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itneverendshere · 6 months ago

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THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18)

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛" + "def some little smut during the enemies part and a long story"

WARNINGS: maybank!reader; kidnapping; smut!; violence!; rafe is a red flag; guns and blood; p in v;

word count: 8k

part ii; part iii; part iv; part v; part vi; part vii (finale)

The sun dipped low, painting the Outer Banks marshes in shades of fiery orange. Tensions between Kooks and Pogues had hit a fever pitch, and in the middle of it all? Rafe Cameron, the last person you'd want to encounter. Ever.

Every run-in with him left a bitter taste in your mouth. It was like he had a knack for getting under your skin. Arrogant, volatile, downright psychotic — Rafe was a walking disaster. Each interaction with him sucked the life out of you. You were convinced that nothing good could ever come from being around him. And yet, there you were, another Maybank, caught in the chaos of the island's most influential family feud.

You knew the risks, but loyalty drove you forward. And now? Well, now you were in deep shit.

Your plan had been reckless, driven by the desperate need to save Sarah from her deranged family and retrieve Pope's stolen cross. Everything had gone smoothly until chaos erupted, and you found yourself abruptly yanked away from the corridor by a strong grip on your arm, before you could even call out for your brother and Kie.

Another hand clamped over your mouth, stifling any attempts to scream. In a blur, you were dragged into a dimly lit cabin, the men's hold on you unyielding. Struggling was futile and stupid against his iron grip. He tossed you inside, slamming the door shut and locking it behind him.

The gravity of your situation hit hard immediately – you were alone, at the mercy of the Cameron's. Ward Cameron, the man who'd silenced anyone who dared oppose him, even going as far as faking his own death, kidnapping his own daughter, and manipulating his son into committing murder. Because in his sick twisted world, family trumped everything. Even murder.

Great.

Your mind raced as you took in your surroundings. The cabin was small and sparsely furnished: a bunk, a tiny porthole high on the wall, and a single chair bolted to the floor. There was a faint hum of the ship's engines, a reminder that you were far from land and any chance of immediate rescue. You quickly checked your options but there weren't many. The door was solid, and you didn't have anything strong enough to force it open. Fuck, fuck fuck.

You took a deep breath, trying not to lose your shit. Panic wouldn't help; you needed a plan. But then, like a nightmare come to life, the devil himself stepped into the room, his eyes piercing as they landed on you. The man who had captured you stood behind him, a smug grin on his face.

Rafe was visibly surprised to see you, but he quickly concealed it behind a calculating expression. His forehead glistened with sweat, his hair damp and sticking to his temples. His shirt clung to his back, soaked through from the scorching heat, and beads of perspiration trickled down his face. He wiped his brow with a weary hand and his gun gleamed ominously in the dim light.

"Well shit,” Rafe's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Look what we have here. Didn't expect to see ya again so soon pretty Maybank.”

You tried to keep your expression neutral, but your mind was racing with questions. Where were your friends? Were they safe? Was your brother even alive? Before you could ask, Rafe continued, his tone mocking.

"Your brother really did a number on you, huh? Left you behind without a second thought. Typical Maybank shit. Always knew you were unreliable."

Son of a bitch.

You clenched your fists, fighting to keep your composure. "You're lying," you countered, "He wouldn't leave me."

Not unless he was forced to.

Rafe chuckled, a dark, humorless sound. "Believe what you want. They left. Now, you're my problem. Lucky me."

“You’re lying.”

His eyes gleamed with a dangerous glint as he walked towards you.

You took a step back, but there was nowhere to go. The cold, metal wall pressed against your back, mirroring the chill that settled in your bones. It felt like you were being hunted.

"Now, what am I going to do with you?" he mused, tilting his head as if genuinely contemplating your fate. The gun in his hand swung lazily at his side, but you knew better than to think it wasn't ready to be used at any given moment.

You swallowed hard, your mind frantically searching for a way out of this hellhole. He was unpredictable and volatile; years of snorting cocaine and family trauma did that to some people.

But maybe, just maybe, you could reason with him. You were always a litte too good for your own good.

“Rafe, listen. You don't have to do this. Let me go and we can both walk away from this. No one has to get hurt."

Again.

His laugh was bitter, like you were trying to humor him,"You think I'm going to let you go just because you asked nicely?" He stepped closer, his breath hot against your face. "Nah. You're going to stay right here until I decide what to do with you.“

You tried to keep your breathing steady, but all you felt was fear.

The odds were against you, as they had always been your entire life.

"What do you want, Rafe? The cross? We can make a deal."

His eyes narrowed, the amusement fading.

"You think this is about money? About that fucking cross? This is about power. Control. And right now...huh, shit, I control you." He leaned in, his voice a deadly whisper. "The cross is mine now. How do you feel about the Bahamas?”

Your top lip curled in disgust, “I’d rather drown.”

His smile twisted into something even darker. “I think you’re worth more alive, at least for now.”

You refused to show him any more fear. “To you? Or Ward? Do you only get this cocky when daddy’s not around to rein you in?”

Rafe’s expression hardened, and for a moment, you thought you’d pushed him too far. He leaned in close, his eyes cold and unforgiving.

“Watch your fucking mouth, Maybank. You don’t know anything about my family.”

You laughed bitterly, unable to stop yourself. “Yeah, no. You're right. Just that you're dad’s little lapdog, doing his dirty work while he pretends to be some upstanding citizen. And where’s your mom in all this? Oh! She left.”

The punch came so fast, you didn’t see it coming.

Pain exploded across your jaw, and you tasted blood. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. “You don’t fucking talk about her, dirty pogue. Ever.”

Anger took over you like wildfire, hotter than the pain. Your jaw throbbed, but the rage was stronger. You wanted to hit him back, to wipe that smug look off his face, to make him feel the hurt he had inflicted on you. Your fists clenched at your sides, every muscle in your body burning with desire for retribution. The fury in your eyes matched the darkness in his.

You spat blood at his face, glaring up at him defiantly. “You’re just a puppet. Your sister hates you, your dad uses you, and deep down, you know it. You’ll never be more than his bitch.”

His grip tightened painfully, rough fingers digging into your flesh, lips twitching into a snarl, but you didn’t flinch. If you were going down, you’d go down fighting.

His eyes flickered with something you’d never seen in him, before he released you, stepping back. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you? So tough.”

“Smarter than you,” you shot back. “At least I know who I am. What are you, Rafe?“

He stared at you, tongue pressed against his cheek, eyebrows furrowed. Then he laughed, a harsh, grating sound that sent chills down your spine. His hand reached out, and your breath stilled throat tightening as he fiddled with a lock of your hair. He’d let out another laugh, entirely dismissive of the way you’d felt.

“You’ve got guts, Maybank. It's gonna get you killed.“

You wiped the blood from your mouth, “I’ve survived worse than you.”

And you had.

If anything prepared you for violence, drugs, and pain, was living with Luke Maybank your entire life. And maybe, if you didn’t hate Rafe with every fiber of your being, after everything he’d done, you’d feel sorry for him. But you didn’t, and he sure as hell didn't feel sorry for you.

For a moment, the room was silent except for the low hum of the ship’s engines. Then Rafe turned on his heel, motioning to the man by the door. “Watch her. Make sure she doesn’t go anywhere.”

“Do I look like fucking Michael Phelps? Where the fuck would I go? We’re on a ship you crazy bastar—Hey! Rafe! Open the fucking door!”

The door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing through the small, dimly lit cabin. You listened to his footsteps fade away, feeling a sense of dread settle in your chest. What the fuck had you gotten yourself into? They could kill you, dispose your body in the ocean and no would care. No one would think you’d gone missing, because you were a Maybank and that’s what your kind of people did, apparently.

Your brother would probably assume you were dead, he’d try to get justice and fail in the end, because the rich always won.

The musty air of the cabin felt oppressive as you turned away from the small porthole, where the bright sun and endless expanse of blue ocean mocked you from beyond.

The days melded into one another, marked only by the delivery of meals and the sporadic presence of Rafe. You had hoped for some clarity, some hint of what your future looked like, but his visits offered nothing but insults or complete silence.

You paced the small room, your mind racing with the possibilities of what they had planned for you. The guard remained a silent sentinel, a constant reminder that escape was not an option. But then, the cabin door creaked open again, and you tensed as Ward Cameron stepped in, his presence commanding immediate attention.

He gave a nod to the guard, who stepped out, leaving you alone with the man who held your fate in his hands. A fucking lunatic with enough means to play for all the dramatics he enjoyed. Great.

"Get comfortable," Ward announced, "We're almost there."

"Almost where?"

"The Bahamas," he replied, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "A little slice of paradise, if you will."

"And what happens then?" you pressed, needing to know more.

Ward studied you for a moment, “Keep out of sight, stay quiet. Rafe and I have some business to attend to, and we can't afford any distractions."

"And if I refuse?" you challenged, though you knew the answer.

Ward's smile widened, but there was no warmth in it. You knew he enjoyed watching people squirm around like worthless worms.

"Let's not be stupid, sweetheart. You're here because you know too much. Refusing isn't an option. Cooperation, however…”

A chill ran down your spine at his words. The answer was very clear, and you realized that your only chance was to play along, at least until you could figure out a way to escape this nightmare.

The rest of the day passed in a haze. Eventually, you felt the ship slow, the engines quieting as you approached your destination. When the door opened again, Rafe was there, that stupid frown always attached to his face.

"Time to go," he said simply, motioning for you to follow, "Move."

You stepped out onto the deck, the warm, salty breeze hitting your face as you looked around. The sight of the lush, tropical landscape did little to ease your anxiety. You were led to a smaller boat, and soon you were speeding towards a secluded island, the main landmass of the Bahamas visible in the distance. You were a world away from the familiar streets and faces of The Cut. It was straight out of a postcard. Something you and JJ would fantasize about while high of your asses and writing bucklists.

God, JJ. You only hoped he made it. You’d never gone a day without each other before you were dragged into this mess last summer. It wasn’t fair. You only wanted enough money to get by, an easy fix to get everything sorted, finish college, ship your dad somewhere far away from you two. But Ward’s greedy ass had to ruin everything for you.

As the boat neared the shore, you couldn't ignore the feeling of impending doom. Were you going to die there? In between pristine beaches and swaying palm trees?

Rafe’s hand gripped your arm, his grasp tight as he led you onto the sandy beach. Ward followed close behind, as he surveyed the scene before him.

"This way," he said, his voice cutting through the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.

You followed obediently, your mind racing with possibilities. Escape seemed unlikely, but you there was still a slim hope that you could find a way out of this mess. Eventually.

The path led deeper into the heart of the island, the dense foliage casting long shadows as the sun began to set. You could feel the weight of Ward and Rafe's gazes on you, watching their prey.

Finally, you reached a clearing, and your heart sank as you saw what awaited you. A small house. In the middle of nowhere. Oh god, you were a dead woman.

“This will be your home for the time being" Ward said it like he was offering you a vacation rental and not kidnapping you. A lunatic.

You wanted to protest, to demand answers, but you knew it was futile and there was little fight left in you from how tired you'd been feeling.

“Rafe will be keeping you company."

The way Rafe’s head snapped in his father’s direction told you more than what you needed to know. Once again, daddy dearest was calling the shots without taking his opinion into consideration.

Ward’s casual cruelty was suffocating, a reminder of the power he had over everyone. As he turned to leave, leaving no space of negotiations or pleadings, Rafe’s eyes bored into yours. No questions asked, only blind devotion to his father.

The door slammed shut, leaving you alone with Rafe once more. He looked at you, resentment playing across his face, like this was your fault and not theirs.

“I’m not going to make this easy for you," You hissed, “I’m not dying here. Not with you.”

Rafe chuckled, greasy bangs moving as he shook his head, “You really think you have a choice here?” He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming in the confined space, “You think you’re special? Nah, Maybank. He’ll get rid of you eventually, don’t worry.”

“Exactly. He will, not you. You don’t have any control either and I think you hate being here as much as I do. That shit makes us both prisoners.”

He blinked, momentarily thrown off guard, “Stay out my fucking way or I’ll kill you myself.”

You were sure he wouldn't, only if Ward asked him to.

He’d fucked up enough before, when he accidentally shot Sarah and didn’t look the slightest bit apologetic. You knew he wouldn’t do it again, not if he wanted to keep his head on his shoulder and his trust fund. Ward Cameron hated slips ups, hated even more the monster he raised, but he sure came in handy when he needed him.

"Empty threats," you shot back, squaring your shoulders. "I've dealt with bigger monsters than you, Rafe."

He only started at you, eyes bloodshot red, perhaps from the lack of sleep or maybe because he was high off his mind, you didn’t care to ask. But just as quickly, his usual sneer returned. "Enjoy your stay, Maybank.”

With that, he turned and left the room. Him and the stupid slamming of doors. You were alone again.

You had to get out. You knew it wouldn't be easy, but you were a Maybank—survival was in your blood. You took stock of your surroundings once more, this time with a sharper eye. The walls were thin, the windows barred, but there had to be some weakness, some way to exploit the situation.

You ran your fingers along the seams of the walls, looking for anything that might give. Your mind raced through every piece of advice JJ had ever given you about breaking and entering. You’d done a lot of that over the years, and while most people thought you pogues were simply criminals, they never cared enough to ask why you and your brother spent so much time in and out of the sheriff’s department.

So, what if two dirty, no-good kids were barely hanging on for dear life? No one gave a shit.

Weeks blurred into each other, each one marked by the same routine.

Rafe's visits, Ward's passive aggressive threats, and the endless search for an opportunity to escape. You watched Rafe carefully, noting his every move, his every interaction with Ward.

You noticed the way Ward belittled him, treating him more like a tool than a son. It was a toxic dynamic, one that made you wonder if Rafe was as much a victim as you were. You’d seen bits and pieces before, but Sarah had described Ward as some sort of saint up until recently.

Rafe on the other hand? Their dynamic was so different from what you were used to. You and JJ were like two peas in a pod, you’d die for him and you know he would do the same, no questions asked. If there was one good thing in your life, it was your brother.

You couldn't help but feel a little pity for Rafe, despite everything he'd done. He was a product of his environment, molded by a father who saw him as nothing more than a means to an end. It was easy to spot the cracks in his armor if you spent enough time in the same room, the secretive moments of doubt and vulnerability. The way his hands would shake every time Ward raised his voice, the way he would bite his nails to hide the embarrassment booming in his cheeks. How he never walked into his father’s space or any other room without announcing his presence.

It gave you whiplash.

You began to argue less with him, your animosity giving way to a grudging understanding. You hated feeling so…forgiving. This boy had done unspeakable things to you and your friends, to your family…and there you were. Feeling sorry for him like you didn’t know better.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the small house, Rafe brought you dinner. He placed the plate on the table, his movements tense, his expression unusually subdued. Strangely so, you’d memorized that expression. You didn’t even have to ask to understand what had gotten under his skin.

"Why do you let him treat you like that?" you asked, your voice softer than usual. You didn’t understand why you did it. You regretted the words the moment they came out of your lips, but there was something inside itching you to ask.

His eyes snapped to yours, rage and something else—pain—flashing in them. "What the hell do you know about it?" he snapped, but there was less bite in his words. At this point he just sounded tired.

"I understand,” you replied, thinking of your own father. "I know what it's like to want to prove yourself, to be more than what they think you are."

Rafe's jaw clenched, his eyes dropping to the floor. For a moment, he looked lost, like a boy searching for something he could never find.

"You don't know shit," he muttered, but there was no conviction in his voice.

"I know enough," you said quietly. "You don't have to keep doing this. You don't have to be his puppet."

He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "You think it's that simple?"

"Maybe not. But you can choose to be better than him. You can choose to stop this.”

Rafe looked at you, really looked at you, for the first time. It was borderline unnerving. The weight of his stare. The way your stomach flip-flops under his attention.

“Shut the fuck up and eat, Maybank."

But beneath it all, there was something else. Something you’d seen before, when you looked at yourself in the mirror after you took the biggest beating of your life and Luke finally got thrown into jail: hope.

He didn't say anything, just turned and walked out, leaving you alone.

Again.

The days continued to pass, but something changed. Rafe was less hostile, more contemplative. He didn't treat you as roughly, didn't hurl as many insults. It was a small change, but it was there. And you began to see a way out, not just for yourself, but for him too.

You knew what he did, knew what he was capable of, but no one deserved to rot in hell with someone like Ward. You needed to bide your time, to wait for the right moment. And when that moment came, you had to be ready to act.

Another day began with the same oppressive humid heat. The sun had just started to rise, casting golden hue over the island. You were in the small kitchen of the house, preparing a meager breakfast from the limited supplies you had that day. The routine had become almost mechanical, a way to keep your mind occupied and stave off the panic.

Rafe entered the kitchen, eyes barely open as he wiped the sleep away. He poured himself a glass of whiskey, the sound of the liquid hitting the glass breaking the silence. Very healthy.

He stood with his back to you, staring out the window.

“What’s Luke like?”

You froze, your hands pausing mid-motion. It was an unexpected question, one that made you want to hurl on the spot even though you hadn’t had anything to eat yet.

“Why do you want to know?" you asked cautiously, wondering if it was some kind of trick question.

Rafe shrugged, still not turning to face you. "Just curious. You Maybanks are a tight bunch, right? So what's he like?"

Tight bunch…that was one way to put it.

You took a deep breath, trying to decide how much to reveal. "He’s a drunk, a thief. But he's still my dad."

He finally turned to look at you, his eyes narrowing. "So why do you stick around? Why not just leave him?"

You knew what he was trying to do, giving you a taste of your own medicine. You couldn’t blame him.

"Because he's family. And sometimes, family is all you have. Even when they’re terrible, even when they hurt you, sometimes you can’t just walk away."

"Family's supposed to be everything, right?" His voice carried a bitter edge, hinting at his unresolved inner conflicts.

"That's what they say," you replied quietly.

He took another sip of his whiskey, his eyes never leaving yours. "Must be tough, having a dad like that."

Tough? It was heartbreaking. Knowing that the one person who was supposed to love you, cherish you and protect you for life never gave a single fuck about his kids? Yeah, sure it’s “tough”.

"Guess we have that in common.”

Rafe looked away, his jaw tightening. "Yeah, we do." He set his glass down with a heavy thud, the sound resonating in the small kitchen.

For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, but then he took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging slightly.

"I get it," he said quietly. "More than you know."

You watched him, the way his fingers ran along the rim of the glass. "Then why do you keep doing this? You don’t have to."

“It's not that simple," he snapped. "You think I have a choice? I killed someone. For him.”

It was the first time he had said those words out loud. And it made him sick to his stomach. That he’d been scared and high enough to do something so reckless, just so they wouldn’t take away his dad.

"We always have a choice," you countered, "Maybe not the best ones, but we can always choose to be better."

He shook his head, turning away. "You don't know anything," he muttered, but there was less conviction in his words than before.

"I know enough," you said softly, watching his retreating back. "And so do you."

He paused at the doorway, his hand gripping the frame tightly.

Without turning around, he spoke, his voice low and strained. "I'll see you later."

As he left, the kitchen felt colder, but you knew you had reached him, even if just a little. And that gave you hope.

After that, Rafe’s visits were less frequent, and when he did come by, there was an uneasy tension between you both. You couldn't tell if it was because of your last conversation or the sheer exhaustion of being trapped in this toxic cycle.

Still, every interaction seemed to chip away at the walls he'd built around himself, revealing little glimpses of the person he might have been, had his life taken a different path.

Tonight, the air is still, the only sound is the gentle lapping of waves against the shore. You have been biding your time, watching for the perfect moment to make your escape. The house is quiet, Ward is gone and you haven’t seen Rafe in two days. By now, you know how the guards outside fell asleep before 2am like clockwork.

You can it.

This is your chance, and you can’t afford to waste it.

You move silently, slipping out of the small bedroom and into the hallway. Every creak of the wooden floorboards seems to echo in the stillness, and you hold your breath, praying you won’t get caught.

Your heart races as you slowly turn the handle of the front door, wincing at the faint click that accompanies the action. Once outside, you glance around, ensuring the coast is clear, then make your way towards the small boat moored at the edge of the beach.

The plan is simple: get to the boat, start the engine, and head for the main island where you could find help.

You keep low, moving quickly but cautiously, like a cat. The boat is within reach when a noise behind you makes your blood run cold.

The crunch of gravel underfoot is unmistakable.

You turn sharply, and in the dim moonlight, the silhouette of one of the guards emerges from the shadows. The asshole who got you here in the first place. He’s closer than you had anticipated.

Your heart pounds, adrenaline moving through your veins as you break into a sprint, abandoning stealth for speed.

"Stop!" the guard shouts, his voice carrying across the trees. You don’t dare to look back, your eyes locked on the boat. A sharp crack split the night—a gunshot. You feel a searing pain in your arm, but you can’t stop. You push through the pain, your goal now just a few yards away.

Another gunshot rings out, but you are too focused to notice where it lands. You reach the boat, hands trembling as you fumble with the ropes. The pain in your arm intensifies, but you force yourself to keep moving, when suddenly, a heavy hand grabs your shoulder, spinning you around.

You struggle, kicking and thrashing, but he’s stronger. He pulls you to the ground, pinning you down as he radioes for backup. It feels all to familiar. You hate very second of it.

"Got her," he says into the radio, his terrible breath hot against your ear. You try to wriggle free, but his grip only tightens. Moments later, two more guards arrive, hauling you to your feet and dragging you back towards the house. This wasn't supposed to happen.

The sting in your arm is painful reminder of your failed attempt as they pull you inside, your brief taste of freedom slipping away. You were so fucking close.

Moments feel like hours as you sit in the chair, the pain in your arm throbbing with each heartbeat. They didn't even try to stop the bleeding.

The quiet murmurs of the guards outside are interrupted by the heavy, hurried footsteps of someone approaching. The door flies open, and there stands Rafe, disheveled and wild-eyed, a gun clutched tightly in his hand.

“What the fuck is going on?” he barks. His gaze scans the room, landing on you.

The sight of the blood staining your arm makes his expression shift from bewilderment to fury.

He storms towards you, his eyes blazing. “What happened?” he all but demands.

Before you could answer, he whirls around to face the guards who re-enters the room. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Rafe shouts, waving his gun erratically. “She’s bleeding! I try to sleep in peace and this is what I come back to?”

The guards exchange nervous glances, shifting uncomfortably under Rafe’s glare. “She was trying to escape, Mr. Cameron,” one of them stammers out. “We had to stop her.”

His expression twists with rage. “So you fucking shot her?” His voice drips with incredulity and disdain. “Do you even understand what you’ve done? My father wants her in once piece.”

The guard who caught you tries to explain, but Rafe cuts him off.

“Shut up. Just... shut up.” He turns back to you, his eyes softening slightly as he takes in the sight of your injured arm. Or maybe the pain is making you delirious.

“We need to get that cleaned up,” he mutters, more to himself than to anyone else. Without another word, he holsters his gun and gently takes your uninjured arm, pulling you to your feet. The guards look on, unsure of what to do or say.

Rafe shoots them a deadly look. “Get out,” he snaps. “Before I shoot you bitches myself.”

Once Ward’s men leave, Rafe's demeanor changes. His concern, which had briefly softened his striking features, making younguer, hardens back into anger. He runs a hand through his long hair, pacing the small room before finally stopping in front of you.

He looks pissed.

He sneers at you, his voice dripping with exasperation, "I thought you had some brains in that pretty little head of yours," he spats out, practically screaming in your face, "What were you even thinking? Do you realize how close you came to getting yourself killed?"

You try to speak, to defend yourself, but he doesn’t give you the chance. His words come fast, "You could've died out there! A bullet barely missed you—do you even understand how lucky you are?"

The monologue doesn't stop there.

His fists clench at his sides, "I just don't get it. Do you think you're invincible? Because you're not. You're just..." He stops himself, taking a deep breath as if trying to control his temper while he paces around th room, unable to stay put, "You're just reckless," he continues, his voice quieter but still seething, "You didn’t think about the consequences, about what it would do to..."

What?

"Don't act like you give a shit about me," you call after him, your voice trembling. You don't know if it's the pain or the weird pull in your stomach making you feel all weird and fuzzy inside.

He stops in his tracks, his back stiffening for a moment before slowly turning to face you,"I don't," he retorts, "But my ass is on the line too. You think Ward won't come down on me if something happens to you?"

You take a step towards him, despite the throbbing pain in your arm, not buying his bullshit speech.

"So this is all about you, then? Your precious ass and how it looks to Ward? Typical Cameron bullshit, only caring about themselves."

Rafe's eyes narrow, his jaw clenching. "You don't know what you're talking about," his voice is dangerously low. "You think this is easy for me? Keeping you safe, dealing with all this? It's not just about me. It's about keeping everything under control."

You scoff through your nose.

“Here we go again. Control? You think dragging me back here, shooting at me, is control? It's chaos, Rafe. You're just as trapped as I am, and you can't stand it."

His face twists showcasing his wrath, and he takes a step towards you, closing the distance.

"Shut up!” he growls. "You don’t understand the pressure I'm under. The expectations, the demands. I didn’t ask for any of this."

"And neither did I," you shoot back, a strict finger aimed at his face in warning, “So shut the fuck up.”

He takes another step, his face inches from yours, his breath hot and ragged.

"You have no idea what you're talking about. You think this is just about me? It's about keeping everything from falling apart. It's about—"

Before he can finish, you grab the front of his shirt, pulling him even closer, your faces almost touching.

“I don’t care about your excuses, Rafe. I don’t care about your pressures or your fucking control. All I know is I’m not staying here.”

The look he gives you was filled with enough ire to have a hint of satisfaction sparking in your chest, the hollow beneath his dark brows deepening as his pretty features contorted. His breath comes in short, sharp bursts. His hands come up, gripping your waist, not gently but not roughly either, as if he can’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer.

"You're impossible," he hisses, like the snake he is.

"And you’re a coward.”

The next moment happens without much thinking. Without any thinking, really.

Rafe’s grip tightens, fingers didding into your skin and before you can process what is happening, his lips crash into yours with a ferocity that you never saw coming. His mouth is demanding, almost punishing, and you, like an idiot, kiss him back, your hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer even as you want to push him away.

The kiss is all rough and desperate, there's only room for anger and frustration, a collision of two souls too damaged to recognize the depths of their own pain. You should know better.

And yet, beneath the layers of animosity and resentment, there is a stupid spark—as if you are both too messed up to understand how much you need each other. Each fingertip of his leaves an imprint wherever he touches, a silent declaration of the strength he’s restraining. And some sick twisted part of you finds that attractive.

It’s like he’s fighting to contain this fury within him, to keep it from overwhelming you both. But you want it.

If someone told you you’d be kissing Rafe fucking Cameron of all people just a month ago, you’d think they were crazy. And yet…

All you want are his hands on your body, his warm skin against your own.

Oh his hands.

They roam slowly over your lower back, over your waist again. You breathe out a sigh of relief, taking the collar of his shirt in both your hands as you pull him closer, relishing in his warmth. He smells like whiskey and cigarettes. And while you grew up hating that particular combination, it worked on him.

He pulls away slowly, your lips the last to part, and blinks down at you. You watch him lick his bottom lip, swollen, wet with both of your spits, taking in the sight of you.

“’You’re bleeding—“

“Shut the fuck up.”

His blue eyes flare with renewed anger, turning almost black—something darker, more primal. Your words are like a match to gasoline. He doesn’t answer verbally; instead, he takes a half step back before swooping you into his arms, lifting you effortlessly.

With a swift motion, Rafe carries you to the dining table, and you barely have time to register the cool wood against your back before he’s on you again, his body pressing down on yours with a desperation that matches your own. There’s no tenderness there, only raw need.

He pries your lips apart again, his tongue sweeping in as he kisses you deeply, his mouth moving invasively over yours. His fingers grip your jaw with a vice-like hold. A strange sensation flutters beneath your skin, and you wrap your legs around his hips, closing the distance between your bodies as he presses flush against your center.

His hands move with such intent, slipping under your shirt, his fingers tracing every curve with a delicious blend of roughness and urgency. Your hands tangle in his hair, urging him closer as your kiss deepens. Everything around you fades into background noise as the room spins, his body so close making you breathless, his taste lingering on your lips.

You tug at his shirt, fingers fumbling with the buttons because you just can’t wait. He lets out a deep, sexy growl that makes a shiver run down your spine. His hands are all over you, touching your skin and leaving fiery trails wherever they go. It feels like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you, wanting to claim you in a way he hadn't before.

"You're impossible," he mutters against your lips, the words barely audible over the sound of your heavy breathing. He leans down closer to your collarbone, to catch the scent on your skin, and he can’t tell if you are amused or annoyed from the way your cheeks round.

"And you’re an asshole,” your voice comes out breathless.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, the tip of his nose brushing against yours slightly "Drive me fucking crazy.”

"Good," you reply, your fingers tightening in his hair, pulling him down again. You can feel the tension in his body, the way he’s holding back on you, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

But you don’t want control. You want to lose yourself in this moment, to forget everything you've been through and just feel. Live a little and forget about your problems.

Rafe seems to sense it, his hands becoming more insistent, his touch more possessive. He lifts you slightly, positioning you better on the table, his body slotting perfectly between your legs. The friction is exquisite, a delicious tease that leaves you wanting even more.

"Rafe," you breathe, and he almost falls to his knees at the soft whimper that leaves your lips, unable to stop the jerk of his hips forward.

He responds instantly, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer as he kisses you with a fervor that leaves you dizzy. The table creakes under your combined weight, but neither of you care. Your hand grab his forearm, over the veins strained from his grip on you, your nails sinking into the skin exposed.

You break the kiss, gasping for air, your eyes locking with his. There’s a wildness there, and for the first time in your life, you like it.

You reach up, tracing his jaw with your fingers, feeling the grown out stubble beneath your touch as his mouth, hot and demanding, leaves a trail of fire in its wake on your neck. A noise of pleasure slips from your mouth as he palms at your breast, thumb grazing across your nipple as his teeth graze your collarbone, kissing down, littering your skin bite marks.

"I hate you," you pants, pouring as much venom into your words as possible. Your thighs tighten around his hips, feeling every inch of him against you.

“Your body doesn’t,” He replies coldly, each syllable slowly drawn from his throat.

“Fucking asshole.”

“Fucking brat.”

You open your mouth to hiss something at him, to fight back, show him that you are the one in charge, but the intention dies the moment Rafe cups you through your shorts.

A pathetic excuse of shorts due to the heat.

Heat blooms in your stomach, melting into a torrent want that floods your skin and leaves you breathless. His determined blue eyes pierce into yours, watching as he presses the heel of his palm against the apex of your thighs, his middle finger tracing your pussy and applying light pressure to the sensitive dip between your legs.

“Cat got your tongue, pretty?” He asks, lips brushing over your mouth, loose bangs brushing against your brow “Thought you had more fire in you.”

He moves your shorts and underwear out of the way and your lips part on a sharp inhale as you feel him touch you for the first time. You can't think properly while he's doing this. Your brain feels to mushy to form a proper sentence.

“Yeah, thought so.”

All that matters is the man in front of you, his relentless grip on your senses, his control over your body.

"God, I hate you," you whisper again, the words almost a prayer, a futile attempt to cling to the anger that has fueled you for so long.

But even as you say it, you know it’s was a lie. Partly.

You hate how much you need him right now, how much you crave his touch, his dominance. Perhaps you’ve been locked away from society for too long. That’s the only plausible reason for you to let Rafe Cameron touch you.

Rafe smirks, a dark, satisfied gleam in his eyes.

"No, you don’t.”

You do. At least you used to, everything is confusing now.

He teases you, his touch light and teasing, drawing out your frustration, your need. "Tell me what you want," he murmurs against your lips, his voice a seductive growl that makes your heart race.

You bite back a whimper, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing you beg. But the need is so overwhelming, you nearly give in.

“Fuck you," you spit out, your defiance crumbling under the weight of your desire.

He chuckles darkly, his fingers finally slipping inside you, curling and stroking in a way that makes your hips buck against his hand. Oh, he was going to ruin you.

"That's right," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. "Let me hear you."

A broken moan escapes your lips, and you arch into his touch, your body writhing with need. His fingers move expertly, finding all the right spots, driving you near the edge with a skill that makes you breathless. Every touch, every stroke is designed to push you closer to the brink, to break you down until you are nothing but a trembling, pleading mess. You hate that he's so good.

"Rafe, please," you finally gasp, the words ripped from your throat by the overwhelming pleasure. "P-Please, I need you."

You'd be embarrassed later.

His smirk widens, and he pulls his fingers away, making you whimper in frustration. He doesn’t make you wait long, though. With swift, practiced movements, he frees himself from his pants, the sight of him hard and ready making your mouth water.

Without a word, he positions himself between your legs, the head of his pretty cock teasing your entrance.

"You ready for me?"

You nod, your eyes locking with his, "Please.”

He doesn’t need any further encouragement. With a single, powerful thrust, he buries himself inside you. The sensation overwhelming, a perfect blend of pain and pleasure that makes you cry out. Your back arches involuntarily, your lips parting as he enters you, filling you completely in a way you have never imagined.

He rolls his hips firmly against yours, and your head tips back as his cock rubs perfectly against you. You never felt so full. He doesn’t give you a moment to catch your breath, giving you another firm roll of his hips, testing you out, figuring out his rhythm.

His movements are hard and relentless, pounding into you, knocking the breath from your lungs with each forceful thrust, barely giving you time to adjust. Not that you want slow.

You cling to him, your nails digging into his muscular back, your body moving in perfect rhythm with his. The table creaks and groans beneath you, but you don’t care.

All that matters is the man above you, his relentless drive, his unwavering hips. His hands grips your hips, pulling you closer, deeper, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more desperate. You can feel him losing control, his need matching your own.

Your eyes squeeze shut, blocking him out so you can pretend you aren’t stupid enough to let the man that ruined your life fuck the living hell out of you.

"Eyes on me,” he growls, his voice all rough and commanding. "Let me see you.”

Even though you really want to shut him out, you just can’t fight the crazy pull he has over you. His voice is like a force of nature. You open your eyes against your better judgment.

Seeing him above you, his face twisting with raw need and determination sends chills down your spine. His eyes are locked onto yours, filled with this unyielding intensity you never seen before and that leaves you breathless. No one had ever looked at you like that during sex.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with approval. It makes you want to run for the hills, "Fucki—Oh, fuck. Y-You're sucking me in so nicely, huh?"

With each thrust, he drives you closer to your orgasm, your body responding to him in ways you can’t hold back. The pleasure is overwhelming, it leaves you gasping, moaning, begging for more. You don't even know what you're doing anymore. His name slips from your lips in a broken, desperate plea, and he answers with a renewed vigor, his movements becoming more frenzied.

"Fuck," he growls, his voice rough and strained. "You're so tight... feels so fucking good."

You can barely form coherent thoughts, let alone words. Your entire world has narrowed to this moment, to the feel of him inside you, to the overwhelming pleasure that consumes you.

"Rafe," you whimper, the sound barely more than a breath. "I'm—I can't..."

He understands.

His pace quickens even more, his thrusts becoming almost brutal in their intensity. "Come for me," he commands his voice a whisper against your earlobe that sends shivers down your spine. "Let go."

His words push you over the edge, and you come with a scream, your body convulsing around him. The intensity of your release is like nothing you ever felt before, a white-hot explosion of pleasure that makes you lose it. So this was what great sex felt like?

Rafe follows you over the edge, his own release crashing through him with a force that leaves him shaking on top of you. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin as he rides out his orgasm, groaning as his movements slow down, until he finally stills, still buried deep inside you.

For a moment, everything is still, the only sound the ragged breaths but then he lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, there is something almost tender about him.

“Y-You—“ He sighs, pausing, “Don’t pull that shit again. I’ll get you out, okay?

“Rafe...“

Before you can process his words, before you can question or argue, his lips are on yours again. Differently this time. Gentle.

Devastating almost.

“You’re still bleeding Maybank.”

Right. He'd fucked you good enough to forget about the pain. The moment of vulnerability between you evaporates, leaving you with the realization of your situation.

You just fucked Rafe Cameron. On a table. After being shot.

You push at his chest, forcing him to back off slightly, and hiss through clenched teeth, “Then do something about it."

He just stands there, staring at you as if he has never seen you before. As if he’s truly seeing you for the first time despite having known you since you were seven, despite all the moments marked by violence and terror. And you hate every second of it because your heart is practically leaping out of your chest.

No one has ever looked at you like that before.

And then he simply shakes his head, coming closer again, resting his forehead against yours, hands back on your thighs, fingers pressing as if he needs to ensure that you are real, that everything’s real.

“We’re getting out.”

You want to believe in him more than anything. In that moment, it’s the only thing that matters. Even if it sounds stupid. You need it, at least for now.

“Yeah?"

“Yeah, pretty Maybank. You and me."

“Okay.”

#rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #rafe cameron x maybank!reader #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe x female!mc #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe smut #rafe fic #request

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f1byjessie · 10 months ago

Text

HE LIKES MY AMERICAN SMILE ━━ OP81.

love is a wild ride, and logan sargeant's sister is about to find this out the hard way.

( oscar piastri x sargeant!reader )

━━ part two.

INSTAGRAM.

liked by logansargeant, williamsracing, and 17,349 others

tagged: logansargeant

yourusername from a little boy meeting his heroes to a young man racing alongside them, getting to see all you’ve accomplished throughout the years makes me the proudest sister in the world. 2024 better watch its back, because sargeants always come back swinging.

view all 2,863 comments

logansargeant we pack a mean punch too 👊

↳ yourusername the meanest 👊

user wait no cuz this is actually so cute omg??? i want a sister to make cute posts about me

user definitely can’t wait to see more y/n at the races in 2024

williamsracing It was lovely having you in the paddock this season Y/N! We’re already looking forward to seeing what 2024 has in store!

↳ yourusername it was a genuine honor to be there! plus i look great in blue 😉💙

↳ user wait does this mean logan is re-signing??

alex_albon me and lily would love to have you both come round during the break if schedules align!

↳ yourusername awwww alex!! speaking on behalf of logan, we’d love to!!

user i’m living vicariously through the sibling bond that the sargeant twins have

INSTAGRAM.

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 426,972

tagged: oscarpiastri

mclaren Some of our favourite meme-worthy images of Oscar from 2023! Which is your fav?

view all 2,632 comments

oscarpiastri guys…

user mclaren admin knows what the people want

↳ user mclaren admin feeding us well on this fine day

user these are actually so funny omg mans ain’t got no face filter

landonorris yea so this won’t be necessary for me pls and thx

↳ mclaren We already have the pictures ready! 👍

user i’ve made all of these faces at my tv this year

yourusername oh to be a rubber ducky in oscar piastri’s ice bath

↳ user OH? MY?? GOD???

↳ user UMMMM

↳ user real

INSTAGRAM.

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, and 835,781 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

landonorris papaya pals! looking forward to another season with you mate

view all 6,264 comments

user going into cardiac arrest

user damn oscar looking caked up

↳ user i’m glad i wasn’t the only one thinking it

oscarpiastri of all the pictures

↳ landonorris i giveth thy people what they want

↳ yourusername and we thank you for it sir lando 🫡

user MANIFESTING MORE PODIUMS FOR 2024

mclaren Looking forward to another year, boys! 🧡

danielricciardo you’re only posting these to show off your ass

↳ landonorris and if i am?

INSTAGRAM.

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, and 11,263 others

yourusername i can still recall our last summer

view all 926 comments

logansargeant it’s december 1st???

↳ yourusername it’s summer somewhere

user i wish i lived in florida

user MAMMA MIA REFERENCE

oscarpiastri ☀️

↳ yourusername 🌊

user i’m so delulu about what this could mean

↳ user it’s probably just an aesthetic caption?? y’all are fr crazy

↳ user no cuz it’s literally winter rn in the states so why would she post about summer?

↳ user bc she lives in florida?? where the weather is like summer all the time??

You lower your phone and look back to the dark waters crashing against the shore. Logan’s time in Formula 1 has meant you’ve been traveling around the world, getting to experience so much more than you’d ever imagined you would in your lifetime, but nothing compares to the familiarity and comfort of Florida— of home.

And your friends.

“So,” Sophia bumps her shoulder against yours, eyes alight with mischief when you turn to meet her expectant gaze. “Come on,” she teases, “tell me about him.”

You’ve been friends with her for a few years now, ever since moving back to the United States. She was born and partially raised in Belgium, so after spending so long in Europe, she’s the only one who understood the minor culture shock of moving back. You both clicked, and you’ve been stuck together ever since. You’ve learned, however, that if there’s one constant about her, it’s without a doubt her need to gossip about anything and everything— but specifically boys.

You huff out a laugh, “There’s no ‘he’ to tell you about.”

She hums into her glass of wine, eyeing you skeptically.

“There isn’t!” You laugh, shoving her lightly.

She gasps and feigns falling back onto the blanket spread out beneath you. She’s dramatic, too, and that’s another reason you matched so well. She feels like the sister you never had, which makes moments like this feel even more special.

“This back and forth with a certain OP-eighty-one suggests otherwise,” she sing-songs back at you as she sits up, making kissing faces and cackling when you shove at her again.

“I’m not sure how you even know about that,” you grumble. “You don’t even use Instagram.”

“Maybe not, babes,” she casts her gaze out across the ocean, “but I have my sources. So come on, between us girls and us girls only, tell me what’s going on.”

You heave a sigh, gulp down the last mouthful of wine in your glass, and then pour yourself another while she waits. You’re not getting out of this, and part of you does really want to talk about things. On top of being your brother and therefore way more protective than he needs to be, Logan is also Oscar’s best friend and you’re not sure what “bro code” is exactly, but you imagine not dating your friend’s sister is part of it— so he’s out of the question. You’d go to Dalton if you were sure he wouldn’t tell Logan, but they’re loyal to each other and have some sort of unspoken pact when it comes to your love life. You joked once that instead of your dad, it’d be them waiting at the door with a shotgun if you ever brought a guy home, but you’re not sure it was a joke at all with how they act sometimes.

“It started in Bahrain,” you begin, rolling your eyes when she wiggles excitedly and turns her undivided attention to you. “I’ve known him for a while because he and Logan have driven together since they were young, so I messaged him after the race to say that it sucked he had to retire so early into it.”

“And?”

You shoot her a look. “And, we kept talking. One thing led to another and we met up for drinks…” You fiddle with the rim of your glass, glancing back out to the water. You can’t tell if the heat on your face is because you’re embarrassed, or from spending so much of your day under the Floridian sun. “That’s it.”

“That’s it?” She asks incredulously.

“Well—” you purse your lips. “We kissed. Once. When he dropped me off at the hotel. But it was probably just the alcohol or something. I don’t think he wanted it to mean anything. I bet he just wanted to have fun but couldn’t because he had to leave early in the morning.”

She sends you a look. “He was sober enough to drive you back… but you think it was alcohol influencing his decisions? And he kissed you, even knowing he wouldn’t be able to ‘have fun?’ Right. Didn’t mean anything at all.”

You shake your head and huff. “He was upset because he’d had such high hopes for his first Grand Prix and it ended poorly, and I was there to comfort him, so maybe that’s why. He got caught up in the moment, or something.”

“Y/N, I love you. I do. You’re my best friend and you’re like a little sister to me,” she cups your face in her hands and turns you to look at her. “But you can be so dense sometimes, do you know that?”

“Then why hasn’t he brought it up?” You ask, your voice garbled slightly from the way her hands squish your cheeks together. “We saw each other again in Melbourne, to celebrate him getting his first points, and he didn’t say anything then. Or Miami, or England, or Japan.”

She gives you another look and lets your face go. “It’s a two-way street, babe. Why haven’t you brought it up?”

And… that’s a good point. You technically could’ve brought it up, too. You’d just been so afraid of how he would’ve reacted that you’d chosen to keep quiet, preferring uncertainty over rejection. It’s the same reason why you so rarely pursue the things you want. A fear of rejection stands in your way, and you realize suddenly that you could’ve ruined things with someone you genuinely like just because you were afraid.

“You know, like, Schrodinger’s cat," you start meekly. "If you don’t open the box, the cat is dead and alive, because you don’t know. So I never brought it up. Because not knowing is better than him telling me it was nothing.”

She reaches out and wraps her arm around your shoulders, pulling you into her side. When she speaks again, her voice is calmer, less accusatory, a murmur against the ambiance of the hissing tide— “But what if he tells you it’s something?”

You groan. “He probably thinks I’m not interested.”

“Y/N—”

“Oh God!” You pull away and bury your face into your hands. “I ruined it all!”

She pries your hands away and looks you in the eye. There’s a sparkle in her gaze, it’s the look she gets when she has a plan.

“You haven’t ruined it. We just have some work to do.”

━━ tags: @f1-is-lovely-33 @chasing-liberosis

━━ a/n: i am overwhelmed by the amount of love on the first part of this! genuinely did not anticipate it at all, and i'm so thankful. so here's the second part! i hope it does justice to the first!

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri imagine #social media au #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #logan sargeant #alex albon #lando norris

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httpscomexe · 4 months ago

Note

I saw an incorrect quote the other day and haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, it was this. vv

Logan: I cut my finger

Y/N: I can kiss it. That way it'll get better

Logan: *confused*That works?

Y/N: Yeah, my mum used to do it all the time when I was little

Logan: Huh...

*later*

Logan: I need you to punch me in the mouth

Wade: *has waited his whole life for this* I thought you'd never ask

This was from @of-many-incorrect-quotes

Reword it if you want, idc 😭 I just need it

Magical Kisses

Logan x Reader

426 words, nothing bad, just fluff.

Also tagging @of-many-incorrect-quotes for the idea.

“Fuck!”

You turn to look at Logan, who was shaking his hand like a mad man, his hammer in his other hand as he mumbled curses.. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“He hurt his poor little finger.” Wade chirps in, still sitting on the counter as you and Logan hung up a new shelf on the wall.

“Oh no, let me see?” You ask, holding out your hand, expecting him to just put his hand in yours.

“I’m a grown man.”

“Yea, but look, it’s red.” You nod towards his hand, and in the corner of your eye you could see Wade leaning forward, his chin resting on his palms as he sat with his legs crossed.

“I’ll survive.”

“But does it hurt?” This time you grab his hand yourself, lifting his hand up so you could see his middle finger which was red.

“Only a little.” He admits. “It’s just a cut.”

“I can kiss it.” You tell him, and look up into his eyes. “So it gets better.”

His eyes squint down at you in confusion. “That’s not a thing… is it?”

“Yeah, my momma used to do it when I was little, every time I got hurt.”

“Huh…”

“Can I?” He nods. Then you lift his hand and gently press a kiss to his little cut before running your hand carefully over his, a soft smile on his face as you let him go. “Better?”

“So much better…”

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

After that, Logan couldn’t get enough of your magical kisses. At least twice a day you’d find that he hurt himself. Whether it was him getting a paper cut on his magazines, or it was his overreaction when Wade punches his shoulder as he passes him in the halls of the little house you all shared. But he eventually ran out of ways to get himself hurt, especially after you told Wade to stop punching Logan, you mind already making him to be like your child.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

It had been a few days now since he last got a kiss from you, and he was dying. So as you went downstairs, you stopped around the corner to hear Wade and Logan talking.

“I need you to punch me in the face.” You hear Logan's voice, and your eyes squint in confusion.

“Oh? Does someone have a newly developed kink?” He asks shamelessly, and you see him rolling up his sleeves in the window reflection. “Or is it something you’ve had for a while?”

“Just fucking punch me in the mouth.”

“Either way, I’m not kink shaming.”

#marvel #fanfic #marvel fanfiction #x reader #wolverine #deadpool #logan #logan howlett #wade #wade wilson #logan x reader #incorrect marvel quotes

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eddiesxangel · 1 year ago

Text

HOE HOE pantyHOES | Eddie Munson x Reader

CW: Christmas theme smut. idk what else to tell you; read it and find out. minors dni 18+ only.

Word count 1.9k

You sat in front of your vanity mirror, frantically preparing for Steve’s annual Christmas party. You got home late from work and had to pick up dessert from the bakery before heading home to get ready. Now, you managed to get yourself half dressed before getting distracted by your hair and makeup.

You heard a knock on the front door and yelled for them to enter. You were expecting Robin to pick you up tonight; she probably got fed up waiting in the parking lot for you.

A muffled “hello” was barely audible over your Christmas carols. You reply with a “in here!” As you fixate on the sequinned black bow to the back of your head.

“You’re not Robin,” you smirked, seeing who poked their head through your bedroom door.

Eddie stops in his tracks as his eyes drink in your body. You had managed to get into your matching black bra, panties and black stockings but nothing else before you remembered you needed to fix up your makeup.

“Uh- sorry, I uh- I’ll wait out here.” he quickly looks away before shuffling around the room, clearly flustered.

“It’s okay, Ed’s, I’m almost done,” you shrug. Eddie’s one of your best friends had been for about 2 years. You had met Eddie through your work friend Robin.

“You sure?” He still isn’t looking at you, but his cheeks are red like Santa’s.

You stand up and walk towards him; your dress is on your bed.

“Yea. Nothing you haven’t seen before.” you give him a coy smile. Technically you are fully covered; your black opaque stockings are just like leggings, and your bra is like a bathing suit.

“Sure, yeah.” He peeks up to get another look. Fuck did he like what was in front of him. You managed to pull off cute and sexy all at the same time. You step into your dress and slowly pull it up your body.

Flustering Eddie was one of your favourite things to do.

“Can you zip me up?” You ask, turning your back to him.

He doesn’t say anything; he just steps closer with shaky hands to accept your request. You feel him slowly brush your hair off your back and over your shoulder out of the way. You could feel his breath hit your bare neck before he bravely bent down to kiss where your shoulder and neck meet.

“Eddie,” you moan. Goosebumps appeared all over your soft skin from his touch.

“Sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” he jumps back. And you can’t help but giggle.

“It’s okay, Eddie, baby. Just zip me up?” You asked again in the most sickly sweet voice. You feel his hands quickly tug in the zipper of your holiday dress.

Baby. That was new. Eddie fixated on the way the word fell off your lips. It was so sweet he could almost taste it.

"You ok?" You look over your shoulder to see a look in Eddie's eye you hadn't seen before.

Something primal had taken over Eddie. It was like he was entranced by you. He felt his hands run up the sides of your thighs and under your dress. Feeling how soft the stockings that encased your legs were. He ran his hands up higher and higher to where the waistband met the skin of your soft middle.

More goosebumps covered your body as Eddie didn't say a word while tracing your figure with his calloused fingers.

"Mmmm, Eddie," You softly moaned, filling the silent room with the most beautiful sounds Eddie had ever heard.

"Yeah, baby girl," he whispered as his soft lips grazed the same spot he had kissed a moment ago.

"We- we are going to be late." You stuttered.

"We are already late; we will blame it on the snow." You felt his hands brush the straps of your dress off your shoulders so it landed on the bedroom floor.

You stood there in just your bra, stockings and matching panties before you felt Eddie push you forward so you were band over for him. Eddie could see the outline of your thong as the thin material spread over your perfect ass.

Eddie bent down so he was at eye level with what he wanted. "Oh, baby," you hear Eddie whisper under his breath before placing a firm hand on each cheek. Moulding and massaging the muscle. A small smack echoed in the quiet room when his hand came down and lightly hit your bottom, wanting to see it jiggle. You arched into the feeling. The Christmas party you were supposed to be getting ready for suddenly slipped your mind. The only thing consuming your thoughts was Eddie's strong hands on your body, and you wanted more.

"You like that baby girl? I can give you more. Just say the word." He hummed as he trailed a finger lightly down the seam of your pantyhose.

"Yes," it was small, but Eddie still heard it, allowing him to do what he's wanted since he met you.

You felt Eddie's lips graze over your covered pussy; you were already so wet it was seeping through the two thin layers of material that were covering what Eddie wanted most. His hot tongue licked a strip from your clit to your hole before humming into your centre.

"hmmm, I can already taste how ready you are for me. Tell me, baby, that's all for me? I did this to you?" he massaged his thumb over your sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Yes," you breathy sigh as you push back into Eddie's hand to create more friction.

"Now tell Eddie what it is you want?" He sat up and kissed the bare skin of your back right above your waistband.

"Please touch me," you sighed.

"Sucha good girl; I think you made it on the nice list this year." He praised as he cupped your wet heat. "But after what I'm about to do to you, I think you'll be on Santa's naughty list for sure," He growled in your ear before his fingers hooked into your tights, ripping them open and exposing your bare ass.

"Eddie!" you scolded. Those were the only pair you had left without any runs in them.

Eddie hooked a finger around your thong, moving your panties to the side without a reply; he was feral. He was so fixated on your wet cunt being centimetres away from him. He could smell your heat radiating; it was intoxicating. He took in the picture-perfect sight in front of him. Wanting to memorize every detail. Your pussy was so pretty, the prettiest one he had ever seen.

Eddie didn't waste another second before diving in. He ate you like a man starved. His warm, wet tongue had you crying out with pleasure as it grazed your inner lips to your throbbing clit and back down again.

"Fuck this is the sweetest pussy I've ever tasted," Eddie said before giving your ass another light smack. You moaned with pleasure. The sensation only made you wetter.

"Eddie, please," You begged.

"I don't know, naughty girls don't get presents." Eddie slowly massaged your clit with his index finger as he teased your hole with the tip of his thick thumb.

"No! I'm a good girl; I've been such a good girl." You protested. Your cunt was throbbing as it clenched down onto nothing.

Eddie stood back up, his body towered over you, and you felt his arm wrap around your chest to help you stand up straight.

"Eddie, wha-" you were cut off, being spun around and pushed back onto the bed, only this time on your back.

You could see the sheen of your slick coating Eddie's chin as he glared down at you.

You slowly spread open your legs while you move your panties to the side. You let Eddie take you in before circling your swollen clit with a manicured finger, hoping to taunt Eddie into giving you what you wanted. You wanted all of him. You could now see how strained his cock was in his jeans; the looked so tight around his waist you knew he was dying for some release.

"This is mine" Eddie smacked your hand away from your clit before replacing it with his own. "This is my pussy." he repeated.

"Then take it." You command.

You hadn't seen Eddie move so fast since you had known him. His pants were down in half a second before leaning down and plunging into you, bare.

You both let out screams of pleasure as Eddie entered you. Your hot wet cunt felt so good wrapped around Eddie's long thick cock. It was hitting places inside of you that you hadn't known existed. It was like it was made for you.

"Oh my god, Eddie!" you cried as his cock continuously brushed the walls of your cunt. Each stroke built that feeling in your lower tummy.

"Take it, baby girl, you're gonna take all of it." He gritted through his teeth. His eyes concentrated on where his cock was disappearing inside of you. The delicious feeling of your cunt wrapped around him was too good to be true. His dream girl beneath his looking so cute and fucked out just for him, had him cumming in almost seconds.

"You're doing so well, baby, taking me so good, I'll have to give you your present. You want that?" He chides, supping your face with one large hand.

You nod your head dumbly, getting lost in the feeling of Eddie's cock and words.

"Say it, baby girl." His thrusts were getting harder and deeper.

"I want my present." you pout.

"Good, just gotta cum for me first, then I'll fill you up nice and good." Eddie leans down to kiss you for the first time. You moan into his mouth while his tongue slips inside, and his fingers find your clit again.

The coil that built up in your lower tummy finally snaps, and you clench down on Eddie's cock, making it so much tighter to keep thrusting into.

"Fuuuuuuuuck baby girl, that's it; keep coming on my cock, and you'll be back on the nice list." Eddie's hips kept pounding your sensitive cunt, prolonging your orgasm.

Your body jerked and spasmed under Eddie's weight before he finally came inside you.

"That's it, sucha good girl, you deserved every last drop." he slowly ground his hips into you, pushing his seed all the way in before pulling out.

You moaned at the loss of him inside of you.

"Don't worry, baby girl. you'll still have me in you." He winked before helping you stand up. He put your thong back over your pussy lips and helped you step into your dress, zipping it up this time.

You look at the clock on your bedside table.

"Fuck we are so late!" you rush to grab your coat, giving yourself a once over in the hallway mirror. Shit. All that time running to fix your hair and makeup was wasted. You look thoroughly fucked out.

"Eddie!" You whine, trying to fix your smudged red lipstick as Eddie hugs you from behind, kissing up the side of your neck.

"Sorry, can't help it. Need everyone to know that you're mine." His hand grazed behind you and cupped your cunt again. Feeling his cum that had now pooled in your underwear.

“Ok, I'm ready.” You sigh as you turn. It was like he had you under his spell. Eddie smirked with pride as he opened the door for you, only to see an angry Robin standing outside your door.

"You said you would be ten minutes!" She yelled before storming back to the running car she had been waiting in for the past twenty minutes.

Shit. Busted.

Master list

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson concept #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie musnon imagine #eddie munson x friend reader #eddie munsin x best freind reader #eddie munson christmas fic #older!eddie munson #older!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction

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st1llwthyou · 1 year ago

Text

POPPIN’ CHERRY.

fandom ꕀ bts

pairing ꕀ jungkook x f!reader

applicable aus & genre ꕀ roommate au, smut

synopsis ꕀ those were the last words he ever expected to come out of your mouth. but heck, jungkook would be lying if he said that he didn’t fucking love it.

word count ꕀ 2,322

warnings & tags ꕀ language, inexperienced reader, dom/sub dynamics, biting, pet names (fem! – baby, angel etc.), nipple play, dacryphilia, corruption kink (implied), dirty talk, cunnilingus, pussy drunk!jk, fingering — RATED E for explicit content.

notes ꕀ hello! i’m a newbie lskjdikdj and this is my tumblr debut 🫣! i’m so, very nervous and scared, but i hope you enjoy <3!

“You want me to… what?!” Jungkook looks at you wide-eyed, clearly flabbergasted by your proposition. You swallow nervously, hoping with all your might that your little plan works out.

“Make me orgasm… can you not?” You whisper with bated breath. It’s uncertain where your boldness is coming from, but you’ve come a bit too far to back out now.

He shakes his head a few times, getting up from his bed to approach you. “It’s not about if I can or not, ____. Do you not understand how fucking abrupt this is? I’m sort of weirded out, where is this coming from, huh?”

You lean against the door frame to his room, heaving out a sigh. Of course, you know how out of the blue this is, to him. It almost makes you sad that he’s never picked up on any of the hints you’ve dropped before. That you like him.

“I… um, heard you.” You murmur. It won’t hurt to tell a bit of truth.

“... Heard what exactly?” Jungkook quirks an eyebrow at you, skeptical.

“You… and the girls you bring back sometimes.” That sentence stings to even utter, but you manage somehow.

A sigh escapes his pretty lips. “Fuck… I thought you’d be sleeping. And the walls seem pretty darn thick so I assumed not a lot of noise will travel.”

“I was sleeping, I just… woke up again to the sounds of, y’know…”

A heavy silence falls between you two. You wait for him to say something, anything, but he doesn’t. Jungkook just regards you silently, those magnetic pools of honey trailing over your figure with no prominent emotions visible.

“Hey… you can decline, by the way. If it wasn’t clear. I’ll go back and we can just, um, pretend that nothing happened and go back to being normal roommates.” Tears burn in the back of your eyes, but you still try to appear brave and strong in front him.

“I know I can decline. But I’m not sure if I want to.” Jungkook takes a few more steps forward, reaching for you. As his warm, big hand finds your jaw, you lean into the comforting touch instinctively. “You’re so sweet and adorable, I never thought I’d hear those words out of your mouth.”

“Can you just—”

“But I liked it. Say it again.” He disrupts your complaint even before you could start. It takes you a few moments to properly register what he said. But once you do, your whole body thrums from excitement, heartbeat going crazy.

“Mm–make me come, Jungkook.” Your voice is barely audible, but just enough for his blood to rush south. His strong arms wrap around your smaller frame to hoist you up, carrying you to his bed.

“I might just not survive this, fuck.” Jungkook hisses under his breath, gently dropping you on his mattress. He’s over aware of every little thing about you now, from the outline of your pebbled nipples on your pajama, to your glossy eyes that are locked on him.

“Can I call you ‘baby’? And other nicknames?” He enquires hopefully, his hands eagerly exploring your curves. You tremble under his touch, vigorously shaking your head in an assertive manner. Jungkook chuckles.

“Aww, you’re so cute and eager, baby.” He hovers over you, his eyes searching for yours. “You want me to make you come, hm?”

Even though your heart feels like it’ll burst out of your chest, you lock your eyes with him. “Yea… I– I’ve never orgasmed in my life.” Your voice is small, heat rising to your cheeks as you confess, embarrassed. Jungkook leans down to nuzzle your face, dropping a butterfly kiss right beneath your eye.

“Is that so? Not even by yourself?” One of his hands slips beneath your pajama, gently stroking your tummy. He smiles when you nod, his other hand cupping your face. “It’s okay, we can try it out today and see what happens.”

Jungkook is so close, studying you and everything you do — almost enamored by your nuances. “May I kiss you?” He rests his forehead against yours, waiting for your confirmation.

“Yes please.” He doesn’t waste a second, soft lips finding yours in a sweet kiss. The simple touch alone gets you exhilarated, hands gripping onto his t-shirt. He lets his tongue run over your lower lip, making you twitch under him.

That snaps something in Jungkook, his hand firmly grasping your jaw while he coaxes your mouth open to him. You gasp when he teases your tongue with his, taking control of the kiss from the get go. The way he moves his tongue against yours makes you dizzy, strange sensations flooding your body. It feels like he’s unraveling you.

Your little moans and whimpers egg him on, his teeth nibbling at your lower lip. Jungkook is feeling partially intoxicated by you, his mind hazy from lust. Although, he pulls away from the mind-numbing kiss a while later to give you some space to breathe. “Fuck,” he curses, enticed by your teary eyes and swollen lips.

It takes you a while to gather yourself, but you soon realize how much effect that single kiss had on you. Your underwear has soaked through with your arousal, uncomfortably sticking to your skin. Your nipples are also rock hard, aching to be touched.

“Jungkook,” you whine weakly, thrashing a bit to show your distress. His mouth returns to yours, right hand swifty unbuttoning your pajama. Jungkook trails down wet kisses down your neck, suckling on the soft skin in places. A moan escapes you when he tweaks your clothed nipple between his fingers.

“I haven’t started anything yet, princess.” His whisper is hot against your cleavage, right hand slipping beneath your back to unhook your bra. “So pretty,” he coos, throwing it away somewhere in the room. A sudden wave of embarrassment hits you as you realize that this is the most bare you’ve ever been to anyone. So, you try to cover yourself, but he’s faster to stop you, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t. Did I not mention how fucking pretty you are?”

Face flushed, you avoid eye contact. “Sorry… it’s just– um, the first time someone saw me like this.”

Jungkook lets go of your wrists, the weight of your words sinking in. “Good fucking lord, ____.” His eyes darken, breathing uneven. “Let me take care of you, angel.” He captures your lips in a searing kiss, strong, calloused hand massaging your breast. His other hand is at the small of your back, supporting both of you.

Eventually, he trails downward, pressing open-mouthed kisses until he reaches your unoccupied breast. With his eyes locked on you, Jungkook licks at your stiffened bud, earning a whimper from you. “Look at me, princess.” He encourages, almost losing it when your droopy eyes fixate on his face.

With his cock throbbing inside his boxer-briefs, he wraps his lips around your nipple, earning him a lewd whine. You place your arm over your mouth quickly, head falling back as he runs his teeth and tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves. It feels unbelievably good, you had no idea having your nipples sucked would be like this.

“Oh my god,” you cry out, overwhelmed by the sensation when Jungkook also starts tweaking and teasing your other nipple with his finger. More arousal has leaked from your sopping hole, a tight feeling inside your lower belly coiling. The pleasure is almost blinding, making you twitch and tremble under him.

Soon, he impatiently moves to ravish the unattended breast, adding more to your devastation. You’re just barely hanging in there, extremely unsure of what’s happening with your body, feeling like you might explode any minute. Jungkook, on the other hand, bites and suckles on your tits like his life depends on it, frenzied by your sweet taste and reactions.

But he stops short when he notices your hips bucking up, eyes teary, ready to spill the diamond drops. “My baby,” he murmurs, letting his right hand slip inside your pajama bottoms. You moan out of relief when he presses down on your clit, inner walls clenching around nothing. Jungkook is almost surprised when he finally feels the damp cloth of your cotton panties. “Fuck, can’t believe you.”

He quickly gets rid of your bottoms, eyes falling upon the massive wet patch on your panties. “No– it’s embarrassing—” You try to cross your legs shut. Quite genuinely, you had no idea that it’s possible to produce that much liquid down there. Unfortunately, he’s way too strong, spreading your legs apart with bare-minimum effort.

“Shh, nothing is embarrassing, angel. You’re a fucking goddess, out of the world, even.” Jungkook sounds so sincere that your heart skips a beat. “I’ll make you feel so good, baby.” He pulls at the waistband of your panties, slowly taking the offending material off. An expletive rumbles in his throat when he sees the strings of your arousal attaching you to your underwear.

“You’re gonna drive me crazy.” He hisses, struggling to keep his urges on check. Blindly throwing away the panties somewhere, Jungkook eagerly settles down between your legs, already feeling his cock twitch at the sight of your drenched pussy. “Goddamn…” He gingerly parts your nether lips, exposing your dripping hole to his hungry gaze.

“Don’t stare at it like that,” your voice is small, heart doing backflips in your chest. It makes you feel so shy, the way his eyes are trained on your lady bits. His short laugh makes you wanna rub your thighs together.

“Awe, is my princess feeling embarrassed? Don’t be, you have the prettiest pussy, all swollen and wet for me~” Jungkook rubs his middle finger along your slit, letting it coat into your nectar. New to the feeling of his thick, calloused finger, you whimper out of sensitivity. Oh, the way he’s absolutely adored by you.

He tilts his head as if he’s contemplating something. Then all of a sudden, he starts lowering himself until he is face to face with your core. “Wan’ a taste of your cute, little pussy.” Goosebumps spread over your skin as you clench at the thought. Jungkook lazily thumbs your swollen clit, enamored by your responses. “You’re so fucking responsive, makes me wanna play with you forever.”

“Nngh— Jungkook!” you squeal as he licks a fat stroke along your pussy, covering the whole area with his saliva. It’s weird — the way it feels, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it. He moans at the initial taste, putting your legs on his shoulder to really get in there.

Jungkook laps at your cunt hungrily, his thumb diligently rubbing your clit. His tongue teasingly rims around your entrance, before plunging into the depths of your core. You jolt, crying out of despair, hypersensitive to his ministrations. The flexible muscle strokes at your gummy walls, increasing the weird feeling inside your stomach. Now, you feel certain that you will burst at any moment, clenching on his tongue helplessly.

But he doesn’t stop, his little groans going straight through your core. Jungkook is in a frenzy, his whole mouth buried in your pussy as he greedily devours every single drop of your nectar. With his movements getting quicker and rougher, the knots in your lower stomach start to feel like they’ll snap. “Oh my god,” you cry out loud, “Jungkook, it– ugh, feels so weird— wait— Aah!”

Your body goes rigid as soon as he pinches your clit between his fingers, a flooding sensation spreading throughout you. White spots appear in your vision while your body breaks out in exhilarating shivers, a string of incoherent words leaving you. Jungkook, on the other hand, slurps at your juices, his heart swelling in his chest. This is the first time you experienced a release. And he’s the first person to taste your sweet cherry pop.

Your body loosens up soon after, leaving you all mushy. He holds you close, slowly retracting his tongue from your pussy, making you whine weakly. It makes an embarrassingly loud popping sound when he finally pulls away, his whole mouth covered with your slick, glistening under the dim lighting of his bedroom.

“Baby,” Jungkook coos at you, noticing the tear streaks on your temples. He never thought he’d be seeing you like this, but he’s loving every second of it. You look messed up in the best way possible, all for him. “Did I make you feel good, hm? You came all over my face, look at me, c’mon~”

His voice is cocky, eyes twinkling with mischief. When you finally meet his eyes, Jungkook reaches for your with his left hand, wiping away the stray tears. You’re unsure what to say, still processing everything that just happened. But still, you clear your throat, starting, “Um… Thank you…”

“Oh? For what?” He can’t help his chuckle. You’re just so freaking cute.

“For… for making me come, like I asked, Jungkook.” you whisper, nuzzling his hand affectionately.

“Trust me, it was my pleasure. But you’re welcome! Care to receive my other services regarding this?”

You flush at his words, immediately realizing what he means exactly.

“Well…?” Jungkook raises an eyebrow, quite impatient.

“Mmm… I’d love to.” He doesn’t waste a single second upon your confirmation, his tattooed right hand cupping your pussy in a rough manner.

“God—” you moan as he pushes his middle finger inside, overwhelmed by how thick and long it is compared to your own, familiar one. Jungkook leans down to press a sweet kiss on your lips.

“I’m really sorry, but I don’t think you’ll be getting any sleep tonight.” His big, brown eyes look into yours, full of lust and something softer that you can’t really place.

“I don’t mind.” Your smile turns into a broken moan when he hits a specific spot deep inside you, your gummy walls squeezing his finger appreciatively.

Being stupidly bold isn’t so bad all the time, maybe.

˗ˏˋ ★ extended notes ˎˊ˗

thanks so much for reading 🥺! i hope this was okay >.< (pls ignore typos or other mistakes, english is not my 1st language) ; i’d love to hear your thoughts about this! please reblog, comment, or even send me asks, feedback is very much appreciated!

#taffy writes ⁂ fics.#taffy writes ⁂ bts.#taffy writes ⁂ jungkook.#bts smut #jungkook smut #kpop smut #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts imagines #jungkook imagine #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #bts fanfic #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #jungkook fanfic #i am shaking :')) ; oh the horror of being perceived...#here goes nothing

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judesmoonbeauty · 3 months ago

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Only Look At Me CE: Victor

This is a fan translation only. Not 100% accurate, so please expect grammatical errors. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translations elsewhere. Dividers: @/natimiles. Thank you for your support! ☾.

There was a large long box with a handle that was placed in the lounge room.

(It’s big enough for someone to fit inside, but I wonder what it’s going to be used for.)

Just as I tried to open it -

Victor: Seems like it’s been found.

Surprised by his voice I let go of it, he approached with a bitter smile on his face.

Kate: What is this?

Victor: It’s a new magic trick gadget!

Opening the box revealed nothing, but a dark empty space.

Kate: It looks like an ordinary box…..what sort of magic tricks can it do?

Victor: I’m glad you asked!* It’s a magic trick you can use to escape from an ordinary box.

Kate: Oh, I’ve seen that before!

Victor: Since Vogel is here, I was thinking of performing a magic show as a welcome reception.

Victor: I wanted to take the opportunity to try something new.

Kate: Well, they did say they wanted to deepen our friendship.

Kate: I should also speak to and get to know them!

(I know what Harrison said, but it’s important to get to know the person.)

I suddenly noticed Victor staring at me…..

Kate: What’s the matter?

Victor: You’re such a kind-hearted young lady, but I want you to know more about Crown.

His shoulders were slumped down, and he seemed lonely,

Victor: And of course, about me too.

I could tell by his playful wink, that he really didn’t mind.

Victor: Now, in order to regain Miss Robin’s attention, I shall monopolize your time!

Victor: First of all, I’d like for you to help me practice some magic tricks, okay?

I was happy when he said that he wanted me to help him practice, so I gave a BIG nod.

Kate: Please just leave it to me!

Once I entered the box, I found that it was spacious enough for one person to fit inside.

Victor: There is a mechanism inside, and if you touch it, the back plate comes off.

There wasn’t any switch in the box,

Victor: The manual should be around here somewhere, but…..

He leaned forward, half way inside.

As I watched his hands search for the switch earnestly,

Kate: Oh, isn’t this it?

Victor: THAT’S IT!!

I found a slight protrusion, and he happily pressed it.

The next moment,

Victor: Huh?

Kate: Woah.

The door suddenly closed and we were trapped inside the box.

Victor: That was surprising….are you alright, Kate?

Kate: Yea, I’m okay……

(What should I do, we’re super close…!)

With our bodies close together, I could hear our breathing in a way I normally couldn’t.

There was a small gap between us thanks to his hand against the wall, but in this darkness, with the slightest movement we’d be pressed together.

Kate: You know how to open it from the inside, right?

I asked trying to hide my nervousness,

Victor: …….I don’t know.

I never expected him to say that.

Victor: I thought the switch from earlier was for the escape door.

Victor: We might have to wait for someone to open it.

Kate: To wait for…..

(I was thinking that if we pressed the switch again, it would open.)

Kate: Let’s press it again! It’s around here….

Victor: Woah.

My fingers touched his side and he let out a sound I’ve never heard before.

Kate: S-sorry!

Victor: It’s okay, I was just a little surprised.

He bent his arm as it seemed to be getting tired.

I gasped as we grew closer, his glossy hair brushing against my cheek.

His soft voice, his scent of a cold night, I felt heat run to my cheeks where his hair touched.

(We need to get out of here soon….my heart can’t handle this.)

I placed my hand against the door to get out as quickly as possible.

Victor: Kate?

Kate: If I keep touching it, I might be able to find the switch.

Victor: That’s right, I’ll look for it too!

Kate: Kyaaa.

As I moved, the box shook causing me to loose my balance.

I quickly try to stand, but ended up straddling his lap.

Victor: Sorry, I’ll move if you lift your hips a little.

Kate: Just give me a moment, hng.

No matter what I did, I couldn’t change my position in the narrow box.

His knee pushed up between my legs, rubbing back and forth.

(My body’s reacting, what should I do?)

My toes twitched as his knee rubbed against my sensitive spot, while I clutched his shirt to brace myself.

Kate: It’s alright, please don’t move.

Victor: [Gasp]!

I hear a gasp as his knees push my body up.

Victor: ……I’m sorry.

When I looked up I saw an apologetic look on his face, there was a crash and my lips hit his beauty mark.

Kate: Ah, it’s open…..?

Normal scenery came into view, I stumbled a bit when I exited the box, and collapsed in relief.

Victor: Are you hurt?

I looked up at him as he held out his hand worriedly

(Come to think of it, I kissed Victor in the end…..)

Feeling both sorry and embarrassed, I took his hand without making eye contact.

Kate: …..I’m not hurt.

Victor: If we’d been trapped any longer, I think my heart would’ve exploded.

He spoke in a cheerful tone as he turned towards the box, and I suddenly noticed something.

(That…?)

Amidst his glowing black hair, his ears were slightly red.

(Did I see that wrong? But, I guess he’s aware of it too…..?)

Victor: Kate?

His voice somehow sounded lustrous as he called my name, and the heat that I felt inside that narrow box lingered.

Tagslist: : @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @letter-from-afar * I was torn between this line. It seems like it could also be rendered as [I'm glad you were to listening!], implying that no one gives Victor the time of day when he talks about magic, but I chose to render it as I did above.

Vivi is so cuuuute! His little ear blush!!

#ikevil victor #ikemen victor #ikevil translations #cybird translations #ikevil victor translations

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merrybloomwrites · 10 months ago

Text

I Hear Them Calling (Chapter 4)

Story Summary: Alpha Harry Styles and omega Y/N Y/L/N meet under less than ideal circumstances. Overtime their paths will cross and they will be drawn to one another in ways they never expected.

Chapter Summary: After battling the symptoms of touch deprivation for weeks, Y/N sees Harry again in Chicago and he helps her deal with the worst of it.

Previous Chapters: Prologue ; Chapter 1 ; Chapter 2 ; Chapter 3

Word Count: 4.9k

Y/N POV

“You haven’t had a nightmare in 4 days?” Rachel asks.

“Nope!” You reply happily, taking a sip of your iced caramel latte. You and Rachel both have a free afternoon and decided to meet at a local cafe. You feel so much better than you had for the last few weeks that you felt confident to order a different drink. No tea that reminds you of Sarah, no hot chocolate that makes you think of Harry.

“And you’re not using those coping mechanisms you mentioned?”

“Haven’t needed them in days.”

“And you’re still not going to tell me what they were?” You blush at this question, embarrassed by the truth.

“No, that secret may come with me to the grave,” you joke.

Rachel looks at you, slightly worried and says, “It was safe right? You weren’t like, drugging yourself to sleep were you?”

“Oh God no!” You reply with a laugh. “Nothing like that, I swear.” Though you think to yourself that Harry’s scent in its direct form would probably be so delicious that it would act like a drug to you.

“Okay, I trust you,” Rachel says. “So, have you heard from Harry?”

You sigh, slightly disappointed by the answer you have to give. “Not since the night of the concert. I’m sure he’s been busy.”

“Maybe you should text him first.”

“And maybe you are out of your mind. No way. And before you say anything, it has nothing to do with the fact that I'm the girl or he’s the alpha or any of that sexist bullshit. It has everything to do with the fact that he’s Harry Styles.” You whisper the last part, aware that you’re in public and anyone around could hear the conversation.

“So what if he’s Harry Styles?”

“What would I even text him?”

“You could start with ‘Hi, how are you?’”

“Very funny. I mean, I guess I could. Maybe. I’ll give it a couple more days.”

“Waiting for him to leave the area?”

“Something like that,” you reply.

“Speaking of procrastinating things,” Rachel says teasingly, “have you called your doctor yet? To find out why that alpha knew you’re an omega even though you’re on suppressants and scent blockers?”

“Okay, that I did not procrastinate on. I called her but I can’t get an appointment until November.”

“Seriously?”

“Yea. I mean there aren’t a lot of doctors who specialize in omegas, so they’re always booked. Anyway, she said that my body has probably just developed a resistance to the pills. She’ll try to change my regimen after the appointment and told me to use the spray on neutralizers until then.”

“That sucks.”

“It does. I am so not looking forward to changing meds. It takes awhile to find the right combo and then there’ll be all new side effects. But it’ll be worth it.”

“I wish omegas didn’t have to hide who they are.”

“Me too. But that’s just how it is now.”

From there the conversation turns to lighter topics until you part ways to continue your day.

Another week passes and you still haven’t heard from Harry. On top of that the bad dreams come back, along with the restlessness, and chills. You’ve started using the old coping mechanisms again, which barely work this time around.

The morning after his final show in New York City, your social media is flooded with videos of him receiving his banner at Madison Square Garden. If there was any time to reach out to him, now was it. He said he wanted to be friends, right? A friend would absolutely congratulate him on this achievement.

It still takes you forever to type out the message, and ever longer to find the courage to press send. It’s nearly noon by the time you text Harry, “Congrats on the banner!”

It’s a simple sentence, just four words, and you still find a way to overthink everything for the two hours it takes Harry to reply. You’re taking a walk, grateful once again that you work on your own schedule and can take a break when you need one. And right now, you need one. Because you texted a celebrity and he still hasn’t answered and you for sure made a complete fool of yourself.

You stop dead in your tracks when your phone buzzes and Harry’s name appears on your screen.

From Harry Styles: Thank you! Can’t believe I got such an honor. How are you? What are you up to?

There’s a bench nearby and you sit to reread his message five times before replying.

To Harry Styles: You deserve it! I’m good, just out for a walk. How about you?

The next message comes in much faster.

From Harry Styles: I’ve been doing well. Took it easy this morning, currently enroute to Texas for the next shows.

You can’t help but feel disappointed that he’s no longer just a city away. You know it’s silly, but it was nice that he was so close by.

To Harry Styles: Enjoy Texas!

From Harry Styles: Thank you! Have you ever been?

To Harry Styles: Once, in college. Went to San Antonio with some friends.

From Harry Styles: That’s a great city, love the river walk there!

And so, you and Harry Styes became friends who text each other about random things. You talk throughout his flight to Texas, and sporadically over the next couple of weeks. It never gets very deep, all surface level conversations, but it’s nice. You feel like you’re getting to know the real him, and he’s getting to know who you are as well.

The texts from Harry are the high points. The low points are, unfortunately, very low. The hot chocolate, and roses, and forest smelling candles are no longer helping you. Bad dreams happen almost every night, you’re constantly cold, and there’s an itch under your skin that just won’t go away. The voice in the back of your brain is telling you it’s touch deprivation, but you refuse to admit that to yourself. You’ve never needed an alpha, and you refuse to depend on one now. So no, you do NOT have touch deprivation.

You’re checking your email, and you see that there are still spots open for a job training opportunity in Chicago. You rarely go to these, but it’s been a while, and you think maybe it would be good to go. There are always new types of data software, and you found the last two training courses you attended to be pretty informative.

Looking at the dates you notice the course is the following Thursday and Friday. In Chicago. You also notice that Harry will be doing shows there at the same time. You don’t admit that’s what seals the deal for you, but it totally is.

After registering and setting up your flight and hotel reservation you send a text to Harry. You casually mention that you’ll be in Chicago the following weekend. You’re surprised when your phone starts to ring, and Harry’s name is on the screen.

You answer the phone and he’s first to speak, saying, “You’re gonna be in Chicago?”

“I am!” you reply, matching his excitement.

“Can you come to my shows?”

“Which days are they again?” You ask this to try and seem like less of a stalker.

“I’ve got one Thursday, Friday and Saturday. You’re welcome to come to as many of those as you want,” he answers.

“I think Thursday is an all-day thing, so I won’t be able to come to that one. The training ends with dinner on Friday evening so I think I could make it just in time for the concert.”

“Ok great, and Saturday?”

“I am free all-day Saturday. My flight back home is Sunday afternoon.”

“Wonderful. I’ll have tickets for you for those two shows. That is, if you want to come of course.”

“Harry, I absolutely want to come.”

“Then the tickets are yours. All the details will come from Jada. I’d be a mess without that girl.”

“You paying her well?” you ask jokingly.

“She’s compensated handsomely, I promise,” he replies with a laugh.

“Happy to hear it.”

“I uhm- it sounds like you won’t be able to come before the show Friday, correct?”

“Unfortunately, no. I’ll probably get there right before you go on.”

“Forgive me if this sounds forward, but would you want to hang out after? It would have to be at the hotel, I can’t really be out in the city after a concert.”

“Totally understand that. And yea, I’d love to hang out after.”

“Great! I’m staying at the Nobu Hotel.”

You quickly look it up and see that your hotel is close by.

“No way!” you reply. “I’m at the Crowne Plaza like, two blocks away.”

“Well, that’s convenient. I’ll make sure there’s a car to take you to Nobu after the show Friday if that works for you?”

“Yea that would be great. I’d love to hang out!” You cringe, hoping that didn’t come off too strong.

“I’d love to hang out as well. Listen I have to go to sound check for tonight’s show. I’ll text you soon. And look out for the email from Jada, it’ll have all the info you need.”

***

Harry POV

“You’re extra happy today,” Elin says as Harry bounces around the venue smiling so big that both dimples are showing.

“I am!” He replies. “Thanks for noticing!”

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Sarah asks. “Because it’s definitely not how this sound check is going.” She has a point there. No less than a dozen things have gone wrong since they started, leading them to take a break while the sound techs work out a few problems.

“Just talked to a friend who will be in town next week.”

“Oh I see,” Mitch says. “So Y/N will be here?”

“Yes, and she’ll be coming to the shows Friday and Saturday. I can’t wait to see her!”

“Aw, someone’s got a crush,” Pauli says.

Harry ignores the teasing from his band members and says, “Honestly I’ve been a bit worried about her. I’ve just had this feeling that keeps getting worse.”

“Why do you think it has to do with Y/N?” NyOh asks.

“I mean, I don’t know for sure. But we’ve talked on the phone a couple times, and she always sounds exhausted.”

“I’m sure she’s alright,” Sarah says reassuringly.

“I know, I just can’t help it.”

“I completely get that,” Sarah replies softly, looking towards her mate.

“Fixed it!” One of the sound techs calls out, effectively cutting off the conversation as Harry and the band get back to work.

***

Y/N POV

The next week passes in what feels like slow motion. Every hour drags on. Your apartment building hasn’t switched from air conditioning to heat yet, so you’re constantly wearing layers of warm clothes and burrowing under blankets. The itch under your skin only gets worse, spreading to new areas each day until there’s a maddening tingle throughout your whole body.

Amelia drops you off at the airport Wednesday afternoon. You know she can tell that something is wrong, but you don’t offer an explanation, so she doesn’t pry for details.

You put on your mask before walking into the terminal. It’s a habit leftover from the pandemic, and also a great way to block out the potential strange scents. Alphas and omegas might be rare, but there’s always a chance a few will be around in such a crowded place. You’re extra sensitive to smells at the moment due to the touch deprivation that you’ve finally admitted you have. But it’s mild. Totally manageable. Not a problem.

The plane ride and subsequent train trip and walk to the hotel is exhausting. You stop and grab some food on the way. After checking in you immediately eat your quick meal, take a hot shower, and crawl into bed.

You’re almost asleep when your phone digs with an incoming text. You’ve already texted your family and friends letting them know you’re at the hotel, so you’re annoyed that someone is interrupting your sleep.

That is, until you see who the message is from. Harry’s name pops up with a text asking if you made it safely to Chicago. You practically melt at how sweet it is that he’s checking in on you. You send a quick reply before immediately falling asleep.

The first day of the training session is typical- informative, but boring. Harry’s show is still going when you get back to the hotel, so you watch on a livestream. You’re still exhausted and fall asleep before it’s over.

Waking up the next morning is difficult. Your body feels heavy, like your bones are filled with lead. The chills seem worse than ever and you’re grateful you packed yourself a heavy sweater to wear that day. Not only is it warm, but it covers up the marks from where you’ve been scratching at the skin on your arms due to the incessant itching.

You have trouble concentrating on the training throughout the day. There was one alpha there, and he was somehow in every single session you attended. He didn’t have a bad scent per se, but his presence alone became overwhelming.

By the time the sessions are over, you feel exhausted. You debate skipping dinner altogether but know you at least need some food before you can start your walk to the United Center. The alpha, whose name you’ve learned is Andy, sits next to you at dinner. He seems nice enough, you don’t feel threatened by him, but you still want to finish dinner and get away from him as quickly as possible.

Once dessert is over you grab your bag, ready to escape. Andy stops you before you go, asking for your number. Without thinking you quickly say, “I have a boyfriend,” and hastily leave the restaurant.

You’re not far from the venue, only a few blocks away, and you’re so out of it that you barely notice where your legs are taking you. It only takes fifteen minutes to get there, but you’re on edge the whole time. Glancing at your watch you see that it’s just before 8PM, meaning Harry should still be backstage.

You’re tired, and dizzy, and a little fuzzy, but knowing you’re so close to seeing Harry again has you moving faster than you thought possible. You’ve even built up a slight sweat, and you feel warm for the first time in weeks causing you to roll up the sleeves of your sweater.

As you approach the building you hear your name being called. You turn to see Jada running up to you.

“I didn’t think you’d be here so early! Glad I was talking to one of the security guards, you walked right past the entrance,” she says.

You smile as she hands you your VIP badge and leads you inside.

“Harry has a few minutes before he needs to finish getting ready. He’ll be glad you made it before he goes on, I know he’s been dying to see you,” Jada says, causing you to blush.

“Well, I can’t wait to see him either,” you reply.

She knocks on a door which opens a second later. The first person you see is Mitch, who gives you a hug as he says, “Hey kid, good to see you again.”

“You too!” you answer, somewhat surprised by the warm greeting.

Sarah’s there too, pulling you in to a hug next. The moment her arms wrap around your shoulders, you’re overcome with a wave of dizziness. Black spots flash in your vision and you blink rapidly to try and clear them.

“You okay, love?” she asks as she lets go and takes a step back.

After a couple deep breaths you answer, “I’m good. Practically ran here from dinner, still catching my breath I guess.”

Harry, who’s been quietly watching you quickly walks to the fridge and grabs a water bottle. You reach out your hand so he can pass it to you, and see his eyes focus on your arm. There’s no way he missed the angry red scratch marks there, but you immediately pull your sleeves back down to hide them anyway.

“Can we have a moment?” Harry asks, causing Mitch, Sarah, and Jada to promptly exit and close the door behind them. He motions to the couch, and you’re reminded of the last time the two of you were in his dressing room together.

Like the last time, you sit next to each other, but he seems to be giving you more space. This confuses you. If he’s so excited to see you, why didn’t he greet you with a hug like everyone else? And why is he so far away now? And why does he seem so serious instead of happy?

“Y/N, I have a question, and it’s kind of personal, but I’d like you to answer honestly,” he starts.

“Okay,” you reply, taken aback by this turn of events.

He’s quiet for a moment, seeming to think of exactly what he wants to ask. Finally, he settles on, “Where did those scratches come from?”

“My arms were itchy,” you reply. Not a lie, though probably not the full truth he’s looking for.

“And the dizziness? Cause I don’t think it was from your walk. You seemed fine until Sarah touched you. Until an alpha touched you.”

You know what he’s getting at. He’s no dummy. Just minutes after seeing you he’s figured out what you’ve been hiding for weeks. Hiding from everyone, including yourself.

He watches you, and you know he’s waiting for an answer. But you can’t think of one to give him. So, he continues, “Y/N, I think you have touch deprivation. Is that fair to say?”

You let out a shuddery breath and nod. “Yea, that’s fair to say.”

“It seems pretty severe.”

You finally decide to open up, saying, “It’s been getting worse the past couple weeks. I don’t think my meds are working anymore, and the soonest doctors appointment I could get still isn’t for a couple weeks.”

“I’m worried you’re close to a drop. Like, any minute now. Or that you’ll go under if I touch you. You realize that you were close with Sarah, right? That if you’d stayed in contact with her, or if she’d released any pheromones you’d be in a full drop right now?”

Part of you wants to snark back, yell at him for going full alpha male and acting like he knows your body better than you. But the problem is, he’s right. It’s been so long since the last time you dropped that you forgot what it’s like. You forgot what the signs are.

But now that he’s pointed out the obvious, you really start to feel it. He sees as you deflate, starting to fold in on yourself. His hand reaches out, wanting to comfort you in some way, but he can’t. He can’t risk sending you into a drop, not when he has a show to do in just twenty minutes.

“You’re right,” you finally say. “I didn’t realize it. I thought I was handling it, that I could make it to my doctor’s visit and get new soothers and I’d be okay. I just don’t know what to do if I don’t have meds that work.”

“I’d like to help you, if you’ll let me.”

You finally meet his eyes and see that he’s completely serious.

After a moment you nod and reply, “Okay.”

“Okay? You’ll let me help?”

“Yes. I don’t know what else to do. And uhm, I trust you. You’re a good person, Harry. A good alpha.”

He smiles at your words before glancing at the clock and saying, “I have to finish getting ready in a minute. I’d still like to hang out after the concert. I think it might be healthy for you to do a drop with me there, if you’re comfortable with that?”

“I mean, I don’t like dropping. It’s only happened to me twice before and I was alone each time, so they weren’t good experiences. But maybe it will be different if you’re there?”

“I can help you through it, if you’ll let me.”

“What would you do to help? Like, how do alphas help omegas through that?”

“It depends on what you consent to but ah, I would hold you, help you get the touch your omega needs. Most alphas will scent the omega. It lets them know that they’re not alone, that someone is there protecting them, keeping them safe while they can’t do so themselves. I’d also release calming pheromones to keep your omega relaxed.”

“Okay. I’m okay with all of that. I’d like that,” you answer. Truthfully you’re a bit nervous. Harry Styles has just offered to hold you, to scent you for goodness sakes. That’s incredibly intimate. But you’ve felt so awful for weeks, and there are still weeks to go before you can get new soothers. And this is kind of a dream come true.

“Do you want to stay here for the concert? You can hang in here or go to the VIP box. Or you can head to the hotel now and take it easy if you’d like,” he says.

“I’ll stay in here if that’s alright,” you reply.

“It’s more than alright,” he answers. “And if at any point you want to get out of here just text Jada. She can arrange a ride back to my hotel and I’ll meet you there after the show. Or if you change your mind she can get you a ride back to your hotel too.”

“Thank you, Harry. For everything.”

“Of course. I know I don’t know you all that well, but I care about you. Anyway, I uhm, need to get dressed so I’m just gonna step into the bathroom for a moment.”

“I can go in the hall for a minute, get out of your way-”

“Nonsense. You’re not in the way. I’ll be right back.”

Harry finishes getting ready, and you make yourself comfortable on the couch. A couple of people come in, touching up his hair and make-up and before you know it he’s heading to the stage.

You watch on the screen in the room for the first few songs. After a while Jada joins you and you ask if you can watch from the VIP section for a bit. It goes well until Harry and the band take a break. You’d been so focused on the music that you were distracted from everything else around you.

But now all you can hear are all the other people, and it’s overwhelming. It becomes difficult to breathe, and you start to see dark spots once again.

You turn to Jada, and she immediately leads you back to the dressing room.

“Do you want to wait for Harry, or do you want to leave now?” she asks.

“I think I should go,” you reply.

“To your hotel, or his?”

“Harry’s, please.”

“Okay, wait here, I’ll get the car and come back for you in a minute.”

You sit back on the couch, seeking out Harry’s scent to calm you, but it’s barely noticeable.

Jada comes back and you follow her to the car. It’s a quiet ride to the hotel, and once there, she goes with you to the suite.

His room is on the top floor. It’s big, basically a full apartment, and you stay in what seems to be the living room. Jada sits on the couch with you, and you say, “I feel like you have more important things to do than babysit me.”

She laughs and says, “It’s not babysitting. I like hanging out with you. And you’re a priority to Harry. Which makes you a priority to me.”

The two of you lapse into a comfortable silence for a while until Jada’s phone buzzes. “Shows over,” she says. “Harry’s just getting changed and then he’ll be here soon. He said you can borrow some of his clothes if you want to get comfy.”

You hesitate and she adds, “I have no problem going through his stuff. I can grab you some clothes if you want.” You laugh at that and nod.

A short while later you’ve changed into a pair of Harry’s sweatpants, as well as a t-shirt and hoodie. They smell like him, and you shamelessly inhale the scent you’ve been craving for weeks. The suite door opens, and Harry walks in, looking incredibly cozy in his own pair of sweats.

“Thank you, Jada,” he says. “Get some rest, you’ve earned it.”

“Night guys,” she says as she leaves the room.

You’re left alone with Harry. It feels different, here in his hotel room, surrounded by his belongings, while you’re wearing his clothes.

“You left early,” he says.

“Sorry,” you reply.

“Don’t be. I’m just worried as to why you left.”

“I was just overwhelmed. Needed some quiet.”

“I understand. Y/N, are you ready for this? You still seem on the edge of a drop.”

“I’m ready.”

“And have you changed your mind about anything? Or is it okay if I hold and scent you through this?”

You pause for a moment, scared at how vulnerable you’re about to be. “I haven’t changed my mind. I want you to do that. I trust you.”

He takes a step towards you. “Thank you, for trusting me. We’ll probably be more comfortable in the bed.”

“Lead the way,” you say.

It’s awkward at first, the two of you sitting next to each other in his bed, backs resting against the headboard.

He turns to you and says, “Can I hold you now?”

You nod, and his arms wrap around you, pulling you until you’re tucked under his chin and resting against his chest.

Everything starts to get fuzzy, and you feel yourself losing consciousness. It’s an unsettling feeling, but you know that Harry is there to help you through this.

The last thing you hear before it all goes black is Harry calmly saying, “I’ve got you. Let go. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

Harry can’t describe the helplessness he feels as you go limp in his arms. He doesn’t allow himself to stress, or panic, knowing that his emotions will impact you. Instead, he takes some calming breaths and thinks through everything he knows he needs to do in this situation.

He hears you whimper quietly as you start to shiver, and he doesn’t hesitate to soothe you. It takes some maneuvering, but soon you’re both laying down in the bed. He tucks his nose into your neck and begins to scent you, releasing calming pheromones until you relax.

It continues this way for the next couple of hours. Harry holds you, and scents you, his nose rubbing against the gland in your neck. During one moment when you seem particularly distressed he can’t help but place kisses there to soothe you faster.

Finally, you start to stir. It takes longer than Harry had anticipated, so he’s relieved when your eyes meet his after hours of being closed.

“Hey there,” he says with a soft smile.

“Hi,” you answer groggily. “How long?”

“Couple hours. Your inner omega needed the rest. Now you need some too. Go to sleep, I’ve got you.”

It’s the same words he said before you dropped. You wish you could hear that all the time. No one has cared for you before, not like this. It feels good, but you remind yourself not to get used to it. Still, you curl into his embrace, enjoying every moment of contact with Harry that you can get.

The next thing you know, it’s late morning. You’re still cuddling against Harry, and his deep breaths indicate he’s still sleeping.

You feel amazing. You’re nice and warm, your mind is clear, and the constant itch and restlessness are nonexistent. You’re extremely grateful, but at the same time, you’re annoyed that you need to depend on another person just to feel normal. But you don’t dwell on that. Because Harry is starting to stir next to you.

“Hey,” he says when your eyes meet his. “How do you feel? Sleep okay?” God, you could melt at the gravelly sound of his morning voice.

“I’m good. Feel better than I have in a long time. And according to that clock, I slept wonderfully.” The two of you laugh, seeing that it’s nearly noon.

“I was hoping to treat you to a nice breakfast, but I guess I missed the window on that,” Harry says, continuing to laugh with you. “I do still have plenty of time before I need to be at the arena. Would you like to spend the afternoon with me exploring Chicago?”

“I’d love to,” you reply. His face breaks out in a huge smile before he leans down, once again running his nose along your scent gland. You go limp at the feeling, happily submitting to him.

You don’t think about the fact that this is temporary. That you leave to fly home tomorrow afternoon. That you’ll be without his alpha scent once again.

Instead, you think about the hours you have ahead of you, hours to spend with Harry. Nothing could be more perfect.

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

AN: Thank you so much for reading! This was one of the scenes I imagined when I first thought of the story and I'm so happy that it's finally shared with you all!

Taglist: @akkatz @pandeebearstyles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite@theekyliepage@numafarawayglxy @booberry019-blog @hillzrry@ssareidbby @gem1712 @acesofspadess@houseofdilfs@shaquille-0atmeal-1@kissitnhekitchen @amateurduck @poguestyleskye@n0vaj3an@snwells@drunk-teens-doing-drugs ; @fdl305@creativelyeva@daphnesutton@selluequestrian@lovingfurypanda @stardream14 @tbsloneely@eversincehs1@boomitsallie1@rose-garden-dreamz @fictionalmensblog @buckybarnessimpp

#harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #wolfrry

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nijigasakilove · 2 months ago

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Yea that was a spectacular first episode. Cinematography on point, I’d expect nothing less from my fellow Trojan Matt Reeves and his team. Scene composition, framing and direction all perfect.

Hour long episode but it went by in the blink of an eye because of how well paced it was. Also love how they wrapped up everything with Falcone’s son and vic’s trepidation towards work with Oz etc all in one episode. So it’s kinda like this was a mini set up movie and now we can go forward with the rest of the show. A lot of series would’ve dragged this out for the whole run time, but nope very satisfied with the storytelling

I love Oz and Vic dynamic so far, also the way Colin sells Penguin’s insecurity and how he craves validation. Bro will do anything to be respected and I’m looking forward to seeing his rise to the top. It feels like a proper mob tv show as well and this gang war between the Falcone’s and Maroni’s is gonna be great

Cristin Miloti stole every single scene she was in. I’ve never seen any of her other stuff but wow I’m impressed. What a woman. Inject next episode in me rn

#the penguin #penguin tv show #penguin #hbo max #hbo max the penguin #the penguin hbo #the penguin hbo max

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igglemouse · 8 days ago

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Through blood, pain, and tears, here she is. Ten fingers and toes and two eyes and ears and completely adorable! Florencia Lola Alcocer Varela is her full name but to keep it short and simple she is Florencia Alcocer and I should add that she is just a little fussy right now but try to imagine being in her position? Everyone knows how hard labor is, how difficult it is to bring life into the world, but no one talks about how hard it is to be born! I guess because no one truly remembers it.

Oh, that's right, you're probably wondering what Pascal was up to? Well, he did miss most of her birth but he did come late into the night after she was born and he was excited to meet her! He, a little surprisingly I should add, started his morning with her too. Talking to her and playing with her and getting her to wriggle and coo. I really hope this is the start of a beautiful relationship and it is nice to see that he delayed his usual morning routine to spend time with her.

I'm glad he spent some time with her but it did not take long before he was on his treadmill again, as you might have expected already. Morning workouts are a ritual for him and I've learned nothing stops it. NOTHING. We could be in the middle of a nuclear and I firmly believe he'd still find some way to push his legs and lungs and keep active. I think it is a mental thing for him. Like, meditative even? Either way, some mornings I do pop in to bother him.

"She is amazing, isn't she?" I ask him as he pounds away on the machine, the pounding of his feet is my only response until he can gather his breath for an actual reply.

"Y-yea! Yeah! She is!" He pants out, not looking over at me, keeping focused.

"What do you think of the name? I know we didn't agree on one but-"

"I l-love it!" he says, keeping it short and sweet. This would have bothered me normally but he is currently running. I think he keeps the setting on ten or however high it can go.

"You know, if she takes one thing from you I hope it's how hard you work," and I mean that sincerely. The guy is a machine.

He sort of chortles at that, picking up the pace even more. "And she will only make me work harder..."

I like the sound of that but is that possible with him?

This whole mama thing is new to me so be patient! I'm sure I'll make mistakes but I feel like I'm on the right track. Her diet will be milk milk and more milk of course and I've decided to handle that naturally, for now at least. It feels like one of the first big decisions I have to make and its about her health. A well fed baby is one that will grow after all!

But it is also important that I get a lot of time to relax myself. If Flora is napping, as she is right now, then it is the perfect time for me to nap as well. I certainly need it. I'm tired, hurting, and yet for some reason happy? I feel like I've been tortured and yet I'm smiling about it. Flora being born has a lot to do with that but I could not have expected any of this when I moved here to Oasis Springs. I thought life for me would continue to be a struggle, continue to fight every day just to put a smile on my face but it's been the opposite. Yes, things with Pascal have not been perfect but chasing perfection is a fools errand.

While Flora will be my #1 priority moving forward I still don't want to be stagnant. The idea of having a simtube channel would provide me work on my own time and hopefully give me some financial independence. I don't want to be the domesticated wife getting an allowance after all.

So I move forward with that plan by calling Mr. Booker. Remember him? He runs a pretty big simtube channel and through what was at first a rocky relationship we have somehow become friends. He seems eager to share a few tips and tricks to getting started too!

But like I said, Flora is my everything now and I'll make sure her room is just perfect for her. I'm not sure how she slept through all of the vacuuming but I'll keep every speck of dust out of her room!

But mama is still going to keep to her goals too! I'll try and trim some of the baby weight I've gained off of me because it is simply healthy to do so and it gives me something else to do right now. I kind of feel like I have to with how hard Pascal works it is kind of motivating! I won't be as dedicated as he is, who can be? But, I'll do what I can with the time I have.

When I make it back home I check in on Flora and make sure she's fed, happy, and clean, and then realize I've almost forgotten to eat myself! Has that ever happened to you? Get so busy that you forget to eat or shower or something like that? Any ways, I try a new recipe for today, lemongrass chicken!

And it is amazing! Just the right amount of savory and sweet and definitely filling!

I am reminded though that I need to have a conversation with Pascal about a few things. Just life in general things. He's been working all day of course but as soon as he gets home, which will be late, but it is a conversation that needs to be had.

So when he comes home I am all over him although I can tell he looks exhausted and heads right for the bed. I can only imagine how much he pushes his body, playing a sport at a high level is no joke, but it is funny that I'm the one sweating and he's not. ANY WAYS, I do talk to him about my whole Simtube thing and now he's a lot more open to it. "I do think it's a really good idea after thinking about it some more," he says.

"Oh?" I'm surprised he thought about it at all.

"Yeah, it keeps you here with Flora, that's really all I want. I know we've been through this before but I don't want her mom being too busy for her."

I pause, stopping myself from the obvious rebuttal. He's the one too busy for, well, EVERYONE. Not me. I take a deep breath and calm myself. "Do you think I'd put work ahead of her?" I am just a little insulted here! "Pascal I-"

"Noo! I just...you know, I'm traditional. I want you to be here with her, I don't want her being raised by a nanny even if I could afford it you know?"

"Yeah..." that is reasonable but... "Maybe not a nanny I agree but maybe we can look into a maid service?"

"I actually want to talk to you about something." He tells me, which surprises me and scares me a little but the smile on his face tells me it is good news, hopefully.

"Y-yeah?"

"My contract has been extended," I have no idea what it means but it sounds like good news. "So, I'm staying here, we're staying here, in Oasis Springs, and not only that but I think we're going to need a bigger place which yes, will include a maid!"

"Oh!?!?" Now that is exciting. I can't wait to look for new houses, big houses? Huge houses?!?! "Where will we-"

"I already bought the place actually! It's not amazing but it is at least not as cramped as this place. This is more like a fancy bachelor pad soooo I thought it was time to move on from this."

"Oh..." well, I wish we would have made that decision together but... "I can't wait to see it!"

You know, all things considered. Things are going really well!

Frida Varela - Next Episode 9 'Pascal's Wager'

#The Sims #The Sims 4 #ts4 #Sims #Sims 4 #sims legacy #my sims #generation 1 #soot #sims of our time #frida varela #pascal alcocer #florencia alcocer

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anachronismstellar · 1 month ago

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Airplane vs The system has reached 20k words, and yay, I'm happy, but also, I'm not gonna lie, I struggle to finish things when they get too big.

So, today I had to stop and go over all of it to figure out the timelines and where the scenes should go ( @notsofrozt has been the best helping me with this insanity I swear)

What I have so far are 22 scenes/parts, and I'm gonna need at least 12 more to wrap it up in a way that makes me happy (Send your prayers because oh boy ahahaha ahahah... *cries*)

Thing is, there's this one scene that I've written that... I'm afraid is not gonna make the final cut. :(

Yea yea we have to kill our darlings when writing stuff, but I love it too much to not show to you guys.

This is NOT Airplane vs The System canon, but I hope you enjoy the pain with me.

---

He could barely stand up as he reached the final room, the bright cold lights bathing the place in a frost that he couldn't grasp. Around him, tall metal towers grew from the ground, their tops too high from him to see, covered in what seemed to be colored stones, their sparkle coming and going in a way that spoke of witchcraft.

He forced himself to keep going, stumbling forward, wide eyed as he tried to find any sign of yellow robes, the glimpse of brown hair. He had lost count on how many steps he had taken, the flimsy metal platform under his feet shaking and squeaking, as if threatening to swallow him down in one bite.

He only stopped when he reached the very end, the far back wall of the room covered in writings that he couldn't understand. In front of it, the most surprising sight of a table, higher than Mobei-Jun had ever seen, and sitting in front of it as if the entire world wasn't falling apart was Shang Qinghua.

The hair was shorter than he had expected, the clothing ill fitted on his shoulders, torn apart at the sleeves as if the owner had had a fit of rage and gotten rid of them.

But Mobei would recognize that shade of brown anywhere, those hands always moving, always plotting, now eerily quiet and slumped.

If he had any strength left he would have screamed. He might have done so anyway as he gave a final push, lurching towards the chair, catching Qinghua's body before it hit the ground.

“Qinghua-” he gasped, his claws poking holes into the worn-out fabric as Mobei touched his chest, pressing down the palm of his hand against chill skin.

Cold, cold, cold, why was he so cold?!

“Qinghua, answer to your king!” he shouted, flipping his torn cape to cover the body on his arms, as if he, the king of the Northern Desert, could bring anyone any heat.

He never hated his cold skin so much in his entire life.

“Qinghua, you can't-” He tried again, pressing his forehead against the Cultivator's, his demonic mark glowing, casting familiar shadows on Qinghua's face, a comfort in the middle of the explosion of light around them.

“Please,” he whispered, strong arms delicately moving the body around to give it comfort. Mobei-Jun was made of ice and stone, made to endure the North and its hardships, made to survive and thrive. But he would make himself soft for Qinghua, he would fold his sharp claws and sooth his harsh voice, he would do anything, anything, if it meant- if-

“Please,” he whispered again, feeling as if someone had grabbed his heart and were tearing it apart, pulling it up through his throat, making it hard to breathe. “Please, Qinghua.”

Pride was such a funny thing.

It held realms, but it also made them crumble.

It was expected, but abhorred.

It was Mobei-Jun's entire personality.

It meant nothing.

“Come back to me.”

----

Don't worry!!! Airplane fights the System and wins!!! I swear they'll have a happy ending!! Fjshskf

But yea, I hope you guys liked it and that you're enjoying this craziness that has taken over my brain

See you in the next part ❤️

#scum villian self saving system #svsss #moshang #mobei jun #shang qinghua #airplane vs the system #system reveal #angst #sorry lol

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blueparadis · 2 years ago

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thinking abt sub!kaiser so much,,, like hes all haughty n arrogant but hes just such a brat in bed

+. CWs —» written with f!reader in mind but can be read as gn!reader, mention of orals, foreplay,s*x toys, bondage (hand-cuffs) & safeword, use of pet names,SUB!KAISER. word count — 0.5k

+. NOTES —» he is brat, through and through. Not sure how i pulled this off in 0.5k, but yeah I did enjoy writing. He is so interesting for my character study. I really like him a lot lol. sorry if this was too short anon, i didn't want to go off the rails :], my kaiserot is peaking and i don't like it :] & you throw sub!kaiser at me 😭

sub!kaiser who is seated on a chair refuses to keep his mouth shut when you are busy tying him. He will tell you that the ropes are too tight for him or too loose when it is the quite opposite. He refuses to let his sapphire gaze elsewhere but you, only on you; in that lacy outfit, he bought for you. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing this in my way baby- ahaH! be gentle otherwise, i won’t be, when it's my turn.” You do not respond, at least not verbally ; it's just stares and smirks.

Now that his hands are locked by hand cuffs, he is a little less chatty. one thing sub!kaiser hates with passion is when he is cornered , like a wounded animal, defenseless and left without a fight in his body. So, when you put the black blindfold around his eyes, depriving him what he was looking forward the most, that is to watch you struggle to take his cock without his help, tears streaming down your cheeks, your supple skin glistening with sweat while he will just murmur, “untie me babe, let me help you.” with the nastiest smirk.

“You’re gonna regret this.”, he rasps as you tighten the knot at the back of his bed and all you do is to bring your lips near his ears, near enough to give him goosebumps yet not enough to graze his earlobes and whisper, “Do you remember your safe word?”. He swallows hard, nods, and then a “yeas” is heard, followed by a short gasp. he is at the edge of sanity, thinking what exactly are you gonna start with? toys or foreplay? thigh-riding or blow-job?

With his eyes closed, kaiser now imagines you and hears every little noise that your body makes. The click of the heels that are fading, the dangling sound of your earrings, each tick of the passing moment, your hands searching for the specific toy, your inhale and exhale, yes; he could even hear your heartbeats and his too. He bites his lip sensing his heartbeats being faster than yours, it is so awfully silent around him.

“Babe, what are you thinking?”, you ask and at first he jolts at the sudden sound. The short-lived cackle does not go unnoticed by him. He wishes he could see you, that treacherous smile which makes him restless, cock twitch and all he can think of is to pin you against the wall to devour you, your whole being before you do with him. “You”, he says and nothing else.

He waits patiently for your reaction, that bashful laugh he expects from you but alas!it is a pin drop silence that makes his chest tighten as if a knot has been tied. “Um-hm, what else?”, you whisper as your hands rests on his thighs, your cheeks grazing against his. His chuckles fill the room as he thinks how greedy of you to discard those heels, and tame the lion in his lair. It.turns.him.ON.

—

@tokyometronetwork

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wroteclassicaly · 1 year ago

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sigh...okay...yall got me. Tw for misogynistic views...and straight up smut

Gator stood with his arms crossed, your eyes drawn to them. The blue cast on his arm like a beacon. "Like I said, don't worry your pretty little mind about it." Gator glared at you. "You broke your arm!" You throw your hands up and stand. You hate how your eyes go back to his biceps. The stupid tattoo he got one night when he was drunk.

The tattoo he got and immediately called you crying because the needle hurt. You don't even know how he ended up at the tattoo parlor. He only drank because his father's view of bonding was a whiskey and card game. At least he claimed. Sometimes you couldn't tell if Gator was telling the truth or not, but he is your friend. Having grown up together, the once sweet boy you knew who helped you up from falling and scraping your knees has become a hard headed idiot.

"Let the men think Hon," Gator snipped at you, rolling his eyes. An idiot who believed men were better then women. You knew Gator was only listening to his father. You hoped Gator would get out, but for whatever reason he clung to his dad further.

You scoffed at Gator," One of us has to think around here, and we know damn well it isnt you." "I do-" "You don't! You just follow your dad blindly!"

You go to say something more, but Gator stomps towards you, finger pointed in your face," You shut up now! You know nothing about what's going on." You blink and Gator pauses, hand lowering," I uh...I...you don't know what's happening okay?" You frown but stay silent.

Gator draws in a deep breath and your eyes dart down to his chest as he does it. You suddenly realize how close he is to you. One step closer and your chests would touch. You could simply lean in and kiss him and-

"Dad knows what he's doing. He's great. That's why he's the leader." Gator nods, as if trying to convince you or maybe himself of what he is saying. "Your dad is a hypocrite. Breaks the law all the time." You mumble, but Gator hears. "Dad says if you are pure, your actions can only be good." "Neither of yall are pure, unless you're a virgin," you smirk slightly.

"I am!" Gator pauses, realizing what he said as your eyes widen slightly. A slight blush spreads across his face as he rocks back on his heels," I mean uh I have experience. Yeah uh totally. Got plenty of it. Not plenty, I'm not a slut i-"

You hadn't expected that. You raise an eyebrow," You think you're pure?" Gator nodded. You hummed before saying," Really? Well, Gator, how many times have you fucked your fist to that picture you took of me in my red bikini?"

Gator's face bloomed red as he cleared his throat," I dont uh dont know what you're talking about." "No? You almost dropped your phone in the water, tried to play it off as if the sound of the camera didn't go off." You smirk at the awkward man in front of you. Gator took a deep breath in as his eyes darted around the room, looking anywhere but at you.

You glance down and see a very distinct bulge in his pants. You lick your lips at the sight. You knew he was going to be big. You take a step forward, causing Gator to stumble back. "How many times?" You batted your lashes at Gator, trying to give him big doe eyes. "Once or twice i uh sorry?" Gator cleared his throat again, voice sounding low and gravelly sending shivers down your spine. You shake your head condescendingly and Gator whines," Your tits were right there, you can't blame me for looking."

"What? These?" You strip your shirt off in one motion. Gator's eyes dart back to you and widen at your bra covered chest. "Oh fuck," he groans. His eyes are glued to your chest, watching each inhale and exhale closely. You lightly trace your bra with your fingers as the man whimpers slightly before looking up at the ceiling. "Fucked your fist to the thought of these?" You chuckle. "...yea.."

You aren't sure if Gator is cursing you or thanking the Lord with how his eyes are stuck on the ceiling. "How about fucking something else?" You drop to your knees, hands coming up to rest on his thighs. Gator's face snaps down to look at you, mouth dropping open. You can see a wet patch on his pants already forming from his precum. You lightly trace the button on his pants," Wanna fuck my mouth baby?"

Gator's eyes are wide as he nods furiously. He quickly unbuttons his pants and pulls them down to his thighs. You weren't expecting him to be commando underneath. His thick cock bobs in front of you. A thick vein runs along the underside, head turning a purple from how hard he is. You lightly grasp him and his stomach flexes, " oh shit." "Poor thing," you mumble. You lean forward and swipe some of the precum from his tip with your tongue. The whine Gator lets out is like music to your ears.

You look up at him and slowly lick along the vein. Gator is staring at you in awe. Instinctively, he grabs the back of your head with his hand. "Oh shit," Gator moans. You slowly envelope the tip in your mouth and swirl your tongue around it. You barely finish the circle before Gator thrusts forward slightly and you feel warmth hit the back of your throat. You didn't even get to suck him off and he was coming down your throat.

Gator moaning and whining as he gripped your hair for life, legs shaking from the best orgasm he's had. And you barely did a thing. Kind of pathetic really...but you felt a rush of power. You pull back and look up at him after he finishes as he breathes heavily. His eyes snap open and he stares down at you in wonder and lust. "Can we do that again?" He asks softly. "You liked my mouth baby? Could barely handle it." "I can handle it, promise." "Hm. We'll see."

#jesuz lawd have mercy Anon #you wanna publish some stuff because I will GLADLY read it #asks #gator tillman #gator tillman smut

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cadmium-free · 11 months ago

Text

Funeral Parade of Roses (1969) - Watched on August 5, 2023

It spirals to its inevitable conclusion. We revisit a moment, a scene. A little more plays out, we step back or step forward. We live transfixed in a moment. Sometimes a scene mirrors another, it's all the same but with different details. There is no escaping fate, we can only be sucked closer and closer to our inevitable conclusion.

Stop Making Sense (1984) - Watched on October 5, 2023

I genuinely don’t think this needs any explanation or justification at all. I could watch it over and over and over and over and over.

Possession (1981) - Watched on October 17, 2023

It took me three sittings to get through this film and I wasn’t sure I liked it immediately after I finished it. And then it just simmered in my mind for days and weeks after until it finally clicked into place. I love the way Sam Neill moves in this. Everyone comments on the haunting way Isabelle Adjani looks directly into the camera, and yea. Yeah. Ok. Yeah. Yeah.

The Devils (1971) - Watched on June 26, 2023

I thought going into it with the full knowledge of Urbain Grandier would defang it, and perhaps this did soften the blow a bit, but it's audacious, frenzied, sensual. You get tangled up in its themes, its sensations, its torture.

Dog Day Afternoon (1975) - Watched on January 13, 2023

This set off a brief and ferocious obsession with Al Pacino. I have a strained relationship with films based on true crimes, but this slides past my qualms, perhaps just on the strength of the fact John Wojtowicz himself did write a review of it.

Bound (1996) - Watched on April 5 and August 19, 2023

The way Corky and Violet can come together with genuine trust so quickly. The way Ceaser can misunderstand Violet so fundamentally. The literal betrayal in realising who someone is.

Häxan (1922) - Watched on October 27, 2023

The 1922 equivalent of a Youtube video essay where a guy is like, "Guys, I just learned a bunch of fucked up facts about witches and witch trials. I think maybe we just execute women for being poor and mentally ill. Also aren't mental institutions a bit fucked up?" but like, a bit hornier than you would expect for the subject.

Cruising (1980) - Watched on January 17, 2023

It’s all about looking and being noticed. The camera is looking. Al Pacino is looking. The men are looking. And the ambiguity of the gaze and the plot.

Pontypool (2008) - Watched on October 4, 2023

It's a film about words. It's a film about broadcasting from a radio station and seeing nothing. Our imagination fills in the visual gaps. It's so much more horrifying to be piecing everything together from the safety of a recording booth.

The Lair of the White Worm (1988) - Watched on February 1, 2023

Hugh Grant—looking like a lesbian—who is a freaky little rich boy who believes in cryptids, Peter Capaldi—looking like a lesbian—sucking snake venom from a neck bite, an incredibly sexy snake woman with a house full of snake stuff, a giant snake puppet, surreal dream sequences, the coolest game of snakes and ladders ever made, snake dicks, weaponised bagpipe music, homoeroticism, and giant strap-ons.

Ravenous (1999) - Watched on October 19, 2023

This film is so offbeat and strange. It has the strange feel of a comedy, while being a really understandably grim depiction of cannibalism as manifestation of greed, expansionism, and colonization. I kept having these moments of shock that this was a studio movie, that studios were willing to make this film that so thoroughly deconstructs the American mythology.

Penda's Fen (1974) - Watched on July 6, 2023

The first movie in a long time that has made me feel as though I need to pick it apart like an essay, to rewatch multiple times and take notes and repeat sentences until I’ve done a thorough analysis. I've never had a film hit me in quite this way before.

#film #recs #long post #basically just making my letterboxd list here #i normally don't do a movie best of list for the year but i don't have ten non movies #station eleven and star trek are the only nonfilm things i would list i think

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slothquisitor · 27 days ago

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Invisible String: Chapter Ten

A Baldur’s Gate III Modern AU.

Chapter Summary: Liv returns home from Neverwinter, but not everything is the same.

Read from the beginning.

Read on AO3.

____________________________________________________________

It is surprising how relieved Liv feels to be leaving Neverwinter. She had ended up skipping the afterparty and going home with Erin, grateful that her sister’s partner seemed to need peace and quiet nearly as much as she did. This morning, the three of them had gone out for a late brunch, and it’s been a pleasant enough day, and it’s been good to see her sister…but it feels like they’ve been running down the clock all day. She’s feeling an odd jumble of feelings.

Talking with Astarion hadn’t made any of them more clear, but it had been nice to be understood, to be reminded that she’s not alone in all this. Now she’s in the car, but she’s wishing for the train, for the quiet solitude of listening to her own music, staring out the window without anyone needing anything from her at all.

“You’ve been quiet, everything good?” Brelia asks from the driver’s seat. They’re on their way to the train station, and she feels as though she’s been looking forward to this moment all day.

Liv nods. “Oh yeah, of course. Just…thinking.”

“Care to share?”

Liv wasn’t planning on saying anything about last night. That’s the Vires way, after all. But she doesn’t do that anymore, and she doesn’t want to do that with her sister anymore. “I just..I didn’t realize you’d told all your friends about our family.” She works hard to keep her tone light, non-judgemental. This isn’t an attack; she’s just looking to understand.

Brelia laughs and looks a bit confused. “Why wouldn’t I tell them? They’re my friends.”

“I haven’t told anyone…except Astarion.”

Her sister turns down the music, as though she senses that this is a bigger conversation coming. Something about it feels ominous to Liv. “I spent twenty-three years in our parents' house being told to be quiet and to make myself smaller to appease them. When I got out, I decided I was going to be unapologetically myself. That means not hiding pieces of myself or my story, even the ones that hurt. My friends know about our family because I never hid it from them. It’s not something I necessarily lead out with, but it’s part of me.”

But to her, Brelia had never seemed cowed by her parents and their impossible expectations. It is…unnerving to consider that Brelia had felt just as trapped as she had. “And everyone just understood?”

Her sister sighs. “Oh gods no, but the ones who were assholes about it I’m just not friends with. At least I know everyone who is in my life is there for the good, the bad, and the ugly.”

“That’s…commendable,” Liv replies. Her sister’s outlook is admirable, but she’s never been quite that settled in her own skin. Maybe someday she’ll get there.

“Look, I’ve been on my own for a long time. After going no contact, I felt so disconnected. Family means something to most people. They’re always going to prioritize their own families, and there was a moment when I realized that in cutting off mine I’d also given up the chance of being anyone else’s top priority. And it felt deeply lonely…until I found a new one. I know that all this is still fresh for you, but you’ve got to let people see you first.”

Liv stares out the window, trying to find the words to explain how this all feels. Some part of her still wonders if she had been different in some way if her parents would have decided she deserved to know the truth of her life at the same time as the rest of her siblings. “Telling people still feels so embarrassing to me…like there’s something wrong with me .”

“You’re not the one who should be embarrassed, Liv. Our parents should be. You did nothing wrong.”

And some logical part of her knows that, but it’s nice to hear it anyway. “You should have just told everyone on your way out. Really flipped them the bird as you left.”

Brelia smiles sadly. “Yeah? I considered it. But then I was so jealous of the rest of you.”

“Jealous of what?”

She sighs. “That you didn’t know. That you didn’t have to question everything in your life the way I was. It was a shitty illusion you were living in but nicer than my reality. I was afraid that you’d hate me for shattering it.”

And Liv understands. There was a moment after her mother had told her everything that she wished she didn’t know at all. Because that single revelation had rewritten her entire past. Suddenly every disagreement, every frustrated comment, and look from her mother made her wonder if she had ever looked at her and wished for the son she’d given away. But once you know something like that, there’s no unknowing it.

“You shouldn’t have ever been in that position. It wasn’t fair.”

The train station comes into view. “No, but I think the most insidious part of the way our parents raised us was that they made us believe that in order to be loved we also had to somehow be perfect. That if anyone ever saw our flaws we weren’t deserving of anything. And it was wrong. You know that, right?”

Her sister has summed up their upbringing rather succinctly, but Liv doesn’t necessarily disagree. And of course, she knows that being a flawed and imperfect person doesn’t keep her from being deserving of love and having value, but she’s forever looking for something to offer people anyway. As if she could somehow do enough to finally feel secure and that the love or friendship they offer won’t suddenly be withheld because she’s disappointed them.

“Knowing it and knowing it are different things, but yeah.”

Brelia pulls over into the drop-off zone. They’ve talked about so much this weekend, and somehow she feels like by bringing this up now, she’s robbed them of something. Her sister puts the car in park and looks over at her. “I don’t know that it’ll ever get easier, but I promise it will get better.”

And she wants to believe her, so she nods and gets out of the car. Brelia gets out too, meets her at the trunk, and pulls her into a hug. “It was so good to see you,” she says. “It means so much that you came to support me.”

“It was good to see you too,” Liv replies. It’s not a lie, but she’s still ready to go.

Her sister releases her, helps her take her bag and suitcase. “Text me when you get into Baldur’s Gate?”

“I promise.”

Her sister smiles. “Okay then, I should let you go catch your train.”

She’s got plenty of time to get to the platform. “Yeah, wouldn’t want to miss it.”

Brelia reaches for her then, a hand resting lightly on her arm. “Love you.”

It takes her by surprise, the words. Growing up, their family didn’t say them. Not often, not even on the phone. It wasn’t something she’d thought much of until a friend in high school commented on the lack. She’d tried for a bit to make those words a common occurrence in her family, and it had never worked. She knows now that it wouldn’t have mattered much, words are just words, empty without action. And yet…

“Love you too.” The words come out quiet, a little strained but her sister beams and then nods understandingly. Liv doesn’t need to explain any of this to her.

She waves as her sister’s little car pulls away from the curb, and then she walks inside the train station. Her train is waiting like a promise. She settles in, music on, book open, and it isn’t long before Neverwinter begins to slip away behind her.

She’s still not sure how she feels about the whole weekend. Seeing her sister, being with her again had been good, but hard too. Will there ever be a time when family isn’t so fucking complicated?

As the train rushes towards Baldur’s Gate, it’s like a weight has lifted off of her. She’s going home, and she’ll have time and space to figure this weekend out. Maybe someday distance won’t feel easier, but for today, it’s okay that it is. Or at least she tells herself that.

She distracts herself with reading until her phone buzzes.

FangtasticLover: I hope your weekend went well.

Books>People: It was alright. Sorry I didn’t send many pictures, kind of got caught up in the whole visit.

FangtasticLover: It’s alright. I’ve been sort of meaning to tell you something anyway. I started seeing someone…off app. I feel like we shouldn’t talk anymore. I want you to know I’ve really enjoyed our messages, and I hope you find everything you’re looking for.

Her heart starts racing and she types and then deletes several responses. They’re at first full of surprise, of demands for explanations she isn’t owed…but in the end none of them feel right. And then suddenly the ability to type a message disappears.

Mystra: Connection severed. You cannot reply to FangtasticLover , but you continue to have access to your chat history.

Liv stares at the message in shock. It hurts, the pain white hot and raw. Gods, she’s not even important enough to some random internet stranger to warrant more than a ‘see ya round’ message? It’s at least better than ghosting her, she supposes. And she is glad that he’s not messaging her behind someone else’s back, but it still hurts. Which is ridiculous since she didn’t even know what she wanted out of their communication anyway. They certainly hadn’t ever broached the idea of meeting…it had become a sort of unspoken agreement.

It’s the mystery of it all that bothers her the most. Now she’ll never know who he was where they passed by each other in life to get matched up. And with that, she deletes the app. It was a nice experiment for a moment, but if she’s being honest she’d mostly just kept it to talk to him. She’s glad that happened now, while she can sit on the train and watch the landscape and feel bad for herself because as she leaves the train, she’s going to do her best to leave this behind too.

When the lights of Baldur’s Gate finally come into view, Liv is surprised by the sense of homecoming she feels. The familiarity is comforting. Yes, this is her city, her home. It hasn’t been hers for very long, but it’s a relief all the same. She collects her things and steps onto the platform, but just past the ticket gates she realizes someone is waiting for her.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, unable to banish the smile that stretches across her face.

Astarion shrugs. “Thought I’d carry a bag or something.”

It was only a couple of days, but seeing him waiting for her makes her want to do ridiculous things like hug him. She doesn’t.

“You really must have missed me, but I’d been led to believe you’d be sporting mourning black,” she says, passing him her suitcase. Surprisingly, he takes it without complaint and falls into step beside her.

“While I do look very good in black-”

“Naturally.”

He smiles. “Naturally. But you’re home now, so there’s nothing to mourn.” He’s dressed in what passes for casual for Astarion: a gray sweater and designer jeans. As always, he looks very good.

Liv can’t help but laugh. “So this a celebration then?”

Astarion nods. “Why not? Come on, let’s go home.”

And it sounds really good coming from him.

***

Astarion has to admit that realizing he has feelings for Liv has been inconvenient, but it has put a few things into perspective. Namely, he realized he had exactly two options when it came to dealing with FangtasticLover. Option one was simply coming clean to Liv about all of it. Option two was deleting, severing the connection and moving on from the whole thing without saying a word. She doesn’t know and doesn’t ever need to. Option two is the safest and the one least likely to end poorly for him, so obviously, he went with that.

It had felt bad to do it that way, to cut things off without giving her the chance to say anything at all, but it’s better this way. More honest. He misses the messaging, the opportunity to get an insight into her mood or her day, but he just reminds himself that she’s still right here.

A few days slip by, quickly and quietly. Astarion has spent most of his time looking for a way to talk to Liv, for the words to tell her…what he’s not sure exactly. He cares for her and he wants them to be something , but he can’t quite figure out exactly what he wants them to be. He’s never done this before, and well, there are still pieces of this he’s not sure he’ll ever be ready for.

And is that fair to someone like her? He told her once that being a vampire spawn is a half-life. Is that what he’s asking of her too? Half of something, bits and pieces, it’s all he can offer. He hopes that it’s not forever, but he’s not sure. And he’s not sure where it will leave him if she says no.

Still, he spends more time with her than ever. Even keeping her company while she cooks dinner now he no longer has to hide the fact he doesn’t eat. In fact, he swirls a bit of blood in his wine glass while he watches her work.

“And then Gale was able to track down a note that had been buried in one of the old archivist's books that said we had an uncatalogued first edition of the book. And sure enough, it was on the shelf the note said it was and not in the digital system at all. It’s wild that we can have our own library and still not be entirely sure of everything inside of it because we’re just relying on the people who came before to have cataloged correctly.”

“Do you think there are more books like that? Things lost to time?” Astarion asks with genuine interest. He loves listening to Liv talk about her work. The way she speaks about it, the library feels like it’s actually magic. It’s old enough it probably is.

She shrugs at the stove, stirring the vegetables in the pan for her dinner. “It wouldn’t surprise me. I’m not sure what their protocol was when they digitized everything, but people always make errors.”

“You’d think using magic the way they did to track things would have made it easier.”

“You’d think, but even that’s not foolproof.”

He watches her for a moment. She’s pulled her long hair up in a bun, but there are tendrils escaping. As usual, she’s immediately changed into sweats upon coming home, and he likes her like this. Armor off, comfortable. She’s beautiful. “You know, I’ve never been in the library.”

“Really?” she asks, glancing back at him. “Not even on a tour?”

“They don’t often hold tours late enough for me to attend.”

“Well, any time you want to go, I’ll give you a private tour. Perks of being an archivist. I’ve got keys to go anywhere I want.”

He absolutely shouldn’t, but he can’t quite help himself. He lowers his voice and asks, “What exactly would a private tour with you entail?” It’s the most overt he’s been with her, and he’s wondering how it will be received.

She pulls the pan she’s been cooking from the heat, setting it on a trivet on the island and looking him directly in the eye. “What would you like it to entail?”

This is a dangerous sort of game, but it’s clear she’s down to play it and he wants nothing more than to keep it going. But then the door to his bedroom bursts open, and Petras emerges from Astarion’s bedroom dressed for the Elfsong. “What do we think?” he asks, showing off his newest clothing acquisition.

Liv recovers first. “It’s…uh…very sheer,” she offers.

The cut of the shirt is fine enough, but it is made out of a cheap semi-metallic fabric that rather undercuts the whole thing. And as Liv deftly pointed out, it’s totally sheer. Petras might as well be topless. Astarion sighs. “This could work, I suppose. But you need a suit jacket with it.”

“It’s a nightclub, not a corporate job,” Petras replies, clearly offended.

“Trust me, no one will mistake you for working a corporate job in that getup, but you’re still working . Put a jacket with it and it will read like a tease instead of an invitation. Come here, I think I have one that will fit your stupidly broad shoulders.” He rolls his eyes in Liv’s direction and she laughs as they both disappear into his room.

He has to admit, he is very good at what he does. Five minutes later, Petras looks much improved. He parades him out to Liv.

“Oh, that does look really good, Petras,” she says, the surprise clear on her face. It’s amazing what a single well-fitting suit jacket can do.

Petras toys with the sleeve of the jacket. “Now I look like I might be a VIP instead of just babysitting them.”

“And no one will wonder if you’re supposed to be at a very different club down the block,” Astarion adds.

“Try not to have too much fun without me,” Petras says walking to the door. “I need to go before I’m late.”

“Have a good shift,” Liv calls.

Petras gives them both a wave before disappearing out the door leaving Astarion and Liv alone again. Astarion slowly approaches the island, trying to figure out some comment or quip that might get them back to where they were before Petras so rudely interrupted.

“You’re good at that,” Liv says, startling him from his thoughts.

“I’m good at everything. What are you referring to though?”

Liv gestures at the door Petras had left through. “The fashion stuff. He looked really good and it was clear he also felt good.”

“Oh, well, yes. That’s my job.”

She smiles. “And you didn’t have to help him.”

“I could hardly let him walk out of the apartment dressed as he was. No one is that cruel.”

Her smile is softer then. “Sure. It’s not so bad having him around.”

“He’s supposed to be hearing about an apartment this week, so don’t get attached.” It can’t come soon enough. Astarion is ready to get back to his routines and life without the other vampire constantly underfoot. Also, he hates sharing a bathroom.

“You haven’t hated it as much as you pretend.”

“I, for one, cannot wait to have my space back. Also, he uses all of my hair products.”

“I’m sure they’re very expensive.” Liv takes a bite of her dinner.

He glares at her. “They are. Imported from Amn.”

“Well, godsdamn. Good thing there’s no pesky invitation magic keeping me from breaking into your bathroom and stealing some.”

He grins. “Actually your ends do look a little dry now that you mention it -” She throws a napkin at him as they both dissolve into laughter.

He wonders if this is the moment. Is this when he seizes it? Tells her how he feels? Tries to find the words?

“I’ve got to put the finishing touches on my exhibition proposal, but let’s watch something after?” she asks.

And just like that, the moment dissolves, slips right through his fingers. “Yes, of course.”

***

“We’re going to hit send together?” Gale asks, laptop propped on his knees as they’ve both squished into her cubicle.

“Yeah, hang on, are you ready to send already?” Liv has moved more slowly, more carefully through the exhibition application than Gale. In fairness, he’s done this before and she hasn’t.

“Yes, but take your time!” he insists.

She focuses on reading through the last lines of her application. “It would just be a serious downer if I submit this whole massive proposal only to have an embarrassing typo in the application cover page.”

“Now you’re making me nervous. Want to swap?” he asks.

And so they do, handing over their laptops so that they can both read through the cover letter for one another. They’ve been trading everything else, both know each other’s proposals nearly as well as their own. Gale’s Kafka proposal is a thing of beauty, empathetic and sharp, showcasing who Kafka was as well as highlighting his work. She’s going to be just as proud even if her own proposal doesn’t get chosen, though she does believe her own is quite good.

Perhaps predictably, they don’t find errors in each other’s work, and so they swap back their laptops. “You ready?”

Gale smiles. “Very. Three, two, one…”

She presses send and the familiar weight of expectation slides away. She feels rather like she did in college every time she submitted a big essay. Now it’s out of her hands; she’s done everything she can.

Gale lets out a satisfied sigh. “We did it.”

“We did it!” she cheers.

Rolan appears, leaning over her cubicle. “That means celebratory drinks tonight at The Merchant, right?”

Gale looks at her. “Well?”

“Lae’zel, celebratory drinks?” she calls loudly.

“Tchk, you didn’t need to yell, I could hear you perfectly fine. Yes, drinks.”

“Seven o’clock!” Rolan calls as he turns away, probably mostly to spite Lae’zel.

Gale stays seated for another moment. “No matter what happens with all this, I just want you to know I really enjoyed working on this with you. I’m so glad you’re here.”

Her eyes burn a little suspiciously, and she glowers at him but isn’t serious at all. “You make it really hard to want to beat you at anything, you know that, right?”

“You know, you could just respond with something equally as sentimental instead of a joke.”

“I’m glad we got to do this together too, Gale. Your proposal is beautiful.”

He smiles. “There it is. Though it does ruin a bit of the effect since I had to ask for it.”

She shrugs. “Next time.”

Liv spends the rest of her workday processing a box of books gifted to the university, sorting them for storage, preservation, and surplus. She definitely doesn’t habitually refresh her email despite knowing that no decision will be made for another two weeks. It’s fine. And then she heads home, coat pulled tight against the freezing wind. In the last week, Baldur’s Gate has shifted from true autumn to just the hint of winter in the air.

When she arrives at the apartment, she’s not surprised to see Astarion sitting in the living room. Petras is working tonight, and it seems she’s missed him.

“Welcome home,” Astarion says after she deposits her coat on the hook by the door.

“For a little while, anyway,” she says walking through the kitchen towards her bedroom. “I’m meeting up with everyone from work for drinks.”

She’s already taking off her shoes as Astarion trails her to her room. “But that wasn’t on the calendar.”

“You mean the one you don’t ever use?” she asks, glancing up at him. It’s a familiar refrain. He clearly checks it but doesn’t ever schedule a damn thing.

“If I put something on the calendar…would you go?” he asks. He sounds thoughtful, words more careful than usual.

“Sure.”

He’s already on his phone, thumbs tapping away, and Liv walks to the dresser to change out her earrings.

“There.”

Her phone buzzes.

She picks it up, staring at the notification uncomprehendingly: Date with Astarion . He’s scheduled it for tomorrow night.

“Is this a joke?” she asks, holding up her phone. If it is, it’s not funny to her. Not after that kiss anyway.

He looks rather put off by the question. “Only if you find it funny.”

“I don’t.” She sets her phone down and turns her attention back to the mirror.

It is quiet in her room for a moment, and then Astarion speaks, words quiet. “I didn’t forget, you know.”

She turns to look at him, and he’s looking at her not as if he’s managed a funny joke or a silly pun, but very seriously. There’s only one thing he could mean, but she’s going to need him to say it, to see if they really are having this conversation. “Forget what?”

“The kiss.”

There’s a thrill that passes through her until she’s reminded of all the reasons this is a terrible idea. “Astarion…I…we live together.”

“So! Who cares? It’s just more convenient to spend time together this way.”

“If this goes south, it also means that we’ve nuked our living situation,” she says, exasperation leaking into her words. Of course, she’s interested in him, and of course, she can’t be. She’s done a pretty good job of trying to ignore those feelings since that kiss…mostly anyway.

“Does it have to mean that? We’re adults…and…is that the only reason?” He’s looking at her so lost, so unsure, and she knows why he’d have to ask. Wishes that he didn’t.

She steps closer to him. “If you weren’t my roommate, it would be an easy yes.” She’s not entirely sure that without this forced proximity he’d even be looking at her twice, but there’s something rather earnest about his asking. And what’s the point in lying about how she feels now?

He smiles a softness in his eyes she’s not sure she’s ever seen before. “Is that so?”

There’s no part of her that wants to banish that softness, that hope. And they are both adults, and they do live together, but what had Brelia said? That she needed to let people see her? Astarion is the only person in her new life she’s allowed to do so, the only one who knows the truth about her family. But it’s more than that too. He’s already seen her before coffee in the morning and when she’s grumpy in the evenings after a long day. He knows her and he’s still asking, and maybe it is a bad idea, but she’s started over before and it didn’t kill her. She can do it again if she has to.

“I want a promise,” she says. “That we take this slow, that we make sure we’re both serious. That we protect this.”She gestures between them encompassing this friendship and understanding they’ve found that’s become so important to her.

“That seems…reasonable…besides…I’ve never done this before,” he admits, eyes focused on the carpet.

She picks up her phone and opens the calendar invite. She knows what he really means by his comment, but she gives him an out anyway. “I’ve never been on a date with my roommate before either.”

He smiles. “Is the offer to show me the library still on the table?”

“Always.”

“I’ll meet you there then. Just after sunset?”

“Alright. Now get the hells out of my room, I need to change before going out for drinks.”

His eyes light up with mischief. “Is that supposed to convince me to want to leave?”

She picks up a pillow from her bed and tosses it at him. She’s already going for another while he seeks the shelter of the closing door. As her door clicks shut, she opens her phone up again, stares at the calendar invite and smiles.

They’re going on a date.

#astarion #astarion x tav #tavstarion #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x liv #modern au #invisible string #slothquisitorwrites

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