bad, y’don’t know what you do to a man, sweetheart… Jesus fuck,” Joel says, uncharacteristically soft as his hips roll, sending your own bouncing onto his hurried fingers swirling along your clit. Desperation clings to the both of you now, hot and heavy air, hurried movements like this could be torn away from the two of you any second.

“Joel… I’m fu- I’m close, so close, please…” you rush out, feeling a pull of warmth at your center, his cock brushing along just the right spot to send you to that edge. You start to moan louder, the noise echoing in the open space around the two of you, your hand hurriedly slapping over your mouth to muffle it as the high starts to rock through you. His name screams from behind your hand, the sound still clear enough to send Joel to a state of crazed fervor, thrusting into you at an impossible pace, sending you bouncing harder against the wall. You twitch and shake, your eyes rolling back as you come harder than you have in months, maybe ever. Just like he’d promised, the absolute bastard.

“Fuckin’ creamin’ on this cock, shit, you’re so fuckin’ wet,” Joel marvels breathlessly as the obscene squelching of your bodies meeting only gets louder. “Oh, good girl, such a pretty, messy slut for a dirty old man, aren’t you?”

“G-god, yes, fuck… I am…” you whimper out with flustered nods, completely spent as you come down from your high, letting Joel use your cunt to chase his own now. You twitch at the overstimulation, your body still tingling pleasantly as he turns you into his own personal fuck toy, your body his for the taking. 

“Pretty as a picture, all fucked out like this,” he says slyly one hand planted on the wall next to you now, the other playing lazily with your aching clit. “Never gonna be able to give me up now, are you?”

You shake your head, lost in the moment with your answers as you feel another orgasm washing over you, less intense but still pleasant waves of pleasure rolling through while you gasp for breath, completely full of Joel each time he thrusts heartily into you, stealing away your air. 

“Please… c-can’t…” you mumble through your climax, hardly able to take the stimulation anymore but knowing the sick little part of your brain is happy to do it for him, let him use you until he’s completely spent himself. 

You don’t have to wait much longer for your wish, hearing Joel grunting, almost whimpering when he’s suddenly gone from you with a wet, slick pop, leaving you cavernous empty. He barely makes it out of you before his hand grips his cock, twitching in his palm as he comes towards the ground right in between your legs, ropes of cum coating your pulled down jeans and underwear, the brick wall, the pavement below you. His forehead is pressed to your back, sticky and hot as he catches his breath for a silent beat.

You’ve never felt anything like this, this satisfaction, this pure unadulterated filthiness and pleasure. The addiction already grips you, your poor, sore cunt already anticipating the next time he could ruin you. 

But then it hits you like a train, pulling you out of your reverent little bubble - this can’t happen again. It’s out of your system, out of his, and now you both have a secret to keep. You start to pull your pants up, the movement seeming to bring Joel to his senses, reaching down along with you. 

“Sh-shit, here, let me,” he says in a rasp, tugging your jeans up, the immediate feeling of wetness sticking to your body and making you cringe. “Little souvenir for ya,” he comments cockily, knowing his cum is now sticking to your skin, knowing that thought will sustain him for at least the next few hours. But that’s wishful thinking, he realizes, knowing that he could find himself buried in you the entire night, over and over again, considering hauling you away to do just that when you interrupt his thinking. 

“I- I’m sorry…” you mutter, not even fully sure of why you even say it. For some reason, you are sorry that you put the two of you in this position, even if it ended in something so incredible that you have a hard time even putting it into words. 

Joel spins you to face him, thumbing your chin and pinching it, bringing your face to look him in the eyes. They look a little softer than they had inside the club, more like the neighbor you’ve come to know. So charming and disarming when he wants to be. 

“Don’t be,” he says, leaning down to kiss you more gently than he had before, something tender and sweet that you find yourself immediately falling for, body melting into his as you hang your arms around his neck, wondering when along the way you started feeling so comfortable with this.

“Besides,” Joel adds, a devious smirk pulling his lips upwards. “Your daddy ain’t home for a few more days. Think we can find a few more ways to convince me to keep your little secret.”

[jasmines-library]

Okay that one with baby batsib learning about Batman was so cute but what about the opposite? Imagine they decided that they hate Batman 💀 love your writing 🥰

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Note: LOVE THIS. sorry it took me an age.

⛧ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛧ READ PT1 ⛧

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BRUCE:

The look on your face when Bruce picked you up from school that day was not the look he expected. Your arms were folded, and your eyebrows were knitted together in a tight scowl as you stood at his feet.

Ruffling your hair in an attempt to wipe the pout off of your face, Bruce knelt down to your height and spoke to you gently. "What's that look for, Sweetheart?" He asked, unable to hide the hint of amusement lingering in his tone.

You didn't answer. Instead you just huffed, turning away from him. Bruce just tilted his head, rather amused by your mood. "Come on, kid. It can't have been that bad. What did you learn about today?"

With one drawn out movement, you turned back to face him, a stony expression chiseled onto your face. "Batman."

"Oh?" Bruce raised an eyebrow. He was wondering when you would come across Batman. The family had agreed that you were far too young to know the secret yet, so had avoided telling you.

"I don't like him." You declared, sticking your chin up.

Bruce frowned a little. "And why not?"

"He stops people."

"He's trying to help the city, kid."

You huffed once again. "I don't like him."

Bruce couldn't help the slight grin on his face. He found it rather comical that you hated Batman so much. You were going to have one hell of a dilemma when they reveal their identities to you.

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DICK:

Your little hand was stretched above your head as you clung onto Dick's hand. He had decided to take you to the park to enjoy the most of the summer weather before Gotham shortly returned to its usual doom-and-gloom rain. Your feet shuffled on the pavement beside your brother as he walked you towards the ice cream parlour just across the road. Your eyes practically lit up as you saw the abundance of bright colours and flavours all lined up in neat rows.

"Alright kiddo. Whatcha having?" Dick lifted you up and placed you on his hip so that you could see properly over the small line of people. "They've got strawberry, chocolate, vanilla.....oh look." He pointed to one of the drawings on the specials menu. "You can get a batman sundae."

Your face twisted with disgust. "Yuck. Batman."

"You don't like Batman?" Dick raised an eyebrow, adjusting you on his hip.

"No."

"Where'd you learn about Batman?"

"At school." You replied, trying to look over the people at the counter, clearly more interested in the ice cream than in the conversation with your brother.

Dick shook his head with amusement. "Why don't you like him?"

"He's boring."

Your answer took Dick a little off guard. "Boring?" He frowned.

"Yes. Boring. We spent all day learning about him and it was very boring."

"I see" Dick chuckled, making note to tell Bruce about this later. "So i take it no Batman sundae then? Because Batman is boring?"

"Yep." you said proudly.

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JASON:

Jason was in his bedroom reading comics on his bed when you wandered in.

"Jay-Jay?" You called out for him, turning the corner and stopping when you saw him on his bed. you looked at him, eyes wide with curiosity. "What are you doing?"

"I'm reading, Little Wayne." He answered.

"Reading what?" You asked, wandering to the bed and standing on your toes to peer over. He lifted you up to sit beside him.

"Comics." he showed you. "See."

you pointed to the figure on the page. "Who's that."

"That's Batman."

"Who's Batman?"

"He saves the city. He keeps Gotham safe." Jason explained, giving you a rundown on Batman. His gadgets, his cars.

"Thats booorringgggg." You drew out, looking at the illustrations on the page.

"Boring?"

"yes." You huff. "I don't like him. He does boring things."

"If that's what you say, kid."

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TIM:

Tim was in the kitchen with you. He had you sat in a chair as he made you a snack. The news was playing in the background, with Batman and his sidekicks' faces flashing across the screen. You paid little interest to it as you ate you breakfast, but as time went on, you began to grow fed up of seeing him and his fast car driving through the streets.

"Timmy. can you turn it over?"

Tim reached for the remote and flicked to another channel, but it was also playing the same footage.

"Tim." You whined. "Turn it over. I don't like Batman."

Tim turned around to face you. "No?"

"No." You said, taking another bite of your breakfast. "He destroys the city."

"He doesn't do it on purpose, kid. He destroys it to get the bad guys."

"But sometimes he doesn't even catch the bad guys. And he has sidekicks to help him."

"He can't stop all the crime on his own, kid."

You paused for a moment, outspoken, but pout and take another big bite, speaking with half of your mouth full. "Well i don't like him anyway."

Tim changed the channel to something else. He found your slander of the vigilantes amusing, considering you would more than likely become one in the future. he just hoped that he would be there to see your face when you found out the truth.

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DAMIAN:

You were watching Damian play video games in the living room one evening. He was supposed to be babysitting. out of the window, the bat-signal flashed into view.

You tugged on his sleeve, pointing it out to him. "Dami. Look. Batsignal."

"Where'd you learn that, kid?" he asked, pausing his game.

"At school."

Damian took in the look on your face. "You don't seem that excited. Most kids are excited about batman."

"I'm not." You folded your arms. "I hate batman."

Damian chuckled in interest. "Well, you're not like most kids then, are you. why do you hate him?"

"He doesn't change the city."

"Hm?"

"There are still bad guys."

"There are." Damian hummed. "But he's trying his best."

"And he hasn't got the monster under my bed yet."

Damian couldn't help the snort of laughter that slipped past his lips. "Oh well, thats not very good of him, is it?"

"No its not." you scowled.

"I'll have to have a chat with him then, get him to sort it out for you. will that make you like him more?"

"maybe."

Damian smiled softly. "I'll see what i can do."

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BATFAM TAGS

@aestheticdaisies @hearts4robs @xxrougefangxx @hell-o-kittys @harleycao @batfamsstuff @alicedawitchbish @killxz @rosecentury @lara20aral

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[athenamikaelson]

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader!Soulmate x Elijah Mikaelson PART 2

Word Count- 3k

Warnings- Swearing, blood, canon spoilers

Vampires exist. So don’t werewolves and witches, the supernatural. This is what Elena had told me on the way back to Mystic Falls after our adventure with the 3 cannibals. No, not cannibals, vampires. 

Flashback

“It’s true, Y/N. Vampires, witches, and other supernatural creatures exist. Those people who took us were vampires,” She motions to the two men in the front seat, “Stefan and Damon are aswell, but you don’t have to worry about them they won’t hurt you.”

“We’ll see.” The dark-haired one says out loud as he glances back at me skeptically. The look made me want to throw up but since my stomach didn’t have any more food to throw up I just stared at him nauseously.

“Damon, stop it,” Elena glares at him from the seat next to me, “You will not hurt Y/N, ever.” Elena continues her glaring at the man as he turns over his shoulders and rolls his eyes. 

“Don’t worry about Damon,” Elena whispers as she grabs my hand, “I’ll explain everything you need to know.”

“Yo, you good in there,” Theo’s voice calls from the other side of the bathroom door, “I need to do my hair before school and you know I need at least 25 minutes!”

I let out a deep sigh and tried to wipe away the tiredness from my eyes. After I got back last night Theo bitched me out for leaving him stranded at the party, without a license he had to walk himself home. When asked where I went off to I made up some lie about sleeping over at Elena’s. Theo was skeptical since he knows the closest person I have to a friend is the 67-year-old librarian at Mystic Fall’s library, but he’s more brawn than brain so he didn’t think much more of it. I hated lying to him, With Theo and I being so close and age we never kept things from each other, even though he’s a pain in my ass there’s no one in this world I love more than him. After our father and mother divorced that bond only strengthened. 

“Ya I’m fine,” I open the bathroom door and Theo’s usual calm facade breaks for a moment as he looks at me, “What the fuck happened to you? you look like you got into a fight with a squirrel and didn’t stand a chance.”

I roll my eyes at his remark and push past him to my room. As I grip the door handle a hand grabs my upper arm.

“Hey, I’m joking,” I turn to see Theo staring down at me worriedly, “Seriously though Y/N, what happened you look like you haven’t slept in years?” 

I can’t argue with his observation because I know what I look like since I just spent the last 15 minutes staring back at myself in the mirror. I was too tired last night to take a shower so I just used a washcloth for the blood on my face and chest, then passed out. Or at least tried to, my dreams were vacated by thoughts of what is truly hiding in the shadows, now that I know what is out there. 

“I just didn’t sleep that well last night.”

I try to get Theo to understand that I don’t want to approach this subject any further and thankfully he takes the hint. Within a split second the worried look drops and is replaced with a judgy look.

“Fine, but you’re going to need to change whatever it is you’ve got going on here,” He motions with his hands to my Hello Kitty T-shirt and matching pajama pants, “If I’m seen with you like this my social status will take a massive hit.”

My eyes roll and I shove a fist to his shoulder, earning a mocking gasp from him. 

“I’m taking the day off today, I only had two periods today anyway. I’ll still take you and drop you off, be in the car in 15 minutes, or else you’re taking the bus.”

Theo shoots me a horrified look and gasps, “And make me sit next to those peasants! You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

—-

Eight minutes later we’re in my car driving to school. One thing I can always count on with Theo is that he will never do anything to tank his reputation. When we moved here a few months ago I was worried he’d have a hard time making friends and fitting in but that was my mistake. Theo is the most extroverted extrovert I have ever met and has a way of making people fall over and do anything he wants with a flash of a smile. Where he got the charisma I got the brains. I would never admit it out loud but sometimes I’m jealous of just how many people truly liked being around him. My only friend is the librarian and the only reason she hasn’t run away from me is because it’s her 9-5, and she can’t leave. 

I pull up to the front of the school and Theo finishes putting the finishing touches onto his hair. As he steps out a group of football guys all wave and acknowledge him.

“My practice gets out at 4:30 tonight. Don’t forget me this time,” Theo leans down and looks at me with a pointed look. 

“I’ll be there, I give you my word.”

“Great,” Theo smiles at me and reaches his hand over for a fist bump, “Later nerd.”

I bump his fist with mine, “Bye loser.”

—-

As I pull into my driveway, I hear my phone chime go off. Glancing down at the screen I see an incoming call from Elena Gilbert. My brain tells me to ignore it and go back up to my bed and hide away from the world until I’m at least 43 years old, but my body has already made my thumb swipe to answer the call. 

“Hello?”

“Hey Y/N! How are you doing this morning,” Elena's voice comes from the other end, I hear the sound of a car in the background making me realize she must be driving, “I honestly didn’t think you’d pick up.”

“Honestly I debated not to,” I tell her honestly. 

“Um, well,” She pauses for a moment, “I know you’re probably very confused, and I don’t know if you want the company or not but I’m going to go do something and was wondering if you wanted to join me?”

I frown slightly at the question, “Why?”

Elena lets out a sound of confusion, “I just thought you might want to know more, or at the very least you shouldn’t be alone right now.”

“I don’t need your pity.”

“That’s not what I’m doing I promise you, Y/N. If you don’t want to come that’s fine by me, but I just want you to know you have a friend out there to talk to about this if needed. If you change your mind I’ll text you the address.”

I hum in acknowledgement and after a moment the call goes dead. I sit in my car for the next 20 minutes going through my head all the things I could do. I could do what I wanted to do before and hide out and be alone, or I could help Elena…. Hiding out seems like a great idea. As soon as my hand reaches the car door handle I’m reminded of how Elena defended me yesterday and fought for me and a loud groan escapes my lips. Fuck. I sit back, pull up the address she texted me, and pull out of my driveway. If I’m kidnapped again I’m going to be so pissed. 

—-

I pull my car into the spot next to Elena’s car in the middle of the woods. Yep, I'm getting kidnapped. What teenager hangs out in the woods next to a graveyard? I pull out my phone and dial Elena’s number. It rings for a moment before I get a response. 

“Y/N? Is everything ok? Are you hurt?” Elena’s frantic voice comes from the other end.

“What? No, I’m here. Where are you?” I turn around in a circle trying to catch a glimpse of the brunette girl but see nothing but tall barren trees.

“Oh! I didn’t think you’d come, I’ll be up in a second.” She hangs up the call as I furrow my eyebrows in confusion, come up from where? My question is answered when brown hair makes an appearance as Elena walks up a stone staircase leading to who knows where. As she notices me a small smile spreads onto her face and for a moment I get the urge to smile back, but suppress it back down and just nod at her in acknowledgment. She walks over to me and before I have a chance to react she’s wrapping her petite arms around me in a hug. What’s with all the hugging?

“Thank you for coming,” She releases me, “before I take you down though I should warn you it might be a little weird.” 

Her warning makes my heart start to beat faster and a sense of nausea surfaces, I really have to invest in some Tums. 

“Weirder than being kidnapped by three vampires, which I guess now are actually real?” 

Elena processes the question over for a moment before shaking her head slightly, “I guess not as weird as that, no.”

“Come on,” Elena motions me to follow as she guides me down the stone staircase. I tighten the small sweater over myself once I realize I’m still in my pajamas. With each step down I fear I’m walking into something that’ll make me regret getting out of bed this morning. But all I’m met with at the bottom of the stairs is a small stone room covered with dirt, in the center the stone opens up to darkness and I fight the urge to strain my neck to look in.

“Did you bring me a snack?” 

A tough female voice calls from the black abyss. Fuck, I really am getting kidnapped, aren’t I? I’m just about to run right back up those stairs and floor my Toyota Corolla out of this bitch when Elena speaks back to the voice.

“You’re not going to lay a finger on Y/N,” Elena looks at me as she walks over to the hole in the wall and sits down patting the spot next to her, “It’s ok Y/N, as long as she’s in there and we’re out here she can’t touch us.”

I frown in confusion as I drag my feet to where she’s sitting but as I walk from behind her I stop and stare at the woman slumped over in front of Elena. Or not Elena? What the actual fuck is happening!

“Elena, why the hell does she have your face, wait do you have a twin” I motion to the spitting image of Elena in front of us. She looks identical to Elena, wearing a dark mini-dress that looks like it would be easier to burn it rather than clean it at this point. 

“Don’t insult me like that.” The clone throws me a dirty look. 

“This was the weird thing I was mentioning earlier,” Elena explains, “This is Kathrine, she’s my doppelganger.”

“Correction,” Elena’s dopple-whatever jumps in, “She’s my doppelganger, I’m the original she’s just a cheap copy.” 

Ok…bitchy much.

Elena just rolls her eyes as if she’s used to this treatment, “It’s a supernatural phenomenon I guess where every few hundred years someone that looks just like us is born. Kathrine is the vampire that turned Stefan and Damon a hundred years ago.” 

I try to nod along but with all the information I’ve learned in the past 24 hours my mind feels like it’s going to explode. 

“Is she stupid or something?” I whip my head to Kathrine at the remark.

“Fuck you bitch.” 

Kathrine raises an eyebrow at my retort and shifts her shoulders upwards, “Fine, not stupid,” She slints her eyes at me, “Just slow.”

My anger rises at her insult and I am about to open my mouth to go tell this bitch off but Elena raises her hand in a stopping motion. 

“Don’t listen to her Y/N, she’s just trying to provoke you,” Elena sends Kathrine a dirty look, “It’s what she does.”

I nod my head along and realize that these two don’t seem to like each other even though they share the same face.

“So is this some bonding session,” I question Elena, “What are we doing here?’

“I came here to ask Kathrine questions about why I was taken yesterday, and why Elijah seemed to have known you from somewhere.” I watch Kathrine’s posture change slightly at the mention of the suited man. Appears she’s not a fan of the man either. I sigh as I sit down on the dusty ground next to Elena, and can only sit there disgusted as she pours something thick and red into a little cup. Once the stench hits my nose I realize she’s pouring blood.

I go to ask her what the hell she is doing but stop as she uses a stick to push it over to Kathrine. I disturbingly watch as the dopplebitch grabs the cup with her pale hand and brings it to her chapped lips. The red from the blood paints her lips as her mouth opens slightly and I catch a glimpse of two white sharp teeth protruding from her gums. 

“Finish the story,” Elena urges Kathrine as she flings the cup back to Elena. Kathrine adjusts her posture as she taps her chin in thought.

“Right, now where was I?”

“You were mentioning how you betrayed Rose and Trevor by killing yourself for your freedom, and ever since you’ve been on the run,’” Elena stands up and says as if it’s not the wild-ass sentence I’ve ever heard, she pauses for a moment in thought and I watch as a realization washes over her, “That’s why you’re here isn’t, to bargain your freedom to Klaus?” 

Kathrine follows suit and stands up facing Elena, “Mmm. Five hundred years on the run I figured maybe he’d be willing to strike a deal.”

I shake my head in confusion, “Wait, who’s Klaus? I thought Elijah was the scary cannibal guy everyone was afraid of.”

“Klaus is an ancient vampire who wants to sacrifice me,” Elena replies staring down at me, she must notice the look of utter confusion on my face because she tells me she explain that later. 

As I have no idea what the hell is even going on I just listen and watch as the two “not-twins” discuss the Klaus guy and the ingredients for the curse. Ingredients that happen to be actual people might I add. Caroline who I found out is now a vampire and not just some loud blonde girl that sits behind me in my French class, some special stone, Elena as aforementioned, and Theo’s football captain Tyler Lockwood, who surprise surprise is a fucking werewolf. Self-reminder to keep Theo away from him. 

“Better you die than I,” Kathrine tells Elena as she questions how she can just hand over all those innocent people. Elena shakes her head in frustration and then glances at me.

“Is Y/N a part of it,” Elena gestures to me and questions Kathrine who picks a piece of invisible lint off her shoulder. Kathrine takes her time moving her eyes from the wall in front of her to look me in my eyes. Where Elena and Kathrine may be almost identical it is the eyes that make them different. Where Elena’s eyes are kind and welcoming, Kathine’s are filled with nothing but malice and something much darker. 

“Why would she be? She’s human, and I already have my vampire,” Kathrine sends me a cold glance, “If Caroline doesn’t work out though, you can always be a backup, I guess.” 

I shiver at the cruel chuckle she lets out, and Elena walks in front of where I’m sitting. 

“That’s not what I’m talking about. Yesterday I watched as Elijah’s whole demeanor changed when he saw Y/N. He looked at her like he had known her his entire life.”

A small shift in Kathrine’s face appears for a split second before it’s gone. The cruel look in her eyes is now gone and replaced with something much different. Realization is what I can only think of as she runs her eyes over me as if seeing me in a different light. The corner of her lips tightens as she glances at me with an unexplainable look.

“He’s going to destroy you.”

That’s all she says as she picks herself up and strolls back into the darkness. I watch her back retreat as Stefan’s voice comes from behind me. I don’t focus on anything as Kathrine’s words repeat in my head. I must’ve been standing there looking into the abyss for too long because a hand on my shoulder shocks me. 

“Hey, don’t overthink what she said,” Elena shifts me to look at her, “Elijah is dead. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

“Elena’s right,” Stefan chimes in from behind her, “Kathrine has never told the truth a day in her life, whatever she told you was just to rattle you.”

I nod my head as I take a step away from them and towards to staircase. 

“I think I’m going to head home. I have some things I have to do,” I lie about the last part, I just want to get out of here before another panic attack decides to make an appearance.

Elena nods and tries to send me a comforting smile, “OK. Well, can I call you later?” she asks almost hopefully. I just nod my head slightly as I turn around and make my way up the stairs. 

—-

The entire drive home my mind is filled with thoughts of everything that’s happened in the past day. Curses, kidnapping, and the supernatural. Jesus Christ, this sounds like a bad TV show. I try to focus on the road but Kathrine’s last words to me keep ringing in my head. My breathing starts to quicken as I realize what that look in Kathrine’s eyes was. Fear. 

TAGS- @promptly-mercy @superblyspeedydragon @yoyoyoyooy44

@reidsworld

[finelinefae]

my darling

synopsis: a love triangle

word count: 10.8k

contains: angst angst angst, love triangle, mfm, best friends to lovers, boarding school, violence, unrequited love,

a/n: i wrote this for wattpad during the My Policeman era. I wanted to post it here after re-reading it. I remember this being one of the first pieces of fanfic i felt super proud of !! warning it is pretty sad

. . .

Then — 1996

Dear Diary,

Today we moved into our new home in Halton. It’s small, quaint, and quiet—very quiet. The kind of place where everyone seems set in their routines, the same patterns repeating every day. I already miss London. Mum says this will be good for us, though. Good to get away from the drama. Good to get away from Dad.

The house isn’t as big as our old one. I have to share a room with Delilah now, but it’s fine—I’ll be off to boarding school by the end of the summer. Mum says I’ll enjoy it since she went to the same school at my age, but I think she’s just trying to make me feel better. Who actually enjoys living at school?

It’s a three-hour drive from Halton, which feels like a world away. I’m nervous, excited, sad, and happy all at once. The feelings are so overwhelming they all blur together into something I can only describe as... heavy. Like my life is a snow globe someone’s just shaken up, glitter falling everywhere. It looks magical at first, but the reality is you’re stuck cleaning it up for weeks, finding it in the oddest places long after.

I miss my dog. I never got to say goodbye.

Dad cried when we left. I’ve never seen him cry before. He told me it wasn’t goodbye, just a "see you later." Mum always says Dad’s a good liar, but I don’t think he was lying this time. Maybe it was the tears—they don’t suit him.

-

Dear Diary,

Today I moved into my dorm at Southend Park School.

Mum was annoyed we had to wake up before seven to pack the car and drive me down, even though this was all her idea. She’s probably just tired—or maybe something else. I have a suspicion she’s met someone. I’m not sure how she moved on from Dad so quickly. Did she ever really love him?

My dorm has six girls, including me. I’ve mostly been talking to Ellis, who’s in the room next door. She’s fourteen, older than the rest of us, but only because her birthday is the 1st of September. Today’s the third, so her advantage is technical, but she likes to remind us.

Being alone here scares me, but it’s nothing new. Delilah always had loads of friends, and Dad was always working. Mum was usually out socializing, too.

Mum cried as we finished unpacking, promising she’d pick me up for half-term or that I could come home anytime. But I don’t want to go home. I hate it there.

Tomorrow is a full day of inductions, and I’m worried about making friends. Southend Park is a mixed school, and boys make me nervous. I’d rather have no friends at all than feel like I have to pretend to be someone I’m not.

I still feel like I’m picking up glitter from months ago. I wonder when it will finally stop.

-

Dear Diary,

I made two friends. You’ll never guess—they’re boys!

Their names are Harry and Dylan. They’re both thirteen, like me, but they feel older somehow. They even live in the same dorm and invited me over this weekend.

We met during lunch in the courtyard. I was sitting alone when Dylan walked up first, chatting easily and cracking jokes. Harry followed behind, much quieter. Dylan has blond hair and a small scar on his eyebrow from climbing trees back in Morston. Harry’s hair is thick and curly—I wanted to touch it but stopped myself because, well, that would’ve been weird.

Harry didn’t say much at first, though I noticed him glancing at me. When I met his gaze, he blushed and looked down at his extra-polished school shoes.

We didn’t talk much again until the end of the day, on the way back to the dorms. That’s when we compared timetables and realized we share four classes, including English Literature. It’s just Harry and me in that one, though.

I never thought I’d be friends with boys, but I like it. It feels different from being friends with girls—less pressure to act outgoing or girly. I hope we stay friends. I like them both a lot.

. . .

Then — 2000

“Hey, Harry,” Y/N called, running across the field toward the headmaster’s office where Harry stood, focused on his Nokia flip phone.

Harry glanced up, his expression softening when he saw her. He tucked the phone into his pocket and waved her over. Despite the end-of-day chaos, both were still dressed in their school uniforms. “Hey, baby.” He greeted her with a quick kiss, pulling her closer and wrapping an arm around her waist. He loved how perfectly she fit against him, as though they were made for each other.

“What’s going on? Aren’t we meeting Dylan to go to Ellis’ dorm?” Y/N asked, frowning slightly as she looked around for their other best friend.

Harry smirked, shaking his head. “We are, but Dylan got caught passing notes to Casey Becker in geometry. He’s stuck with thirty minutes in the headmaster’s office to make amends.”

Y/N chuckled, her laugh warm and familiar. “Again? He’s going to get himself expelled if he’s not careful.” She slid her hands under Harry’s blazer, warming them against his torso.

Harry brushed a strand of hair from her face, letting his thumb linger on her cheekbone. “How was your day?” he murmured, his lips brushing hers as he spoke.

“It was fine,” Y/N replied. “I scored three points in netball, and Tessa Riley gave me daggers in the changing room.” She giggled, leaning into him.

Harry smiled, pride gleaming in his eyes. “That’s m’girl.” He bent down and kissed her forehead gently.

“Oh, please, don’t make me sick,” a familiar voice drawled, breaking the moment.

“Hi, Dylan.” Y/N turned to see him strolling down the stone steps, his blazer slung over his shoulder and a cigarette dangling between his fingers. She leaned back against Harry, crossing her arms.

“Hello, my darling Y/N,” Dylan teased, his tone playful as he lit the cigarette with practiced ease.

“Seriously, Dylan?” Harry said, narrowing his eyes. “Do you really need another detention?”

“Don’t you smoke, Styles?” Dylan shot back, grinning. “Besides, Mary would love to see me again after our chat earlier. She’s got a soft spot for me.” He smirked, wiping his thumb across the corner of his mouth.

Y/N rolled her eyes, stepping away from Harry’s warmth. She was long used to Dylan’s antics—four and a half years of friendship had left little room for surprises.

The three of them had been inseparable since their first days at Southend Park Boarding School. Despite their differences in personality, they were like a family unit, supporting one another through the highs and lows of adolescence.

Dylan, the loudest of the trio, was notorious for his sharp wit and knack for trouble. Teachers despaired over his behavior, but students were drawn to his charm—especially the girls, who fell for his rebellious streak and the ever-present cigarette.

Harry, by contrast, was the golden boy: smart, polite, and beloved by staff. He balanced his role as student ambassador with captaining the football team, a position that made him one of the most popular boys in school. Dylan teasingly called him a “teacher’s pet,” but Harry wore the label without shame.

Y/N was the quietest of the three, rarely seeking the spotlight. She volunteered in the school library every Tuesday and spent her free time with her dorm mates. Still, Harry and Dylan were fiercely protective of her, and she often marveled at how lucky she was to have them.

The trio walked out of the school gates toward the housing blocks, their shadows stretching long in the late afternoon sun. Harry carried Y/N’s backpack on one shoulder, his free hand clasping hers. Dylan trailed behind, typing on his phone with an unlit cigarette between his teeth.

“Ellis doesn’t want you bringing anything to the party this time, Dylan,” Y/N warned, glancing over her shoulder. “You know what happened last time. If you pull that again, you’re getting kicked out of school.”

“My darling Y/N,” Dylan began with exaggerated sincerity, pausing for effect, “only for you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile.

When they reached her dorm, Y/N kissed Harry on the cheek and took her bag from his shoulder. “I’ll see you both later?” she asked, her eyes bright.

Dylan saluted her without looking up from his phone, while Harry smiled warmly. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you too, Harry,” she replied before disappearing inside.

Harry and Dylan walked in silence toward their dorm. The tension was palpable, Dylan unusually quiet as Harry’s mind churned with unspoken thoughts.

“We’re going to have to tell her at some point,” Dylan murmured, his voice low as the setting sun bathed the path in a golden glow.

Harry’s heart tightened. “No, we don’t.”

“Harry—”

“Shut up, Dylan. Nothing happened.” Harry’s voice was sharp, cutting Dylan off before he could continue.

They stopped, staring at each other, the air between them heavy. Harry’s frustration burned in his eyes, while Dylan’s sadness hung like a weight on his shoulders.

“I love her,” Harry finally said, his voice trembling. “I’ll never love anyone else as much as I love Y/N.”

Without another word, he turned and stormed into their dormitory, leaving Dylan alone on the pavement. Dylan exhaled shakily, the ache in his chest unbearable.

. . .

Then — 1998

Dear Diary,

It’s been a month since my fifteenth birthday, and Harry finally asked me out on a date. It feels like a dream, the kind where everything is so perfect you fear waking up to find it never happened.

To be honest, I think I’m already in love with him. He’s always been so kind to me, much more than Dylan. Harry carries my bag to class when I have netball, and sometimes, during English Literature, I catch him staring at me. There’s something about the way his gaze lingers that makes me feel seen.

In art class, he taught me how to use watercolors for the first time, his thumb brushing against mine as he guided me. Little moments like that remind me how much I care for him—so much that the thought of being without him feels unbearable. Is that dramatic? Probably. But I can’t help it if it’s true.

Even when I’m talking to Ellis during lunch or before bed, my mind wanders back to Harry—his smile, his eyes, the way he laughs at my jokes even when they aren’t funny, and how he hugs me differently from everyone else.

It feels strange to be fifteen and falling so deeply. What do I know about love at this age? How much further can I fall?

I think I’m going to love him forever. I hope he loves me forever too.

-

Dear Diary,

Harry kissed me today. My first kiss—with the boy I love most in the entire world.

I knew it was going to happen. We’d just finished dinner in the dining hall when he asked if I wanted to take a walk in the gardens. Dylan wanted to come along, but Harry shook his head, saying he wanted it to be just the two of us.

I felt a twinge of guilt when I looked back and saw Dylan standing there, his expression heavy as he watched us leave. He kept staring at Harry, even as we walked past the window overlooking the gardens.

Harry brought me to the tulips because he knows they’re my favorite. He said my braid looked pretty today, and that’s when I knew—I truly, completely loved him. It was the worst braid I’ve ever done, but he still thought it was beautiful.

We sat on a swinging bench, listening to birds returning to their nests. When he said my name, it sounded magical, like it had been made for his lips alone. I turned to look at him, and that’s when he leaned in and kissed me.

It felt like a scene from a movie.

No one ever tells you what it’s like to kiss someone for the first time. The way their breath mingles with yours, the world fading away as you close your eyes and step into a place so tender it consumes you. It makes you wonder if you’ve ever been truly loved before.

We only stopped because we heard a rustling in the bushes. We looked around but didn’t find anything, so Harry walked me back to my dorm. He kissed me again outside the door, and I floated through the rest of the night, humming to myself as I got ready for bed.

But when I think back to that moment, I could swear I saw a tuft of blond hair sticking out from behind a bush.

. . .

Now — 2000

Y/N sat cross-legged in front of the mirror on Ellis’ floor, carefully applying mascara as Fiona Apple played softly in the background. Ellis sat nearby, painting her nails a deep red.

“I’m just saying,” Ellis began, waving the brush for emphasis, “you and Harry have been dating for two years, and you haven’t done the deed yet?”

Y/N flushed at the mention of sex, shifting uncomfortably. She hated talking about it, even with Harry. Maybe it was because she didn’t know much about it or because she’d never had a safe space to ask questions, but every time the topic came up—whether in conversation or during truth or dare—she wanted to run for cover.

“We’re waiting for the right time,” Y/N said evenly, her voice robotic as she repeated the well-rehearsed answer.

“The right time?” Ellis scoffed. “I’ve never seen a couple more in love—it’s nauseating.”

Y/N hesitated, her mind drifting to moments when she’d wanted to take things further with Harry. But he always stopped before it went too far. Sometimes it made her feel like she wasn’t enough—pretty enough, desirable enough—but then he’d kiss her softly and remind her how beautiful she was, stroking her cheek as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “We’ve done... things, but not that.”

“Is Harry religious or something?” Ellis asked, narrowing her eyes.

“No, I don’t think so,” Y/N replied with a frown. “He’s never mentioned it.”

“Maybe he’s waiting until marriage,” Ellis mused.

The thought of marrying Harry made Y/N’s heart swell. She’d dreamed of it ever since their first kiss in the gardens—walking down the aisle in a white dress, Harry waiting for her at the end, tears in his eyes. Maybe they’d both cry.

“I don’t mind waiting,” Y/N said, her voice soft but certain. “I love him enough to wait as long as he needs me to.”

Ellis groaned, grabbing a bottle of vodka from her bedside table. “You can’t say stuff like that when I haven’t had a single drink.” She poured herself a shot and downed it in one go. “Okay, continue.”

Y/N laughed and turned back to her reflection, humming Queen’s Love of My Life as her thoughts drifted back to Harry.

. . .

Then — 1998

Dear Harry,

Today we went to the beach—the three of us. Me, you, and Y/N. I know in most situations it’s you, Y/N, then me, but in these letters, it will always be me and you.

We’d been planning this trip for weeks. It’s a three-hour drive to the coast from school, and Y/N had been complaining about the journey the entire time. I didn’t mind. Is it wrong of me to want to sit next to you on a bus full of people not one of them knowing who we are for three whole hours? Our knees touching for three whole hours? Sand on your feet and your hair salty from the sea, inhaling your scent and wanting your hand to touch my thigh for three whole hours?

When we got there, the morning was overcast, but by the time we hit the sand, the sun broke through the clouds. It was perfect. The light caught your skin, making it glisten, and your eyes shone with that impossible sea-glass green. I wanted to look into them forever, but you were too busy looking at Y/N.

I tried to catch your attention—touching your shoulder as I passed by, reaching for the beach bag at the same time as you, brushing my fingers against yours. But it didn’t matter. You only had eyes for her, and I only had eyes for you.

When you kissed her in the gardens, a part of me died. I had been pining for you for so long, silently hoping you’d see me, but it was always her. I felt stupid, running miles afterward, the wind howling in my ears: You fool, you idiot, how could he ever love you?

I didn’t want to feel this way, Harry. I tried to bury it, to pretend it wasn’t real, but when I met you, everything I’d hidden about myself unraveled.

The day wasn’t without its drama. Y/N, distracted, stepped into the road thinking the approaching van was the bus. You moved so fast, grabbing her and pulling her back before the van could hit her. I watched the terror flash across your face, the way you held her afterward as she cried. You kissed her forehead, comforted her, showed her the kind of love I’d only ever dreamed of.

And I hated her for it.

I feel terrible admitting this because I do love Y/N. I truly do. But most days, I hate her, and only because she has you.

When we finally got to the beach, the three of us ran toward the waves, shedding our clothes as we went, laughing like we were carefree children. For a moment, we were. We left our troubles behind in the sand.

You swung Y/N over your shoulder as you splashed into the water, and I couldn’t help but admire the way your muscles flexed. You were a work of art, Harry, something meant to be admired in a gallery. And I was nothing more than an observer, longing for what I could never have.

Later, Y/N went to get ice cream. Before she left, she asked for your order, and I already knew what you’d say—mint chocolate chip. The way she looked surprised made me feel smug for a second, but that quickly disappeared when she said it was her favorite too.

While she was gone, I felt a cramp in my shoulder. “Let me,” you murmured, and before I could answer, your fingertips ghosted over my shoulder, pressing into the tight muscle.

I couldn’t breathe, Harry. You were so close, your breath warm against my neck. For a split second, I thought if I just turned my head, I could kiss you.

I’ll never forget that moment for as long as I live. Even if you do.

. . .

Now — 2000

Dylan and Harry were in their dorm room, preparing for the party. Harry stood in front of the mirror, anxiously gelling his hair back.

“I think I’m going to do it,” Harry said suddenly, turning to face Dylan. “I’m going to go all the way with Y/N.”

Dylan froze, his heart sinking. He lit a cigarette, trying to appear nonchalant as he perched on the windowsill. “Really? Are you sure that’s a good idea?” His voice betrayed him, tinged with irritation and jealousy.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m just saying, are you sure it’s the right time to sleep with her? After... what happened?”

Harry’s expression darkened. “Nothing happened. It was a mistake.”

“You keep saying that,” Dylan said, standing now, his voice rising. “Like you’re trying to gaslight me into thinking I imagined it. But I’ve imagined kissing you enough times to know what’s real and what’s not.”

Harry’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching. “I was drunk, and you took advantage of me.”

The words hit Dylan like a slap, but he forced himself to stay calm. “Don’t try that with me, Harry. It might work in your petty arguments with Y/N, but it won’t work on me. You’re the one twisting the truth to fit your narrative.”

“I don’t care what you think,” Harry snapped. “I only care about Y/N. And if you can’t handle that, maybe you need to step away—from both of us.”

“Step away?” Dylan said incredulously, his voice breaking. “You want me to walk away from the only two people who’ve ever cared about me? You want me to walk away from you?”

Harry hesitated, guilt flickering across his face. “You know how I feel about Y/N. I love her. I’m in love with her. Even if I felt something for you, it would never compare.”

“You’re lying,” Dylan whispered, his eyes glassy. “If you loved her so much, you wouldn’t have kissed me in the first place.”

“You don’t know anything!” Harry exploded, his voice shaking with fury. “Do you know what would happen if someone found out? What it would do to Y/N? To us? I felt nothing! It was a mistake!”

“Harry—”

“No,” Harry cut him off. “Whatever feelings you have, whatever intentions, you need to get over them.”

“That’s not as easy as you think—”

“You have to.” Harry’s voice was sharp, leaving no room for argument. Dylan stared at him, shattered, as Harry turned and stormed out.

He left Dylan standing there, broken, feeling like Harry had taken his very soul with him.

. . .

Then — 1999

Dear Harry,

We’ve been assigned as partners in media class, and now we have to make a music video. Naturally, you asked Y/N if she’d star in it. You told her she was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen and that she’d be perfect for it. She blushed, of course, and said yes. Then you kissed her—so long and so deeply that I had to look away.

I imagined myself in her place, wondering what it would be like to kiss you in public, to have the world see how much I adored you. If it were allowed, I don’t think I’d ever stop kissing you.

Today, we filmed the music video. You wanted it to feel like a coming-of-age story. I’d wanted something more abstract, but I agreed to your ideas, nodding eagerly at every suggestion, whether it was brilliant or terrible.

We filmed in the gardens—my least favorite place in the entire school. That’s where you kissed Y/N for the first time, and if I could erase that night from my memory, I would in a heartbeat.

The sun was shining as you whispered into Y/N’s ear while I set up the camera. I tried to block out the sound of your laughter, the sight of her hand on your shoulder.

“Are we ready?” I called, my voice louder than I intended. You straightened up immediately.

“Dylan, why don’t you be in the video with me?” Y/N smiled warmly. She had that rare ability to make everyone feel seen, like she was radiating sunshine. It was impossible not to smile back.

“My darling, you know I’m not nearly as perfect as you,” I teased, watching her blush.

I don’t even remember when I started calling her “my darling.” The first time, I remember catching the flash of jealousy in your eyes. I liked that. I liked seeing you react to me, even if it wasn’t in the way I wanted. You’re used to it now, but sometimes, when I say it, I still see a flicker of something in your gaze.

The music video took all day to shoot. Every time Y/N nailed a scene, you rewarded her with a kiss. I worked hard too, Harry. Shouldn’t I have been rewarded in some way?

When Y/N left for her library shift that evening, it was just the two of us. You wanted to capture the soft glow of the sunset, so we stayed behind to get more footage.

“My mother wants me to go into politics,” you said as we sat cross-legged on the grass, the camera between us. “But I’d love to do this—be a director. I’ve always wanted to be an artist of some kind. It’s a silly dream, but I think about it all the time.”

I could imagine it. You had a way of leading people, commanding attention without being arrogant. You cared so deeply—for the art, for the people—that it would probably destroy you someday.

“It’s not silly,” I said. “It’s never silly to dream. My God, Harry, we only live once. Might as well do everything we can to feel something in the little time we have.”

You looked at me then, really looked at me. For the first time, I thought you might be feeling a fraction of what I felt every day. “I’ve never told anyone that before. Not even Y/N knows.”

“It’ll be our secret,” I whispered. And for a moment, I could’ve sworn you glanced at my lips.

Then, just as quickly, you diverted the topic. Grabbing the camera, you aimed it at me lying in the grass. “Looks like Y/N’s not the only model anymore,” you teased.

I tried to act indifferent, but I would’ve stayed there all night if it meant seeing you laugh like that.

It makes me wonder, Harry—do you know how much power you have over your friends? Do you know that you have two people who worship the ground you walk on? How does it feel to be desired? How does it feel to have a choice in who you love?

. . .

Now — 2000

“You’re here!” Y/N beamed, running into Harry’s arms and wrapping her hands around his neck.

“Hey, baby,” he murmured, kissing her temple before setting her down.

The party was already in full swing. Students from across campus had crammed into Ellis’ dorm, the air thick with music, laughter, and the faint smell of alcohol.

“Hi, Dylan,” Y/N greeted, pulling him into a tight hug. “You’re dressed pretty smart. Planning on impressing anyone tonight?”

“Only you, darling,” Dylan replied, forcing a wink and a smirk despite the ache in his chest. Harry’s words from earlier still rang in his ears, but he pushed them aside.

Harry’s eyes darted to the cup in Y/N’s hand. “Have you been drinking?” he asked, his tone light but concerned.

“It’s water,” she whispered with a smile. Harry relaxed. She wasn’t much of a drinker, and he knew that.

“You look so pretty,” he said, marvelling at her dress. It was the one she wore for special occasions—one he had once told her was his favourite. A pang of guilt pricked at his heart as she looked back at him, her doe eyes filled with love.

“Come dance with me!” she said, pulling him toward the living room. “Both of you! My boys!”

Harry and Dylan followed her to the dance floor. The song Love My Way blared through the speakers, and Y/N moved between them, carefree and radiant.

At first, Harry danced with her, his focus entirely on Y/N. But then his gaze shifted to Dylan, who was swaying along with the music. Something unspoken passed between them, an invisible thread pulling them closer.

Harry laughed when Dylan moved towards him and for a moment they had forgotten everything around them. Dylan was just Dylan and Harry was just Harry, two boys who felt something they weren’t allowed to feel in the eyes of everyone else.

Harry was so close, their faces almost touching and for a moment Dylan thought they might kiss. But the blissful moment was broken as Harry stepped away, shaking his head, “N-No.” He whispered, “No, No, No.” He shook his head, his eyes frantic in search of Y/N.

“O-Oh, Harry,” Y/N yelped as he grabbed hold of her hand and lead her out of Ellis’ dorm and over to her own, three doors down from where the party was happening.

“What are you doing? Are you okay?” She cups his face in her hands and he exhales, trying to regain composure. This was the girl he loved, the only girl he could ever love and being in her hands felt like home. Didn’t it?

“Y-Y/N, I-I think I’m ready.” He presses his forehead against hers, kissing her bottom lip. “I’m ready.”

Her lips part in shock. She hadn’t been expecting this tonight and she wasn’t sure where Harry’s sudden desperation was coming from. He kissed down her neck as she tried to speak to him, “H-Harry, a-are you sure?” He nodded, his mouth leaving open mouthed kisses on her shoulder.

“I love you Y/N.” He looked into her eyes and she saw the sincerity behind them but also a hint of something else that she couldn’t quite place.

He started to peel her clothing off, his fingertips gently brushing against her soft skin. She tried to steady her breathing but her chest caved in and out as the oxygen in the room seemed to be escaping as he moved down her body. “Harry,” She whispered and he could hear the desperation in her voice. She reached for his hand and intertwined their fingers together.

Y/N was stripped down to her bra and underwear. This was the most skin she had revealed to anybody but she trusted Harry with everything in her, he was her best friend. He blew warm air over the thin material of her bra and her nipples hardened, an overwhelming sense of desire and lust flooding her insides. It was so new and overwhelming, her hands shaking as she ran her fingers through his hair and tugged on the roots.

“Baby,” He whispered, his hands cupping her thighs as he pressed kisses down her body.

“Harry, wait.” She murmured, his eyes looking up from where he was laying between her legs, “You’re still dressed.” She sat up and tugged on the hem of his sweater.

He laughed softly, as she struggled to pull the sweater over his head. She marvelled at the sound and kissed the tip of his nose. He pulled her onto his lap and she grinded her hips against his, “God look at you.” He whispered. “Don’t leave me Y/N. You can never leave me.”

“I’m never going to.” She said it like it was a promise.

His hands hooked the straps of her bra and he gently pulled them down, her breath hitching as the pad of his thumb brushed against the side of her breast. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him in tightly, his face burying into the crook of her neck as he inhaled her.

This was going to be perfect, she thought, nothing could go wrong.

She grinded her hips against him again, a groan eliciting from his lip and a name escaping past the lips he had kissed her with so many times.

“Dylan.” Y/N froze. Her blood ran cold, and she pulled away as though Harry’s touch burned her.

“What did you say?” She pulled away, suddenly being naked in front of him didn’t feel right, being in a space alone with him didn’t feel right, everything she had ever felt for him before this moment didn’t feel right.

“Y/N,” He reached for her but she slipped away from him, slipped out of his touch, a touch she begged for just moments ago.

Harry’s heart no longer existed, wherever it was it had abandoned him and left him here in this terrible moment to fend for himself. He felt his eyes well up with tears as he watched Y/N try to pick up her discarded clothes. This wasn’t how it was meant to be, she was suppose to be picking up his clothes after a night making love to each other.

“Y-You said his name.” Y/N whimpered, she was panicking and Harry could do nothing but watch.

“Baby I-”

“NO.” She spat, “You don’t get to call me that. Not anymore.”

Harry watched as she turned around and clutched at her head, her knees buckling as she fell to the ground. She sobbed and sobbed, his hear wrenching at the sound of it. He had never heard a sound so painful in his life and he wanted to die in this very moment.

“No, No, No, No.” She sobbed, her shoulders shaking.

“Y/N please just let me explain.” Harry tried, crouching down in front of her and trying to place a hand on her now clothed shoulder.

“NO.” She pushed him away and leaped back, her back hitting the wall.

Harry was broken. He was truly broken. This was something well out of his reach in fixing and nothing he could do or say could make up for the fact that he had hurt the two people he loved and cherished the most in this world, in the span of one night.

“Get out of my room!” She began to scream, “Get out of here!”

A knock at the door shattered the silence.

“Hey, you guys in there?” Dylan’s voice called from the hallway.

Before Harry could respond, Y/N lunged for the door, anger blazing in her eyes.

“Get out of my room!” she screamed, her voice raw with betrayal.

Harry caught her before she reached Dylan, her fists pounding against his chest. “I’m broken,” she whimpered, her strength fading. “You broke me.”

And for the first time, Harry knew what it felt like to be utterly powerless.

. . .

Then — 2000

Dear Diary,

You know those secrets so big they feel like they could swallow you whole? The kind you promise never to tell a soul for as long as you live? At first, they consume you, taking over every thought and breath. But over time, they settle into the corners of your mind, a quiet part of you that only stirs when something triggers it.

Well, today I made one of those secrets.

It was a Tuesday, the day I volunteer in the library after school. There’s something peaceful about wandering the empty halls when no one else is around—a stark contrast to the chaos between periods. Mrs. Ableton asked me to deliver a stack of books to the English Literature cupboard. Our copies of The Catcher in the Rye were practically falling apart, so we’d ordered replacements.

As I walked through the hall, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye near the classroom where Harry and I have English together. Curious, I paused, almost dropping the books in my hands.

Harry was leaning against a desk, and Dylan stood in front of him. At first, I thought nothing of it and smiled, reaching for the door handle to make myself known. But then Dylan stepped closer, touched Harry’s hand, and kissed him.

I froze.

I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. The same lips that had kissed mine were now kissing the lips of my best friend.

I wanted to cry, but I was too shocked to do anything but stand there, watching. A part of me hoped I was trapped in a nightmare—that I’d wake up, call Harry, and laugh about how silly it all was. But when Dylan pulled back, Harry grabbed his arm and kissed him again.

That time, I couldn’t watch.

I backed away, the tears finally falling. My mind raced as I searched for somewhere—anywhere—I could cry louder, scream even, because this wasn’t something I could cry about quietly.

Harry was mine. But he was also Dylan’s.

By the time I went to bed, I’d convinced myself I would confront them. I’d tell them I saw what happened and ask if we could move on, pretend it never happened. But as the hours stretched on, I realized I didn’t want to speak about it. Talking about it would mean reliving it, over and over.

I didn’t want to remember.

I just wanted Harry.

So, this is a secret I’ll take to my grave. I’ll never tell a soul I watched Harry kiss Dylan in a way he never kissed me.

Even if it breaks me.

. . .

Now — 2000

“What happened?” Dylan asked. They were back in his dorm now, Harry pacing the room like a caged animal.

“She knows,” Harry muttered, his fingers pulling at his hair—a habit whenever he was upset. “She knows about us, what we did.”

Dylan collapsed onto the bed, his face pale. “How?”

Harry stopped and turned to him, shame written all over his face. “I said your name.”

Dylan’s shoulders sagged, and he buried his face in his hands. Images of Y/N, broken and sobbing on her bedroom floor, flashed through his mind. She had begged them to fix her, but they were the ones who broke her.

“It’s fine,” Harry rambled, his voice shaking. “I-I’ll give her some time, however long she needs. Then I’ll explain. I’ll explain it was a misunderstanding.”

“Harry,” Dylan said gently, standing to take Harry’s hands in his own. “I don’t think there’s enough time in the world for Y/N to get over this.”

Harry’s breath hitched, and a sob escaped him as he crumpled into Dylan’s arms. Dylan ran his fingers through Harry’s hair, resting his cheek against Harry’s head. “It’s okay, love,” he whispered. “Everything will be alright.”

“I hurt her so bad, Dylan,” Harry cried. “I love her, and I hurt her.”

“She was always going to find out,” Dylan said softly, the truth cutting deeper than any lie.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” Harry whispered.

Dylan sighed. “Why do you always talk about how things are meant to be? You act like your life was mapped out before you left the womb. Was it ‘meant to be’ that the three of us became inseparable? That you fell in love with both of us because you care so deeply? That I fell in love with you because you see art in everything? None of this was ‘meant to be,’ Harry. It just happened. And now we deal with it.”

Harry pulled back, tears streaking his face. “You still love me? Even after I pushed you away?”

Dylan smiled sadly, wiping a tear from Harry’s cheek. “I love you despite everything.”

Harry’s lips ghosted over Dylan’s, and for a moment, it felt like all their pain had been lifted. “Dylan,” Harry whispered, his voice trembling as he said the name again and again, like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

“You can say my name as much as you want, love,” Dylan murmured. “I’ll always be here.”

. . .

Three weeks passed and the friends were no longer talking to each other, instead they acted as though they didn’t know each other as they passed each other in the hallway.

Harry had to try and not flinch when he saw Y/N scurry pass him, her eyes red and bloodshot as Ellis comforted her, glaring at Harry as they did. He wanted to speak to her but he was never given the chance to, rightly so considering what he had done to her.

Dylan and Harry, mostly Harry, thought it would best to keep their distance for a while. It killed them both to not be around each other but for the sake of their friendship with Y/N, they shared small moments of brief eye contact and touches throughout the day. Neither of them knew what was to come for the both of them but this limbo was enough for now.

Dylan ate lunch alone and as he did, he listened to the conversations of everyone around him. He wondered what it felt like for them to go about their day feeling like they belong in their own skin and not feel ashamed over who they love. He had never felt so alienated and so out of touch with himself.

He had been given an after school detention for an hour with Mr Henley after calling him sexist in front of the class. No one was around when he left the classroom until he saw a group of girls walking across the field.

At the end of the line was Y/N, wearing her netball uniform.

She must have caught sight of him because the next thing he knew, she was walking up to him. He had to check behind him to see he was seeing correctly.

“Hi Dylan,” She keeps her distance for reasons unknown to him but being around her again made him relax, he missed the friendship he shared right at the very beginning when they were thirteen and picking each other up from class to go to the sweet shop after school.

“Hey Y/N.” He offers her a smile.

“How are you doing?” He didn’t miss the way she gripped her bag like she was trying to stop herself from saying anything she really wanted to.

“I feel like I should be asking you that.” Y/N huffs, “I’ve had better days.” “Y/N-”

“Just tell me this,” She starts, “H-How long?”

Dylan decided he would be as honest and as straight to the point as he could be, it was what she deserved at least.

“Y/N the only thing we did was kiss one time. Harry stopped it because he’s in love with you.”

“And you’re in love with him.”

“Y-Yes.”

Y/N laughs incredulously, “We could never just be three best friends could we? It was always going to be complicated.”

“We could still be best friends Y/N.”

“But it’s not the same now is it?” She bit back and Dylan realised he needed to be careful with what he said. “Is he sad?”

“Terribly. Sometimes I hear him crying in his room at night.”

A silence fell between them which was strange. Y/N and Dylan has always had a brother-sister relationship, Dylan was always one to tease Y/N and make her laugh but right now it seemed all he was doing was making her upset.

“I’m moving schools.” Y/N confessed, “At the end of the term, I’m moving to Bridgewater. Mum’s moving in with her fiancee, and she wants me to be closer.”

“When were you going to tell us?” Dylan was shocked.

“I was given the choice. I could stay here or move to another school but if I stayed I’d have to stay at my dad’s during the holidays and I’m not in the mood to be lectured during my time away from school.”

Dylan didn’t know what to say, he couldn’t fathom the three of them not being together for such a long period of time. “I know what you’re thinking. I know I need to tell him but if we are going to have a shot at being friends again, I need to be away from you both.”

“Y/N,” Dylan shakes his head, “It doesn’t have to be like this,”

“You know I saw you when you kissed each other in the English Literature classroom?” She confessed, Dylan’s lips parting. “He kissed you in a way that he never kissed me. Everytime we kissed afterwards all I could think about was how different it was, how I desperately wanted him to kiss me the way I had seen him kiss you. I used to write in my diary about how I would die if I didn’t have him near me. I thought he would be the end of me but I didn’t realise you would be too.”

“I know he loves you Dylan and... I’m happy for you but I’m not selfless enough to stand beside you both and watch you fall in love when I so desperately love him too.”

“Y/N,” Dylan reaches out for her hand and takes it, “I’m sorry.” “I know Dylan, I know.”

. . .

Now — 2000

Harry’s leg wouldn’t stop jittering as he sat outside the school library on a Tuesday evening. He’d been waiting for this moment for weeks, replaying it over and over in his mind. He had spent countless hours rehearsing his apology to Y/N until it became a permanent loop in his thoughts.

When the library door swung open, he shot up immediately, brushing down his school trousers and running a hand through his hair. Y/N stepped out, holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand and her backpack slung over her shoulder.

She looked better than she had in weeks, and Harry’s heart ached at the sight of her. He would have carried her bag for her if they were still together.

Her expression changed when she saw him, her voice barely above a whisper. “H-Harry.”

“I came,” he said quickly, the words tumbling out. “I-I couldn’t believe it when I got your text. I’d have waited here for hours if you hadn’t shown up.”

Her face softened briefly, but she walked past him. “Follow me,” she said simply.

He trailed behind her as she led him to the gardens—the place where they’d shared their first kiss and filmed the music video for his and Dylan’s project. It was a space filled with memories of the three of them: Y/N doing homework, Dylan reading, and Harry strumming his guitar.

They sat down on the swinging bench, a familiar seat now heavy with unspoken tension. Harry noticed she kept her distance, and though every fiber of his being wanted to pull her close, he knew it wasn’t the right time.

“Who gave you those?” Harry finally asked, nodding at the flowers in her hand. A flicker of hope crossed his face.

“Debbie,” she said, referring to the school librarian. “It’s my last day working at the library.”

“You quit?” Harry frowned, his gaze flicking from the flowers to her face.

Y/N inhaled deeply before speaking. “I’m leaving, Harry.”

The wind seemed to leave him. “N-No,” he stammered, shaking his head. “You—you can’t. You can’t just leave. I won’t let you—”

“Harry,” she interrupted, reaching for his hand and holding it gently in her lap. “It’s what’s best.”

“How can you say that?” he asked, trying to pull his hand away, though her warmth made it impossible. “How can you say it’s what’s best? The three of us—we’re supposed to be together.”

“It’s a little too late for that, don’t you think?” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she looked at him. He looked thinner, more tired than she’d ever seen him, but she couldn’t help him—not anymore.

“Y/N, the thing with Dylan...” Harry began, his voice cracking. “I-I never meant for it to happen. We were just alone, I was stressed, and my emotions got the better of me. But I don’t feel the same way about him as I do about you.”

She shook her head softly. “Maybe that’s true, but not in the way you think. Dylan has always been there for you, Harry, in ways I never could. The way you look at him... it’s like he hung the stars in the sky just for you, like he tilted the sun so it would never blind you but still brighten your world.

“Maybe you do love me,” she continued, her voice trembling, “but love isn’t just about taking care of someone. It’s not carrying my backpack because it’s too heavy or doing my homework when I’m too tired after netball. Love is about being vulnerable. It’s about being taken care of, about laughing and crying and feeling like your heart is burning, and nothing can put it out.

“Now tell me, Harry. Did you ever feel that way with me? Were you ever vulnerable with me?”

Harry’s heart cracked. He opened his mouth to respond but couldn’t find the words.

“Please, Y/N,” he whimpered, his voice breaking. “I can’t be without you.”

“You have Dylan,” she said, trying to be the bigger person even though it shattered her inside. “It was never going to be me, Harry. Can you honestly look me in the eye and tell me you don’t have feelings for him?”

Harry looked down at the ground, his silence all the confirmation she needed.

Her heart broke all over again, but she forced herself to stay strong. “Why do you have to go?” he asked, tears streaming down his face.

“Because, Harry,” she said gently, “what good would it do for the three of us if I stayed? You need to find out who you are, and so do I. Before me, it was you and Dylan. Now, it will end that way - with you and Dylan.”

“And what about you?” he asked desperately. “What will you do? Where will you go?”

“I don’t know yet,” she admitted. “But I’m grateful for what I’ve had. You and Dylan will always be a part of me. I hope one day we’ll forget this pain, and everything will be okay again.”

She reached out, brushing his hair back the way she used to. “I love you, Harry. I love you so much, I feel like I could burst.”

“I love you too,” he murmured. For the first time, he meant it in a way that felt true—not as a lover, but as a best friend.

“Be brave,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “And tell him you love him.”

Harry nodded as the tears fell freely, clinging to her like a child who didn’t want to let go.

She was going to love him forever. She now knew he wouldn’t.

. . .

“She’s gone,” Dylan said softly from the doorway of Harry’s bedroom.

Harry sat at his desk, a pen still in his hand though it hovered, unmoving, above the page. “Was she alright?” he murmured.

“She was better than we probably thought,” Dylan admitted, realizing how much they’d underestimated Y/N’s strength. They’d always thought it was their job to protect her, but she’d always been stronger than the two of them combined.

“Right,” Harry muttered, his voice hollow.

Dylan moved to sit on the bed, the springs creaking under his weight. “I was thinking we could have the leftover soup for dinner instead of going to the dining hall.”

“I’m not hungry,” Harry replied—a rare admission from someone who was always hungry.

Dylan frowned. “How long are you going to wallow in this? Can’t you see we’re both trying to do the right thing for your benefit?”

Harry turned to him, anger flashing in his eyes. “And what exactly are you doing?”

“I’ve been keeping my distance,” Dylan snapped. “Acting like we’re strangers when we’re the complete opposite. Do you know how much it kills me to not be near you? To have to hide from myself?”

Harry stood abruptly. “And you think I’m not struggling? You think I haven’t been grappling with everything I feel?”

“Oh, don’t give me that bullshit!” Dylan shouted, standing to meet Harry’s gaze. “You had someone who loved you for two whole years. You have everything, Harry—loving parents, the best grades, popularity. And you act like it’s all been taken from you because I kissed you!”

“Y/N is gone because of us!” Harry yelled back.

“No,” Dylan said fiercely, his voice rising. “She’s gone because of you! Because you’re too afraid to be honest about who you are! Because you care too much about what everyone else thinks. That’s why she’s gone!”

Their faces were inches apart, their anger radiating in the small space between them.

“How dare you? Can’t you see this is difficult for me to accept?” Harry shouted, his voice trembling with anger and frustration.

“What is?” Dylan snapped back, stepping closer. “What is so difficult, Harry? What’s so hard that you have to sit in the dark and ignore the only two people who’ve ever truly cared about you? Huh? What is it? Tell me. TELL ME.”

“I am in love with you!” Harry yelled, the words ripping out of him like they had been clawing to escape for years. “I am a fool, and I am in love with you.”

Dylan froze, stunned. His breath caught in his throat as the weight of Harry’s confession settled over him. The words he had dreamed of hearing for years hung in the air between them, impossible to ignore.

“What?” Dylan managed, his voice barely a whisper.

“I have loved you since the moment I met you,” Harry said, his voice softer now but no less raw. “And it’s been killing me every day since. I think of you—daily, nightly, every moment in between—and it tears me apart. Kissing you was the bravest thing I’ve ever done, and denying it afterward made me a coward. But here I am now, standing in front of you, a man stupidly, hopelessly in love with his best friend.”

Harry’s eyes were red and glassy, the weight of years of unspoken emotion etched into his every feature.

Dylan stared at him, speechless. He had imagined this moment countless times, but now that it was real, the depth of Harry’s vulnerability left him breathless.

“Kiss me,” Dylan whispered, his voice breaking. “Kiss me.”

Harry didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, cupping Dylan’s face in his hands as though it had been crafted to fit perfectly in his palms. Then he kissed him—fervent and unrestrained, pouring every ounce of his love and longing into that singular moment.

Dylan’s world ignited. A piece of him that had been dormant for years finally came alive. His heart and mind, long at odds, now burned in harmony as Harry’s lips moved against his. He felt consumed, but in the most beautiful way, as if he could lose himself in Harry forever and never once regret it.

“I love you too, Harry,” Dylan whispered when they finally parted, their foreheads resting together.

“I bloody well hope so,” Harry murmured, a small laugh escaping his lips as tears spilled down his cheeks.

. . .

Now

Dear Harry,

I’d like to tell you a story that will more than likely make you happy.

One day, I was sat in a café, only a twenty-minute walk away from Southend Park School, which is closed down now and turned into a factory to fix airplanes. I bought my usual order of a decaf cappuccino and a slice of toffee apple cake. On this particular day, they added more sugar to my cappuccino, so I knew it would be a good day.

Across from me, a woman sat, her dog lying down at her feet as she read The Catcher in the Rye whilst sipping on a fruit tea. I didn’t think much of it, but I found it interesting the way she would read something and then shakily jot something down in the little notebook on the table.

Anyway, I had originally come to the café so I could write about our trip to Brighton. You were still complaining about the sand in your clothes just last night despite the fact that Brighton has no sand.

“It’s alright, love,” I comforted you, helping you put your pyjamas on.

“It bothers me, Dylan.” You responded, coughing into your handkerchief.

We don’t leave our small bungalow very often because you don’t like to leave the dogs and I don’t like change, but this trip to Brighton was one we had been planning for a year or so, so we didn’t really have much choice in the matter.

We spent a lot of time sat on the beach in the evenings whilst we were there, a blanket wrapped around the both of us as we fed the seagulls. I remember you saying you liked the sound of the ocean because it made you feel like we were seventeen again, running into the ocean without a care in the world.

You then proceeded to mention how worried you are about our Y/N, “I hope she’s doing alright, our Y/N.” You said and then went back to talking about a programme you watched the night before.

You had always worried about Y/N in the years after she left, always asking where she was or what she was up to despite the fact we never got in contact with her again. I also wonder whether or not she is okay, and I knew that if I were to see her again, I would thank her for allowing us the space to fall in love.

It was awfully difficult those months after we kissed in your bedroom. We were constantly berated by people we had never spoken to before, and I knew it bothered you for a while, but we overcame it just like we did every other obstacle in our lives... together.

Anyway, as I continued to write about our trip, the door to the café opened again and three middle-aged people walked over to the elderly lady in the corner. “Come on Mum, we’ve got to say goodbye to Dad now,” the man spoke to her, and she swatted him away. Something about that small action gave me a strong sense of déjà vu.

“Give me a moment,” the woman responded, and the three children sat at the table in the chairs around her.

Eventually, they managed to get her standing up. One of them placed her coat around her shoulders, and another handed her her walking stick. When she turned to look at me, I saw a familiar set of eyes looking straight at me.

The three people aiding her walked to the door and held it open for her. As she was about to step out the door, her walking stick fell out of her shaky hands and right at my feet. I quickly picked it up and handed it to her, her face brightening at the sight of me.

“Thank you.” Her voice still sounded the same all that time ago.

“No... Thank you, my darling.”

[literaila]

it's not my fault

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: tsumiki and megumi get into an argument

warnings: sibling stuff, fluff, two oblivious (stupid) parents

last part | next part

*

year five.

“couldn’t you say something nice?” tsumiki is asking megumi when you walk in. “she just wanted to—“ 

you set your bag on the table, just barely able to make out their words. 

they were... quiet in the car, you realize suddenly. but you hadn't thought that anything was wrong. megumi's typically burnt out after school, and tsumiki waits until you all get home to start telling you about her day. 

but it only took a minute of you running back out to the car to grab something for it all to fall apart. 

megumi groans. “i don’t even know her.” 

you round the corner, just stopping there so you can observe. neither of them seem to notice you, or your wide eyes at both of their stances. the matching scowls on their faces. 

they look so similar that it shocks you just briefly. 

tsumiki has her arms crossed, shaking her head. “you still don’t need to be mean about it.” 

“i wasn’t mean.” 

“yes, you were. you told her to leave you alone.” 

“that seems like a pretty straightforward request.” 

“everyone at school thinks you’re mean,” tsumiki is pouting, looking dishearted at his reaction. typically, megumi will agree with her just for the sake of it. “and i always have to defend you, even if it’s true.” 

megumi sighs, shrugging. he's got his satoru-type scowl on, and even though he looks disinterested--as usual--you can see it when his frown deepens, and he shifts away from tsumiki. “well, stop then. i don’t need you to come to my rescue. i don’t care what people say.” 

“well, i do! you’re my brother.” 

“that doesn’t mean you have to treat me like your responsibility. i can handle myself.” 

“you’re always alone at school,” tsumiki disputes, almost whining at him. “if you were nicer—“ 

“i’ve never complained—“ 

“okay,” you turn the corner, brows already raised. “there’s a lot of raised voices going on. you two are going to wake up the neighbor's cat.” 

tsumiki is pouting at megumi and he just rolls his eyes. both children stand facing each other, standoffish in the living room, arms crossed. 

usually, they fight about what movie to watch, or who got to sit in the front seat last. 

but those fights don’t typically involve yelling. 

sure, they’re both sensitive about their childhood. about living here and being with you and satoru. they'll bicker about being little, megumi hating it when tsumiki mentions either of their biological parents, and tsumiki hating it when he refuses to listen.

but even then, tsumiki goes to hide, and megumi just shuts down. 

this seems… different. 

a part of you rationalizes that they're both exhausted from school and getting to that age where their priorities differ. 

you don't have any siblings, but you quarreled enough with nanami and haibara back at school to know how these types of arguments work. 

and unless one of them admits that they're wrong, it's never going to end. 

with that thought in mind, you put on a learned smile, standing between the two of them so you can look back and forth between the two children, observing both of their very closed-off body language. 

it's a little cute, honestly. they both look very different, but their matching stances and glares are worth much more than biology. you almost want to stop them to take a picture. 

satoru would do it if he was here. 

“tough crowd,” you say, feeling the tension between the two. “what’s going on?” 

“nothing,” they both say, at the same time, but megumi with an attitude and tsumiki with a sniffle. 

really, you should find a book about expressing emotions. you and satoru are teaching them far too much about denial and avoidance. 

you make a mental note to look it up later. 

you blow out a breath. “yeah, well, i heard the yelling, but i’m missing some context."

you look between the two of them, but they’re not looking back. both sets of eyes are focused on each other, identical glares bouncing off of each other. they could be communicating in some secret language and you would have no idea. 

in fact, you can basically see the thoughts they're forcing towards each other on their faces. 

“hey,” you poke them both on the forehead at the same time, trying to get their attention on you. “talk to me. what happened?” 

they both remain still as statues for a moment, not bothering to consider the question. 

but after a moment, tsumiki blinks, and her frown increases, which makes megumi roll his eyes--like he already knows what she's going to say, and doesn't care. 

“megumi was mean to a girl at school,” tsumiki says, finally looking at you with big doe eyes. her face is pained, confused, and worried. 

and honestly, she could ask you for anything with that look and you'd give it to her. 

but megumi sighs. “i wasn’t mean.” 

“you told her not to talk to you!” 

he looks to you, less pleading but confident. “if i want space, shouldn’t i tell someone that? isn't that what you say?” 

you open your mouth. “well, it depends, megs, you can’t—“ 

“you’re always mean,” tsumiki’s eyes are filling with tears. she looks at you too. and usually, she would apologize for interrupting, but not right now. “nobody at school wants to be around him. he scares everyone, and they don’t believe me when i say that he’s nice.” 

“tsumiki," you begin, face softening, "you shouldn’t—“ 

“that doesn’t make me mean. why would i want to hang out with people who don’t like me?” 

you turn, “megumi—“ 

“they would like you if you weren’t always saying mean things!” tsumiki tells him, her sweet voice rough with frustration. the tears begin to slip from her eyes. 

and you can feel it when megumi moves another inch away, wanting to flinch back from her sadness the same way you do. 

“i don’t want them to like me,” megumi corrects, shaking it off. “i don’t care what they think.” 

tsumiki frowns even deeper, eyes growing wide. “what about what i think?” she asks him.

“are you going to stop hanging out with me?” 

“maybe.” 

“how? we literally live in the same house. your room is down the hall from mine.”

“guys—“ 

“i’ll ask dad to move rooms. he won’t mind.” 

“oh, sure. because you’ll be able to avoid me at the dinner table—“ 

“why are you always—“ 

“guys.” 

they both look to you, glares immensely misplaced. their mouths are still open, ready to interrupt each other at a moment's notice. 

you look between them, finding matching pictures on either side. clearly, they're both upset about something different. and still, you don't really understand, but it doesn't seem like they're going to explain anything further. 

why would they when they can just keep arguing?

you purse your lips, closing your eyes for a moment, trying not to laugh. 

really, if they wanted you to take them seriously they shouldn’t have grown up to be so cute. they shouldn't look like that. 

harsh, angry breaths fill the room as the two of them wait for your instruction. you should probably be able to fix this problem immediately--you could by sending them both to their rooms and forcing them apart--but you'd rather talk this through. 

plus you don't want either of them to think too hard about any of it. you hate it when you fight with satoru and take a break, just to linger in that anger like a quicksand you can’t pull out of. 

“okay,” you say, once there’s a moment of silence. “i know you’re both upset.” 

“i’m not—“ you look at megumi and he stops, little frown on his little face. his cheeks are red in indignation, and he's got clenched fists. you can tell that he wants to say something, maybe to you, maybe to tsumiki, but he won't.

you ruffle his hair. “it’s fine to be upset with each other,” you tell him, looking to tsumiki, her face entirely sad. “but going back and forth isn’t going to solve the problem, okay? and neither is saying anything just to hurt each other's feelings.” 

“but he just—“ you shake your head, wishing with everything in you that you could go get one of satoru’s blindfolds right now. 

it physically hurts to look at them, they're so precious. 

you are a terrible mother for finding this moment slightly amusing. to be fair, you spend far too much time with satoru, and deflection is a family trait. 

you finger tsumiki’s hair, pushing it from her eyes. “should we take a break?” you ask them both. “or do you want to talk about it now?”

“break,” megumi says, immediately.

“talk about it now,” tsumiki answers, at the same time. 

for two people who are so alike, they sure think differently. you want to smile at the very predictable answers but refrain.

“okay…” you pause, thinking. “tsumiki, why don’t you tell us why you’re upset? megumi will do the same, and then we can take a break, or keep going.” 

they both glare at each other. 

“and nothing mean," you add because it feels necessary. 

tsumiki sniffs. “everyone at school says that you’re cruel,” she tells him, a devastating pout on her face. “and i don’t like that. you’re my brother, and i want people to like you like i do.” 

you both look at megumi, waiting. 

he's silent for a moment, processing his sister's words, but then he’s got a scowl on his face. “i don’t care what they think, they’re all stupid anyway—“ 

“megumi.” 

he looks at you, pleading blue eyes. you can see that tsumiki got under his skin, but you shake your head. 

“see?” tsumiki complains, voice high-pitched. “he’s always—“ 

you wipe away a tear, nodding. “i know, sweetie, but it’s his turn. you can go next.”

you turn to megumi, wanting to laugh at his annoyed face. “don’t call your classmates names," you say, giving him a look. "it's your turn. tell tsumiki why you’re upset, megumi.” 

he sighs again, looking towards the floor. he kicks at the hardwood, shaking his head. “i don’t like it when you baby me. i don’t need you to defend me, or try and take care of me at school. i’m fine.” 

tsumiki swallows, not saying anything. 

you look between the two of them, trying to read the complex emotions of your almost-teenagers. unfortunately, they're closed off from you, and you can only guess. 

both of your hands rest on one of their shoulders, squeezing. “do you both want to answer? or should we sit down for a bit? i can make a snack or something. it might be good to cool off." 

you say it mostly for yourself, because, honestly, any second you're going to break. 

the two children look at each other, communicating telepathically, and then they nod.

“you should treat everyone respectfully,” tsumiki says, as an answer. “even if you don’t care what they think, you should still be nice.” 

megumi frowns. “if i don’t want to talk to someone, i shouldn’t have to.” 

“but you just told her to go away. she probably feels bad now, and—“ 

“i don’t even know her," megumi interrupts, brows furrowing. 

okay, so maybe you should've separated them a couple of minutes ago. 

“chiyo's my friend!” 

megumi rolls his eyes. “just because she’s your friend doesn’t mean she has to be mine.” 

“but you were mean.” 

you look between the two of them, megumi annoyed and tsumiki frustrated. 

“okay, kids.” you breathe out, wishing you had a brother to fight with, just so you knew what it felt like. just so you could be a part of this argument. “i know you’re both mad, and you disagree. that’s fine. let’s take some space, breathe, maybe i can—“

“just because you think i was being mean doesn’t mean that i was," megumi blurts out, like he can't hold it in.  

you pause, mouth opening. you're about to say something, but you don't get the chance.

“if everyone doesn’t like you,” tsumiki argues, “then it’s because you’re mean.” 

“maybe they just suck.” 

“they don’t suck. this is—“

and then it all breaks down.

“well well,” satoru peeks his head around the corner, white hair a shock to all three of you. “look who’s falling apart without me.”

you sigh immediately, a hand against your temple. of course he would come in at the worst moment possible. “satoru, please go back out the door. i'm sure you forgot something at the store."

the two kids look at satoru, neither one of them happy to see him. there's a similar fire in their eyes, and you know that if he hadn't shown up they would've continued arguing until you pulled them apart. 

he walks over to you, slinging an arm across your shoulder. his grin is far too self-satisfactory. "what'd you do?" he asks, tapping you. 

"i didn't do anything," you tell him, "leave them alone. they're working it out." 

"by yelling at each other?" 

you push his arm off of you, glaring. "you just walked in at a bad moment--" 

you say something else, telling him to get out again, and satoru laughs back at you, asking if you missed him, and neither of you seems to realize that the two kids are just staring at you.

megumi and tsumiki share a look, like this is a typical occurrence (it is), then shake their heads at the same time, like an echo of each other. 

their faces have cooled, scowls fading as you and satoru bicker. 

tsumiki sighs and megumi scratches the back of his neck, and for a moment, they both avoid each other's eyes. 

but eventually, you and satoru look back at them. 

"i don't want to talk anymore," megumi tells all of you, beginning to walk away. satoru tries to grab the back of his shirt to keep him in place, but megumi just shrugs him off. 

and then he walks down the hallway to his room and closes the door gently, clearly no longer bothered by anything tsumiki said. or maybe too bothered. 

but, you think, at least he didn't slam the door. 

you can recall yourself telling satoru to give him space, to let megumi deal with his emotions as he pleases before you force him back into the spotlight, to apologize or hug tsumiki, or... 

you blink and look back at her. she's still got a small pout on her face, but her eyes have relaxed, as red-rimmed as they are. you know, and tsumiki knows, that she's really just worried about him. trying to protect him in her own, sisterly way. 

and, really, there's not much you can teach her about that. 

so you just smile gently at tsumiki, wiping away some moisture from her face. "just give him a bit, hmm? let him think." 

she sighs but relaxes into your hand for a moment, her shoulders slouching as she gives into defeat. and then tsumiki shrugs at you, agreeing despite herself, and walks over to satoru to give him half of a hug. 

it's not a moment later that she follows megumi and walks down the hall, escaping to her room. you both listen as her door closes.

"wow," satoru whispers, shaking his head. "you did a number on them." 

"they had a fight about school," you say, nudging him. "i had no part in any of it. i just walked in." 

he wraps two arms around the back of your neck, smiling eagerly at you. "so what you're saying is, it isn't your fault?" 

he's mocking himself, and the reoccurring events that happen when you leave him in charge. which you've sworn to never do again, by the way. 

you scoff. "when i get home you've started all the problems," you tell him, shaking your head. "they're fighting because you instigated something." 

"we're communicating." 

"whatever."

satoru quirks a brow at you, eyes just barely visible behind his glasses. "the parenting books aren't doing much for you, are they?" he asks, rhetorically. 

"you realize i caught you with those in your room multiple times right? i know you read them." 

"you'll never prove it," he says, smiling maliciously. 

"and neither will your parenting skills." 

satoru snorts, nudging his nose against yours in an odious way. "clearly, you guys can't last a day without me." 

"it wasn't a day," you argue, shivering at his touch. "more like an hour. you just went to the store..." you pause, tilting your head at him. "and where are the groceries, by the way?" 

satoru looks away, hands tapping on the back of your neck, humming innocently. "oh, i might've... slightly misplaced those." 

"satoru." 

"i got distracted--but it's not my fault. there's a new kakigori shop down the block." 

you look at him blandly. 

satoru, because he cannot be trusted, smiles sweetly at you as he places a peck on your lips, as a sort of apology. 

obviously, you don't return it. not even in the slightest.

satoru hums as he pulls back, already knowing that he's won. "so, i'll just get dinner..." he says, grinning at you. 

you roll your eyes but wrap your hands around his neck, letting a little smile fall across your face. 

*

you and satoru are sitting on the couch when you see megumi creeping down the hall, on his tiptoes, purposefully not looking at the two of you. 

it's been an hour or two, the silence echoing across the house almost a bad omen. 

but you decided not to bother either of them. considering the fact that you still don't know why they were really fighting, or why they didn't just talk about it like they usually would, it seemed like the best option. 

and also, satoru shouldn't be involved in any conflict resolution. he'd probably suggest wrestling it out in the backyard. 

still, as you watch him pass by, you lean away from satoru, your legs completely tangled in his. you stretch your neck to watch him, relying on satoru's hand around your waist to keep you steady, but he's too far down the hall for you to see where he's going. 

but a moment later, you hear him knock on a door, and then a small, quiet voice telling him to come in. 

you relax back against satoru, already grinning proudly. "see? i fixed it." 

satoru laughs, his breath soft against your temple. "you didn't do anything. megumi just felt guilty." 

"well, i taught him that." 

satoru noses the side of your head. "mmm, i'm pretty sure i did." 

"of course you didn't." 

he shakes you a little, as a punishment for your words, but sighs. "what were they fighting about anyway?" 

"megumi was mean to one of tsumiki's friends, i think. i missed... pretty much all of it." 

"who?" 

you frown. "chiyo?" 

satoru snorts a little, and you shift to look at him, raising your brow. "megumi mentioned her."

you turn even more, eyes wide. you poke his cheek with a finger, and then wave for him to continue.  

satoru groans, fingers trailing through your hair. "he said that he overheard some girls talking about 'miki." 

"behind her back?" 

satoru smiles, a bit sadly, nodding. 

"oh." 

"yeah, oh." 

you frown. “what did they say?”

satoru licks his lips, watching your eyes as you concentrate on him. “dunno. megumi wouldn’t tell me.”

you roll your eyes. “of course not,” you say, sighing. “and he didn’t tell her?”

satoru winces. "okay, so… maybe i told him not to,” he whispers, like a confession, voice going a bit high at the end. and then he laughs at your annoyed expression. "what? i didn't want her to get sad." 

you shake your head at him, tsking. 

you could scold him for protecting tsumiki, but you know that you probably would've done the same. 

so you just turn back towards the hallway, resting your head against his shoulder. after a moment, satoru nuzzles himself into your neck, humming against your skin. 

it's a very unpleasant feeling. 

"do you think i should go get them for dinner?" you ask him, quietly. 

"nah," he kisses the side of your neck, looking down the hall with you. "give them a little while." 

and it's about twenty minutes later that the two siblings walk back into the living room, megumi's lip quirked at tsumiki, and tsumiki beaming back.

after all, you and satoru have taught them well. 

*

next part | series masterlist

[wolverinesleftclaw]

passenger princess +18

warning : kinda dark at some points, age gap, kinda public sex, afab, age gap, fem!reader, peachesxlogan, slight manipulation, dacryphilia kinda, pure smut, little plot, spitting, choking, fingering, breeding kink, creampie, dom!logan, kinda mean logan, not proofread!

a/n : wrote this sitting by the pool today, makes me think i’m solar powered or something cause i cooked lowkey.

written for my dear : @journal3sposts 💌 word count : 1.5k

you’d been here before. tipsy after a night out with ness and wade, in the passenger seat of logan’s car basically begging him to fuck you. the man had self control for the gods and you hated it.

the age gap between you and logan was substantial, you being the young age of twenty three. logan may not have looked a day over forty-five physically but sexually he had a hard time keeping up with you. especially when alcohol got involved.

you’re argument whenever he’d bring up how much you need him being ‘have you seen yourself? you’d want to fuck you too’

tonight was no different. except for the fact that not matter what happened he was fucking you in this car.

you turned in your seat to face logan pulling his hand higher on your thigh.

‘cmon lo, please jus’ wanna feel you’ you beg running your hand up his muscular arm to his neck turning his head toward you.

logan’s eyes stared down into you intimidatingly a small smirk gracing his beautiful face.

‘no’

roughly moving his head out of your hand facing the road again. huffing your cross your arms turning your body to face the window trying to hide your mischievous smile.

‘your seriously turning me down’

‘yes peaches i am’

‘i would’ve taken one of those guys from the bar home then if i knew you weren’t going to fuck me’ you snark out shaking his hand off your thigh ‘their young too, could probably keep up with me. i know you saw the way they all stared at me, at least someone wants me’

you don’t miss the way his hand flexes around the steering wheel and his jaw tightening before looking over at you.

‘you’re being a brat’ he bluntly states

‘yea and what are you going to do about it’ you sass out keeping your gaze locked on the outside view, your thighs clenching together for friction.

‘i’m gunna bring you back to the bar so you can go get one of those guys’

you’re head snaps up to look at him in panic watching him take a left turn instead of the usual right turn.

‘wait what’ you question

‘cmon you can’t be that dumb doll, i’m taking you to find someone who can keep up with you’ he glares

‘no lo, i was just kidding’ you rush out grabbing his forearm in protest ‘only want you’

‘mhm’ he hums, you notice the bar coming back into your line of vision your grip getting tighter on his arm.

‘please baby i promise i don’t want any of them’

you always did this. talked yourself into a hole and then couldn’t get out. one thing you knew for sure is that there was no other man for you.

‘i don’t know…’ his tone borderline mocking, not that you notice too caught up in the way he pulls the car around the back of the bar.

‘i promise lo’ you beg as he puts the car in park.

logan turns his whole body to face you, his broad shoulders blocking your view outside his window. he stares at you the tears lining your eyes from frustration, the pleading look adorning your soft features.

fuck it turned him on.

you loved playing your games, he knew that. but he wasn’t an idiot he could play the games too. i’m his opinion he could play them better.

he knew how to manipulate you to get you to do whatever he wanted, and in this moment he wanted you to beg for his forgiveness, not because he did anything wrong but because he wanted you to remind that you couldn’t live without him.

he could hear your heart, the never ending fast paced rhythm almost irregular at this point.

he could smell your arousal, how even though you were a nervous wreck thinking he was leaving you here you still wanted him bad enough.

he liked that.

true to his nature in that moment you were his prey, sitting pretty on the leather seats in his car.

his favorite fantasy.

eyes blown wide you waited for his next move, you feared it would never come.

you were surprised when his rough hands grabbed either side of your face roughly kissing you, grabbing you by your waist pulling you into his lap.

you clung onto him as if you let go he’d disappear. your movements desperate, grinding down onto his growing bulge.

you moan out when he bites your lip harshly drawing blood, you hands run up his neck and into his hair breaking the kiss ‘need you so bad’ you mumble out

‘you’ll always need me huh peaches?’ he grunts out bringing the bottom of your dress just above your hips ‘no panties tonight’ he questions

nodding your head and biting your lip with a smile on your face he groans.

‘what am i gunna do with you’

‘fuck me’

‘no i don’t think you deserve that yet’ he hums his hand finding solace on your upper thigh is fingers tracing small circles all the up to where you needed him most.

bucking your hips in a poor attempt to get him to touch you he withdraws his hand entirely looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

‘what do you want’ he asks his hand moving to your face his finger tracing you jaw.

you heavy breathing only stirring him on more as you breath out ‘i want you to touch me’

he chuckles lightly shaking his head ‘yea? where?’ he says.

your cheeks turn red as you bury your face into his neck leaving kisses in your wake. ‘please don’t make me say it’ you beg

his hand runs up your bag finding it’s place in your hair tugging hard removing your head from his neck, he turns your head downwards to face him. ‘say it’ he demands his eyes darkening at your defiance.

‘want you to touch my pussy please lo’ you cry out as soon as the words leave your mouth, him plunging his middle and ring finger into your tight cunt.

‘like this’ he questions never stopping the never ending curl of his fingers inside you.

‘yes, oh god’ you moan out your hips meeting each thrust of his fingers, his lips moving from your jaw to your neck.

you moan out when he sinks his canines into the side of your neck roughly. ‘gunna cum for me peaches?’

unable to form a solid thought you nod your head throwing his back closing your eyes.

‘gotta look at me when you cum around my fingers darlin’ he speaks roughly bring my head back to focus on him.

the bubble in your lower stomach tightening enough that it sends you over the edge, your hips freezing their movements, your grip tightening on the man before you as you come undone for what’s most likely the first time tonight.

holding you tight against his chest logan lights you up enough for him to free his cock from its confines. letting a string of spit fall onto his member he throws his head back as his moves his hand around the head.

‘m gunna fuck you now peaches’ he grunts out before slamming you down onto his member. not even giving you the chance to adjust to his length before he’s pushing you up and down making you take all of him.

you couldn’t form a single thought other than how no man will ever be able to satisfy you in the way logan does.

his name leaving your mouth like he was your god and you were on you knees for him.

his hand finds it place on your neck squeezing both sides of it cutting off your air supply.

‘this is what you wanted huh peaches? for me to fuck you like the whore you are in the parking lot where anyone of those boys can see just how good i fuck you’ he speaks roughly, his grip never letting up, his thumb pushing under your chin so you were looking up at him.

‘open’ he commands collecting his saliva in his mouth loosing his hold on your neck.

you oblige, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out ready for him.

he spits harshly in your mouth, the grip on your neck tightening again ‘swallow it’ he continues his assault on your cunt.

you felt the familiar warmth spreading throughout your body as your obeyed him swallowing. the tight band flexing beyond its limit as you clench unrelentingly around his cock.

‘that’s it’s peaches you gunna cum with me huh?’ he grunted his movements turning sloppy ‘gunna let me fill you up huh? give you my babies so you can never leave me’

his words throwing you over the edge as you scream out his name clamping down on him with shaking legs as he cums inside of you, grunting and groaning in your ear as he comes down from his high.

breathing heavily he throws his head against the head rest, still inside of you he gives you a lazy smile.

‘can’t keep up with you? not sure if your gunna be able to keep up with me, cause we’re not done here peaches’

taglist : my bby @cevansbaby-dove @rogueinmymind @rosewine-5 @caramelatae @catastrophe8866slut @barnes1487d @lexiway121 @ms-e-com @nayyomi @spookyfunhottub @megangovier @aphestina @txtgojou @its-not-about-angels @sammysvers @modrooli @twinky-wink @orisquirrelking @car1er @sseleniaa @nudziaraaa @pinkfloydsimp @scarlett-witchhh @shiawaseorii @sephirothhh @sturnizd @chaoticweirdogeek @magpiemayhem @hearts4suri @f4tnu663ts @tvdxavatarxst @vivas-xiv @k1t-k4ts @hettie1spam @sssprivlmaoo @rockytheluver @saturnluvvr @mysticpidge @sl4sh3r @ginamcflurry @malavera @reynaandeny @rissararity @angellreads @xoxoloverb

[toxicanonymity]

Uhhhh nightwalks Joel and reader getting high off their asses and then fucking

harder - 420 special, can read alone.

2.8k | Joel x f!Reader | night walks masterlist

IMG: dark profile shot of Joel that says, "lift heavy, talk dirty, smoke weed" and "night walks" in the bottom left.

He slowly rubs your thigh and says, “It's ok, pumpkin. Shouldn’ta had the windows open. Got hot workin' out.” He gets up and closes the windows, pulls the shades down, and double-locks the door. He dims the lights, too.  It’s still pretty hot inside.  You unzip your hoodie, and he wets his lips as you take it off. 

Ty 420 Anon, yard-spying bj anon, @missannwinchester, @xdaddysprincessxx , and everyone for all the great Qs, comments, and ideas. 👖

WARNINGS: 18+ Non-outbreak, AU pothead neighbor Joel, reader smokes, unspecified age gap, drinking, fingering, oral, unsafe vaginal sex (PIV), light choking, hard drug use, bad ideas. Mild dubcon bc drugs? (she has the intent before the drugs)

-

You start taking your night walks again.  You keep seeing your creepy neighbor Joel out in the wild anyway, and your efforts not to fuck him have been not only futile but increasingly weak. You’re walking your first lap around the neighborhood and a car pulls up to Joel's house.  A young woman gets out of the car.  She goes around back to his man cave where the door must be open because it sounds like he’s lifting weights.   Your stomach drops and your heart races.  Who is she? His estranged wife–if he even has one, you've never seen her–can’t be your age, can she?  Then again, if he can pull you . . . are you just one of many? 

Despite your best efforts, it doesn’t leave your mind.  When you come back around the neighborhood, your curiosity gets the best of you and you quietly prowl into the back of his yard.  His lights are on, so you can see clearly and it makes your insides turn.  In the window to the right, Joel is in the middle of sitting down.  He rubs his nose and eases back into the sofa with his hands behind his head, elbows out.  A look of pleasure spreads across his face. and he says “oh yeah.”   In the window to the left, she’s kneeling on the ground in front of him.  The gap between the windows spares you the explicit details.  Joel looks down, watching her and licking his lips and man, he looks hot.  Yeah, it actually turns you on.  

His eyes drift to the window and you quietly slink away before he sees you.  You walk around the block one more time and light up a joint, hoping to push away your traitorous gut reaction to this development.  You have all these thoughts like I should’ve given in.  . . .I should’ve come when he invited me. . . He finally gave up on me. . .  You know these thoughts make no sense.  They make you feel dirty.  He’s so skeezy and vile.  He’s been preying on you.  That’s what you want?

-

As you approach his cul de sac for the third time, she’s driving away.  That was so fast, you have to wonder if he paid her.  

“Evenin’, pumpkin.”  His voice startles you from the treeline.  He’s standing where you were. 

You don’t say anything.  You take a hit of your joint.  

“Yeah I bet you had a pretty good view from here,” he says.  

Your heart races and your face gets hot. 

You respond, “Have a good time?”

“Oh yeah, always a good time.  You wanna try it?” 

You scoff but almost, briefly entertain the idea. “I’m good.  How much does a blow job cost these days anyway?” You instantly regret the question.  Probably sounded resentful.  

“Depends how much you’re buyin’.” 

“What?”

“Ahh, blow job,” he says.  You're embarrassed by how loud he says it.  He slowly walks closer to the street – closer to you –  then stops when he’s a couple of feet away. He crosses his arms and his biceps bulges under his tight t-shirt.  “Blow job. . . that’s what you thought?  Well damn. I’m flattered, pumpkin. All jealous of my dealer spendin’ time with me.” As usual, you hate it when he’s right.  

“That’s what you call ‘contactless pick-up’?”

“That ain’t the weed girl.”

He walks around you slowly, like you’re a steak he’s about to carve up, then he puts his hand on the back of your neck and lowers his voice.

“That’s Michelle Pfieffer, baby.  Not Mary Jane.”  He looks at your joint and you hand it to him.  He's totally lost you.  "Never seen Scarface?"  He takes a hit, inhales, and holds. His broad chest swells with his lungs. Then he strokes your temple and squints at you, like he’s reading you, as he brings his mouth less than a centimeter from yours and exhales.  You breathe him in so cleanly, so greedily, barely any of it escapes into the air around you.  You hold, then turn your head to release the smoke.  It was too much, too soon, but you couldn’t turn him away. After successfully resisting a glance for several minutes, your eyes fall to the ample bulge in his PJs, sending a warm rush to your core. 

He smirks and strokes the nape of your neck.  You don’t say anything. You just stand there marveling at how genuinely hot he is.  Beautiful, even.  Shit, you’re really high. 

“C’mon,” he says and rotates around so he’s next to you, slightly behind you.  He squeezes your neck, and his forearm is resting between your shoulder blades when he starts walking you towards his basement.  You barely resist at all.  “Real bad girl shit, you’re gonna love it.” 

-

By the time you’re halfway to the door, his hand is no longer on your neck.  It’s drifted down to give your ass a brief squeeze, and for the first time since finding out his real intentions, you’re walking into his basement quite willingly. 

He nods to the couch.   “What do you want to drink?”

“Whatever.” You move a throw pillow out of your way and sit down. 

On the ottoman in front of the couch, there’s a mirrored tray with a credit card, loosely rolled $100 bill, and white powder residue.  She was doing a line, not sucking his cock. Now you’re even more embarrassed.  

Joel comes around the sofa and gives you an IPA.  

He sits down right next to you, manspreading with his hand on his inner thigh and his other thigh flush with yours.  He slowly rubs your leg and says, “It's okay, pumpkin. I shouldn’ta had the windows open. Got hot workin' out.”

He gets up and closes the windows, pulls the shades down, and double-locks the door. He dims the lights, too.  It’s still pretty hot inside.  As he slowly crosses the room, he wets his lips and watches you unzip your hoodie  You fold it up and set it in your lap.

"You gotta try this shit." He gets out his drug box. 

You hesitate and decline. 

“Girl as bad as you, never done hard drugs?” 

“Tried it, didn't like it.  It was gross.” 

“Bet it was cut with somethin’ gross.  This is good shit. maybe later though.  Hmm?"  He turns to face you, strokes your inner thigh, and studies your face.  

"Yeah I'm already high as fuck" you admit. 

He laughs.  “High as fuck . . . that makes two of us, pumpkin.”  You can see it in his eyes, too. He extends his beer to cheers yours.  

"Got all stressed out seein' me with another chick?"  

You take a long sip and observe the tent in his pants, resenting that he's right as usual.  He takes a long sip too then puts it down.  He leans in close, puts his mouth against your ear. "You don't have to say it," he whispers as he takes your beer out of your hand and your sweatshirt out of your lap, setting them on the table without fully leaving your space.  His cold hand slides between your legs, lightly trailing up your inner thigh over your thin joggers. Then he adds, "I can feel it."   

You’re already turning to face him.  Your legs open, making room for him.  “Yeah, that’s right” he says. 

You lean back, he gets between your legs, and his hands prowl up toward your shoulders, caging you to the couch.  He presses the hard silhouette of his cock into your inseam.  Then his mouth latches onto yours and your chest swells into him, your nipples hardening against his tight undershirt.  He makes room then his hand slides up under your undershirt – no bra – taking the shirt with it.  You help him pull it over your head.  Then he cups a breast and palms your hard nipple and your back arches.  You’re throbbing for him. 

“too hot for these,” he says, hooking fingers into your joggers. He begins to pull them down, then pauses when they’re at your knees.  He spreads you open with both thumbs and plants his mouth for a taste.  He licks and moans “Mmm’ into your cunt, then plunges his tongue inside, making your hips lift into his face.   

He comes up for air and says, "god damn you're hot," palming himself over his pants. He finishes pulling your joggers off.  "Hotter every fuckin time." He returns to grinding into you and sucks your neck. Holy fuck, he's hard.  So hard.  Your mouth falls open with a soft moan.  

"Yeah, you feel that? C’mon, let's get wild, baby."  He grinds into you a couple more times, says “yeah,” then sits back on his heels and gets the coke baggie. He picks up a small key ring from the coffee table.  Joel opens the bag and dips a key into it, getting the smallest little mountain of white powder on the end of the key, then he puts the baggie down on the tray.  

"C'mere a sec. It's just a little," he says.  You sit up while he makes a vertical fist and puts the smallest hill of white powder on the flat web between his thumb and forefinger.  It doesn't look like much, so you play along, closing a nostril and bringing your nose to his fist. You inhale and he says "attagirl," then with the same hand, he grabs your jaw and pulls your mouth into his for an aggressive kiss.  The back of your throat is dripping nasally, but you're tingling all over as his tongue invades your mouth with his hand holding your jaw.  Then that hand loosens and slides down to your throat and he pushes you back down on the couch, your head landing on the throw pillow. 

"Don't worry, pumpkin.  All yours tonight, every inch,” he says, stroking himself through his pants. That sends a bolt of desire right through you.  His hand slides down your chest  over your stomach to your dripping pussy and he says "you taste real fuckin good, you know that?" as he fingers you.  Then he licks his thick digits clean.  

He pulls down his waistband, frees himself from his PJ pants, then changes his mind and takes them off entirely.  He lays his hips onto yours, his stiff cock resting on  your mound and you tilt your hips in search of friction.   God, you need him so bad.  His face returns to your neck and you claw at his t-shirt.  He takes it off and admires you with red, half-lidded eyes while he's still sitting upright.  

"God you look so fuckin hot. . . “  He runs his hand lightly over your stomach, between your breasts, and back. You badly want him inside you. 

He takes the baggie and dips the key in it again. “Gotta do it, ‘fore I get you all sweaty.”   Then the cold metal on your cleavage makes your nipples harden and he inhales deeply.  He carefully draws a thin line along your cleavage, all the way up to your clavicle, then admires his work.  

"Baby you're the hottest thing ‘ever been in this room," he says and your heart swells a little, to your embarrassment. 

You watch him in a trance, wanting him back against your buzzing body.  He picks up and tightens the rolled up bill.  He strokes his naked cock with his other hand then lets it fall between your legs.  Your hips tilt, and his tip meets your entrance, nudging at your tight, wet hole while he braces himself on the couch.  Your legs open a little wider for him.  Your body is drunk with need.  Then he brings his head to your chest, the bill to his nose, and snorts the whole line, up to the bottom of your throat, and in the same swift motion, he plunges his stiff length into you with a groan, and you moan at the stretch of his girth.  

He tilts his head back and sniffles, staying inside you as he does it.   Jesus, who knew a cock could be so hard, or feel so good.  He retreats half way then pushes all the way into you again, bottoming out with a shudder. 

“God damn, baby,” he says, then begins to move his hips fluidly.  He feels so unequivocally good, you can’t even pretend he doesn’t.  No part of you can.  In a fucked up way, you feel like you’re exactly where you want to be in life, on the couch of this creep’s basement.   He grunts as he buries his rock-hard length inside you and sucks at your neck.  His cock fills you up just right, just the right amount of stretch, and the way he moves his hips, he’s rubbing you just right, too.  All you want is more of it.  

“Harder,” you hear yourself say.  

“What now?” he smirks with a hint of disbelief. 

“Harder, Joel.” He heard you the first time, he just wanted to hear it again. “Fuck me harder.”  Your hips lift into his and you wrap your legs all the way around him.  He rolls into you smoothly again, nodding, and you feel it building in your core.  You watch him in anticipation - his glistening biceps.  His absurd triceps.  His strong torso.  Something animalistic comes across his face. 

“Fuck yeah,”  he breathes.  

He slams into you with a grunt, and you moan.  You don’t bother trying not to.  Not tonight.  He hooks his arms under your shoulders for leverage and pounds into you again and again, to the hilt each time, grunting, breathing heavily.  You gasp.  He’s hitting that spot just right and he knows it.  You’re close to coming.  His messy hair bounces as he rails you.  

“Thought you’d never ask, baby,” he says.  

He moves one of his arms under your knee, putting that leg on his shoulder, and keeps railing you. It feels like your whole torso is being filled by him. You groan loudly, overwhelmed by him all up in your guts.   It’s like he’s been holding out on you – he was already so good and this is just ridiculous.  

“Fuckin’ love this pussy,” he pants, looking at you like a work of art as he fucks you.  Your back arches and you writhe under him, so close to the edge.  He somehow pushes even further.  

“And you love this cock, don’t ya?” You nod, tears prickling your eyes.  Sweat falls off his chest onto yours as he pummels you.  

“Fuck yeah,” he growls.  

“Yeah,” you pant, practically a whisper. You could do this all night.  

He slams into you hard again, tripping you over the edge, and you repeat “Yeah,” louder, which turns into a moan as you squirm under him through your waves of pleasure and your body jerks.  

“I know, baby,” he says. “Attagirl, yeah, come on this cock.” You continue to contract, and manage to stammer, “Oh God, don’t stop.” 

As your climax wanes, he hooks both his arms under yours again and says “c’mere,” as his hips  roll into you more gracefully again.  He kisses you, and moans into your mouth as he fucks you, and you quickly feel it building again.  You moan and he says, “hell yeah.” 

He pulls out and your gut reaction is”no,” before he can even help you into straddling him.  “Well hot damn,” he says and sits back for you to ride him. 

You push yourself up by your elbows, then begin to climb into his lap.  

“All yours, baby.  Ride it.”  

You can’t sink onto him fast enough.  You both grunt as your bodies are joined.  You roll your hips into him and his large hands move you on his cock.  He takes a nipple into his mouth and your head falls back.  You still can’t get over how hard he is.  You could do this all night, you think.  

But it isn’t long before his breath changes and you know he’s gonna come.  Yeah, you know he’s about to come, and yet, you can’t bear to tear yourself off his cock. He pulls you down flush against him with a groan and holds you there.  His head falls back. His hips lift, and he pulses enormously inside you, sending you for your second time.  You whine “Oh, God,” as you clench around him.  And he moans,  lifting his hips into you with each rope.  Then you cut his moan off with your lips on his, and he groans into your mouth.  

You sit on his lap with his cock still inside as you catch your breaths.  Eventually, he gives your ass a squeeze and says, “God I’m thirsty.” 

You agree, and get off him.  He hands you your beer and you take a long swig.  

“I’m spent, pumpkin.  Got too fuckin’ high.  You tired?” 

Yeah, you are.  

“Alright, let’s take a nap and do that again,” he says. 

 And you stay. 

-

A/N: I'm curious if anyone recognizes this situation, because it's based on a movie/scene that inspired the neighbor & drugs premise of night walks to begin with. I know where we're picking up from here thanks to @missannwinchester 👖 and still have many night walks ideas on the board from y'all, brewing and welcome.

-

TAGS

NW: @tehweeana@lokanda@blackvelveteen1339@cutesyscreenname@ele-meno-p lmk if i missed you

All joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxiousus @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime  @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @lokanda

[vinylfoxbooks]

June 9 - Lip Gloss | @jegulus-microfic | wc: 862 Part 2 Part 1 and Part 3

The bell above the door announces James’ presence before James himself can. Regulus looks up and smiles gently at him, grabbing his bag, “Dora. I’m leaving now.”

Pandora hums and nods, “Alright. Have a good time, Reggie.” Regulus nods and starts making his way towards where James is waiting for him by the door. 

James takes his arm and guides him out of the store, “Hi Regulus, how was work?”

“Slow.” Regulus hums, “We only had a couple people come in. I got yelled at by a jealous husband.”

“Oh?”

Regulus rolls his eyes, thanking James with a head nod when he opens his car door for him. He waits until James gets in the car as well and starts driving before he starts talking, “So I’ve got this girl that comes in. She’s a regular customer, probably my age, that constantly comes in for romance books. They’re usually spicy but I genuinely couldn’t care less about that. Well, today she came in with her husband and I was checking her out, talking to her about the book that she had picked out. He got pissy at me and started yelling at me for trying to ‘flirt with his girl.’”

“Ew.” James shakes his head, taking a turn, “I hate when people do that.”

“Yeah, well, it’s whatever. He just kept yelling and yelling at me and getting after me for selling his wife the book and all of the other books that she’s been reading. Again, I couldn’t care less about that.” He shakes his head, “I eventually had to tell him that I had a date with you. A guy.”

James huffs a laugh, “Did that actually work.”

“He didn’t apologize about it.” Regulus shakes his head, “The thing is, the book? Song of Achilles.”

“That’s a good one.” James hums, “And nothing to throw a fit over. Especially since it’s gay.”

“My point exactly.” Regulus shakes his head, “Pissed me off.” Then he takes a moment to look over James. He’s wearing a nice gray t-shirt underneath a long red coat and some regular jeans. He’s also wearing…

Fuck.

James Potter is wearing fucking lip gloss. His lips have a slight sheen to them and it makes Regulus’ heart stop. Already plump lips with this pretty, slightly red, shiny stain on his lips. Regulus takes a deep breath, “You look nice.”

James turns to him and smiles softly, “Thank you. You look wonderful as well.”

Eventually, the two of them make it to the movie theater and head inside, getting their tickets and popcorn then heading into the theater. They talk quietly between themselves during the ads before the movie itself starts.

And now, Regulus was impartial on going to see this movie. James really wanted to see it and Regulus always enjoys the environment of a movie theater so he agreed to go with James as a date but he…

He can’t focus on the movie itself when James is sitting there with his slightly red lip gloss, shining beautifully in the ever-changing lights of the movie. 

Fuck, it’s driving Regulus crazy.

Soon enough, after about an hour and a half of Regulus mostly watching James then snapping his head to look at the movie whenever James leans over to whisper something about it or crack a joke in Regulus’ ear -- he doesn’t understand most of the jokes and just nods along when James makes a comparison because he hasn’t been paying much attention to the movie -- the movie ends and they’re standing up and James’ stretches his arms above his head which raises his shirt a bit. They walk out of the theater together, hand in hand, and hop into James’ car. 

“Harry’s with his mom tonight,” James informs him, “Would you like to go to my house and I can cook you some dinner?”

Regulus hums after a couple minutes, “Sure.” James glances at him before he starts the car and smiles, making the breath catch in Regulus’ chest because of that damn lip gloss. 

The drive to James’ place is filled with James singing quietly to the music that he’s got playing on the radio, his oh so slightly red lips glinting in different lights as he sings. When they show up at the house, they head inside and James goes into the kitchen to put together a quick meal. 

When he comes back out with two plates of some sort of pasta, he hands one to Regulus -- who has settled himself on the couch -- and sits down next to him.

They talk while they eat and Regulus is completely transfixed by James’ lips, which the older man seems to take note of. He tilts his head a bit and smiles at him, “See something you like?”

“What lip gloss are you wearing?”

“It’s a lip tint Lily gave me.” James smiles back, “I figured that I would try it out. It seems, to me, that you like it.”

“I do.” Regulus nods.

The older’s smile widens, “You want to try it? It’s cherry flavoured.”

“What is it with you and cherry flavoured things?” James shrugs and leans forward to pull Regulus into a kiss.

[folkloresthings]

Northanger abbey - I think we need to see jealous sebastian 👀👀 he would be so hot I swear...

JEALOUS BOY. ❨ sebastian vettel x reader ❩

✩⡱ warnings: allusions to sex

days in the paddock were long. you hated thinking it, because you knew how much it meant to sebastian for you to be there, but when you’d done it time and time again — it got a little repetitive. especially when sebastian was busy, off doing practice pls or inspecting the car. times when there was nothing you could do but wait.

it was completely innocent. you were stuck in the aston martin garage waiting for sebastian to finish his practice. lance had just so happened to be there too, having finished his practice lap a little while before. he’d spotted you, sitting all alone, and decided to keep you company. you appreciated it, really, the boy was always sweet to you.

“how’s the new job?” he asked you, passing you a cup of coffee he’d brought from hospitality. you forgot you had mentioned that a few weeks ago, a new job that allowed you to work online and travel with sebastian.

“it’s been really good!” you chirp, eyes lighting up. it was the first time that day someone had asked you a question that was actually about you. “they’re super flexible with travel and stuff.”

“that’s good. i’m sure you’ll smash it,” lance insists, sitting next to you. “i mean, who wouldn’t love to have you?”

you blush a little, a small smile pulling at your lips. you had to admit, lance was incredibly charming — an expert flirt. and while you were utterly dedicated to sebastian, it didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy some flattery.

sebastian’s practice had ended not long ago, and he headed straight back to the garage to find you where he left you. he didn’t expect to find his teammate with you, though, making you giggle and blush like a schoolgirl. sebastian felt jealousy rise in his throat.

he was always quite possessive of you. not to a worrying extent, just that he liked people to know that you were his. and he, yours. but you were younger than him and beautiful — he would be lying if he said he didn’t notice how people looked at you.

lance was closer in age to you than sebastian was. maybe that’s why the green envy that filled him was worse than usual. he knew you loved him, and he was sure you would never be unfaithful, but he despised seeing another man make you look so… happy.

“seb, hey,” lance spots him first, smiling over to him. you turn and smile widely at him. much wider than you’d smiled when lance was speaking to you.

“how’d it go?” you ask, waiting for him to come over. he doesn’t though, only grunting something incoherent. he passes by you both, storming straight to his driver’s room. lance looks at you, confused, and you know just what’s wrong. rolling your eyes, you pat the canadian on the shoulder and leave him there.

“seb?” you call, sticking your head around the door. he’s sat at the little table, arms crossed and sulking like a child. “seb, c’mon.”

you shut the door behind you, hands finding his shoulders. he shrugs you off but you persist, moving until you’re sat on his lap, legs straddling his waist. he can’t ignore you then, hands subconsciously going to your waist.

“he was just keeping me company,” you tell him, brushing back his wild blonde locks. sebastian looks up at you then, eyes dark and heavy. his hands grip your waist a little tighter, pulling you close.

“you’re mine,” he reminds you, softly kissing your bottom lip, teasing.

“i know,” you say, head dizzy already. “yours.”

“mhm,” the german man hums, tucking his finger under your chin and guiding your gaze straight to his. “can he make you feel like i do?”

your head shakes quickly, grasping at his drivers suit. “no. no one can.”

“good girl,” he quietly praises, fingers slipping under your shirt. “now, let him hear who you belong to.”

[rosielovesspence]

Playing Dangerous- F.P. Jones

Summary: The one where you flirt with a cop after wasting his patience.

It was hard to  be friends with the Archie group when they constantly got you into trouble with the law. It became easier when you got used it, and once you all turned 26. “Come on Y/n, we’re adults we can handle this!” You scoffed staring at Archie, “Exactly! We’re adults, we shouldn’t doing childish shit like this! We can get in trouble with the sheriff! Just cause it’s J’s dad doesn’t mean we can’t be arrested!” The group had been in your kitchen for about an hour, trying to convince you to help them break into some warehouse they swore they needed into. “Please Y/n? You know, we can’t do it without you” They were persistent, and Betty was whiny. “Fine, but if I get arrested you assholes are bailing me out.” 

You had somehow gotten in with no problems, finding nothing however you glared at the group from over the shoulder. “Oh look, nothing here.” You leaned over on a box, staring at Jughead, “What did I tell you?” He just awkwardly shrugged, “It has to be here, something does.” Just then the door slammed open and you all turned. “Shit.”

You sat in the back of his cop car, groaning, god of course you got arrested for those fucking idiots.”Everybody knows i’m a good girl, officer.” You stared at him through his back window as F.P. stared back. “Mhm, sure sweetheart.” You bat your eyelashes subtly, looking for something to get you out of his car. “Do you always work alone so late?” He wasn’t working alone, the others had been picked up in the other cars, but FP picked you up. You assumed he’d get Jughead and Betty. “Stop with that. Those try-hard doe eyes.” You wanted to scoff, God older men were dicks, but you just looked down. 

“The door was already open when we got there, you know.” You were trying to justify yourself. “Oh yeah, then tell me princess, why was the lock broken?” He had looked back at you for a moment. And somehow you didn’t find it repulsive, usually the princess comment would off-put you but from FP it felt weirdly like-able. “I wouldn’t do a thing like that, that’s for sure. The door was already open, I swear i’m not a liar.” He stopped to stare at you, your melty puppy eyes as you tried the sympathy approach. Unlike other men his age though, you couldn’t get what you wanted, he wasn’t as creepy, he didn’t fall as easy. 

You expected to end up in a cell for the night, cursing your stupid group, but you had stopped at the station. He had uncuffed you and led you into his office. Now you were confused. As you sat down awkwardly, trying to be still as delicate and princess-like as you were in the car, hoping to convince him to let you go home. “So we’re still on the princess act.” He noted as he sat across from you. “So, what was a group of kids doing in a warehouse?” You had finally snapped and let out a small scoff. “I’m a full grown adult, thank you very much, 26 almost 27.” FP smirked, he had gotten you to break. “I know, calm down, our birthday is next month.” You froze, why would he know that? He didn’t even have your records out. “So, we wanna try again? Why were you there?” 

You wouldn’t spill, sitting in front of, arms crossed over your chest as you held your tongue. “Y/n. Just tell me, I could just throw you into a cell, it is my job.” You looked up at him, a playful glare, you had a new approach to getting your way, and with the way he stared, you were winning. “Fine we can stay here all night then.” He began to pull out paper work. “Yay, I like your company.” He stared at you, your sarcasm soaked words floating in the air. “Brat.” You wanted to yell, you hated being treated like a child, but you held your breath because it also did something else to you. Any insult you had thought to throw back had been lost when he looked back up, staring into your eyes with that kind of intensity. “What, lose your insults?” You pushed your hands onto your lap, looking down, embarrassment flooding your brain. “Jesus, I’ll take you home.” You had realized he was staring at the clock, and the fact that it was now 1:37 in the morning. “What about my information?” He chuckled, “You weren’t gonna give it to me anyway.” You smirked, “True, I might give you something else though.” He stared at you, your words being sudden and out of nowhere. “Hey, maybe a kiss.” He laughed quietly, assuming your words a joke. But when placed a kiss to his lips, he was stunned. “I can walk myself home, unless you want to drive me.” You gave him that gushy smile, that 20 minutes ago was aggravating as hell, now, he was enjoying the lingering stare. “Yeah, not a chance, I’ll drive you.” You grinned, “Good choice, officer.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@b0nes-phobic​

[jinnieboosworld]

Fangirling

Kevin Moon x Female Reader

@deoboyznet @a-dream-bookmark @k-labels

Genre: Fluff, Coming of Age

Summary: While at a Beyoncé concert Kevin Moon finds himself befriending a girl who shares the same enthusiasm for Beyoncé as him. So when he sees her crying after the concert he can’t help but wonder why.

Part of The MeetCute Series

Word Count: 8410

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Y/N had spent all week planning for tonight—her outfit, her playlist, her nails painted in Beyoncé’s latest album colors. This was supposed to be her night. The tickets had been her birthday gift, and she’d been counting down the days ever since. But now, sitting in the passenger seat of her boyfriend’s car, the excitement felt off.

He hadn’t said much since picking her up. The usual banter, the jokes about her singing every word to “Love On Top,” were absent. Instead, his hands gripped the wheel a little too tightly, his eyes locked on the road.

“You’re quiet,” Y/N said, turning to him. She tried to keep her tone light, but his energy was throwing her off.

“Just thinking,” he replied.

“About?”

He hesitated, glancing at her briefly before looking away. “About us.”

Her stomach dropped, and she forced out a laugh. “You’re not about to tell me you hate Beyoncé, are you?”

“No, it’s not that,” he said, his voice low. “It’s… I don’t think this is working anymore.”

The words hit like a punch. Y/N blinked, convinced she’d misheard him. “I’m sorry, what?”

He sighed, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “I’ve been meaning to tell you, but I didn’t know how. Things have felt off for a while now.”

“And you’re telling me this now? On the way to a Beyoncé concert?”

“I thought it’d be better to get it out before we got there.”

Y/N stared at him, her shock quickly giving way to anger. “So, what? You’re breaking up with me so you don’t have to pretend to like my favorite artist for a few hours?”

“Y/N, it’s not like that—”

“Then what is it like?” she snapped. “Because right now, it feels like you’re blindsiding me for no reason.”

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly uncomfortable. “I didn’t want to keep stringing you along. You deserve someone who’s all in, and… I just don’t think I am.”

For a moment, she couldn’t speak. Her chest tightened, and her throat burned with the tears she refused to shed. “Pull over,” she said finally.

“What?”

“Pull over. I’m not sitting here and listening to you justify this crap while pretending I’m okay with it.”

He hesitated but eventually complied, pulling the car to the side of the road. Without a word, Y/N grabbed her bag and stepped out. She didn’t even slam the door—he wasn’t worth the drama.

As she stood on the sidewalk, the sound of his car pulling away echoed in her ears. The anger and heartbreak collided inside her, but she pushed it down. Tonight wasn’t about him.

She pulled out her phone, calling a rideshare. While she waited, she rummaged through her bag and found her lipstick. If she was going to cry, it wasn’t going to be until after she’d screamed every word to “Formation.”

By the time the car arrived, she had reapplied her makeup and adjusted her Beyoncé-themed jacket.

“Everything okay?” the driver asked as she slid into the backseat.

Y/N gave a tight smile. “Not really. But it will be.”

As they drove toward the stadium, she glanced at the glowing city lights and took a deep breath. Her ex might have ruined the car ride, but there was no way she was letting him ruin Beyoncé.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Y/N slid into her seat just as the lights dimmed, sending the arena into an electric frenzy. Her heart pounded, but not entirely from excitement. She still felt raw, her emotions a tangled mess of anger and heartbreak, but she was determined to push it all aside. This night wasn’t about her ex—it was about Beyoncé.

The opening beat of the first song thundered through the speakers, and the crowd erupted. Y/N stood, her hands automatically lifting in sync with the sea of fans around her. As the Queen herself appeared onstage, she felt a flicker of joy break through the haze.

For the first half of the show, Y/N focused on the music, letting the beats and melodies drown out her thoughts. She didn’t check her phone or look at the empty seat her ex would’ve occupied. She refused to let him steal any more of her energy.

It wasn’t until the intermission that she noticed him—the guy sitting one row down and a few seats over.

He had straight blonde hair tucked under a snapback, and his whole outfit screamed “effortlessly cool.” But what caught her attention was his energy. While everyone else around him was taking a breather, he was animatedly singing to himself, drumming on his thighs as if the concert hadn’t paused.

Y/N couldn’t help but smile. He noticed her looking and grinned, his charming smile flashing in the dim arena lights.

“You good up there?” he called over the noise of the crowd.

“Yeah,” Y/N replied, her voice steady but her lips curving upward. “You, uh, really know your stuff.”

“What can I say?” He gestured to the stage as if it were obvious. “Beyoncé’s a lifestyle.”

Y/N laughed, the first real one she’d had all day. “Fair point.”

He tilted his head, studying her for a moment. “You’ve been pretty quiet, though. First-timer?”

“Hardly,” she said, leaning on the railing in front of her. “I’ve been obsessed with her since, like, Dangerously in Love.”

“Then what’s the deal? You’re not screaming like your life depends on it.”

She hesitated, not sure how much she wanted to share with a complete stranger. “Long day,” she said finally, brushing it off.

He didn’t press, just nodded like he understood. “Well, if you’re gonna make it through the rest of this show, you’ve gotta sing like you mean it. Beyoncé didn’t show up here for half energy.”

Y/N snorted. “You sound like a coach.”

“Exactly. And I’m not letting my team down.” He stuck out his hand, his grin widening. “Kevin, by the way.”

“Y/N,” she replied, shaking his hand.

The house lights dimmed again, signaling the second half of the show. Kevin turned back to the stage, but not before giving her a nod. “Let’s go, Y/N. Time to wake up.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t deny that his enthusiasm was infectious. As Beyoncé launched into another hit, she found herself loosening up, her body moving instinctively to the rhythm.

By the time Beyoncé hit her iconic run in “Love On Top,” Y/N was belting out the lyrics alongside Kevin. He threw her an approving thumbs-up mid-chorus, and she laughed, her spirits lifting in a way she hadn’t thought possible just hours earlier.

For the first time that night, she wasn’t thinking about her ex or the breakup. She wasn’t worried about looking sad or out of place. She was just Y/N—a fan in the crowd, celebrating the music she loved.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The second half of the show had Y/N completely mesmerized. Beyoncé was magnetic, her vocals flawless, and her stage presence unmatched. The lights, choreography, and energy of the crowd created a wave of emotion that Y/N couldn’t help but get swept up in.

Kevin seemed to have appointed himself her concert hype man. Every now and then, he’d glance back to make sure she was singing along or smiling, giving her exaggerated nods of approval whenever she hit a note.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” he shouted after she nailed the high note in “Halo,” laughing when she playfully shoved his shoulder.

By the time Beyoncé slowed the tempo for an acoustic set, Y/N felt the first twinge of vulnerability creeping back in. When the opening notes of “Resentment” filled the arena, she stiffened.

This was the song. The one she’d blasted in her bedroom during every heartbreak, every fight, every moment of self-doubt. And now, in this massive crowd of strangers, it felt like the lyrics were aimed directly at her.

She tried to keep her composure, but her throat tightened. Her vision blurred.

“Hey,” Kevin’s voice cut through the music, soft but steady.

She turned her head slightly, blinking back tears. He wasn’t grinning or joking this time. Instead, his expression was kind, his dark eyes filled with understanding.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the song.

She nodded quickly, waving him off, but he didn’t buy it.

“It’s okay to feel it, you know,” he said, his tone low and careful. “That’s why we’re all here—to let it out.”

Y/N swallowed hard, letting the lyrics seep into her soul. Beyoncé’s voice was raw, singing about betrayal, pain, and resilience, and Y/N couldn’t hold it back anymore. A single tear slipped down her cheek, and she wiped it away quickly, hoping Kevin wouldn’t notice.

But he did.

Without a word, he reached over and gave her hand a light squeeze. It was so subtle, so natural, that she almost didn’t register it. But the warmth of the gesture calmed her. She didn’t pull away.

“Thanks,” she whispered, her voice cracking slightly.

Kevin didn’t say anything in response, just kept his hand resting over hers until the song ended.

When Beyoncé transitioned into an upbeat anthem, the atmosphere shifted again. Kevin released her hand, his playful energy returning.

“All right,” he said, turning to her with a wide smile. “Time to dance it out.”

Y/N laughed, wiping the remnants of tears from her face. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“Gotta make sure my concert buddy’s having a good time.”

“Your concert buddy?”

“Yep.” He nodded confidently. “We’ve sung, danced, and cried together. That’s a bond right there.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the grin tugging at her lips. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously fun,” he corrected, giving her a dramatic spin as Beyoncé launched into “Crazy in Love.”

Y/N let herself be pulled into his orbit, her laughter blending with the crowd’s cheers. For the rest of the night, she didn’t hold back. She danced, sang, and even shouted a few ad-libs with Kevin, who was somehow as energetic during the encore as he was at the start.

As the final confetti rained down and Beyoncé bowed to the roaring crowd, Y/N realized something surprising. For the first time since the breakup, she felt good.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The crowd was beginning to thin out, the energy still buzzing in the air, but Y/N felt strangely empty. She had enjoyed herself—more than she expected—but the final song had stirred up feelings she wasn’t ready to face. She lingered near the exits, standing just outside the arena where people spilled into the parking lot.

The night had been a whirlwind. She was still processing her emotions about the breakup, but now that Beyoncé was gone, the weight of her own thoughts returned.

Y/N found a quiet corner near a row of vendor stalls, hoping the chill air would help steady her. She leaned against the brick wall, pulling her jacket tighter around her, feeling a familiar lump form in her throat.

She could already feel the hot tears threatening to spill again. She wiped at her eyes, fighting it. She had promised herself she wouldn’t cry tonight.

“You okay?”

The voice was gentle but familiar. She turned, startled, and saw Kevin standing a few feet away, concern in his eyes.

She wasn’t sure how long he’d been watching her. She tried to smile but it felt forced, so she opted for a shrug.

“I’m fine,” she muttered, clearing her throat. “Just… processing.”

Kevin didn’t move. He took a step closer, a hint of hesitation in his step. “Are you sure? You looked… like you were having a good time earlier.”

“I was,” she said, looking down. “I don’t know. I guess it’s just one of those nights, you know?” She managed a small laugh, but it quickly faltered.

“Yeah, I get it.” He nodded, his voice softening. “That’s a lot to deal with. It’s like the universe knows when you’re vulnerable and just piles it all on.”

Y/N was quiet for a moment. He didn’t push. He just stood there, waiting.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. “He broke up with me,” she finally said, the words feeling heavier than she’d expected. “Right before the concert. Like, right before. We were supposed to come here together, and then… he said he didn’t think it was working anymore.”

Kevin stayed silent for a moment, letting the words sink in. Then, he shook his head, disbelief evident on his face. “That’s… the worst timing I’ve ever heard. Who does that before Beyoncé?”

Y/N snorted, a dry laugh slipping out. “Right? I was supposed to have the night of my life, and now… well, now I’m here crying over my ex.”

“You deserve better than that,” Kevin said, his voice firm but kind. He took another step closer, giving her space but making it clear he was there for her.

Y/N swallowed hard. She wanted to say something, but instead, she just stared at him, blinking back more tears.

Kevin didn’t say anything more. He simply sat down next to her, close but not too close, as if he was giving her the option to pull away if she wanted.

They were silent for a long time, the sound of the remaining concertgoers drifting into the background. The crowd was loud, but the quiet between them felt safe.

After a few minutes, Kevin shifted slightly, breaking the stillness with a casual tone. “You know, you could always take this as a sign to let your ex go. It’s like the universe gave you the perfect night to start fresh. I mean, we’re at a Beyoncé concert—she practically hands out empowerment with every song.”

Y/N snorted again, though the sound was more of a broken laugh than anything else. “Yeah, right. Like I can just move on because Beyoncé said so.”

“Why not? It worked for me.” Kevin’s grin was playful, and it lightened the air. “She’s been teaching me how to live my best life for years.”

Y/N chuckled, finally looking at him. “I thought you were just here for the Beyoncé trivia, not life lessons.”

“Hey, both are important. It’s all about balance.” He shrugged, smiling in that easygoing way that made him seem so approachable.

Y/N hesitated for a second before she laughed again. “Maybe you’re right. I don’t know if I’m ready for the whole ‘new chapter’ thing, though.”

Kevin looked over at her with a kind expression. “You don’t have to be. But don’t let one bad night make you forget how much you deserve, you know?”

She stared at him for a moment. His words felt too sincere, and it made her feel things she wasn’t ready to deal with.

“Well, if it’s okay with you, I could use a walk,” she said softly, trying to change the subject. “You’re probably headed somewhere else anyway.”

Kevin grinned. “I’m not going anywhere, unless you want me to. I’m your personal Beyoncé assistant for the night.”

Y/N smiled, the first real smile of the evening. It felt like a small step in the right direction.

“Yeah, okay. Walk with me.”

Kevin stood up and offered her his hand, his eyes bright with an enthusiasm that made her feel just a little bit lighter.

As they walked together through the parking lot, Y/N realized that while her heart was still aching, maybe this night wasn’t a total loss after all.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The chill in the air had settled comfortably around them as Y/N and Kevin walked side by side through the parking lot. The sharp hum of the crowd faded with each step, leaving behind a quiet that felt oddly intimate. Y/N appreciated the peace. After everything that had happened earlier—her boyfriend’s sudden breakup, the overwhelming concert, and her unspoken emotions—Kevin’s presence was a comforting distraction.

They kept the conversation light, mostly chatting about the concert and Beyoncé’s killer performance, but Y/N could sense there was something more to Kevin. He had this easy confidence, not in a bragging way, but in a way that made everything seem a little less daunting. He didn’t push her to talk about her ex, didn’t probe further. He just let her take the lead when she wanted to.

“You know,” Kevin said, breaking the easy silence between them, “Beyoncé really knows how to get you out of your head.”

Y/N nodded, letting out a small, relieved sigh. “Yeah, she does. Even when things are falling apart, her music has this way of making you feel like you’re invincible.”

Kevin glanced over at her, his expression softening. “Yeah, like you can take on the world and still look damn good doing it.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “If only it were that easy.”

Kevin stopped walking for a moment, turning to face her. There was an earnestness in his eyes, his gaze steady. “It’s not easy, but it’s not impossible, either.”

Y/N felt a small wave of warmth spread through her chest. It was the kind of comment that seemed simple, but for some reason, it felt like more than just words. It felt like encouragement—like Kevin genuinely believed that she could find her footing again.

“So, what now?” Y/N asked after a beat, not quite sure what she was expecting. But Kevin seemed to have the right answer.

“I’m just gonna say it—if you want to stay distracted from your ex and just keep enjoying life, I’m your guy,” he said with a grin, the humor in his voice taking any pressure off the offer. “You want to go get some coffee? Maybe talk Beyoncé trivia? Or we could just grab a burger. I know a great place.”

Y/N blinked, surprised by how natural the invitation felt. She hadn’t expected someone she’d just met to offer this kind of solace, but somehow, it didn’t feel out of place. In fact, it was exactly what she needed.

“You really like Beyoncé, huh?” she teased, trying to keep the mood light.

Kevin chuckled. “Beyoncé is life. But yeah, I think we should definitely hang out again. You don’t have to spend the rest of the night brooding over some guy who doesn’t know what he’s losing.”

Y/N paused, the words hitting her in a way she hadn’t anticipated. “Thanks, Kevin,” she said quietly, her heart feeling a little lighter. She didn’t want to admit it, but his kindness felt like an unexpected gift, a spark of hope in a night that had been filled with a lot of confusion and hurt.

“No problem,” he said, his smile turning warmer. “Besides, who else is gonna appreciate your Beyoncé knowledge? I’m not just here for the good times. I’m here for the deep talks and the bad dance moves, too.”

Y/N laughed, her mood lifting a little more. “I’ve got a lot of both, so you’re in for a wild ride.”

Kevin smiled, and for the first time that night, Y/N felt like the weight of her breakup was just a little bit lighter.

“Well,” Kevin said, turning toward the exit of the lot, “I’m in for whatever you’ve got. But seriously, text me if you ever need someone to talk to or, you know, vent. I’m all about the backup singer role.”

Y/N paused as they reached the edge of the parking lot, looking at him for a moment. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, feeling the tightness in her chest ease just a little bit more. She grabbed her phone from her bag but hesitated before getting in. “And, Kevin… I don’t know if you’re just being nice, but thanks for being here tonight. I really mean it.”

Kevin looked at her, his expression soft. “No need to thank me. I’m happy to be here. I know it’s not the greatest night, but you’ve got this. And if you need some Beyoncé therapy, I’m your guy.”

Y/N smiled, her heart a little lighter than before. She was still hurt, still processing everything that had happened with her ex, but there was something comforting in knowing that even in the messiest of moments, someone like Kevin could step in and remind her that there was more to life than pain.

“Okay, then,” she said, nodding. “Guess I’ll hold you to that.”

Kevin gave her a playful salute before backing away. “You do that. I’ll be ready when you are. But, uh, just so you know, I’m not a serial killer or anything, I promise. I mean, you don’t know me that well, but I’m definitely not that guy.”

Y/N blinked, taken aback for a second before laughing out loud. “Right, because that was the first thing I was thinking of. You’ve got your work cut out for you, I guess.”

Kevin smirked. “Hey, I had to put it out there. Better safe than sorry, right?”

Y/N shook her head with a smile. “You’re lucky you’re funny.”

As Y/N stepped away from the parking lot, she realized that she had to get to her rideshare pickup point. She pulled up her phone, checking her location, and sent a quick text. On my way!

Kevin waved as she started walking away. “Let me know if you need a ride—unless you’re really trusting a complete stranger to take you home. Then I can’t help you there.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh as she waved back. “I’ll take my chances. You know, not every guy you meet at a concert ends up being a serial killer.”

With that, Y/N made her way toward the rideshare, feeling a little lighter than before. She wasn’t sure where things would go with Kevin, but for the first time in a while, she was allowing herself to feel something that wasn’t just sadness.

She glanced at her phone again, smiling when she saw a text from him.

Kevin: “Beyoncé trivia challenge next time?”

Y/N smiled, feeling the smallest thread of excitement for the first time that night. She typed back quickly.

Y/N: “You’re on. I’ll be ready.”

And as she slid into the back of the rideshare, the night didn’t feel quite so lonely anymore.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿��‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The week after the concert, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling of how surreal everything had felt. Her breakup, the unexpected comfort of meeting Kevin, and the lingering, odd spark between them all seemed to blur together like one big, emotional whirlwind. In the days since, she kept herself busy—schoolwork, calls with her friends, and binge-watching reruns of her favorite shows to numb the pain of what had happened. But there was something about Kevin that kept creeping into her thoughts.

It was a sunny afternoon when she decided to text him. Nothing too complicated. Just a “Hey, how’s it going?” She hadn’t expected a reply so quickly, but less than an hour later, Kevin’s name flashed on her phone.

Kevin: “Heyyy! All good on my end. I was just about to start a deep dive into Beyoncé’s discography again. Want to join me? I’m feeling ‘Formation’ vibes today.”

Y/N chuckled to herself. Formation. Of course. It felt like the kind of thing Kevin would text her. The words seemed to light up the screen, a tiny spark that made her smile for the first time in days. She stared at the message for a moment, then typed out her response, not overthinking it.

Y/N: “You know I can never resist a Beyoncé deep dive. I’m in.”

It didn’t take long before they were making plans to meet up at a coffee shop near campus. She hadn’t seen Kevin in a few days, but the thought of hanging out again felt strangely comforting. They weren’t in a rush to define anything. There was something about the way Kevin made her feel that wasn’t rushed or heavy. It was easy.

Y/N was just about to leave her apartment when she hesitated, glancing in the mirror as she touched up her makeup. It wasn’t like she had anything to impress Kevin with. She wasn’t trying to get back into dating. She wasn’t even sure if that was something she wanted yet. But something about the idea of seeing him again made her stomach flutter in a way she hadn’t felt in a while.

No pressure, she reminded herself. You’re just hanging out with a friend. You don’t need to overthink this.

She left her apartment and caught a quick rideshare to the coffee shop. When she walked in, she saw Kevin sitting at a table near the window, looking as relaxed as ever. His green hoodie stood out against the beige coffee shop walls, and his lips were curved into that easygoing grin that made her feel like she belonged in his world, even if just for a little while.

Kevin spotted her immediately and waved, standing up to greet her. “Hey! You made it.” His grin widened, but it wasn’t the same playful grin from their first meeting. There was something a little more personal in it now, like he was genuinely happy to see her. “Beyoncé trivia awaits.”

Y/N laughed, taking a seat across from him. “I don’t think you’re ready for my knowledge.”

“I’m not worried,” Kevin said, eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’ve been practicing. Bring it on.”

The next few hours passed in a blur of coffee, laughter, and surprisingly intense Beyoncé debates. They argued over the best live performances, the meaning behind some of the lyrics, and their thoughts on her various music videos. Kevin’s humor never wavered, and the way he made Y/N feel so comfortable with herself was starting to sink in. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had this much fun just talking to someone, and the longer they spent together, the more she found herself forgetting that she was trying to move past a breakup.

At one point, they ended up watching a live performance of “Run the World (Girls)” on Kevin’s phone, completely immersed in the music. Y/N was so caught up in it that she barely noticed Kevin’s hand inching closer to hers. And before she knew it, their fingers brushed.

It was a simple, fleeting touch. But it left Y/N with a sudden, confusing flutter in her chest.

“Sorry,” Kevin said, pulling his hand back quickly, his face flushing slightly. “Didn’t mean to… I didn’t know if that was cool. I mean, I thought maybe we could—”

“It’s fine,” Y/N blurted out, her heart racing a little. She quickly cleared her throat, trying to act casual. “I mean, you didn’t—nothing. I’m good.”

Kevin chuckled awkwardly, clearly sensing her tension. “Okay, good. But I mean… you know, I wouldn’t have done that if you weren’t—”

“No, it’s fine,” Y/N interrupted again, forcing a smile. She had no idea why her nerves were suddenly going into overdrive. It was just a touch, nothing more.

But as they went back to watching the video, Y/N couldn’t help but think about it. It was like a sudden shift—a tiny moment that made her wonder if maybe things were starting to feel more than just friendly between them. And that thought made her feel even more confused.

She had sworn off relationships for a while. And yet, there she was, getting lost in Kevin’s smile, in his humor, in the way he made her feel like she was worth more than the person who had broken her heart.

“So, what do you think?” Kevin asked, pulling her out of her thoughts. “Next Beyoncé concert? I think we can totally make it happen. It’s going to be a whole thing.”

Y/N blinked, realizing she had drifted off again. “Right. The concert. I’m totally in. As long as we get the VIP tickets this time,” she joked.

“Deal,” Kevin said with a wink. “I’ll make sure we’re front and center.”

Y/N couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face. It wasn’t that she was ready to jump into something serious. But, for the first time in a while, she wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea of seeing where things might go with Kevin. For once, it felt like she was doing more than just surviving. She was starting to feel… alive again.

As they continued to talk about their next concert plans, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder what other surprises Kevin had in store for her.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

As Y/N walked into the coffee shop, she spotted Kevin right away. His green hoodie stood out against the cozy, neutral-toned interior, and his wide grin made her stomach flutter. The usual sense of calm she had around him felt almost reassuring now, but that subtle tension, the one that always lingered when they were around each other, had begun to grow stronger.

Kevin waved, his eyes lighting up when he saw her. “Hey! You made it.” He stood up, pulling the chair out for her. “Beyoncé trivia awaits.”

Y/N grinned, slipping into the seat across from him. “I hope you’re ready to lose.”

Kevin laughed, easing back into his own chair, still looking at her with that playful, relaxed expression. “I’ve been practicing, trust me. I’m ready to go head-to-head with you.”

As they settled into the flow of conversation, Y/N could feel her nerves settling too. It was the kind of easy-going banter they had fallen into the last time they hung out—talking about music, laughing over random trivia facts, and debating their favorite Beyoncé lyrics. Kevin’s energy was contagious, and before long, the hours had slipped by unnoticed.

They eventually found themselves watching a live performance of “Run the World (Girls)” on Kevin’s phone, their attention fully immersed in the beat and the powerful energy Beyoncé exuded on stage. Without thinking, Kevin reached for her hand, his fingers brushing against hers as they both reached for the screen. It was light, almost accidental, but the contact sent a jolt through Y/N.

Kevin quickly pulled his hand back, flushing slightly. “Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to—”

Y/N’s heart was racing, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure how to act. Her breath caught in her chest, and she laughed to cover the sudden awkwardness. “No, it’s fine. You didn’t—nothing, I’m good.”

He gave her a sheepish smile, obviously sensing the shift in energy. “Right, okay. Just making sure. But, you know, I wouldn’t have—if you weren’t okay with it.”

Y/N nodded quickly, feeling her face heat up. “Yeah, yeah. I’m good.”

But as the video continued playing, Y/N couldn’t shake the image of their hands brushing. There was something about it that felt like a subtle turning point. She had sworn to herself that she wasn’t going to jump back into anything serious, especially after the emotional toll of her recent breakup. But here she was, feeling something shift in her chest, and she couldn’t quite pinpoint whether it was fear or excitement.

When the video ended, Kevin shifted his posture, clearly trying to make light of the moment. “So, what do you think? Next Beyoncé concert? I’m thinking we can totally make it happen. It’s gonna be a whole vibe.”

Y/N snapped out of her thoughts, smiling at his enthusiasm. “Right. The concert. We should definitely do that.”

Kevin grinned, “I’ll make sure we’re front and center this time.”

Y/N felt her pulse quicken, though she wasn’t sure if it was the idea of another concert or the thought of spending more time with him. Either way, it felt like something more than just a casual hangout. It felt like a step closer to something undefined, but real.

She forced herself to focus on the present, to not get ahead of herself. “Deal,” she said, offering him a genuine smile. “But only if you get VIP tickets. No nosebleeds this time.”

Kevin winked. “You got it.”

As they continued to joke about concert plans, Y/N couldn’t ignore the feeling of anticipation in her chest. It was as though she had finally found someone who could make her feel alive again, someone who was easy to talk to, easy to laugh with—and maybe, just maybe, someone who could make her believe in the possibility of new beginnings.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The week leading up to the concert felt like a blur. The anticipation wasn’t just for the show itself—it was the thought of spending the night with Kevin that kept Y/N awake in the early hours, her mind racing with questions she wasn’t ready to answer. What was this feeling? Why was she so nervous about something as simple as a concert? Was she overthinking things, or was there really something more between them?

As the day finally arrived, Y/N found herself standing in front of her mirror, staring at her outfit as if it were some kind of decision that could change everything. She laughed at herself, shaking her head. No one needed to get dressed up for a concert, right? It wasn’t a date. They were just two people going to a show together. She had promised herself that she wasn’t rushing into anything, that she wasn’t trying to replace one emotional rollercoaster with another.

But there was something about Kevin that made her second-guess all of that. He was easy to talk to, yes, but there was a deeper comfort in him—one that made her feel understood in a way she hadn’t realized she needed. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had made her feel so at ease, so completely herself. And as much as she tried to keep things casual, the way she thought about him was beginning to change.

They met up outside the venue, where the crowd buzzed with energy. The usual excitement of a concert loomed in the air, but something felt different this time. Maybe it was because the whole thing wasn’t just about the performance. It was about spending time with Kevin, about seeing where things might go. She couldn’t deny that the thought made her feel a little lighter.

Kevin greeted her with his usual warm grin, looking relaxed in his jeans and a jacket, not the kind of person who made her feel like she had to put on a front. “Ready for this?” he asked, his voice light, but with an undercurrent of excitement she could feel in her chest.

Y/N smiled, feeling an unexpected rush of anticipation. “You know it. But I hope you’re prepared for me to out-sing you the entire time.”

“Bring it on,” Kevin shot back, eyes twinkling with humor. “I’ve been practicing.”

The concert itself was an unforgettable experience, but not for the reasons Y/N had expected. It wasn’t just about the music or the lights or the crowd. It was about the quiet moments in between—when Kevin would glance at her with that soft, knowing look, the way he would hand her a drink or ask if she was okay without even needing to be told. It was the small things that added up to something bigger.

They talked during the entire show, laughing over shared inside jokes, teasing each other over their respective dance moves (which, admittedly, weren’t as coordinated as they’d hoped), and even commenting on how ridiculous the outfits people around them were wearing. It felt like they were in their own little world, even though they were surrounded by thousands of people.

At one point, the lights dimmed for a quieter song. It wasn’t a moment where they could shout lyrics or get lost in the music, and for a second, the air between them was quiet, the sounds of the crowd fading into the background. Kevin leaned in slightly, as if testing the waters. “Hey, you good?”

Y/N blinked, surprised by the question. She had been lost in thought, in the quiet of the music, but the way Kevin asked it felt different. It wasn’t casual. It was like he truly cared. She smiled, feeling the warmth of the moment. “Yeah, I’m good. Just… enjoying the peace for a second.”

Kevin grinned, nodding as if he understood. “You know, I’m really glad we’re doing this. Not just the concert, but… hanging out like this. It’s been fun, Y/N.”

Her heart fluttered at the unexpected honesty. It wasn’t the kind of thing you expected to hear from someone after only a few weeks of hanging out. But the more they spent time together, the clearer it became that their bond was growing stronger. The concert was a backdrop to something much deeper than just music.

By the time the show ended, the energy in the air had shifted. The crowd slowly started to disperse, and the lights came up, signaling the end of the night. Y/N didn’t want the night to end. Not because she was particularly enamored with the show or because she was still processing the performance. But because, for the first time in what felt like forever, she didn’t want to say goodbye to the person who had made her feel this… alive.

They walked out of the venue together, the cool night air offering a reprieve from the heat of the crowd. The conversation flowed easily as they made their way toward the parking lot, both of them reluctant to end the night.

“I had a really good time tonight,” Kevin said, his voice quiet but sincere as they approached her ride. “I’m glad we did this.”

Y/N smiled, trying to keep the knot in her chest from giving away how much she truly appreciated his company. “Yeah, me too. I’m glad you were the one to drag me into this whole thing. I don’t think I would’ve had nearly as much fun with anyone else.”

Kevin’s expression softened, his eyes meeting hers in a way that made Y/N’s heart skip. “I mean, you made it fun. It’s not just about the concert. It’s… it’s about hanging out with someone who actually gets it.”

The words lingered between them, heavy in the air. Y/N felt the pull between them—the kind that was undeniable but unspoken. She didn’t know what it was, this connection they shared, but she wasn’t afraid of it. Not anymore.

Before she could think too much, Kevin’s lips curved into that playful grin again. “So… next time we do this, what’s the verdict? Maybe a comedy show? Or a karaoke night?”

Y/N laughed, relieved by the shift back to their usual easy banter. “Karaoke sounds good, but I’m warning you now—I’m a beast on the mic.”

Kevin raised his hands in mock surrender. “Oh, I’m terrified already. Bring it on.”

They shared one last laugh before Y/N reached for her rideshare, a quiet sense of contentment settling over her. As she waved goodbye to Kevin, she realized that it wasn’t about what they’d done or where they’d been. It was about who they were when they were together. For the first time since her breakup, Y/N felt like she could breathe again, like she didn’t need to rush or overthink things. The night had proven something she hadn’t known she needed: that connection wasn’t just about grand gestures or big moments. It was in the quiet ones, too—the ones that made her feel understood without needing to say a word.

As she sat back in the car, the city lights flashing by, Y/N couldn’t help but smile. Maybe it wasn’t about finding someone to fill the space her ex had left. Maybe it was about finding someone who made her want to fill the space with laughter and quiet moments that felt just as important.

And for the first time in a long while, Y/N felt like maybe, just maybe, she was starting to look forward to something new.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The next time they met up, it wasn’t planned. Y/N was out running errands when Kevin texted her.

Kevin: “What are you up to? I’m grabbing lunch if you want to join.”

Her day had been exhausting—a mix of work, school assignments, and endless errands—but something about Kevin’s casual invite made her pause. A part of her wanted to say no, to just head home and recharge. But the bigger part, the one that always lit up at the thought of him, couldn’t resist.

Y/N: “Where are you? I could eat.”

Kevin sent her the address of a small café near campus, and within 20 minutes, she was there. She spotted him right away, sitting outside at one of the tables, his usual green hoodie paired with a messy bun. He was scrolling on his phone, absentmindedly sipping from a cup of iced coffee.

“Hey,” Y/N greeted as she approached.

Kevin looked up, his face breaking into a smile the second he saw her. “Hey! Glad you could make it. Wasn’t sure if you’d be free.”

“I almost wasn’t,” she admitted, pulling out the chair across from him. “But food and good company were tempting enough.”

Kevin chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Well, I promise the food’s good. As for the company… you’ll have to tell me.”

They ordered sandwiches and talked about everything and nothing while they waited. Kevin was easy to talk to—he always had been—but today felt different. Maybe it was because their conversation drifted away from surface-level topics, sinking into things they hadn’t talked about before.

He told her about his family, about growing up in Canada and how moving away for college had been both exciting and terrifying. She shared stories about her own childhood, the way her parents had supported her in every crazy dream she’d ever had. They talked about what they wanted for their futures, their fears, their dreams. It wasn’t anything groundbreaking, but it was real.

At one point, Kevin hesitated, his gaze flickering down to the table before meeting hers. “Can I ask you something?”

Y/N tilted her head, curious. “Sure.”

“Have you thought about… us?” His voice was careful, like he didn’t want to push her too hard. “I mean, I know we’ve been hanging out a lot, and it’s been great. But I just—sometimes I wonder if maybe you see me as more than just a friend.”

Y/N froze, her heart suddenly pounding in her chest. She had thought about it. Of course, she had. Kevin wasn’t just anyone. He was funny and kind and thoughtful in ways that made her feel like she was the only person in the world when they were together. But the idea of admitting that out loud, of putting words to the feelings she’d been trying to suppress, felt like too much.

“I…” She trailed off, her gaze dropping to her hands. “I don’t know.”

Kevin nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “That’s okay. You don’t have to know right now. I just— I wanted to be honest. Because I think about it. A lot. And I don’t want to pretend like I don’t feel something when I’m around you.”

Y/N looked up, meeting his eyes. There was no pressure in them, no expectation. Just honesty.

“I like spending time with you,” she said quietly. “A lot. And I don’t know what that means yet, but… I know I don’t want it to stop.”

Kevin’s smile widened, his shoulders relaxing as if he’d been holding his breath. “Me neither.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the air between them feeling lighter, warmer. It wasn’t a declaration of love or a grand romantic moment, but it didn’t need to be. It was enough.

As they finished their lunch, the conversation shifted back to its usual playful tone, but there was a new ease between them. A quiet understanding that something was shifting, even if they weren’t ready to define it yet.

When they left the café, Kevin walked her to her car. They lingered there for a moment, the sun casting long shadows on the pavement.

“Thanks for coming today,” Kevin said, his hands stuffed into his pockets. “I know it was last minute, but… I’m glad you were here.”

Y/N smiled, feeling that familiar flutter in her chest. “Me too.”

For a moment, she thought he might lean in, that their story might take a step forward in a way she wasn’t sure she was ready for. But Kevin just grinned and gave her a small wave as he stepped back.

“Drive safe,” he said.

As she drove away, Y/N couldn’t help but smile to herself. Things were changing between them, and for the first time, she wasn’t scared of what that might mean.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

It had been weeks since the café conversation, and while Y/N and Kevin hadn’t officially defined their relationship, something had definitely shifted between them. Their texts grew longer, their hangouts more frequent. Even the silences between them felt comfortable, filled with unspoken understanding.

Today, they had planned to meet at the park near campus, a favorite spot of Kevin’s. He had insisted on bringing snacks and claimed he had a surprise for her, though he wouldn’t give any details.

When Y/N arrived, Kevin was already there, sprawled out on a blanket under the shade of a large oak tree. A basket sat beside him, and he was messing with something on his phone, likely adding a new playlist to his ever-growing collection.

“Hey,” she called out, walking over to him.

Kevin looked up, his face lighting up in a way that still caught her off guard. “You’re late.”

“You’re lucky I showed up at all,” she teased, dropping her bag next to him. “What’s in the basket? Don’t tell me it’s just sandwiches again.”

He grinned, gesturing for her to sit. “No sandwiches, I promise. Today is fancy picnic day. I brought charcuterie.”

“Charcuterie?” Y/N laughed as she sat down, pulling the basket closer to inspect it. Sure enough, there were neatly packed containers of cheese, crackers, fruit, and even a small jar of honey.

“I had to impress you somehow,” Kevin said with a smirk. “Besides, I’ve been watching those aesthetic picnic TikToks. This is my debut.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “You’re ridiculous. But this actually looks amazing.”

As they ate, their conversation flowed effortlessly, as it always did. They talked about their week, shared updates about school and work, and debated over what movie they should watch at their next hangout. Y/N felt a warmth settle over her, the kind that came from being with someone who made her feel completely at ease.

When they finished eating, Kevin leaned back against the tree, his eyes scanning the park. “So, I promised you a surprise.”

“Oh?” Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Is it Beyoncé-themed? Because I think we’ve exhausted all the possible surprises there.”

Kevin laughed. “Not this time. I figured we needed to expand our horizons.” He reached into his bag and pulled out two small envelopes. “Here.”

Y/N took one, eyeing him suspiciously. “What is this?”

“Just open it.”

She slid her finger under the flap and pulled out the contents. Her eyes widened as she realized what it was. Two tickets to a local art exhibit she’d mentioned in passing weeks ago, one she hadn’t been able to afford at the time.

“Kevin,” she said softly, looking up at him. “How did you—why did you—”

He shrugged, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “You mentioned you wanted to go, and I figured it’d be fun. Plus, I’m trying to earn some best-friend points. Or, you know… more-than-friend points.”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I try.” His grin softened into something more genuine. “I just wanted to do something nice for you. You’ve had a rough few weeks, and I figured this might cheer you up.”

She looked at him, her heart swelling in a way that was both terrifying and wonderful. Kevin had a way of making her feel seen, like every little thing she said or did mattered.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Really.”

Kevin held her gaze for a moment, his smile fading into something more serious. “You don’t have to thank me, Y/N. I like doing this kind of stuff for you. I care about you. A lot.”

Y/N’s breath caught. She had known this moment was coming, had felt it building between them for weeks. But hearing him say it out loud made her chest tighten in a way that was equal parts thrilling and terrifying.

“I care about you too,” she said, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside her. “I just… I don’t know if I’m ready for something serious yet.”

Kevin nodded, his expression understanding. “That’s okay. I’m not asking for anything you’re not ready to give. I just wanted you to know how I feel.”

The weight of his words hung between them, but it didn’t feel heavy. It felt freeing, like a door opening instead of closing.

They sat in silence for a while, watching the sun dip lower in the sky. Kevin reached over and took her hand, his touch warm and steady. Y/N didn’t pull away.

For the first time in a long time, she felt like she didn’t have to have all the answers.

As the evening turned to dusk, they packed up their things and walked back to their cars. Kevin stopped her before she got in, his hand brushing hers again.

“So,” he said, his voice light but his eyes serious. “Next concert, you’re still my plus one, right?”

Y/N smiled, her heart feeling lighter than it had in weeks. “Always.”

Kevin grinned, stepping back as she climbed into her car. As she drove away, Y/N couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at her lips.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

[applesaucesims]

After work, Niall took his car a bit further than usual, following Franklin to his home that he shared with Laura. He needed somebody to talk to about his doubts, and Franklin was the one who understood the topic the most of all.

Once inside, Franklin led his friend to a sitting room and lit the fireplace. Niall's eyes immediately jumped to a bottle of whisky that had been placed on a small table in just the right position to have a relaxing night of drinking on the couch. Although he had been trying to stay away from alcohol, Franklin seemed to be making a good point that he could just have a sip or two. Surely that could not cause any issues.

After a number of whisky glasses that Niall had lost count of quite early on, he slowly opened up to Franklin about the worries he had about Louis. He told him about the dream that his son had told him about, and how that had released feelings of doubt he had been pushing away rather than working on them.

As he listened to Franklin's words of encouragement, Niall felt his head getting heavier and the world around him seemed to be getting blurrier by the minute. Suddenly, his body seemed to act on autopilot, and he pulled his friend in for a kiss, just as he was about to turn away from him.

Thankfully, though, Franklin pushed him away immediately. They might have been together like that in the past, but that was all it was - the past. Neither of them actually still had any feelings for the other, and they had moved on a long time ago.

Bringing some distance between them, Niall scooted away in embarrassment. In doing so, his eyes fell to the photograph of Franklin's partner, Maxim, whom he had actually introduced him to, and then, just above, another photograph of himself with Emma, his wife. What was he even doing here? Was it really that easy for him to slip into old habits and make it worse at that? What would she say if she saw him like this now?

[TRANSCRIPT]

Franklin: "So, may I offer you a drink? Let me just light the fireplace."

Niall: "Erm... what sort of drink?"

Franklin: "You still like whisky?"

Niall: "Uhm... technically... but I haven't had one in ages."

Franklin: "Really? I can't imagine."

Niall: "I swear! I haven't had alcohol since... some time after Louis was born?"

Franklin: "Maybe that's why you're so stressed out."

Niall: "I mean... I can't say it isn't."

Franklin: "Right, surely one glass won't kill you. To take the edge off, you know?"

Niall: "Right."

...

Franklin: "So, you're worried because of a dream?"

Niall: "You're gonna tell me it doesn't mean anything, aren't you?"

Franklin: "Maybe not, but either way... That's got nothin' to do with you in the end, does it?"

Niall: *sighs* "I don't know. I guess I just hate to face that part of myself."

Franklin: "You're never gonna find peace that way, Niall."

Niall: "I know. And I love Emma so much, but thinking about this makes me feel like a fraud." *hic*

Franklin: "That's ridiculous. You just like both, and most of all you like her. It's that simple."

Niall: "Easy *hic* for you to say."

Franklin: *laughs* "How are you this drunk already? I need to catch up! Let me just top up my glass and- Mh!"

Franklin: "Niall, stop! What the fuck are you doing!?"

Niall: "I- I don't know."

Franklin: "That's enough drinking for you then."

Niall: "I'm so sorry! I don't know what's come over me!"

Franklin: "You really need to start properly working through this shit. I'll help you if you need me to, but I'm not here for you to fool around with for some distraction."

Niall: "I know, I don't even want that from you. You know this."

Niall: "I'm so stupid! I never should have come here. I tell you, this thing is causing nothing but trouble in my life."

Franklin: "Look, it's fine. Just figure yourself out. Your damned sexual preferences are not the issue here."

Niall: "Right. I'll- I'll try my best. Thanks for the talk."

[piecesofreeses]

We've Got You

Nick ignores his mental health in favor of staying on top of work. When his involuntary age regression catches up with him, Matt and Chris are there. 

Told in 3rd person limited (like most of my stories) where the reader has access to Nick’s thoughts, but not Matt or Chris’s.

DISCLAIMER:

This is an age regression fanfic! Age regression is a completely nonsexual coping skill and it is represented appropriately and correctly as it relates to my life. Regression can be positive in many circumstances, but not all. If you are struggling with your mental health or involuntary age regression, talking to a professional is always the best choice.

Hate will not be tolerated, nor will it be entertained. I will not give you my attention; your comment will just be deleted! Please don’t waste your time, just take your bullshit somewhere else!

One more note:

This is NOT incestual, nor is it sexual in any manner. The comfort Nick receives during and after his panic attack is purely loving, familial support. Yes! They cuddle! Yes! They hold Nick and rub his back! Yes! They share a bed for the night! No! None of that makes this “weird!” 

TWs: Panic attack, descriptions of the physical sensation of a panic attack, avoiding regression, swearing, lighthearted arguing, guilt for enjoying a pacifier

Okay on to the story!

Nick always tries to be the quick witted, loud, strong oldest brother. With the triplets spending so much time in LA just the three of them, more now than ever they have to keep each other in line. And yes, that means Nick has to take care of his brothers even when he doesn’t want to. 

Matt may be their transportation as the only brother with a license, but Nick still feels like he’s mothering them half of the time. He’s constantly sticking a hand between his brother's faces both literally and metaphorically. While Nick probably couldn’t love Matt and Chris any more than he does, they’re brothers; it’s impossible for them not to get on his nerves sometimes. 

Currently, the triplets are sitting in a parking lot about ten minutes from their house filming a car video. Nick is tired and has been a bit quieter than usual, leaving his quips and comebacks to a minimum, just listening to Matt and Chris rant. 

Suddenly, of-fucking-course, the two are arguing again. It’s something stupid about the song that’s playing in the background— no wait— it’s about Matt’s phone? Nick isn’t really sure, he’s just exhausted. It’s not the other boys fault; they can disagree and get at each other throats all they want in the car videos. Nick knows the fans love it, but in that moment he’s just so goddamn overwhelmed.

Nick tries to open his mouth to tell his brothers to shut the fuck up, but no sound comes out. He feels a bit like he’s sinking into the backseat, totally isolated from the argument in the front. Nick knows he’s fine, so why does he want to cry? Why can’t he get his words to come out?

A tear escapes and slips down his cheek. He tries to wipe it away but his arm feels so heavy and his fingers feel so clunky and they’re not moving the way he needs them to. Why is everything so hard?

Without even meaning to, Nick lets a little whine slip past his lips. Even though he hates asking for help, he’s sure he needs Matt and Chris. If nothing else, they need to turn off the camera, but apparently the fighting in the front seat is too loud, because the boys give no indication of hearing him. 

Oh no, Nick realizes as his mind gets even fuzzier, I’m slipping.

Nick knows he regresses if stress gets to him too much– his brothers know too, but God, it hasn’t happened in months.

He’s usually pretty good about preventing it by being gentle with himself, but it’s just been so fucking stressful this month. The end of the podcast just ended up being a lot of work and he didn’t have time to cater to his mental health the way he has to to make sure he never slips. 

This is the result, I guess, Nick thinks. Because he refused to show himself some goddamn love when he was big, his brain was forcing him to regress. And he didn’t get to pick when. 

“Matt?” The oldest choked out.

Still no response. Nick felt like he was sinking into his brain as everything started to feel eerily quiet, like his brother’s voices were coming from underwater. 

Maybe I’m the one underwater, he thinks as the whole world begins to appear muted in color. My sensory processing just conked out, didn’t it.

“Chris? Help,” Nick tried again, but it came out even quieter than the previous attempt. Despite his every effort, Nick felt his eyes well up. 

Why won’t they stop arguing? I need help! I need help and I don’t know how to get it! Someone please help me. Matt? Chris? Please help me.

It’s all far too much, so he closes his eyes and fights against his heavy limbs, eventually able to pick up his hands to cover his ears. He feels himself shaking gently and the first of his tears begin to flow down his cheeks. Apparently, Nick hasn’t breathed in a while, because suddenly he feels himself gasp involuntary. Fighting the sudden rush of air, his throat catches on nothing and he coughs out, forcing more tears to spill. 

Nick’s forearms are covering his cheeks from the way he's trying to protect his ears, and he feels them wet from how hard he's begun to cry. He convulses in a sob and finally, a loud enough sound comes out.

“Nick?!” He hears Matt yell. “Something’s wrong, Chris! Turn that shit off!”

They’re coming. They’re gonna help. Please hurry, though.

“Okay, okay I am. Go get in the back with him!” Chris’s response comes, quieter.

He doesn't even hear the door open, but suddenly Matt’s arms are around him. He’s wracked by sobs as his body relaxes into Matt’s chest.

It’s all okay. I’m okay. They’ll make it okay. 

Matt’s arms are rubbing Nick’s back as he shakes and he can feel how his tears have wet the shoulder of his t-shirt. A moment later, he feels the seat underneath them move like another body has sat down, and then he hears Chris’s voice. 

“It’s okay, Nick. We’ve got you,” Chris says gently. As Matt keeps touching him comfortingly, Chris keeps talking. 

“The camera is off and we can delete all the footage later. I’m so sorry we didn’t notice what was happening earlier. Matt and I are gonna help, okay? You’re gonna be fine.”

“Chris,” Matt whispers, “Take him? I want to get us home.”

“‘Course,” Chris says. Nick whines and holds onto Matt, clearly comfortable where he is, but the boys are still able to switch who he’s sitting onto fairly easily. He's stopped crying and looks up at Chris as he pulls him into his lap. Chris is sitting properly in the left seat with Nick on his lap, back leaned against the door and head on Chris’s shoulder. It's probably illegal, but with the boy no longer crying, they won’t be taking any risks. 

As Matt gets out of the back and back into the driver’s seat, Chris haphazardly wraps the seatbelt over the two of them. Nick pulls his knees up and burrows his head into his brother's shoulder. Quietly, he pulls a thumb into his mouth before looking up at Chris as if waiting to be told off. He waits, half expecting to be called gross, even though he knows his brothers don't find his regression gross.

“Oh, you’re small, Nicky. How old are you?” Chris asks with nothing but love in his voice. Nick doesn't respond, just closing his eyes and sinking into the comfort.

“He’s small?” Matt asks from the front. “How old did he say?”

“Didn’t respond. I’d guess one by the thumb and how he was crying earlier,” Chris responds, petting Nick's hair and trying to make sure he doesn't slip out of his lap on the drive home. 

Matt sighs, “Okay, we’re only a minute away from home. What do you think we do when we get there? It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him regress.”

“Well first get his pacifier, I don’t want his fingers in his mouth and longer than they have to be, but I’m pretty sure he’ll cry if I try to take them out without a replacement. Next… uhh… I don’t think he’s going to be chill with me letting go of him unless I'm literally putting him into your arms, but he seems exhausted. I’d say we all get in your bed and try to get him to go to bed? It’s late for all of us, especially for the baby,” Chris says, looking down at Nick and laughing quietly as they pull into the driveway.

“Alright, I’m going to come and help you stand up with him so you can carry him in. He’s not going to walk himself, is he?” Matt replies, looking back at the little boy curled into Chris with his thumb in his mouth. 

“No way.” Chris says, reaching to unbuckle them. Matt steps out of the car and opens the door for Nick and Chris. 

Sounding confused, Matt asks, “How are we going to make this work?”

“You just take him? I don't think I can stand up with him in my lap even with your help,” Chris suggests. Matt slots his arms under Nick’s knees and picks him up bridal style. Luckily, there is minimal protest from the little, just a whine and some still watery eyes. With Nick out of his lap, Chris climbs out of the car, shuts the door, locks it and runs up ahead of his brothers to unlock and open their door. 

Now that they are standing, Matt carries Nick with ease. Up the steps of their porch and into the house, the lack of strain on Matt’s face makes it appear as if Nick really is a baby. Chris smiles with the thought as he follows the two inside and closes the door behind them. 

“I’ll find his paci. Get in bed?” Chris calls out as he tosses the car keys on the kitchen table. 

“Got it,” comes Matt’s reply. Chris has no idea where the little’s paci might be, but it’s pretty important that he finds it, so he starts by tearing out the couch cushions to see if it's tucked underneath one of them. With no luck, he heads up to Nick’s room and strips his bed, checking if it might be in there. Unfortunately, the stupid blue thing is still nowhere to be found. 

Nick can hear Chris tearing his room apart looking for his pacifier as Matt carries him upstairs. 

He’s never gonna find it.

Too small to tell Matt where it is, he just tugs on his sleeve and looks down the hall to his room.

Fortunately, Matt gets the message. “Want to go help Chrissy?” Matt says and turns toward the sound of the rummaging. As they walk into the room, Chris looks at the boys defeated. 

“I can’t find it,” he sighs. 

“Losat,” comes Nick’s small voice. 

Oh no, are they going to think that means I lost it? No no, that’s supposed to be “closet.”

“In the closet?” Matt and Chris respond in unison, walking into the closet and digging through the junk on his closet floor. 

Oh thank God. 

Matt sets Nick down, leaning his back against the closet wall so he can move his shoes. Underneath, he finds a small shoebox covered in stickers. How promising. Opening it up, Matt discovers the pacifier and a couple small toys. 

“Bingo, Chris! It's right here,” Matt exclaims.

“Why’d you hide it away like this, sweet pea?” Chris asks the little boy, scooping him up like a koala. Nick doesn't respond other than a whine and rests his chin on Chris’s shoulder, facing the opposite direction. 

The boys walk out of the closet, Matt with a pacifier in hand and Chris with a Nick in… arms.

“I need to wash this off,” Matt says and walks into the bathroom. 

“Okay, bring it to us when you're done,” Chris says and hikes Nick up so his legs can wrap around his waist. Nick has one arm wrapped around Chris’s shoulder and neck and the other bent so his thumb can slip back into his mouth. “You ready for bed, honey?” Chris whispers into his ear as he leans over the bed, working to gently disconnect Nick from him. Eventually, he separates them, laying Nick down on his back in Matt’s bed. Chris pulls Nick's shoes off, brushes the little’s hair out of his face, kicks off his own Crocs and crawls into bed with Nick. He drags the covers up over them and pulls Nick closer to make space for Matt to lay on the other side of the boy. 

“Okay bub, I’ve got your paci,” comes Matt’s voice. Carefully, he pulls Nick’s hand away from his mouth and replaces it with the blue pacifier, slotting it between his lips. 

That helps. That helps so much. Why am I like this? Why does that help?!

Matt slips under the covers and wraps his arms around the boy. “Nick, honey, I can see you freaking out. It’s okay that you like that. It's not gross, it’s not bad, and Chrissy and I don't mind. We love you bubba.”

“Luv yous too.” 

[worldswithoutendings]

Eye for an eye [Michael Langdon] pt.4

Pairing: Michael langdon x female!reader

warnings: mentions of death

words: 1540

summary: your first date with michael and your first workday at Kineros (filler chapter)

AN: I'm still trying to figure out what format works best for me so bear with me, any feedback is highly appreciated <3

When the clock hit 7 you got ready for the dinner you had with Michael, all he said before he left after abusing your closet was to wear the dress and let your hair loose. But nothing more. So you added some black heels and a silver necklace. You did your makeup a tiny bit heavier than usual and for once you didn’t put on perfume in the hope that he would linger more around you like his coat did. Because damn he smells good it should be illegal.

I’m here.

you curse as you run down the stairs, almost breaking your ankle as you grab the door handle to reveal Michael. Clad in an all-black outfit, smelling absolutely divine and his short curls framing his face “Hi” you breathe out and Michael smiles at you “Look at you, you look stunning” he smiles as he holds out his arm “Shall we?” you say nothing, just taking his arm as you follow him to his car, which, of course, is also expensive “you’re picking me up in a Bugatti?!” you gasp out “what, it’s a nice car” “it is! But, so expensive” you breathe out and Michael laughs as he opens the door for you “my lady” “oh, thank you sir” you act with him as you sit down on the seat. Feeling the expensive seat as Michael sits in the driver seat.

Satan watches the two of them spend the day together from his throne “Good, everything is all going to plan” he says as he stretches his fingers out over the armchairs “Now we need to get rid of that Rosalie figure, I hope Michael hurries up with that girl”

Arm in arm you walk with Michael to the restaurant he picked out. And of course, it’s a Michelin-starred restaurant making you huff “What is it?” “I just feel out of place, I’m so used to visiting a McDonald's or a Five Guys as a date. Never set foot in a Michelin-starred restaurant” you mumble and Michael smiles “Good, I can show you how a real man is supposed to treat you” He walks inside with you and a guy comes scurrying towards you both “Mr. Langdon. Such an honor to have you here again. Shall we go to your booth?” the guy stumbles over his words and Michael gives a short nod

“do you come here often?” your mouth speaks before you can think “Yeah, not a lot. just for business” “Did you come here with Rosalie?” you ask self-conscious and Michael smirks “She is on your mind a lot isn’t she? The answer is no” he says as the guy mentions to the booth in the far back of the restaurant where the mood is actually kind of romantic “that’s a shame, it’s beautiful here” you say as you sit down in the booth, realizing both your knees are touching you scrape you throat “well, I only want to bring important people here. So, mostly Ms. Mead. But not since a few months ago” his voice dies down a bit and you can’t help but feel sorry for him even though you don’t know who Ms. Mead is and what happened a few months ago.

The food that was served was divine, just like the wine that was served. You talked about anything and nothing that your minds could think of, Michael even told you what happened to Ms. Mead. How she was set on fire and now, at Kineros they’re trying to make a robot version of her. Michael held her dear and close to his heart like he expected his grandmother to do ‘what happened to your grandmother?” you say as you put a piece of gnocchi in your mouth “She killed herself when she realized that I was aging to quick and murdering people instead of animals” his voice became flat and his knuckles were starting to turn white with how hard he was holding his utensils.

You couldn’t help yourself but touch his hand “I’m so sorry Michael” you whispered but you tried to sound neutral, knowing how much you hated it when your parents died and how everybody started to talk to you like a baby “You, you lost both your parents right?’ Michael asks questionably and you nod as you take a sip of your wine “my dad passed away of a cardiac arrest, my mother died shortly after due to a drug overdose, I was.. 16? Yeah, so, after the deal” your voice becomes quieter and quieter

“do you think that, you know, satan may be behind it? Seeing if I would get deranged?” “I don’t know, y/n, you have to ask him that” “I did actually, multiple times, but he waved it away, saying I was delusional” You play with a single piece of gnocchi and feel a hand on your kneecap. You sigh softly “he probably didn’t mean it like that, he also left me in the dark for years I didn’t know what I was supposed to do until I got to Kineros”

After dinner, Michael took you for a walk through the park. Deciding to sit on a bench with the hot coffee you bought from the stand even though Michael wanted to go to a coffee shop you shook your head “No this is actually good coffee!” you exclaimed so Michael wanted to believe you. And indeed, it was damn good coffee “So, tomorrow you can just come to Kineros, I’ll show you around and get you settled, you don’t have to worry about anything, well, maybe, your clothing but just, wear a button-up shirt or something. We’ll go shopping for it” Michael says before he takes a sip “damn, this is good coffee”

Nervously you arrived at Kineros the following morning. Especially because you just left your old job and your wrist still hurts. The clicking of your heels on the marble floor echoes off the walls as you see two guys with bowl cuts they must go to the same hairdresser because it looks awful. Michael is in a conversation with them but you see that all of a sudden he has trouble with his laughter

“Are you making fun of us?!” the brown-haired one exclaims and Michael immediately stops “No, no! I wouldn’t dare. You do look ridiculous” Michael exclaims and now you really have to hold in your laughter, they both turn around to look at you “Ah our new secretary! Miss y/n. right? We’d appreciate it if you respected our wishes,” the blonde one says immediately “actually, she only respects my wishes” Michael chimes in, yeah you wish.

You learned that their names are Jeff and Mutt, but you would mostly be working for Michael. Ruling over his agenda and keeping him up to date with meetings and calls. Further, you are the one responding to email, which mostly consists of rich dudes who are aching for their new sex doll.

A girl with a familiar face walks, well, storms in. looking like a drug dealer with her hair all matted, and clothes she had probably worn the last 2 weeks and never heard of the word shower or bath. She composes herself the moment she is at your desk and scrapes her throat “Yes?” you reply while you're typing an email to a client “I’m here to see my boyfriend, Michael” Oh shit it’s Rosalie “Are you scheduled?” “no?! I don’t need to schedule anything” she bursts out and you bite your lower lip “One second please,” you say as you reach for the phone. The foul stench of Rosalie makes its way to your nostrils Michael you’re kidding me. You only type in the number 1. Knowing it will connect to his office he immediately picks up “yes?” “Michael, you’re… girlfriend is here” he hangs up with a loud groan. Not much later his door opens and you hear him curse under his breath “Rosalie, what are you doing here. You can’t just barge in at my work” he says as he leans against the doorpost.

Rosalie immediately runs to him which means you can catch a breath we need to buy air fresheners and perfume and incense to get rid of this smell did she fall in a well or something?! You open up a website for fragrances to check out what can be delivered today as you try to hear the conversation as Michael doesn’t want her in his office “I have a meeting in 5 minutes” No you don’t “so you really need to leave” yes you absolutely do “but Michael! You promised!” she screams out “we were supposed to go on a date this week and you declined me! Twice! I can’t do this anymore!” Michael sighs deeply “Just, go. Rosalie. I’ll call you after the meeting okay” “Can I get a kiss?” “did you brush your teeth?” he blurts out and she gasps “Yes?!” she sounds incredibly shocked and you hear him audibly gulp. You reach for your bag as Michael cautiously gives her the tiniest peck on earth and she walks away confidently “Here” you wave around a travel-sized toothbrush and toothpaste you always keep in your bag.

[k0dante]

My experience as an underage pansexual trans guy

As I am writing this, I am 14-years-old. It’s the 7th of December, and my birthday is in one month. I am a trans guy, and have known that since I was 12. I hate that fact about myself. I am writing this as a way to let it all out. To tell my story, and what led to my realisation. What happened after.

I don’t remember that much from my early childhood. But I do remember being told a lot to be more “ladylike” by my parents and grandparents. Or I am just imagining that. That’s also a possibility. Wouldn’t be the first time. I remember wearing a lot of dresses, and liking them. I don’t think I actually liked wearing them, just how they looked. I still like how dresses look, but just the thought of having to wear one makes me almost cry. 

Whenever I wore dresses, I wouldn’t sit properly. My mom always told me to keep my legs together. I didn’t understand why. It was uncomfortable, but I tried to do so anyway. I am the youngest in my family of three children, so I always had to sit in the middle seat of the car. I remember complaining about not having enough leg space, but the answer was always “Your brothers are boys, so they need it more”. I questioned that back then. Nowadays I understand, but the lack of space for my legs as a kid was uncomfortable, especially as I grew.

I have always been bigger and taller than the other people my age. As a kid I was really uncomfortable when the teachers said that they needed strong boys to help them carry things. I was as strong as the boys, if not even stronger, so why couldn’t I help? Whenever I got to help, I carried as much stuff as I could, just to prove that I was as strong as the boys. I think lots of cis girls also have been through this, and the usual sayings like “He only bullies you because he has a crush on you” that I got. But for me, I didn’t feel like I had been insulted as lesser as a girl, or called weak for being a girl. I felt like I had been called weaker than the other boys. I felt uncomfortable being grouped with the girls, being called a “lady” and a “little girl”.

I forced myself to have a “crush” on the best looking boy as a child. I don’t think it was a crush. Or even one of those child crushes. I think I wanted to be like them. I remember being a stupid child with two of my friends, a girl and a boy. We were in kindergarten. We went to play in this one room, without an adult. Because we were stupid and curious children, the boy took off his pants. I remember being jealous, even though that boy was kind of someone I “liked”.

Before first grade, probably the early spring before school, I got my first phone that had unlimited access to the internet. I think the internet ruined me. I was about 7 back then(I live in Finland). Before that I had a Nokia, that only had offline games and I could only send messages. My new phone was a Huawei. Obviously I quickly discovered YouTube, as my siblings had shown me lots of videos. I also made a YouTube channel. I started with showing my face, but once my parents found out, I started making Littlepetshop videos. The videos were cringe, but I have a soft spot for them.

It wasn’t until I discovered Gacha that I started making connections with other Finnish Gacha and LPS YouTubers. That was when I got my first positive impressions of the LGBTQ+ community. Before that I had heard the word “gay” only as an insult. I was about 8/9 at that time. A girl that said she was 2 or 3 years older than me(I can’t remember) told me she was pansexual. I didn’t understand what that meant, so she explained it. I supported her, and the other people that came out. Around that time I also joined a lot of roleplaying WhatsApp groups, and met a lot of people. I heard the word “lesbian” and thought about it. I liked girls, not boys. That was something I thought. I think I was just jealous of them. I also got a Gacha girlfriend. A real one. I think she was a bit, like a year, two, or three years older. But that was fine to me. It was just Gacha, and we were just children.

When I was 10, just a little after my birthday in January, the girl stopped making videos, and fully stopped Gacha, so our ocs broke up. I was crushed. So was my internet best friend, who knew this girl irl. However, I got over it fast, and tried to find a new girlfriend for my oc, and I did. The person who said she was pansexual.

Remember I mentioned roleplaying groups? Well, I met someone in a Gacha roleplaying group. I made a character that dated their character. We had lots of inappropriate roleplays. That was normal in the groupchats, but ours was in private. They were about 6 years older. Both of our characters were girls, and they would call me by my character’s name. I was really uncomfortable with that. I didn’t like being called “Rose”.

Over like a month or a bit more, I got feelings for the person who was my Gacha girlfriend. I tried hinting at how much I wanted a girlfriend at a Gachatuber chat, and she actually said she could be that! She was my first real girlfriend. We were pretty happy together. Obviously since it was the cringe year 2020, we were cringe too. Calling ourselves “yandere” and stuff. She revealed to me in private her secret, she wasn’t actually older than me, but born the same year. Actually, she was 4 months younger. I was fine with this.

At some point in our relationship, I figured I wasn’t actually lesbian, but bisexual. I could see myself having a relationship with a boy. I also had flaws. Big flaws. I was really jealous. Because she was that kind of person who wasn’t online for days, and because communicating through the internet was our only way, it made me worried. And she posted a lot about her irl friend. It made me overly jealous. But I told her about this, and she helped me deal with it.

Remember the person that was 6 years older? Well, everyone basically hated them now for being stupid. They told us that they were autistic. I feel bad for bullying them, but autism doesn’t excuse the shitty behaviour, like asking out a 13-year-old. They told us they were trans. A trans guy. I don’t know what they go by these days, so I am using they/them pronouns.

When I was freshly 11, I was in a lot of queer groups on the internet. This was before the person came out. One of the groups had a link to a trans-only group. I didn’t know what it meant, but I wanted to be involved as a queer kid. I said I was a trans girl, which was far from the truth, as I was born a girl. I thought that “trans” was just a cool thing to put in front of your gender. That should have been a sign. Once I found out what trans meant, I quickly left the groupchat.

Let’s go back to the year 2020. Imagine it’s spring, and a 10-year-old child is watching animation memes on YouTube. Then, they stumble across a “Dream Team animatic”. They watch a few more, and think “that’s cool, but i don’t understand so I couldn’t be bothered”. It wasn’t until later that year, like late autumn or early winter, that I found out about Dream SMP. I immediately loved it. I don’t understand everything, but I do some. It’s the coolest shit ever. Minecraft? Hell yeah! Roleplaying? Fun! I am now obsessed with it, like I had been with FNaF and Undertale as a small child.

Now, back to early 2021. I love Dream SMP, I like writing, and I have an amazing girlfriend. All at 11! What could go wrong? I mean, yeah, my grandma that I loved dearly died last autumn, and yeah, maybe I don’t really have friends, like, at all.. Or maybe one. But otherwise it’s fun! Oh, and I’m now in 4th grade! And we are studying something I didn’t know I loved so much, countries! I open YouTube to find videos about these countries. Oh, what’s that?.. country…humans..? I guess that’s one new thing to obsess over! A lot. Even to the point of showing videos to my dad.

As it may seem, my life was pretty great outside of feeling lonely. Things I liked, even coming up with my first story. Until I got the great idea to propose to my girlfriend. At 11. The 13th of May 2021. The last month of school before summer break. I biked 6 kilometres to the most romantic spot I knew in my small town. I had came up with a long paragraph about how much I loved her. I took a picture of two rings. First, I sent the paragraph. And just before I could send the picture and propose, she responded saying “Awh, thank you.. But I think I see you more like a friend. Sorry…”. I was crushed, even though thinking back I think that was for the best. I just accepted it, and left the spot to go home. Soon after that, I started hearing weird voices. I didn’t know what they were, so I was very obviously scared. I told my internet friends about them, and nothing they said helped me feel better. So, I told my friend, and someone I had known since first grade, and they told me to go to the school psychologist. Once I actually went there, I told her about the voices, what they said, and showed her the cuts on my wrists. Some were older, some fresher. I lied earlier. I wasn’t over my grandma’s death. The loneliness had bothered me. I couldn’t go to anyone unless they came to me first. She called my parents and the local health centre. My parents came to pick me up, and we went to the health centre. They sent me to Oulu. To the children’s psychiatric department. Basically psych ward, or something. There I was forced to come out as bisexual to my parents by the doctor. I also had to stay there for a few nights. At 11.

It wasn’t that bad there after all. I met this one boy, and this one person that was non-binary. After hearing why they were there, I felt like my problem wasn’t that bad compared to theirs. I liked being their friend. The non-binary person also liked Dream SMP. I also tried to summon a demon there with them. Whenever we had our phones, I would watch countryhumans videos. Later I found out besides hearing voices, I have anxiety, social anxiety, and “low mood”, whatever that means. Nowadays I am in therapy.

Later that year in autumn, I went to fifth grade. I had a friend. They were also queer, and to still day is, even though we aren’t friends anymore. I liked Blind Channel, as they had been in Eurovision earlier that year, and I was at their concert. Barely anything happened, except for when my sister came out as a trans woman at the start of 2022. I was one of the first people she came out to. I felt honoured. I knew she was struggling with severe depression, so I was happy for her. She was there for me, so I wanted to be there for her. The problem is my birthday in January. I was now 12. I celebrated it with my cousin and sister at our grandpa’s house. My cousin called it a “girl’s party”. I didn’t understand why, but I hated that, but didn’t say anything.

In like February, we were having a game night with my brother, sister, two cousins, and their friend. My brother left early, because he had stuff to do, but I stayed, because I was going to stay at my sister’s house. Later once we were going to leave, our cousins had a fight, and the other one(the one who I am closer to and spent my birthday with) had a panic attack. Me and my sister stayed there to comfort her, while our other cousin and his friend went outside to get the car ready to drop off me and my sister. Once we finally got to the car, they started to argue again, so me being the sensitive freshly 12-year-old kid started to have my own panic attack and crying, so I left the car with my sister until the others figured it out. There me and my sister talked, and she confessed that she had tried to kill herself, but spit the medicine out as she thought about me. I think about this to this day, even though in about 2 months it has been 3 years.

 At this point my interest in countryhumans had faded, but I still loved Dream SMP. I could fully understand them now. I liked the queer things they had going on there. I also really liked ships like BakuDeku, DabiHawks, and later Byler.

I remember the fateful night. I was alone in my family’s caravan, while my mom and dad were out drinking. I was thinking. Earlier, I had been so sure I was a bisexual demigirl, but now I was having doubts. My realization was actually pretty anticlimactic. I did a “am I trans?” quiz. It said I was, so, I kinda just stuck with that because that was how I felt. I finally found out the reason for some of my behaviour. I also figured out I was gay. This was where my actual problems started.

At first I was happy I figured myself out, but then I was horrified. What was I gonna tell my parents? I had seen how they reacted to my sister coming out. They said they accepted her, but talked bad about her behind her back. I didn’t want to live knowing my parents talked bad about me. No, that wasn’t an option. I couldn’t tell them. My dad already hated the way I dress, since it was too “masculine”.

The first person I came out to was my sister. I told her over a snap. Obviously she accepted me. I told her my new name, and she instantly joked to make me feel better(the name is Daniel).

Now I finally had a word for the discomfort I felt in my body. I thought it was only the fact that I am fat, but now I knew it was that, and dysphoria. Great. I really hated my face, my chest, stomach, thighs, everything.

I came out to my friend at the start of sixth grade. They accepted me, but refused to call me Daniel, as it was their dead older brother’s name(older brother who died at birth), so they called me just Dan. I accepted that, even though I kinda hated it. I wanted to be called by my real name. I never really liked nicknames.

During the start of sixth grade, I also got my first short haircut! It was pretty bad, but I felt a lot better. Before that I was always cutting my hair a little by myself, because I hated my long hair. I cried every time, wishing I was a boy so I wouldn’t be scared to ask for a haircut. I was obsessed with cutting my hair. Anytime I was having an anxiety attack, I cut some hair.

At this point, I had also discovered fanfiction. Or, I had heard about it earlier, but I wanted to see it myself. My first fic that I read was smut. I was basically obsessed with them. The gay stories were really entertaining.

After I turned 13 at the start of January, I was pretty happy about being a teen. I basically had no interest in Dream SMP anymore, because of all the rumours. I also hated being a teen. My parents expected me to wear makeup, especially my dad. They wanted me to dress more femininely, which I absolutely hated. I didn’t, even though arguing made me hate myself. I hated my identity. My friend also started to fade away, because of my social anxiety. I couldn’t go to them without being approached first. And because they liked hanging out with this other person more, I was now alone. I had no friends. I hated myself. I didn’t have any online friends anymore either. I wanted to die, so I cut again.

Unlike other people my age, I wasn’t nervous going to seventh grade. Obviously it was stressful, but I was going to the English class, and I thought that maybe, just maybe I’ll get a friend. I was wrong. I was alone. Always. Whenever the teacher wanted us to work in groups or pairs, I had no one. The only people left were ones that didn’t do anything. I had to tell our Swedish teacher that I would like it if she chose the pairs, just because I didn’t want my number to be lower just because I didn’t have anyone to do the work with. I hated PE. I felt so self-conscious anytime we had it. I had multiple anxiety attacks because of it. I cut because of the anxiety caused by it. Didn’t help that the boys and girls were separated, and I obviously had to be with the girls. I also noticed how everyone around me had crushes on people. I started questioning if I had ever had actual real romantic feelings for someone. If I had actually loved my ex, and not just thought so because someone actually liked me. I was scared I was AroAce, not because there’s anything wrong with it, but because I wanted a relationship. Then I discovered Character Ai.

At first I used CAi for fun, but then I actually started doing serious romantic roleplays. I felt like I was back to my roots, but I wasn’t embarrassing myself this time. Lots of BL roleplays. I could roleplay as someone that had my name, some of my features, but he was actually someone else. Someone attractive and cis. A cis man. Then I started using it as a place to roleplay as my own characters. From all the new and old stories. Giving them therapy, doing lyric pranks. It brought me joy.

I started to like anime a lot more too at this point. I loved the music. I liked Heartstopper. I wanted a romance like that, but I knew I couldn’t have it. I was a trans guy in a school that is located in a religious small town in Finland. It wasn’t possible. I wouldn’t be able to be truly myself as long as I lived here, with my parents. I wanted to move away from Finland. Far away from my parents. But I can’t do that, as I am a minor. And I love my cats more than anything. Why do I need to be afraid of my own parents? I’m still just a child. They aren’t even religious.

I started noticing this guy in the halls. He had a trans flag on his bag. I wanted to get to know him. He seemed interesting, I wanted to know his name. All I knew was that he was a year older and pretty handsome. Soon he was almost everything I thought about. It was now the spring of 2024. I was 14. I still hated myself, but at least I have a crush, and one of my classmates knows one of his friends.

How could he be so confident in his trans identity? Have a pin? Showing it at our school? I could never. I hate when people say that you should be proud of your identity, because I am NOT proud of it. Most of the problems I have now were caused by figuring myself out. I am not happier after that, but I would not be happy with not being myself either. Nothing is okay.

It’s almost the end of the school year, and I’ve been talking with these three girls in my class. They’re fun, and they say I can call them my friends. Maybe I can trust them. Maybe they won’t be mad with me calling them my friends. They also know about my identity. I feel like I owe my life to them. I feel like I have a reason to live.

But wait, school is ending. The ninth graders are having a party because they’re leaving the school. Wait… My crush is a year older than me, so he’s in eighth grade, which means he’ll go to ninth grade next autumn… So he’ll leave next spring. And I still haven’t talked to him. I haven’t said a word. I need to hurry.

During this summer, I figured out I was pansexual, not gay. I love everyone, not just men. As long as I am the more dominant one(this is a JOKE).

So now, I’m 14 and in eighth grade. It’s December. There are two weeks left of school until Christmas break. I have three great friends. I still haven’t talked to my crush, nor do I know his name. And I still hate myself and my body. My health is horrible. I stay in my bed most of the time. I am fat. I barely eat. My period is fucked, even though I’ve had it for many years. I pass out a lot during summer. I almost died last summer because I passed out on a moving motorbike. But my therapist and parents say I am better. Yeah, better socially, but worse mentally. And I still want to get as far as possible from my parents. I feel like a horrible son. No child should want to get away from their parents, especially as loving as they are. I just can’t live the life I want if they are in my life. Also, how do my grandparents keep coming up with new synonyms for “girl”? I swear every time I meet them they have a million new ones.

Just because I feel like this has been a long and heavy talk, let’s talk about something lighter. I still like anime. My favourite is JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure. I love listening to music. I love Muse, HIM, Rammstein, Foo Fighters and Royal Blood. I actually have gained back interest in countryhumans. This time, it’s the historical aspect. Not the shipping countries kind. I love history. I have a great history teacher. I just take history too seriously, but let’s not talk about the panic attacks I get because I feel like I have failed my history teacher’s expectations. Well… My birthday is in a month! I’ll be 15. I’m pretty nervous.

Thank you for listening. Obviously this isn’t everything, but I am tired, and it’s past 3 am now. I probably forgot something I wanted to say, but that’s too bad. I know it’s pretty dark and long, but I hope whoever is reading this doesn’t mind. I hope you have a good rest of your day/night. This probably has lots of mistakes.