#feeling their hands on your face… hanging off of them…. looking up at them…. sigh

[rafayelxsylusho]

imagine xav x mc x caleb throuple sex …. them being jealous and frustrated when two guys tried to hit on their girl at the beach and they fuck it all out on her

I just noticed I didn't have Xavier in the "At the same damn time" fics 😯.

I hope you like it ☺️

The update for The land of no return series is next.

⭐Melting point🍎

Tw: smut

You flash the guys in front of you your most charming smile, laughing at their jokes as you subtly angle your body to keep Xavier and Caleb in your peripheral vision. Their stares don't go unnoticed, and you can practically feel the jealousy radiating off them from across the beach. But you act oblivious, continuing your flirtatious banter with the two men, enjoying the little thrill of making Xavier and Caleb a bit jealous.

After a few more minutes of friendly conversation, you excuse yourself and start walking towards Xavier and Caleb. As you approach, their expressions morph from jealousy to possessive.

Stopping in front of them, you tilt your head coyly, batting your lashes. "What are you two scowling about?" you ask innocently, acting as if you have no idea about the effect you just had on them. "Is everything okay?"

You can sense the tension crackling between the three of you. But you simply look at them waiting on their reaction to your little game. Little do they know, you live for moments like these, the thrill of pushing their buttons and the retaliation that's sure to follow.

You grab your tropical cocktail from Xavier's hand, the ice cubes clinking against the glass as you bring it to your lips. The sweet, fruity taste of pineapple and rum dances on your tongue as you take a long, slow sip.

With no answer from them you walk back to your beach chair, as soon as you are setting your glass down on the small side table you hear Xavier ask  "Did you have fun?"

Turning your body, you lie on your stomach deliberately arching your back to expose the skimpy backside of your bikini bottoms. The fabric stretches over the curve of your ass, the edges of your cheeks peeking out teasingly. You can feel the warm sun caressing your exposed skin, but it's nothing compared to the intensity of Xavier's gaze as he stares at your tempting display.

"Nope," you reply, voice dripping with false innocence. The single word hangs heavy in the air between you, a provocation and a challenge all in one.

"How about we go back to the hotel so you can wear something else."

You turn your head slowly to face Caleb, your long hair falling over your shoulder as you meet his eyes. A tiny smirk plays at the corners of your mouth as you respond to his suggestion.

"I really like this bikini," You emphasize each word, drawing out the syllables as if savoring the taste of them on your tongue. It's like you are daring him to do something about his obvious disapproval.

Turning back to face forward, you make a show of adjusting your bikini top. You can feel the weight of their stares, the hunger in their eyes as they watch your every move.

Xavier steps closer, invading your personal space as he leans down, his face mere inches from yours. "You and every other guy around here seems to like it too. Maybe a little too much."

Shrugging you let out a soft scoff. "So?" you ask.

You knew all too well about their love hate relationship with your bratty attitude and it only spurred you on.

Rolling on your side, you prop yourself up on one elbow, facing both men directly.

"What's the matter, boys? Can't handle a little friendly chat?" You taunt, lips curling into a teasing grin. Your eyes dance between their tense faces, reveling in the jealous frustration you see there.

Caleb leans down and presses a soft towel into your hands. "Here, wrap this around yourself"

You glance down at the towel, then back up at Caleb "But I don't feel cold," you reply, keeping your tone playful yet stubborn, and make no move to take the towel from him

Xavier sighs loudly, his patience clearly wearing thin. He leans in close again, so close you can feel his breath against your ear. "Either you wrap that towel around your body, or I'll bend you over this chair to spank that attitude out of you and give those guys a bigger show than you already have."

You let out a soft, tinkling laugh. "What makes you think I wouldn't like that? Maybe I want them to watch..."

As the words leave your lips, you suddenly realize that you may have taken things a step too far, pushing them closer to their breaking points.

So you sit up slowly and swing your legs over the side of the chair. Standing up, you fix your bikini bottoms and adjust the straps of your top.

'I think I'm going to enjoy the rest of our time here before we head back to the hotel," you say, grabbing your sunglasses and slipping them on your face.

With a flip of your hair over your shoulder, you turn and start walking towards the water's edge, putting an extra sway in your hips. You know they're watching you, their eyes glued to your every move. The sand is warm beneath your bare feet as you approach the shoreline, the waves lapping gently at the sand.

You glance back at them over your shoulder, eyes hidden behind your sunglasses, a teasing smile on your lips. "Aren't you two coming?"

⭐🍎⭐🍎⭐🍎⭐🍎⭐🍎⭐🍎⭐

"Caleeeeb..."Why are you doing it like that?

You are spread out luxuriously on the hotel bed, your bikini long since discarded and forgotten on the floor. Caleb's hands grip your thighs, holding them apart. His mouth moves over your folds, tongue swirling sooooo slowly on your clit, as if he has all the time in the world. He takes his time, savoring every inch of your skin, tracing the delicate contours of your femininity with a maddeningly slow thoroughness.

The minutes tick by and your frustration grows, back arching off the bed, fingers gripping the sheets beneath you. You can feel the pleasure building, but it's too slow, too teasing, and not nearly enough to satisfy the need within you.

You toss your head back against the pillows, hips squirming beneath him. "Stop making out with my pussy"

Caleb simply chuckles and lifts his head just enough to flash you a grin, then he parts your folds with his fingers and spits directly on your exposed clit. You gasp at the sudden stimulation and his saliva mingles with your arousal. The slick, warm fluid trickles down between your ass cheeks.

Suddenly Xavier whispers against the shell of your ear, the deep timbre of his voice making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end  "What did we say about sassing?"

Caleb's fingers dig into the soft flesh of your thighs, gripping you tighter as he holds you in place.

"You have two options y/n, you can be quiet and take what we give you..."

As Xavier speaks, you feel the flat of his tongue drag slowly over the peak of your nipple, the wet muscle teasing with gentleness. It draws a sharp gasp from your throat

"So soft" he whispers.

"Or?" you breathe out, your voice trembling slightly

"Or... I will find something to shove inside that bratty mouth and take what we want anyway. What will it be?"

You quickly clamp your mouth shut, a soft whimper escaping your lips.

"Good girl," Xavier praises, the words are barely out of his mouth before you feel the sharp sting of his teeth sinking into your nipple.

A gasp catches in your throat, threatening to spill over into a moan, but you bite your lip hard to stifle it.

Caleb seems to be rewarding your obedience choosing that moment to run the tip of his tongue from your entrance to your clit several times. Then he pushes a finger inside your core, curling and stroking a sensitive spot.

You can no longer hold back the needy sounds building in your throat. A moan escapes your lips, the pleasure overwhelming your previous resolve to stay quiet.

"Caleb, please..." you hear yourself beg "More, I need more..." Your hips buck against his hand, trying to take his finger deeper as your walls clench greedily around it.

"She sounds so sweet when she begs, doesn't she Caleb?"

You feel Xavier's fingers tightening around your breast, squeezing your flesh. Your nipples harden further under his touch, aching for more of his dominant caress.

"Do it again," Xavier commands, "Beg for it, and we'll make you feel good." He licks your nipple again and Caleb adds a second finger, pumping them in and out of your pussy with a steady rhythm.

You feel your orgasm building, that coil of pleasure winding tighter and tighter in your core. A breathless smile plays on your lips as you realize the power you hold, even as these two men have you pinned and at their mercy, the knowledge that you somehow have them wrapped around your finger only adds to your arousal.

"God, you are such a fucking brat," Xavier growls "All you had to do was behave yourself, and we would have fucked you the way you deserve" 

Caleb adds a third finger, stretching you further, Xavier fingers pinch and roll your other nipple in time with the thrusts of Caleb's hand.

Your hips buck wildly, rolls only making it halfway through completion "I'm gonna... Fuck, Xav..."

Just as you feel the sweet oblivion of your climax approaching, heaven within reach, and your soul poised to soar through those celestial doors...

You open the doors to heaven, but you don't get to walk in.

Because just as the first wave of your orgasm hits both men stop. Cold air hits your pussy as Caleb abruptly removes his mouth and fingers, leaving you empty and desperate.

Xavier grabs your arms, gripping them tightly as he pins them above your head, preventing you from moving, from seeking more of that glorious friction. Your orgasm, once promising to be earth shattering, fizzles out into a mere flicker, leaving you whimpering and squirming.

"Did you really think, after today, that you deserved to cum so fast?" Caleb mocks. "You haven't earned that pleasure, brat."

Tears of frustration prick at the corners of your eyes as you stare up at them, your chest heaving with ragged breaths. Your body is a live wire of sensation, every nerve ending screaming for more, for release, but they've stolen that from you.

"If you wanted to be touched, you just needed to ask," Xavier reminds you. His grip on your arms tightens briefly, a warning and a promise all in one. "We saw how those fuckers were looking at you, like a piece of meat, a prize to be won. But you don't belong to them, do you?"

Caleb leans in and whispers, "No, you belong to us. So next time, remember this is what happens when you don't ask nicely for what you want."

Trembling and sensitive you begin to move your hands to cover your naked body, but before you can Caleb sits up, effortlessly lifting you up placing you on his lap, your legs straddling his thick thighs as he holds you up.

You look up at him, confusion in your eyes as you mumble, "I thought... we were done?"

He shifts his hips slightly, and you feel the hard length of his cock slide through your folds, the head catching on your entrance. "Oh princess," he murmurs "That was just a warning. Now comes the lesson."

He squeezes your waist tightly, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he starts to push you down on his cock. Your eyes widen and you let out a choked gasp as you feel his girth stretching you open, the thick head pushing past your entrance.

Your head spins and when he starts to sink you lower, you feel something that always makes your mind go completely blank, the cold metal of his piercings.

He starts counting as he pushes you down "One... Two... Three..." You're not sure if he's counting each inch of his large cock as it disappears inside you, or if he's marking the way your pussy swallows up each of his piercings.

Your walls flutter and clench, trying to adjust as Caleb continues. "Five... Six... Seven..."

Then he gives your waist one last firm push, sheathing that final inch of his pierced cock deep inside you. When your ass presses against his thighs and your hips align, he finishes counting "Eight."

His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he starts to roll his hips slowly, working his cock in slow circles. "This is how it feels to be ours"

You let out a shaky moan when you feel Xavier's hands squeeze your breasts from behind. Driven by instinct and desperation, you find yourself rolling your hips, grinding your ass against the length of his cock .

Xavier's voice is a warning growl in your ear as he feels your teasing movements. "Don't be greedy, bunny, If you keep pressing your ass against my dick like that, I'm going to fuck it."

Caleb, still fucking you so very slowly whispers "Careful what you wish for Pip, Xavier's not as gentle as I am. He might just take what he wants"

But you're too far gone, lost in a haze of sensation and desperation, to heed the warning in their voices. The words spill from your lips before you can stop them, fast and breathless.

"And that would be a problem, why?" you ask, rolling your hips, deliberately grinding your ass against his erection one more time.

"Because, once he starts, he won't stop until he's emptied every last drop of his cum deep inside your ass" he gives a sharp thrust, grinding his pelvis against yours, making you cry out, "and right now, your little cunt is too busy milking my cock to take much more."

"Is that what you want?" Xavier asks, "To be fucked until you can't walk straight?"

Your breathless whisper of affirmation is all it takes to shatter the last of Xavier's restraint. He spits crudely into his palm, coating his fingers with saliva. Before you can process the lewd gesture, he's pressing the slick fingers against your back entrance.

His eyes are dark with lust as he watches Caleb's cock disappear between your wet folds, your walls clinging greedily to every inch of his length. "Tell me, Y/N, do you deserve it?"

You're too desperate with need to lie, so the truth tumbles from your lips in a plea. "I don't," you admit, your voice breaking on a moan as Caleb's buries his cock to the hilt again "But I need you right now, Xav, please!"

Xavier's pupils dilate and without warning, he presses the head of his cock against your back entrance. Your body instinctively clenches, your hole squeezing down on the intrusion.

But jealous Xavier is anything but gentle, so with a single thrust, he buries himself inside your ass, not stopping until his heavy balls press against the underside of your cheeks. The sudden, intense stretch has you crying out, your back arching as your fingers scrabble at Caleb's chest for support. 

"FUCK!" you scream, feeling split open, stuffed so full of hard, pulsing cock that you swear you can feel them in your throat.

Xavier swears under his breath, pressing his forehead against your shoulder "Fuck, Caleb"

"What?"

"I can feel your fucking piercings"

Caleb's hands squeeze your ass and spreads the cheeks apart as he starts to thrust again and says "Your welcome"

Desperation claws at your insides as you clench down on their cocks, feeling every ridge and vein, every piercing and throbbing pulse. You can't form a coherent thought beyond the need for them to move, to claim you, to use you.

"Xav," you whimper, your nails digging into Caleb's skin. "I need you to move, please!" Your hips move between them, seeking more of that intense fullness.

He's testing his control, ensuring he won't embarrass himself by cumming on the spot the second he starts to move. After a few tense heartbeats, he seems satisfied that he can hold back, if only just barely.

"Hold on to Caleb and remember I love you," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. "Because in about five seconds, it will feel like I don't."

With that ominous warning, he starts to move, pulling his hips back until just the tip of his cock remains inside. Then, with a hard snap of his hips, he slams back into you, burying his length deep inside your ass.

The sensation of being so impossibly stretched steals your breath away, leaving you gasping and panting. Your mouth falls open, desperate for air as each of their thrusts drives the oxygen from your lungs.

Caleb takes advantage of your open mouth, leaning in to catch your lower lip between his teeth. He tugs on it gently before releasing it and flicking his tongue out to lave over the sensitive skin, soothing the sting of his nip.

"You wanted to be fucked stupid, princess?"

You don't answer, you can't. Not when the two of them are fucking you like that

"We're getting there...she just lost her ability to talk"

Xavier throws his head back, the tendons in his neck stand out, his muscles coiled and flexing as he chases his pleasure, lost in the tight, silken heat of your ass.

You're sandwiched between them, a willing victim to their lust, your body a plaything for them to use for their satisfaction. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mixing with your desperate moans and their harsh pants and groans.

Your body is wracked with sensation, every nerve ending screaming with a dizzying mix of pleasure and pain. Tears stream down your face as you cry out, "I can't take it anymore!"

Xavier leans down, his lips brushing your ear "Yes, you can, stubborn thing. Look at how well you're doing right now."

Caleb reaches down, gripping your thighs tightly. With a sharp tug, he pulls your legs further apart, opening you wider to them. The new angle has Xavier's cock driving even deeper into your ass.

The pleasure is so intense that it blurs the line with pain, leaving you dizzy and disoriented. You can't distinguish one from the other anymore, only knowing that you're drowning in them.

 

"It's too good, it's too much... I'm about to...Xav"

"You don't need my permission, bunny. Don't hold back now."

"Caleb..."

Feeling your body shaking between them, he murmurs words of encouragement "Go ahead, Pip. Come for us, I'll be right there with you"

With a swipe of his finger against your swollen clit, Caleb sends you hurtling over the edge. Your scream tears through the room, your body convulsing violently as your orgasm crashes over you. Tears pour down your face, vision going white as pleasure detonates behind your eyes.

Your nails rake down Caleb's chest, leaving red lines in their wake as you ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm. You can feel Xavier's rhythm start to falter, his thrusts growing erratic as he chases his own release.

Caleb's hands grip your hips tightly, holding you in place as he slams up into your spasming cunt, his own orgasm building rapidly. You can feel his cock growing impossibly harder.

"Fuck!" Caleb moans, his eyes squeezing shut as the first hot, thick spurt of his release paints your cervix.

"Shit, I'm close too," Xavier pants harshly "Don't you dare fucking stop, Caleb!"

Xavier's balls draw up tight, his impending release coiling hot and heavy. With a scream of your name that echoes off the bedroom walls, he hilts inside your ass one last time, his cock pulsing as it begins to erupt. 

Completely spent, you collapse against Caleb's body. Limbs trembling and face nuzzled into the crook of his shoulder as you try to catch your breath.

After a long moment, you start to giggle, a breathless, incredulous sound that turns into a full blown laugh. Caleb looks down at you, his eyes crinkling with amusement as he takes in your expression.

Still giggling, you tilt your head to meet his gaze "You two need to get that jealousy under control."

His brows furrow as he cups your chin "We don't want you talking to guys like that anymore," he states firmly, his thumb brushing over your lower lip in a gesture that's almost tender, if not for the underlying demand in his tone.

"You can't just order me..."

"We can and we will, see that's where you are wrong bunny, it's our cum filling you up right now. Not theirs" Xavier hips roll lazily against your ass, stirring his release inside you.

"You are ours."

[rotapathetic]

˒ 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂 .ᐟ 𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐄 ┆ 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐫 𖢖

pathetic introduction

once again, you had invited rafe over to hang out. he was surprised you wanted to be around him so often. but since cutting off your friend for being rude to him, he’s kind of the only person you really trust now. nevermind you’re so unaware you’re putting your trust into the wrong person.

rafe liked fiddling with the things in your room. when you noticed him messing with your trinket dish, you explained to him that it’s come so in handy for placing jewelry or little things you would otherwise leave on the desk.

rafe nodded, taking in your words. and taking one of your rings. you wouldn’t miss this one, you had another that was pretty identical.

he was slipping it into his pocket discretely when your bell rang. rafe’s ear perked up. who’s visiting you? did you invite someone else after inviting him? was his company not enough?

“i think i have a feeling what that could be. . i’ll be right back.” you slid off your bed, making your way to your front door.

who is it? this had to be someone familiar, given what you said. should rafe leave? he wouldn’t know what to do if he had to be in a room with you and another guy. rafe slowed his thoughts. maybe it’s a new girl friend. rafe knew you didn’t talk to too many people since leaving your last friend. sure, you had some interactions on social media, but that’s online. rafe is in person. he’s the only person you have. he would love it if it stayed that way.

as you treaded up the stairs, back into your room, rafe took a double take at what you held in your hands. you sighed, lips slightly twisting. “another one.”

rafe rose a brow. “those are. . nice. what’re they for?” and would the person who sent them like to know what cuts deeper than a thorn?

you shrugged, placing the flowers on the desk by rafe. his finger twitched to grab them and toss them across the room. “i think someone is like. . admiring me? maybe?” you giggled out. rafe didn’t find it funny. “it might sound silly, but someone left me a letter the other day, dotting on how beautiful i am. it’s a really sweet gesture, just. .”

rafe tore his eyes from the flowers to look to you when you paused. “just what? creepy? dangerous?” rafe tacked on a smile to show he wasn’t being serious. but he was.

you let out a little laugh. “maybe?” you titled your head. “well, not creepy. just. . i would love to know who it is.”

rafe would too. how much longer could he sit with those flowers in front of him, he’s unsure. the skin of his thumb was between his teeth before he realized. what if the anonymous sender revealed themselves and you end up liking them? liking them more than rafe.

but no one could appreciate you more than rafe does. he’s yours and you don’t even know it. does he have to drill it into his skin with ink? he adores you.

honestly, who even sends anonymous bullcrap anymore. can’t they be brave and show themselves? rafe didn’t let himself think about how that could’ve been him if you hadn’t talked to him first that day. but it’s different. they’re not rafe.

so they don’t get to send you flowers. they don’t deserve to put a smile on your face that they can’t even see. but rafe has to sit and watch it. watch your face glow with a smile that he didn’t put on it. how dare they? what rafe would give to be the one that makes you happy. the scratches he would endure from his own nails if you asked. the wounds he would proudly show if you wanted him to. what screams admiration louder than eliciting your own pain for someone?

metallic fell onto his tongue and he finally pulled his finger away. gosh, his bandaids were running quickly. he wiped the moisture on his tattered jeans as you were distracted, picking up the flowers. you turned them this way and that.

“what do you think?” you asked rafe. “they’re pretty, but. . should i give this person attention?” you hoped he would say no. that he would hint he doesn’t want you giving someone else attention. sure, things were going fine between you two and maybe you were teetering on more than just friends. but neither of you have yet had the courage to say anything.

rafe’s eye twitched. he sat up in your desk chair, fingers entangling on his lap. “uh. .” should he drop to his knees and beg you not to engage with this person and focus on him instead? is that too much? rafe titled his head. yeah, that’s a wee bit much.

he shrugged. “whatever you feel comfortable doing.” he peeked up at you through his lashes. please understand that means no.

it was a vague answer. but it wasn’t a yes. it was all you needed. “yeah. . i won’t. hopefully, the gifts will stop? i feel mean, but. . they’re not really who i’m interested in.” you dug the toes of your shoe into the floor shyly. there. that should give rafe a hint.

rafe in question groaned internally as he smiled, nodding his head. another guy? why must you put so many innocent people in his line of sight?

[lovelivision]

★‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ❝ GET YOU BACK! ❞

･ ⟢ ⋮ summary. . . toji is your ex-husband and he deeply regrets ever having let the marriage fall apart, he doesn't plan on giving up after the divorce though, determined to get you back. . .

.pairing﹒ꕀ. fushiguro toji / reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎wc.⁀⊹ 3.4k

warnings.ᐟ.ᐟ 18+ only, smut, mdni, swearing, porn with some (?) plot, biting, dirty talk, cunnilingus, fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex (don't be silly, wrap your willy), creampie, f!reader, toji is a little obsessed maybe

Toji is still so desperately in love with you – his ex-wife – and he’s refusing to let you forget just how much you mean to him. Always showing up whenever you need him and if he’s being honest, maybe scaring away potential future relationships. He swears he has good reasons for each of them though, that first guy was definitely taking advantage of you because you were sad from the divorce and the other guy… well, he had a creepy vibe.

Maybe he’d feel worse about it if he thought any of them deserved you, hell he thinks he barely deserves you, let alone these fucking losers. You’re far too special to him and he regrets ever letting the marriage get to the point where you left but he’ll spend every day he has left trying to get you back.

Every time you call him for something – or to tell him off for something – his heart stammers in his chest. Your voice like music to his ears, stupid smile on his face even when you’re mad at him, far too adorable for him to be annoyed.

You’re frustrated and huffing down the line at him, “Toji, are you even listening to me?”

“Of course I am,” he snickers, “I love listening to you.”

“This is exactly what I mean, Toji… you need to move on,” sigh more sad than anything else.

Countering with, “Can you honestly tell me you’ve moved on?”

There’s a heavy silence from your end of the line, pausing for slightly too long before dodging his question, “…Stop meddling in my life and find someone else.”

“I don’t want anyone else.”

“Maybe you should’ve been this communicative during our marriage then.

He imagines your lower lip pulling up like how it often did when you were at your wits end with him, his heart pulling at the thought, he misses you so damn much. “I’ve never wanted anyone else, doll. I–”

“–Could’ve fooled me,” before he can interrupt, you add, “I’m hanging up now and I don’t plan on reaching out to you again… bye, Toji.”

The line dead just as he opens his mouth to reply, soft groan leaving him, frustrated with himself for going a tad too far this time. For now, he’ll give you space, just for now, he’s hoping that you’ll cave and call him again, hoping you miss him just as much as he misses you.

He has so many regrets from the relationship, he should’ve been more attentive, he should’ve been more emotionally available for you. He’s always loved you, loved you so much that he could barely breathe, it’s his mistake that he didn’t show that to you enough while you were his. If he could go back, he would’ve never stopped doing the little things, he wouldn’t have let himself take you for granted…

A few weeks go by after that call and you haven’t reached out to him at all, he’s growing impatient, missing the sound of your voice. It’s a complete coincidence when he runs into you, you’re on the side of the street with some guy. You don’t notice Toji but he definitely notices you, how could he not?

You’re all dressed up and looking so pretty and just as he’s about to leave so he can avoid whatever is about to happen, you slap the man. The smile on Toji’s face appears suddenly and with little control on his part, though he doesn’t deny that he enjoys the way you’re clearly cursing the guy out. Only watching for a moment and then quickly moving to your side because the guy is getting angrier, his fists balling at his sides as his jaw clenches.

Toji places his hand on the small of your back, towering over the man in front of you both. Though he’s mostly ignoring him, addressing you instead, “You look real pretty tonight, doll.”

You’re clearly surprised, having tensed at his touch until you heard his voice, “Toji? What are you doing here?”

“Just passing by when I happened across an interesting scene,” he’s feeling some type of way at the fact you visibly relaxed when it was him next to you, smug maybe? Maybe just pure happiness that you’re still comfortable around him.

“Try not to look so pleased,” your eyes roll at him and he can’t help but notice how pretty the particular shade of them is under the lights tonight.

“Uhh, hello?” your presumed date makes himself known, “Who the fuck is this and can you tell me what the fuck I did to deserve being slapped?”

You snap back, not in the mood to deal with his attitude right now, “You’re a fucking creep is what you did and who this is, is none of your business.”

His tone is all matter-of-fact when he talks again, “This is a date, the third one actually and–”

“I’m telling you right now that you don’t want to finish your sentence,” you’re trying to warn him, not for your benefit but his, “just leave and block my number.”

He goes to argue with you some more but Toji finally pulls his gaze away from you to look at him and if looks could kill, this guy would be dead and no one would know where to find his body. Apparently thinking better of it, your date turns tail and leaves, stomping angrily away from the two of you.

“What’d he do to deserve a slap like that, doll?”

“I’m not in the mood to entertain you, Toji…” you rub at your temples, a habit you’ve had for as long as he can remember, “but thank you… for your help.”

“I’m always here for you,” he frowns, hurt to think you don’t know that, don’t know that he’s always, always here for you. “I don’t want you thinking–”

You raise a hand, interrupting his sentence, “Stop… stop saying the things I wish you’d said while we were married.”

“Can we go somewhere to talk?” you’re clearly hesitant at his ask but he needs to tell you how he feels, tell you so that you understand, “Please.”

Tentative expression on your face but a low sigh letting him know you’re about to cave, “Fine but after this… you need to really try to move on, we can’t keep doing this song and dance.”

He doesn’t answer, not willing to agree to something he couldn’t possibly do. Your eyes close for a moment before blinking back open, head shaking at him but you don’t push him.

Toji’s place is closer but he doesn’t want you in such a shitty neighbourhood at night so you both go back to your house, the house you once shared. While inside, he can’t help himself and he’s snooping, looking for changes to the place and aside from all the things he took with him when he left, it’s much the same.

Walking down the hall only to get caught on your wedding photo, still on the wall. The hope he has at the sight of it doesn’t feel fair, doesn’t feel fair because he doesn’t know if it’s false hope or not.

Your voice from behind him pulls him from his thoughts, “Do you want some tea or something?”

“No,” he pats the top of your head a couple times like he used to do so often, “no, I’m alright.”

“…Then let’s go to the living room,” head nodding in the direction.

It’s quiet for a few moments, neither of you knowing where to start or who should speak first. Toji supposes he should since he’s the one who basically begged to be able to talk to you.

“I know I let you down during our marriage but I need you to know that I always loved you – I still love you, so much.”

Your gaze avoids his and he knows it’s because you’re emotional, eyes looking upwards as you fight to stop yourself from crying, “Is that all?”

“Not even close,” he moves closer to you on the couch, his hands reaching for you and cradling your face, forcing eye contact, “I neglected you and for that I’m so fucking sorry.” Thumb wiping away a stray tear, “I love you.”

“I don’t want to forgive you,” lower lip wobbling, “if I forgive you, you might do it again or you might actually stop loving me and then what? And then I have to go through all of this again?”

He pulls you into his arms, hugging you firmly, “I won’t stop loving you,” face pressing into the top of your head, nuzzling you, “won’t ever fuck up like that again, let me love you properly this time.”

You’re sniffling against his shirt, calming yourself first before answering him. Only doing so when you’ve collected yourself, parting from him enough to look into his eyes when you say, “Fine but I’m not marrying you again until you earn it.”

He can’t help himself, lips on yours and kissing you deeply, so elated at another chance that he couldn’t hold back. His tongue licking into your mouth and savouring the taste of you, he’d missed this so bad; the little noises you make, the way you nearly go limp in his arms, so weak for his kisses.

It’s rushed because of how desperate he is, hands moving to feel you up, groping your body needily. A huffed whine leaving you makes him groan, lips trailing down to your neck, nipping and sucking at your skin.

“Doll, I need you,” he’s basically pleading, he’s missed you so much though, borderline touch starved.

“Okay–” gasping when he bites at your shoulder, “the room, Toji–”

He grunts back at you, annoyed that he has to stop but picking you up and walking down the hall to your room all the same, you’ve got him wrapped around your pretty little fingers right now.

Dropping you unceremoniously onto the bed, causing you to bounce with the weight of it. Toji takes a moment to eye you up, trying to decide what he wants to do first, ultimately choosing to undress you.

“Toji, slow down–”

“–No,” it’s growled back, hands tugging your clothes off until you’re naked, “I’ll do you slow another time.”

So quick he drops to his knees, mouthing up the insides of your thighs. Normally he’d tease you, make you shaky and desperate for it but he’s in no position to play with you, already so desperate himself. Blowing gently onto your cunt just once before licking obscenely up the length of it, his spine shuddering at how sweet you taste, delighting in how you jolt and whine under his mouth.

You’re already so wet and leaking so insistently for him, he’s all too happy to lap at you. Chuckling darkly when your fingers tug at his hair and you whine frustratedly, wanting so much more from him.

“What do you want?”

Pouting back at him, “You know what I want”

Feigning ignorance just so he can hear you say it, so he can hear you ask for it, “Sorry, doll. It’s been a while; you have to remind me.”

“Inside,” you murmur out, all timid.

“Hmm?” he hums, like he didn’t hear you perfectly clearly. Going back to licking and sucking on your pussy, tongue flicking at your clit so cruelly.

“Toji~” you mewl, “inside– hah– I want you inside.”

His cock is aching, twitching in his pants at how pathetic you sound for him – for your ex-husbands dick. Feeling a little evil, he slides his tongue inside you, lewd slurping sounds leaving him as he fucks your hole with his tongue. Giving you what you wanted, filling you, just not with what you wanted.

Your back arching pitifully, moans tumbling from your lips so sinfully sweet that his hips jerk upwards, searching for some way to relieve himself. Hard dick rubbing against the zipper of his jeans, no doubt a wet spot forming through the material where the tip of him rests. Nuzzling into your cunt more, swallowing down the honeyed taste of you and moaning unashamed at it.

He feels insane just about now, in love with you, in love with your sweet pussy. Eyes heavy on you as he watches all of your little reactions, just knowing you’re close, your thighs fighting to close. His hands keep you spread wide, always getting a little extra joy and arousal out of your embarrassment.

Tongue leaving your tight heat only to be replaced with two of his thick fingers, opening you up so indecently. Mouth latching onto your clit, tongue flicking at it over and over, digits rubbing against your walls just how he knows you like. He wants you to cum before he fucks you, always so much wetter and hotter around him once you do. He wants it so bad, the memory enough to make him salivate, drooling onto your cunt.

Broken whines leaving you, “Hah– Toji– hnn– I’m close– I– ah!–”

Your walls flutter so delicate and enticing around his fingers, pulling him in deeper, clinging to him. Soft hum leaving him, acknowledging your words, it’s just his luck that the vibrations add to your pleasure. Legs kicking out as you come undone for him, all shaky and blissed out as your pussy tries to milk his fingers, wishing for something else entirely.

Toji’s brain feels like it’s melting, all gooey and obsessed with you when you’re like this. Helping you through your orgasm and trying his best to ignore the way his cock feels so heavy and hard in his pants.

When you whimper and push at his head lightly, he pulls back. His fingers withdrawing from your snug cunt, all coated in your cum. Without really thinking, like a man possessed, he shoves his fingers into his mouth. It’s filthy how he licks and sucks on them, cleaning them of your essence.

“Toji, stop being a pervert,” your words hold little weight when you still look so turned on and ready to be fucked by him.

He grins at you, standing to his full height, “You ready to remember the shape of me?”

You’re so gorgeous, all splayed out and blinking soft up at him, eyes dazed and twinkling from your orgasm, “Please?”

“Anything for my pretty, little wife,” he undresses for you.

Your eyes track him as he does but you also correct him, “Ex-wife.”

“Fine,” he rolls his eyes, crawling onto the bed over top of you, “Anything for my pretty, little, ex-wife.”

“I missed you a lot,” leaning up to him so your lips brush against his skin.

The words and your gentle touch send a shiver through him, precum dripping from the tip of his cock onto your skin. “I missed you too, doll, so much.”

Lips capturing yours in a heated kiss, all messy and tangled tongues. Kissing you properly, like he may never get to again, cause he almost didn’t get to. Not even parting when he positions himself at your entrance, slowly splitting you open with his cock. Damn near whining into your mouth, pushing the pathetic sound down, trying to keep control.

Eventually pulling away from the kiss just so he can watch you suck in his dick, biting his lip in what looks like a snarl as he slides inside. Appreciating how your pussy bulges around him so lewdly, barely halfway and looking so fucking stuffed.

He’s taken by surprise when your legs wrap around him and pull him in until his hips are flush to you, balls deep inside you all at once making him moan. Walls clingy and so fucking creamy soft, his cock swallowed up so greedily by your loving cunt. Brain fuzzy as he focuses on not cumming too soon.

It’s hard to keep that focus when you’re grinding up into him, pulsing hot and snug around him. Apparently just as touch starved as he’d been, a desperation in your need that he finds himself loving and understanding.

“Calm down,” his hand trails up your leg, from your hip to your knee, “I’ll fuck you good and proper.”

Gritting back at him, “Then do it.”

“Anything you say, doll.”

Hauling your legs up from under your knees, folding you in half and using his weight to hold you there. His laugh is a little cruel when you whinge up at him, brows pulled together as your mouth drops open.

His head right by yours with how he’s pressing into you, nipping the tip of your ear before he asks, “You ready for it?”

A little shaky under him but so certain when you nod back, “Give– hnn– it to me.”

“Yes ma’am,” he chuckles slightly, hips pulling back, cock dragging from your walls and then fucking back inside you so quick that the air leaves your lungs.

Toji’s head is spinning, your pussy really fucking missed him, hugging him so tight. So perfectly wet and needy that he’s going insane, having you writhing under him while he fucks you stupid.

“Are ya’ enjoying this?” he asks, angled thrusts hitting against your cervix, “You like getting fucked by your ex-husband?”

“Mhm,” nodding deliriously at him, too out of your mind with pleasure to bite back at him.

It’s cute, how you’re falling apart from just a few heavy thrusts, already fucked dumb and he’s just getting started.

“I can tell,” The sloppy wet sounds of your pussy filling the room making him so smug, “pretty cunt sounds so fucking happy to take me.”

“Don’t– ah!– don’t talk like that– hnn–”

Your protests mean absolutely nothing when your pussy betrays just how much you enjoyed his words, grin wicked on his face at how meek it sounded. “Aw I’m sorry, doll. Want me to be sweeter? Nicer maybe?”

“Yes– hng–” nails clawing into his back, the pleasure too overwhelming.

“Your pussy was made for me– hah–” he groans softly, “wrapped so warm and inviting around my cock.”

“That’s not– hnn–” moans shaky on your breath, “that’s not what I meant.”

He presses a kiss to the side of your head, “Was what I meant though.”

Opening your mouth to argue a little more only to be stopped when his thrusts get suddenly much more precise, hitting the same spot over and over and over, entirely on purpose. He knows what it does to you, he loves what it does to you. Relishing in the pitiful and broken moans leaving you, your cunt that much tighter around him, almost milking him.

Oh, you’re falling apart so perfectly under him, he’s not even sure you realise you’re cumming. Pulsing around him and whining desperately, it’s depraved and turning him on so much more. He fucks you through it, not daring to slow his pace, helping you enjoy and ride out your high.

Toji plans on playing with you for longer, have you cumming for him again, holding off on his own orgasm. At least that was his plan before you – in your cock drunk state – started muttering out, “I– hnn– missed you so so much, Toji. Love you– hng– love you, I love you, I l– ah!–”

He genuinely can’t help the effect your words have on him, cock jerking deep inside your cunt before he’s cumming. Rope after rope of his seed filling you so completely that it’s leaking out around the base of him. Deep moans vibrating his chest, eyes shut tight as he steadily rocks his hips into you.

Unable to stop himself, still grinding and rocking into you over and over. His cum making a mess out of the both of you and the bed, something you’ll chew him out for once you’ve exited your stupor.

When he does eventually stop, he keeps your legs folded up to your chest while he pulls out. A depraved and perverted desire to watch how his cock leaves your cunt, hole looking lonely while not stuffed full of him. His semen dribbling from you and down your ass, it’s turning him on again but you’re too out of it for another round right now.

Careful with how he lowers your legs back onto the mattress, moving to your side and pulling you to him. Both your chests pressed together, his fingers delicately trailing up and down your arm.

You’re drifting in and out of sleep when he promises you, “I’ll treat you so much better this time,” he doesn’t mind if you heard it or not because he’s going to prove it to you every day with his actions.

𝒂.𝒏. i was in the middle of writing a drabble and did that thing where i accidentally added too much plot and then it turned into a mini fic... I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT THOUGH❕🤍 it's a little different from my usual stuff teehee

[⚠︎] — 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈.ᐟ do not reupload / repost / translate / plagiarise my works © all works are the intellectual property of lovelivision

[sweetcalebb]

popsicle kiss !

it's hot. absurdly hot. and for some godforsaken reason, caleb thinks now would be the best time to tease you and a playful argument turns into something more.

a/n: idk what happened. this was supposed to be pure fluff mb! also, this is self-indulgent. i HAATE tje heat. makes me so mad.

⋆˙⟡

"Caleeebb..."

"What's up?"

"It's hot," you whine.

Caleb laughs. "Yeah? what made you think that? The fact that it's 90 degrees out orrr...?"

You sit up from your spot on the couch and shoot him a glare. "Don't get smart," you grumble, throwing yourself back down and pulling your arm over your forehead to wipe the sweat there. "You know how I get when it's hot."

Caleb laughs again—because of course he does. He thinks this is soo funny. Even though the house feels sticky. Heavy. Sweat clinging to your brow and rolling down your back.

"We need to fix the AC asap," you mumble, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. The only thing you had was a flimsy little fan that wasn't nearly as helpful as it was supposed to be.

"Definitely," Caleb agrees with a sigh, subtly wiping the sweat rolling down his temple. Now you want to laugh, but you don't.

Too hot for that.

"Want a popsicle?" he asks, already standing up and making his way toward the fridge.

"Like that will help." You bite the inside of your cheek at that. You know you're being bratty, but you can't help it. It's this damn heat. You're on the verge of breaking down.

"Yes or no?" Caleb pushes, plopping on the opposite end of the couch again as he tears the package open. "Last ones."

You frown. "Fine.."

You sit up slightly, watching as he finally pulls the popsicle out. They're twin popsicle—two little wooden sticks hanging out each side.

He hands them to you with a smile. "Wanna break it?"

You glance up at him, lips pursing with a subtle smile. "You're so lazy."

Caleb laughs, leaning back and propping his arms up over the couch, the fabric of his tank top straining against his shoulders. "Oh, c'mon, pips. I know you wanna break it." He waits a beat, then adds, "You say it's satisfying."

Sure, when it breaks right, you think, but you don't say that.

Instead, you sigh and take the popsicles from him. You place your hands on either end, then carefully pull.

But they don't budge.

You groan.

"Damn popsicles..! Break!"

Caleb tilts his head and smiles, that lopsided, boyish grin you've known for so long spreading across his lips.

Your eyes dart up to his and you have half a mind to reach forward and ruin that perfect face of his. "Stop it."

He holds his hands up in a placating gesture. "Stop what?"

"Smiling," you mutter, pulling harder now. But the popsicles still won't budge.

"Aw, but you look so funny trying to split them."

"Shush!"

Then—Schlk.

You gasp.

That's not even. Not even at all.

One popsicle is full and perfect with a little quarter of the other stuck to the top. The other is a sad little thing, barely enough to cool you off on this hot day.

"Caleb—I'm so sorry—"

You can't even blink before Caleb is lunging forward and snatching the bigger piece.

"No! Wait, Caleb, please—"

But it's too late. Caleb is already biting into the popsicle and inhaling it like he's being timed. Technically, he is. Because in a matter of your seconds you're crawling over him, desperately trying to get it back.

Sure, it's in his mouth now. But maybe you can get it out and toss it on the floor.

If you can't have it, he can't have it either.

"Caleb! You asshole! I needed that more than you!"

For a second, you're worried Caleb might choke from how hard he's laughing. But then you see the mouthful of melting cherry and then you hope he does choke.

He playfully swats at your hands that try and squish his cheeks and says, "Buhh ih's sho goo." (but it's so good).

You breathe out a frustrated huff as you slap his chest. "Ohh," you seethe. "You're such a.." You trail off, because you're so mad and end up just giving his chest another forceful slap.

Because how dare he?!

It was too hot for this shit!

Caleb swallows back a piece so he can speak properly, then sticks his tongue out with another piece. "You want itt?"

You scoff.

Now he was taunting you?

You were going to kill him.

Your eyes flick down to the little piece of red ice and you grit your teeth. Asshole. He thought he was so clever? Teasing you?

Thoughtlessly, you lean down, hand cupping his jaw to keep him still, and then your lips are on his.

Caleb freezes, the popsicle stick he'd been holding slowly slipping out of his hand.

His lips are warm. A little sticky, but sweet. You can taste the cherry on him and for a split second you forget what you're doing. Forget that this was all about getting some stupid popsicle crumb back.

Caleb seems to forget too, because slowly, his hand is curling around your waist and pulling you closer.

You didn't mean to kiss him. You meant to steal the stupid ice from his smug mouth and flaunt it. Yeah, yeah, super sound logic. You blamed it on the heat.

But you are kissing him now and it's messy. Not the desperate I-need-you-right-now kind of messy.

No, it's the cherry-flavored-ice-is-dripping-from-the-corners-of-his-mouth kind of messy.

You carelessly drop the popsicle in your other hand and pull your leg over his. And Caleb doesn't question it. Doesn't even seem surprised, just slides one hand up your thigh while his other squeezes your waist tighter.

You're burning up, the heat between your bodies driving you crazy. His neck is sticky when you cup his jaw. It only makes you that much more hyper-aware of this unbearable heat, but Caleb is so sweet. You don't know how to stop.

You're swapping the ice now, and no part of you is telling you to stop. Not yet. But then you let out a soft sigh that makes him roll his hips and that's when you realize this is going too far.

You pull back, eyes half-lidded, then wide when it really settles.

I just kissed Caleb.

Caleb looks the same—dazed for half a second before reality slams back in—eyes wide, lips stained red, and melted ice trickling down his chin.

You carefully climb off his lap and step back. Your heart is pounding, cheeks flushing for reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with the heat.

Caleb blinks back at you, chest rising and falling a little too quickly.

Neither of you know what to say.

So you both just stare, until finally, Caleb stutters out, "So—uh—I.. I think you dropped that."

You blink, then turn to the popsicle on the opposite end of the couch. You mentally wince. You did in fact drop that when you decided kissing Caleb was more important.

Oh my god.

You quickly push the memory away. "I didn't mean to..—"

Yes, you did.

Caleb clears his throat, nodding. "Yeah." He glances at it. Doesn't pick it up. Just glances back up at you. "Might leave a stain."

Silence again.

Then, Caleb stands up with an awkward huff. "We're out of popsicles, so, I should probably go get more."

You're about to say something. You don't even know what, but before you can, the door is clicking shut.

You swallow hard, softly pinching your bottom lip between your fingers. You can still feel the heat of his lips. Can still feel the pressure of his kiss.

You slowly pad over to the popsicle and pick it up, then toss it into the trash in the kitchen. You make a mental note to clean the couch later.

You were too occupied to do anything else right now.

You just kissed Caleb.

Just... slammed your lips into his like some wild animal. All for a popsicle. You almost laugh at that.

Because maybe some part of you wanted that.

To know what it would feel like to kiss Caleb.

Before you can dwell on it, you catch something out the corner of your eye as you turn to leave the kitchen.

You scoff.

His wallet.

Idiot.

You pull your phone out to text him. You hesitate for a second as your thumb hovers over his name. You just kissed him and then he rushed out.

That couldn't be good. Maybe he regretted it..

But what if he didn't..?

You: you forgot your wallet.

Caleb: yeah, i panicked.

Caleb: wanna bring it and come with me? i'm only a block away.

You: you weren't running away from me?

Caleb: no, i was. but texting you made me realize i don't want to. come to the store with me?

Caleb: we don't have to talk about what happened.

You: what if i want to talk about it?

Caleb: then we can

Caleb: now get over here. i'm burning :(.

You smile, tucking your phone away, grabbing his wallet, and hurrying out to meet him.

What an idiot.

[eraserbread]

ex-hubby!gojo for the sinners au next pls 🙏🏾 🙏🏾 i think he'd be a little unhinged ab needing to be w her again, but actually forever this time

it's just not in your nature to turn down your ex husband, gojo, when he shows up in the middle of the night ✧

→f!reader, relationsip angst, no curses vampire sinners!au, manipulation, sfw

yes, you're sleep deprived, but you're not crazy.

the tapping on your windows—rustling leaves outside of your bedroom—wasn't just a hallucination. now, that tapping and rustling have shifted towards the other side of the room, pausing every few seconds just to start again.

you ran and hid against the wall, tucked under the window where you heard the initial tapping. it yanked you from your sleep, now you're in pitiful pajamas, heart racing dangerously in your chest. it feels like you're about to have a heart attack—surely someone is scoping out the area to try and rob you... right?

a defenseless divorcee that wears her sorrow on her sleeve would surely be an easy grab, you don't even blame the assailant for trying.

"are you seriously hiding from me?"

the voice slaps you sideways—fucking satoru. the rustling stops, and the wind whistles against the cool glass. you're nearly shaking, fingers digging half-moons into your bare knees.

no, this couldn't be him... satoru is far too prideful to show up at your doorstep like this. after days of not answering messages or calls, he's back so entirely, it's like he never left.

you two haven't really talked more than a few words since he got the divorce papers. he's been hanging it over your head, telling you he'd sign them if you just give him a day... then another... next, he'd have to see you face-to-face. then a meeting forces him to cancel, and the papers go unsigned.

it's why you're so exhausted, and why he's so adamant.

"are you crazy? you scared the hell out of me." once you've gained your nerve, you're peeking up from your crumpled kneel, eyes just barely passing the jutting windowsill before you're seeing him.

towering over you, thin white hair ruffled like he ran all the way here. his eyes are bright, uncovered beams illuminating the darkness of your soul, but it's him.

unmistakably, satoru is standing outside your window—a flimsy pane of glass keeping you apart.

he doesn't answer you, instead he reaches straight-faced into the chest of his hoodie, pulling out a sickeningly familiar bundle of papers. you watch him flip through the drawn-out pages until he reaches the end, never once taking his eyes off those words. then, he holds the last page to the window, showing off the fresh signature he placed on the dotted line.

you heart drops... in a good way.

he lowers that paper and your gazes meet. he's not hiding emotion well, though he's not crying, his eyes are downturned. almost predatory in the way they're pulling you in for pity.

"why didn't you just call me?" you're trying to get anything out of him, at this point. why he's here when he could've just mailed it to you, or why he's knocking and tapping on every window in your space.

"you were asleep."

"then, just leave them right there. i'll get them in the morning."

gojo stares for a second, then glances down as if he's checking a watch. "sun won't rise for another five hours." he steps back, arm motioning to the tight squeeze he had to endure between trees just to get your attention. "and I don't have access to the building."

you sigh, fingers moving to open the locks on the window. he could walk all the way around to the front, but then so would you. you wish he'd just leave the papers and fuck off.

cold night air flushes forward as the window pulls open, making you step back and guard your warm skin. satoru's eyes take you in once nothing is keeping you apart, picking you down to the core. it's shameless, you're exposed.

"give me the papers." you bite, thrusting an empty hand into the night. satoru stands quietly for a second, looking down at your hand, then to your avoidant face and static appearance.

"just the papers? you don't want me to come in?"

"no." you decide, beckoning them into your grip with a curl of the fingers. you're staring stubbornly over your shoulder, completely blocking him out because you know how weak you are. just one turn of the mouth, and you'll be pulling him to your bed.

"i'm not giving you anything until you let me in." he's being strict—it's unlike him—but it's making you swallow down nerves, and your body temperature rises as danger sets in.

everything you see in front of you screams satoru gojo, but when he opens his mouth... god, it's so different.

"leave them outside." you're begging now, voice soft and nervous in your throat. still, you can't turn and look at him. you can see his bright reflection in the window glass, but you can't focus on it. your skin starts to break out in goosebumps.

when curiosity catches on, you flit your eyes towards him, pitching a surprised, little frightened whine when you see the stare he's giving you. his bright, blue eyes are opened twice as wide as they should be, reddened and exhausted in the corners, with pupils the size of saucers.

two hands pressed to the plastic of the sill, his muscles flex and bend like something is keeping him from jumping inside. his long fingers are red, dripping with craze as he grinds his nails down to stumps.

"you're tearing me apart, and you don't even care." he growls, manic reflection drawing closer as he kneels to your height. strangely, you feel safe behind this window. it's like he can't come in—he won't show you this unstable side of himself to your face, only through open windows.

"we settled on this divorce twice. you agreed." you're trying to be the calm voice of reason in this situation, taking a tentative step back. you don't want to look at him anymore, you just want him to go away.

"to have my money, property, and life stripped from me? did you even think about me once?"

"we aren't good together! how many times do we have to continue proving that?!"

"as many times as we need to, because this is a fucking marriage—

you're feeling brave enough to reach out and slam the window down on his sentence, not worried about his fingers or his uncanny reflexes. you wouldn't fight with him tonight, and you figure he must be strung out on something serious to show up at your door so maniacal.

it's like the slam lowers him back to earth, because he's fixing his posture, running a slow hand through his hair as he looks down on you. his stare has evened out into something more reminiscent of the one you studied so many years ago.

"go home, satoru." you finish, grabbing the curtain to yank it over his reflection.

you can't see him anymore, so you think that's it. you stand for a second, hands pressed to your hips as you try to come down from the ordeal. something's not right—your brain doesn't believe it, but your heart does.

as you turn around to leave him in the dust, a soft single thud falls onto the glass, then as soft as the night, you can hear him whisper, "all I need is one more night, and I think I can be okay without you."

you're peering over your shoulder like you heard a ghost, lips parted in utter shock. it's the first time in all of your years, that he's given you that tone. so pure—innocent right down to the bone.

"can't you see? i love you so much that I'm willing to let you go..."

he sits ignored for a few moments.

"i know nothing will ever be the same with us, but you're all I think about."

"our bodies don't deserve to suffer, lets give them what they need just one last time."

you're not sure which of his pleas hit you the hardest, but you're hesitating as you give in and pull the curtain back. he's still there, forehead pressed to the glass, splayed open palm kissing the surface.

in the moonlight, your satoru looks so pale and uncommon. he's glowing as he blinks up at you, porcelain reflection cracking at the edges when you're pushing attention onto him.

and that palm is twisting into a fist, his eyes bright like those of a happy puppy about to be reunited with his owner.

one last time couldn't hurt...

it's what you tell yourself to dull the feeling of your inescapable demise. you're pulling that window back open, biting over your bottom lip as you let him crawl inside, one long leg at a time.

when he's in your space, hunching over you like an entity, hands closed around your meek shoulders, you're warm. it's familiar, here, like it's where you want to take your last breath.

nobody can really blame you, after all. he knows just what you need— how to get you off so you can sleep the night away like a drunk. the shame in your bones has dissipated into steam, and the divorce papers are cold and lifeless as satoru fishes them out and presses them to your chest.

"i want to try something." his voice is deep, you can feel it reverberate through your body and into your soul. he's holding your chin at level, making sure you're not looking anywhere that wasn't where he needed.

right now his face is morphing into something that panned out so perfectly within his calculation that he was holding back a laugh.

mm—sweet mercy. now you're finally going to be together forever.

[fandomlit]

goddess (spencer agnew x reader)

summary (requested by anon) the smosh cast and crew decide to add karaoke into their 12-hour charity stream, and they manage to convince you to sing. your performance of goddess by laufey floors your friends and completely stuns spencer, sending his feeling for you into a deeper spiral..

warning swearing

a/n in the og request it mentioned a different laufey song but this one has been stuck in my head for WEEKSSS so i hope that alright!!! also feel free to send in more requests y'all <3

gif cred belongs to @captainhaisley

"and now," shayne announced, "we welcome everyone to the part of the stream where we make the cast and crew the most uncomfortable. that's right, it's time for karaoke!" the cast cheered from the couches on either side of shayne, who was speaking into one of the karaoke microphones. "this one is a little more high stakes—as you can see, we have our participants here on camera with us! this is just because of the setup we have for the next part of the stream, convenience is everything, but it also lets you see everyone's reactions.” everyone made faces behind him. “as always, you can leave requests in the chat, but let's go ahead and get started."

they jumped right into it, starting with shayne singing 'everybody wants to rule the world', then chanse hitting his rendition of 'careless whisper' that had angela literally floored by, then angela—as soon as she was off the floor—duetting gaston with amanda that had everyone in tears. as it continued, it got crazier and funnier, with a few more serious performances sprinkled in. after chanse and courtney did an amazingly dramatic and hysterical rendition of 'breaking free', there was a lull where no one was lined up to go next and they started volunteering each other for the task.

angela broke a joking fight between spencer and shayne by pointing behind one of the cameras. "i volunteer y/n!"

their gazes whipped off-stage as some crew members voiced their agreements.

“oh, i don’t know..,” your voice chuckled awkwardly from off camera.

“c’mon! you’re, like, actually a singer!” angela exclaimed.

“yeah, show off those skills girl!”

“show us up!”

“let’s go y/n!"

you shared a look with alex behind the cameras and they just gave you a smug smirk. "the chat's asking for you, too." you sighed.

you finally emerged on stage after some more heckling and they all cheered as you raised your hands to the camera. your face was extremely red as you took your place in front of the microphones, the cast bouncing excitedly on either side of you. you peeked around at them with a smile, catching their encouraging looks and a smile from spencer.

you knew if you should be anxious about anything in this moment, it shouldn’t be about spencer’s reaction to your singing. but that didn’t stop you from caring about it.

“i’m gonna bring the house down a little bit,” you joked as you showed alex the song on your phone. in response to your words, someone dimmed the lights and everyone on stage cracked up. after you chuckled you said, “yes, yes, thank you.”

your heart was racing with anxiety as alex pulled up your song, and you knew it had to be obvious to the viewers. you grabbed the microphone as the song loaded and you mumbled into it, “guys, what if i poop myself?”

they all laughed at the unexpected comment, easing your tension for a moment before the song started.

“it always goes like this.. could’ve predicted it. i’m so naive to think you’d love me for me..”

you morphed into lyrics as you continued, your shoulders relaxing and your voice getting more confident, making you feel good enough to start moving around the floor a little bit. you were completely unaware of the jaws dropped around you.

while all of smosh knew you were a musician, most of them had never heard you sing before.

…

“kissed as i ran offstage, too old to play this game..”

spencer knew his jaw was hanging, but he didn’t care. let them clip this for eternity, adding it to the ever-growing collection of spencer and y/n ship edits. you were only thirty seconds into the song and he was floored.

“guess you’re still growing up at thirty. oh..”

as friendly as you and spencer were, he hadn’t heard you sing. he’d heard you play instruments before, but you were quick to make everyone else in the room sing before offering your own voice. and now he could see why—your voice was a treasure. it was best heard solo.

“were you surprised by me, when you took me home? when the glamor wore off, reduced to skin and bone.”

he brought a hand up to cover his agape mouth, unconsciously leaning forward as he hung onto every word.

“i can’t even tell who you want to know; i’m a goddess on stage, human when we’re alone.”

spencer shared a look with shayne on the opposite couch, who looked just as surprised as he did. but shayne quickly morphed the look into a more smug one as he took in spencer’s surprise, and he hoped the lights were dim enough to hide that from being clipped. that might just be enough to canonically give away his crush on you.

“you took a star to bed, woke up with me instead.”

his gaze turned back to you, with your eyes closed moving about the front of the stage. the words were coming from your heart as you sang, not just your lips, and it rang around the studio. spencer had never heard anything encapsulate the room as much as this moment had.

“you must have felt so damn deceived when you, made up a version of, me that you thought you’d love, but i am not your aphrodite. oh..

“were you surprised by me, when you took me home?”

spencer had been spiraling the last few weeks when it came to you. what had started as an innocent office crush had been starting to get out of control for him when you two began to hang out more, both in group settings and one-on-one. he had started falling harder for you after a hangout where you had shown them all up in quiplash while sitting innocently giggling in a corner the whole time, your answers shocking everyone when they were revealed to be you. the falling only got even harder from there.

he didn’t know what to do about it. he didn’t want to ruin the comfortable office environment, or risk losing the close friendship you two were building. but watching you enrapture the entire room in less than two minutes had him wanting to do something about it.

“you took me for a fool, you stole my youth, you wanted this so much.” it was absolute chaos on the couch behind you as you began to belt the end of the song with such raw feeling. spencer was minutely aware of angela gripping onto his arm and amanda’s as she stared, amazed, at you. spencer was doing the same, internally. “you watched me rise, then killed my light, and now you know i’m not your fucking goddess.”

they couldn’t help but start cheering as you perfectly hit the top note, riffing it as the music swayed in the background. “oh, oh.” you smiled without turning to see the scene behind you.

“i’m no goddess when i’m alone.”

courtney and angela immediately jumped on you the second they were sure the song was over, lifting you in their arms and jostling you in their hugs. the other cast and crew exploded, jumping from their seats to applaud you and join the hug. you would cherish the screenshot of hugs and cheers with your blushing happy face forever.

“thank you, thank you,” you giggled once you could breathe.

“guys, i’ve had many sleepovers with y/n and i can promise she’s still a goddess when we wake up,” courtney spoke, making everyone chuckle.

tommy added, “she’s even more of a goddess when we’re alone, i’d say.” spencer found himself nodding without realizing it.

you blew a kiss to the camera before scampering back offstage before you could ruin the perfect moment. when spencer sat down and they started looking through song requests in the chat, he couldn’t stop thinking about how heavenly you looked in the dim lighting as you sung your heart out.

“i’m still in shock,” angela muttered to spencer as amanda and trevor began to loudly argue about their roles in their upcoming duet. her gaze was looking to where you were backstage, slipping your headset back on as you giggled quietly with alex. “can’t imagine how you’re feeling, buddy.”

she gave him a smirk and spencer thought for a second before he leaned over to whisper, “you wouldn’t be able to if you tried.”

angela’s mouth fell open before her face morphed into a silent laugh, falling into her hands as spencer snickered to himself and leaned back into the couch. it was a good evasion, he thought.

but it didn't leave his mind. the karaoke went on for a few more rounds, and he even jumped in to duet ‘can you feel the love tonight’ with shayne to round out the disney duet trend. but he was peeking over at you, flashes of your solo resurfacing every now and again when he found himself zoning out, and he knew that song would be burned in his brain forever and completely associated with you.

they changed segments for the stream after a while and spencer was off for the new two hours. he wandered toward the catering table with chanse, laughing and chatting with each other. he couldn't ignore the way his heart jumped when he saw you nearby, headset off as you sipped at a bottle of water and giggled at amanda gushing at you again.

"thank you, sweetheart," you blushed and amanda shot you another compliment before walking away. you caught spencer's eye as you watched her go and offered a small wave.

"you have wonderful pipes, simba," you grinned and spencer rolled his eyes, diverting his path to walk toward you.

"i was actually timon," he spoke matter-of-factly, giving you a fake offended look.

you laughed, "oh, i'm so sorry."

"i can forgive," he ceded easily, tucking his hands into his pocket. "you obliterated us all, though." you smiled at him, rosy cheeks nearly glowing in the dim lights. "like, seriously. you sounded amazing. and that song? gorgeous lyrics."

"laufey does that," you hummed with a nod. "that song has been stuck in my head for weeks, it's just so well-written."

"well it helps when someone that looks and sounds like you sings it," he spoke without thought, and hoped you didn't see his gulp when he realized how hefty of a compliment he had given.

instead of looking uncomfortable, like he feared, you narrowed your eyes teasingly at him. he gulped again. "spencer, you've fallen victim to the very warning the song gave." he furrowed his brow at you. "goddess on stage, human when we're alone." you 'tsk'ed as he realized, letting out a chuckle. "i'm a little disappointed."

"i'm so sorry," he joked in return as you giggled. "i'll be better."

before you could tease or say any more, you heard your name called back on set. alex waved you over before disappearing again.

you looked back at spencer, turning your body toward set. "i should.."

"oh yeah," he waved his hand, "wouldn't wanna keep you from the glory of tech checks."

"oh, yeah, thank you,” you giggled.

spencer watched you start to walk away, but his mind was still buzzing with things he wish he could say. compliments he wanted to give, words he could confess, just anything to keep you talking with him. "hey, y/n," he found himself saying, leaning forward slightly in anticipation of his own words. you peered over your shoulder. "for the record, all bits aside, i like the human part of you better. even if that was spectacular for some goofy livestream karaoke.”

he relished in the flush that rose to your cheeks. you gave him a sheepish smile. “thank you, spencer.”

you couldn't help your stupid grin as you walked away, hoping spencer didn’t see it.

but he had. and he would ride that high for a while.

[abigailovesz]

thinking about..jj with a girl who has a humongous family. (fluff)

jj maybank was nervous. not the kind of nervous he felt on a treasure hunt or while being chased through the marsh. no, this was the other kind. the kind that made his palms sweat and his heart feel too big for his chest.

he wasn’t facing danger. he was facing your house.

“ya good?” you asked, glancing over at him from the passenger seat.

jj nodded quickly. too quickly. “yeah. totally. just..gearing up for the..you know”

you laughed. “ya act like they’re feral raccoons or somethin.”

jj didn’t say it, but that’s exactly how it felt. you had six younger brothers. six. ranging from toddler to teenager. plus two sisters, a giant golden retriever, and a baby cousin currently living with them while your aunt was deployed. your house was chaos wrapped in more chaos, dipped in legos and half eaten pop tarts.

and he’d never been inside it.

you had always come to his place, or you’d meet at the pier, or hang by the beach. jj had always brushed it off with things like “not tonight” or “I’m cool, we’ll chill out here,” but truthfully he’d been avoiding it.

because families like yours? big, loud, loving ones? they scared the hell out of him.

still, you had kissed his cheek this morning and said, “I really want you to come by today. I want them to meet you. properly.” and that had done him in.

so now he was standing at the door of the house, hands in his pockets, watching as you reached for the handle.

“I’ll protect you,” you teased.

He gave you a look. “I might need it.”

the second the door opened, a screech tore through the air.

“its her BOYFRIEND!!”

jj had half a second to register the sound before a blur of boy shaped chaos collided with him.

four of the boys launched themselves like missiles at him, full body tackling him to the hardwood floor. jj let out a huff, arms flailing, trying to figure out where one limb ended and the next began. “what the - baby!” he wheezed.

you just stood there laughing, arms crossed, as jj struggled to sit up with a seven year old on his back and someone pulling at his bootlaces. “I told them you were cool,” you said cheerfully. “they took that as permission to.. attack.”

jj scrambled to his feet, hauling a kid with him unintentionally. “what are they, wolves?”

he clung to your arm like a lifeline, eyes wide as the boys swarmed around him, asking questions a mile a minute.

“are you in a gang?” “Do you have a motorcycle?” “Did you really jump off a bridge that one time?” “Did you kiss her yet?!”

jj froze, turning red. “uh - what?”

“that’s enough!” you barked, shooing them away. “go play outside before mom sees what ya did to the rug.”

there was a chorus of groans and a few dramatic sighs before the pack thundered away. silence, finally. jj exhaled.

“you okay?” you asked, brushing invisible dust off his shoulders like it would do something.

jj gave a weak laugh. “yeah. amazing.”

but he didn’t let go of your arm. not right away.

the rest of the house was just as loud and busy - music playing somewhere, a toddler screaming joyfully in the background, the clatter of pots and pans, and your little sister running down the stairs wearing two different socks and a tiara.

jj stood awkwardly in the living room, watching it all unfold. the dog tried to steal his hat. someone spilled juice and didn’t clean it up. the TV blared a cartoon from 2012. but you? you moved through it all like you were dancing - grabbing a snack for the baby, high fiving your brother, tossing a load of laundry in like it was nothing.

jj couldn’t stop staring.

“you’re staring,” you said, smirking, handing him a soda.

“I know.” his voice was quiet. he rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s just..a lot. but like, in a good way. I think.”

you sat beside him on the couch. “you can leave if it’s too much.”

“no.” he said it quickly, too quickly. “I mean - no. I’m good. I like it. It’s just different.”

he looked around again, eyes softening as he watched two of the boys trying to build a fort with couch cushions and a kitchen chair. they were arguing over whether the dog was allowed inside the fort. the baby was gnawing on a plastic spoon, perfectly content.

“I didn’t grow up like this,” he said quietly. “I didn’t..have this.”

you turned toward him, smile gentle now. “I know.”

he looked at you. really looked at you. “but I’m glad I’m here. even if I got tackled by a bunch of hyper ass humans.”

“they liked you,” you said. “that’s why they did it.”

he snorted. “I was prey.”

you leaned your head against his shoulder. “Welcome to the family. you survived the first ten minutes, you’re basically one of us, dude.”

he chuckled, letting his body finally relax. “then I guess I’m in.”

[vinylmango]

Time Gone By (pt 2) Remmick x Reader (envisioned black!fem!reader when writing) Warnings: historical inaccuracies, descriptions of violence, nonconsensual biting, not beta’d, established relationship

Description: Remmick wasn’t always filled with a sense of bitter longing for a time and people forgotten, driven by the unwavering urge to belong to something, to have someone belong to him. He used to belong to the old country. He used to belong to the sunlight and the rolling green hills.  He used to be yours.

Word count: 5.3k

Notes: - I wrote this with a black female reader in mind, but I tried to keep physical descriptions as generic as possible so anyone can read it if they want to. - I'm planning to write a couple more parts to this (I think lol) - I'm in the process of answering requests and writing a few oneshots (p.s. thanks for requesting and sorry it's taking a bit!)

Feel free to send in a request or just say hi, my inbox is open and the list of who I write for is on my pinned nav post.

masterlist

PARTS one TWO

The hours stretched to days, days faded into weeks, and weeks grew to months in the same way the seasons changed around you, gradually and then all at once.

The gentle wrap of knuckles against wood caught your attention as you dropped the blanket in your hands, letting the half folded thing fall to the bed in a heap. “I’ve already got the kettle on.” His lips were icy when he pressed them to yours as you smiled and pulled back from him, closing the door behind him. You took the dark blue wool scarf from around his neck, hanging it by the door as he worked on undoing the buttons of his wool coat, shrugging it off and hanging it beside his scarf. 

The fire danced in the hearth, retreating under the weight of the icy breeze that had followed on his heels before it returned to its height with a crackle. “There’s dry clothes over on the bed for you.” You gestured over to the neatly folded pile laid out for him as he smiled at you, dark eyes shining before he padded over to the bed, unfolding the clothes before he began to take off the ones he had been wearing, the wet articles falling to the floor with a quiet thud. 

You stoked the fire, placing in another log as your eyes drifted towards the bed, eyes trailing up his legs and across his bare form as he pulled fresh undergarments on. The fire crackled, startling you with a gasp before you poked it once more and looked back over to where he was changing. 

You reached for the broom, brushing away some of the ash by the fireplace as he pulled over the fresh warm shirt, watching as the muscles of his back flexed and rippled with his movements. He turned back around to see you already looking. Your eyes widened and quickly darted away just as you bumped the kitchen table. “Ow.” You hissed quietly, your fingers pressing on the area that you were sure would bruise now. 

Remmick laughed softly as he picked his wet clothes up and approached you. “You alright?” You nodded, heat rising to your face as you turned your head, refusing to make eye contact. “Seems you were distracted.” You hit his leg with the broom in your hands as he laughed loudly before you too began laughing. He chased you around the kitchen table before he quickly changed directions and caught you in his arms. “S’alright. I get distracted by you…all the time.” You raised an eyebrow as his smile widened. “Happened last week when I nearly spilled the hot water on myself and got it all over the table.”

“You said that there was a crack in that cup.” You laughed again, as he kissed you again. You couldn’t help but smile into it, his lips no longer icy against your own. 

“Now,” He sighed happily, glancing at the fire before refocusing to look at you. “What’d you want for dinner?”

“We should invite Mrs. O’Neill over. Ever since Mr. O’Neill died, she’s not been out much.” You reasoned as he nodded with a frown. Mrs. O’Neill really had become a shell of herself, no longer going into town as frequently, no longer singing or playing any instruments, no longer telling stories to all the young children who’d gathered around while their parents collected food for dinner. “Do you want me to stop by and ask her while you go to the market?” You suggested as you reached for your boots, unlacing them as you sat in one of the kitchen chairs and laced them back up around your thick wool socks. Remmick did the same as he helped you into your own coat and secured the scarf around your neck before he put his own jacket and scarf on. 

“Be back soon.” You reached up and kissed him before opening the door and stepping outside, pulling your coat tighter as you headed in opposite directions, Remmick heading down the hill and towards town while you headed up towards the rolling hills and Mrs. O’Neill’s. 

You reached out, knocking softly against the wood as a strong gust of wind blew in from the sea causing you to pull your coat tighter. The door opened a moment later as a weary looking Mrs. O’Neill stood before you, quickly moving back from the door to let you in and out of the cold. “(Y/n)! Child, what are you doing out here? You’ll catch your death in weather like this. Did you come from far?” She said quickly, pulling you in towards the fire and sitting you in a chair. She grabbed a hat from by the door as you giggled when she placed it on your head, the flaps falling over each of your ears. “You warm up first, then you can take it off.” She instructed in a scolding manner, her light eyes narrowing at you as if to dare you to challenge her. “What are you doing out in weather like this? Don’t tell me you and Remmick were both out in the hills.”

“No.” She sighed in relief, sitting beside you as she turned to face you. “We’ve only gone out to check the cows earlier, but we’ve been inside mostly.” She nodded. “Remmick’s gone to the market for dinner. I came to invite you over.”

She smiled softly at your invitation. “You children are always so good to me.” She pulled you into her as you hugged her back. “I’ll come.” She nodded as you smiled widely at her. 

“Would you like to come now? Or I’m sure Remmick or I can come get you when it’s closer to being done.” You suggested when she looked over to the old cat lounging on the back of the old sofa. 

“I’ve got to attend to Finn first and I don’t want to hold you. I’ll head over on my own shortly.” You nodded, going over to pet the old cat who rolled over allowing you to pet its belly before you left. “Here take this with you for your walk back.” She slid a stone that was sitting near the fire into a cloth before handing it to you, the warmth radiating from it and into your palms. 

“I’ll be sure to return it to you later tonight.” You said as you stepped outside and walked quickly back down the hill towards the old stone house on the hill. 

You unlatched the door, opening it just enough to rush inside before you closed it right behind you. Walking over and sliding the stone from the cloth, you placed it just by the fire as Mrs. O’Neill had before going back towards the door to hang your outerwear. 

“I put the water on.” Remmick nodded towards the large pot that he had sat over the fire as you nodded with a smile. He stood at the table expertly peeling the potato skins away with a small knife. 

“Hello Paddy.” You smiled seeing the little boy sitting on the other side of the table, watching Remmick work. He smiled widely, his front two teeth missing after having fallen out two days prior. You laughed softly when his little arms circled you in a warm hug. 

Patrick had come by and stayed for dinner a number of times, so often in fact that the spare bedroom in your home had sort of become his. “Paddy?” His eyes shifted to you again. “Would you like to help me gather the bowls and utensils and place them out?” He nodded immediately, getting up from his chair and heading towards the shelf where you kept the dishes.

You spent the time before Mrs. O’Neill was supposed to come, finishing the folding you had started and abandoned earlier, only having a few more things to fold. “Remmick?” You looked up when you heard Paddy’s voice. 

“Hm?” Remmick looked at him too. 

“Can I try?” He asked as Remmick nodded and stepped over so that Paddy could stand beside him. 

“Here, hold it like this, alright?” Paddy held the knife, Remmick holding it with him as Remmick guided him on chopping the carrots, a large smile never leaving Paddy’s face as Remmick’s shone with pride as the little boy picked up the instruction quickly. “Well done.”

“I think these are the best carrots I’ve seen. A chroí, look at this.” Remmick called to you, setting the knife to the side as Paddy all but beamed up at Remmick and then over at you as you walked over. 

“Wow, definitely better than any carrots I’ve cut.” You nodded with a growing smile as Remmick poured them in the pot. 

A knock at the door sounded just as dinner was finishing. You were closest to the door so you opened it, finding a warmly bundled Mrs. O’Neill on the other side. “Come in, come in.” You said ushering her quickly in and closing the door behind her. You took her outerwear, helping her sit down at the table as she set a glass bottle down, the light amber colored liquid sloshing inside as a mischievous glint danced in her eyes. The firelight cast a warm glow around the house. 

“Is that poitín?” Remmick chuckled as he handed out the full  bowls to everyone, taking a seat beside you. Mrs. O’Neill nodded immediately. 

“Colm started it before…” She trailed off, smiling wistfully at the bottle. “Figured we could see if it turned out any good.” You grabbed three glasses from the shelf as she opened the bottle and poured some in each. 

Remmick muttered a string of words you didn’t catch under his breath before coughing. “It’s definitely Colm’s.” Mrs. O’Neill laughed as she too drank some and coughed joining you and Remmick. The alcohol filled your chest with warmth and tasted faintly of molasses and barley. 

“Paddy, why don’t you show (Y/n) what I taught you.” Remmick suggests after Mrs. O’Neill convinced him to play a few songs, his face slightly flushed in the firelight from the alcohol. He strummed and sang while you danced around the room with Paddy, laughing and giggling as you twirled each other around before you both danced around with Mrs. O’Neill, causing her to laugh and smile too. 

Paddy yawned, rubbing his tired brown eyes, as the song came to an end, your eyes meeting Remmick’s with a smile as you kneeled in front of the child. “I think it’s time for bed, don’t you?” Paddy nodded, yawning again as he took your hand and you took him to the room that had basically become his, helping him to change before tucking him into the bed, pulling the quilt up as the wind whipped outside. 

“Goodnight (Y/n).” Paddy said as you blew out the candle and closed the door. 

Mrs. O’Neill had begun to grow tired too, beginning to put her outerwear on as she prepared to leave. “No, Remmick you stay here with (Y/N). I’ll be just fine getting home on my own. It’s just up the hill.” She protested as he began to reach for his boots.

“Mrs. O’Neill you don’t have to leave, you could stay the night and we’ll walk you home tomorrow when it’s not dark or as windy.” You suggested as she shook her head no again.

“I won’t.” She shook her head again. “I won’t put the two of you out of your bed.” You and Remmick smiled. 

“We were fine last time Mrs. O’Neill.” You reassured her, trying to take her coat from her hands. 

“Really, we were.” Remmick agreed as Mrs. O’Neill huffed, crossing her arms before finally giving in and allowing you to take her coat and scarf back.

You helped Mrs. O’Neill into the bed as she quickly fell asleep, leaving you and Remmick awake. You quietly cleaned up together, giggling and speaking with hushed tones as you pulled the extra blankets from the trunk by the bed, stacking them out over the large rug before grabbing two extra pillows from the same chest and setting them down. 

“A chroí?” Remmick whispered beside you, breaking the comfortable silence as his eyes shifted from the orange flames toward your dark eyes.

“Hm?” You shifted, turning to face him. He smelled of grass and cedar as he lay beside you. His hand shifted beneath the covers reaching over towards the pants he had folded and sat on the nearby chair.

“I want permanent vows with you.” He said, holding a gold band in his hand, a shy smile on his face. “Do you-” You didn’t let him finish, pressing your lips to his as he practically melted into the kiss, his hand setting the ring aside as one of his hands settled on your hip while the other held your face. “Does that mean you will?” He questioned after you had pulled apart. 

“Yes, of course.” You laughed, settling against his chest as he slipped the ring onto your finger. It was a solid gold band and it fit perfectly onto your hand. 

“It was my mother’s.” He explained, breaking the comfortable silence as you laid your head on his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin and the steady pounding of his heart against your cheek. 

“It’s beautiful.” You kissed him again, though shorter this time, settling into his chest again. “I love you.”

“I love you.” Remmick smiled, voice still lowly as he held you close, the both of you falling asleep moments later, the alcohol finally catching up to you both.

The first rays of sun shone into the room, glinting into your eyes as you yawned and lifted your head from his chest. He mumbled something incoherently but didn’t open his eyes. “Hm?” You asked him again as he finally cracked his eyes open. 

“Don’t get up yet. Stay here with me.” You settled back against him as he hummed and held you close. 

“I should get up. I have to go check the cows. See if any of the cows have started calving yet.” He shook his head, sitting up and stretching. 

“I can do it. I promised Paddy yesterday that I’d take him with me. That way you can walk Mrs. O’Neill back.” You nodded as you started to get up for the day too. Paddy came into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes as he yawned. 

“I’m ready to see Cara.” Paddy said as he pulled on his boots referring to his favorite dark brown cow. 

“Be back soon.” Remmick kissed you before walking out the door with the little boy, lantern and shotgun in hand. 

“Early start to the morning.” Mrs. O’Neill sat at the table as you put the kettle in the fire and grabbed two cups. “Calving season?” You nodded. 

“Plus there’s been a few animal attacks recently. Remmick just wanted to go check on them.” Mrs. O’Neill nodded, watching you pour the hot water in each cup to make tea before handing her a cup. 

“Thank you, Darling.” You sat in the seat beside her. “You’re a good woman (Y/N).” 

“Mrs. O’Neill, that’s very kind.” Heat rose to your face as you looked down, caught off guard by her words. She shook her head with a smile. 

“It’s the truth.” She replied. “The way he looks at you…” She trailed off. “I’ve known him since he was born, used to look after him when his father died and mother left. I never seen him look at anyone like that before. He’s never smiled so much.” You smiled softly. 

“He makes me happy.”

“He’s lucky to have you. Something like that only comes around once. Be sure to hold onto it tight.” She smiled wistfully as if remembering something. “Reminds me of Colm.” You squeezed her hand as she cleared her throat, quickly wiping her eyes. “Well, I’ll head back now. Finn needs to be fed.” She finished the tea, leaving the mug by the sink before going to grab her things. You grabbed your coat and scarf, deciding to walk her back to her home.

The wind rolled in off the water, whipping the grass and trees around as you made your way up the hill and towards Mrs. O’Neill’s home. The sun sat high in the sky and puffy white clouds swiftly blew by, being urged on by the wind. It wasn’t until sunset when you made it back home, closing the heavy door behind you. You hadn’t planned to stay long, but Finn had gotten comfortable and fallen asleep on your lap, and you couldn’t possibly move him then.

“Remmick? Sorry I took so long.” You called as you begin to unbutton your coat. “Finn had fallen asleep on m- Oh.” Your sentence stopping when you noticed his boots weren’t by the door and his coat was still gone from by the door. You started a fire, throwing a few logs into the hearth and poking it as the fire began to eat away at the dry wood. 

The sun was gone from the sky when you began to grow worried, setting the clothes you had started trying to patch to the side, no longer able to busy yourself. You grabbed a lantern, going over to the fire and lighting it before opening the door, the wind whipped causing the flame to dance as you peered out into the quickly settling darkness, stars shining brightly above. 

You glanced back into the house at the hearth, walking back inside as you made up your mind and grabbed your coat. “I’m sure everything’s fine.” You told yourself quietly as you held the lantern in front of you, trying your best to not trip over the uneven ground. 

You trekked through the dark night, the moon sat high in the sky glowing down at you and casting a silvery glow on everything. You looked towards the cliff, lantern held out in front of you as the flame danced behind the glass. The waves were black and lapped wildly at the beach and cliffside below in a rhythmic swoosh. Mrs. O’Neill’s came into view not much later, her chimney sending small clouds of smoke up into the starry night. “Mrs. O’Neill!” You knocked on the door, glancing around and into the shadows that stretched in the tall grass nearby. “Mrs. O’Neill!” You knocked a bit louder, lowering your hand when you heard the lock turn. 

“(Y/N)? What are you doing out at this time of night?” Her eyebrows furrowed as she stepped to the side motioning for you to come in. 

“Oh that’s alright. I just came to ask if you’d seen Remmick come by?” You crossed your arms, holding the top part of your coat closed, biting your bottom lip in anticipation of her answer. 

“No, no I haven’t.” She shook her head. “He hasn’t come home yet?” She peered out into the darkness, looking left and right before trying her best to squint out into the tall grass and forest nearby. “That’s not like him.” Her lips pulled into a frown as she tried her best to think of a scenario that would’ve caused him to not come home to you. 

“What about Paddy? You haven’t seen him, have you?” She shook her head again.

“No. Let me grab my coat. I’ll head into town. Maybe they’re there.” She pulled the nearest coat on, lacing up her shoes as she grabbed her own lantern, going over to the fire and lighting it before she walked back over towards you. 

“I’m sorry to be a bother.” You laughed uneasily, pushing your hair away from your face as you tried your best to hold your lantern steady. “I’m sure everything’s fine.”

“Nonsense.” She waved you off, offering a smile and squeezing your arm. “We’ll find them. Then we can yell at them all we want.” She joked with a soft laugh. “I’ll meet you at your home in an hour’s time.” You nodded, the both of you splitting up as you watched her disappear down the road heading into town. You continued on past her house and towards the fields and forest. The pasture was just past the woods at the edge of Mrs. O’Neill’s home.

“Remmick?” You called out, sniffling as the wind picked up again. “Paddy!” You called out, stopping to see if you could hear anything, hoping for just a small sign of where they could be. You wandered through the treeline and into the sea of tall grass, calling for them again, but to no avail.

“Rem-” His name died in your mouth as your boot caught on something, launching you through the air and into the dirt and grass, the lantern flying out of your hand and landing a few feet away from you with a crack. “Oh no.” The fire flickered before dying as another gust of wind extinguished it, leaving you in the darkness. “Shit.” You stood up where you had fallen, looking down to see your knees were scraped and a cut ran down the front of your shin, just above your boot. 

“Paddy! Remmick! Can you hear me?” You called, stopping as the grass blew around you, the soft blades blowing against your legs and waist, the contact making your injuries sting. You held the dead lantern in your hand, the metal rattling against the frame as you continued on, walking towards the shadow of the barn, the moonlight now your lantern.

You pushed the heavy door open, walking inside and setting the lantern down, grabbing an unbroken one that was hanging near the door. You walked to the other side, looking between the cows gathered there but finding nothing helpful. “You wouldn’t know where the boys are would you?” You joked softly, your voice shaking as you attempted to calm yourself. The black cow stared back at you, nuzzling your hand with its large head before you stepped back after petting her. You held the lantern out as your other hand secured your coat tighter around you as you made the long trek back towards home where you had planned to meet Mrs. O’Neill. 

Some time later you made it back home, finding Mrs. O’Neill was a few steps away from your door. “Any luck?” Your eyes searched her face, trying to predict her answer before she gave it, but she was unreadable. 

You opened the door, letting her in and closing it behind her after hanging the lit lantern outside, telling yourself that maybe Remmick and Paddy would need it. “(Y/N).” Mrs. O’Neill’s voice was soft like velvet, her weathered hands rubbing your arms gently before she brought you into a hug, her hand pushing some of your curls out of your face as she sighed. “I didn’t see them.” 

Your face grew hot as your vision blurred and a few equally hot tears rolled down your cheeks before falling to the floor. “Are you sure?” You let out a shaky breath as she nodded, sitting you down in a chair and putting a few new logs into the fire as she grabbed bandages and alcohol to clean your wounds. 

“Don’t worry. I’m sure they’re just staying close to the cows. They’ll be back in the morning.” She told you as you nodded slowly, trying your best to stop yourself from spiralling on thoughts that would only make you more upset. “You remember last year when Róisín Murphy’s husband disappeared for a whole week and it turns out he had just been stuck a few towns over because his boat wrecked while fishing? I’m sure it’s just that.” You told yourself that she was right, maybe Remmick and Paddy had just ventured too far and would be back tomorrow. 

“I’m going to go to bed, I think.” Your voice was a whisper as you quietly shuffled over, kicking your boots off as you laid on top of the blanket. Mrs. O’Neill pulled the blankets back and settled them over you as she mentioned something about coming to check on you the next morning before you heard the door close and you rolled on your side, your arms wrapping around the pillow that smelled like Remmick, pulling it into your chest. 

It had been a long time since you had gone to sleep without Remmick beside you and you hadn’t realized how hard it would be. The bed felt wrong, the weight not distributing right without the warmth of his body beside yours and his arm pulling you into him. The pillow wasn’t enough after having gotten used to laying your head on his chest, his heartbeat lulling you to sleep with its rhythmic thumping. 

You weren’t sure how you had fallen asleep or how long you had been asleep for when the warmth of the sunlight streamed in through the window. You yawned, reaching out only to find the bed empty and cold beside you. It hadn’t been a dream. 

You sat up, eyes settling on the boots by the door, or the lack of boots by the door. Yours sat alone, nothing in the place of where he would routinely set his. Remmick’s fiddle sat beside his chair near the hearth and the clothes you had started patching up sat by your chair.

A knock at the door had you running towards it, hoping it was Remmick and that he had just forgotten or lost his key. You opened the door only to find that it wasn’t Remmick or Paddy, instead it was Mrs. O’Neill returning like she had told you she would. She watched you deflate in front of her and the way you stepped back to let her in, trying your best to not look disappointed that it was her instead of Remmick.

“You know,” You paused looking up from your hands after you had sat beside her at the table. “We hadn’t gotten the chance to take permanent vows.”

“You will, (Y/N).” She nodded once, holding your hand. “You will.” She repeated, squeezing your hand as you glanced up at her to see her small smile and the certainty in her eyes.

“But what if-” You didn’t finish your sentence when she shook her head, not wanting to hear any of it.

“You will.” She repeated once more. “Now, there’s lots to do before they get back.” She stood up, her eyes looking around the home before settling on the pile of clothes that still needed mending. “Let’s mend these clothes. I’m sure they’d want fresh clothes to change into once they get back.” You nodded weakly, standing and grabbing your sewing materials before following her over towards the pile.

The task went quickly with two sets of hands and she stayed with you all day, keeping you busy with random household tasks, but that didn’t stop you from pausing by the window every so often gazing out to see if maybe they would be walking up to the house at any moment. 

When the sun began to set, you opened the door, stepping outside and taking the lantern down, heading back inside to light it before hanging it by the door again. “Just in case.” You said to her as she nodded, putting her overcoat on as she got ready to head home for the night. 

“I’ll be back tomorrow.” She told you, hugging you tightly before opening the door and walking out towards home with one last wave. 

The days bled together quickly, turning from days to weeks to months without a single word of their whereabouts and it was like everyone was afraid to talk to you, not wanting to upset you further. They watched you, pity swirling in their eyes as you walked through the market, talking in hushed tones about Remmick when they thought you weren’t listening or couldn’t hear them, but you did. 

Paddy’s family had left town three months after it had happened, his father saying that Paddy’s mother was inconsolable, that they had to move so she would stop crying through the night. You hadn’t seen them since, didn’t even know what town they had moved to. 

Mrs. O’Neill was the only one who still spoke his name. The only one who didn’t treat him like a ghost or you like a piece of glass.

You stirred the pot that sat in the fire, grabbing dishes off the shelf, pausing when you had set out two instead of one. You shakily set the bowl back on the shelf and took yours to the small pot, pouring your soup into it before sitting down at the table, stirring it around with your spoon as your mind wandered.

You blinked when you heard three knocks on the door, opening it slowly to see a man around your age. His eyes were wide and his chest was heaving as if he had just run to your door. “Ma’am, there’s something out there! It’s been chasing me since the edge of town, please can I hide here?” He asked as you stepped to the side with a nod, peering outside and looking around to see if you could see anything. 

“Come in.” You told him simply as he quickly entered around you and you pulled the door closed and locked it. He sat down at the table, trying to catch his breath as he looked around at everything. “Who are you running from? What did it look like? A wild animal?”

“I-I’m not sure. I didn’t get a good look at it.” He glanced down at his hands before looking into the fire. “I was just cutting some wood and then I heard this growl behind me and I ran as far as I could until I got here.” 

“You ran here from the other side of town?” You gasped. “Let me get you water, you must be thirsty?” You reached for a cup, filling it with water before setting it in front of the man. 

“Thank you. You’re very kind, Ma’am.” He offered you a smile as he drank the water as if he hadn’t had water in days. He set the empty cup down after wiping his mouth. He stood, walking over to the windows and peering out before moving to the next one and doing the same thing.

“Do you see it out there?” You asked, standing near the hearth still as he seemed to jump slightly before turning towards you with confusion.

“Hm?” His head tilted to the side before his eyes widened just enough to show he remembered. “Oh, um, no. I was just…looking.” He trailed off as his eyes shifted to you, raking you over as his gaze narrowed. You shifted uncomfortably under the weight of his gaze.

“I think you should go now.” You said softly, keeping your distance as you watched the man’s eyes glint in the firelight. “My husband…he’ll be back soon.” You lied easily as he continued to stare at you unmoving.

“It could still be out there.” His voice was quieter, less convincing this time. You shook your head no, your hand wrapping around the handle of the knife that sat on the table. 

“You’d better go now.” You repeated, the knife now comfortably in your hand, pointing it towards the man as he stepped back and you stepped forward making him step backward again towards the door.

“Thank you for the water, Ma’am.” He said, eyes flashing a strange color before he stepped out of your home and you closed and locked your door immediately after. Your chest rose and fell quickly as you realized how dangerous that really had been.

You settled on the bed, a small candle by the bed as you read a book. It was one that Remmick had originally had that you had yet to read. As you went to turn to the next page a quick knock sounded on the other side of the door. “Go away!” You shouted out, stepping back from the door only for the knock to sound again, this time a bit firmer. You huffed, grabbing the knife from the table and unlocking the door, allowing it to swing open.

The knife clattered from your hand onto the floor, your mouth opening and closing as your eyes widened. “Remmick?” You whispered his name like if you said it too loudly he would disintegrate right in front of you.

tags:

@avidreader73 @jackierose902109

[dudeimjustagirll]

The World's Worst Kept Secret

Ao3 Link :p

Sometimes the parents in fanfic piss me off so bad like why are they always abusive😭😭 Anyway guys i love my mom and u should too :)

You perched on the edge of your bed, guitar resting across your lap, absentmindedly plucking at the strings. The melody was familiar, something steady and grounding. But your mind? It was elsewhere.

Mark had been acting weird.

You weren’t the clingy type, but even you had to admit that his sudden shift in behavior was suspicious. One minute, he was your goofy, reliable boyfriend who always made time to hang out, and the next? Constantly busy. Constantly making excuses. And the worst part? They sucked.

"Senior year stress," he'd said when you'd asked him what was going on. But Mark had never struggled with school. If anything, he always found it easy. So why the sudden change?

You hadn't exactly been the most honest person either. Balancing school, hero work, guitar practice, and your relationship was a lot, but you managed. Unlike Mark, you had a damn good reason for being busy. Because when you weren’t acing your classes or jamming out in your room, you were Shockwave—the seismic-powered hero who had been cleaning up the streets for months now.

Something wasn’t adding up.

You picked up your phone. The newest hero on the block—Invincible—had been making waves. Reports about his latest rescue, his impressive strength, and his bright yellow-and-blue suit filled your screen. You squinted at the name.

Invincible? Sounded like something Mark would pick.

You shook the thought away and set your phone down. His excuses sucked.

Senior year stress? Please. Mark had always been a solid student, never once breaking under academic pressure. He even bragged about how easy his classes were. And now, all of a sudden, he was skipping out on your usual hangouts, dodging your calls, and giving half-assed responses when you asked what was wrong.

Were you also technically lying? Yeah, but at least you had a good excuse for being busy.

You needed answers. And the best place to start? The best heroes you knew: Atom Eve and Rex Splode.

“Mark Grayson?” Rex snorted, throwing a piece of popcorn into his mouth. “Never heard of him.”

Eve rolled her eyes. “That’s because he goes to my school.” She turned to you, arms crossed. “So, let me get this straight. Your boyfriend—who’s never been stressed about school before—suddenly starts acting weird, dodging your calls, and now there’s a new hero on the scene?”

You nodded. “Exactly.”

Eve pursed her lips. “I mean… it’s possible. But a lot of people have powers, and not all of them become heroes. What makes you so sure it’s him?”

You huffed. “I dunno. A gut feeling?” You leaned forward. “I know him, Eve. And something is up.”

“Look, maybe he just doesn’t wanna tell you he’s struggling,” Rex said. “Maybe he’s, I dunno, failing calculus.”

“He’s not failing calculus,” you shot back. “And I’d know if something was actually wrong.”

Eve sighed. “Okay, let’s say you’re right. What do you do about it?”

You hesitated. “I… I don’t know yet.”

“Then figure it out soon,” Eve said, nudging you lightly. “Secrets don’t stay secret forever.”

When you got home, your mom was already in the kitchen, stirring something in a pot. The scent of spices filled the air, warm and familiar. She glanced up as you walked in, immediately noticing the look on your face.

“Something on your mind?” she asked.

You hesitated. Then, before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, “How do you know when someone is hiding something from you?”

Your mom raised a brow. “That’s a loaded question.” She turned off the stove and wiped her hands on a dish towel. “This about Mark?”

You blinked. “How did you—?”

She chuckled. “I know you. And I know that boy causes roughly half of your troubles.” She motioned for you to sit down. “Tell me what’s going on.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Mark’s been acting weird. Super busy all of a sudden. And then—bam!—new superhero on the block.”

Your mom hummed thoughtfully. “You think he’s this ‘Invincible’?”

“It sounds stupid when you say it out loud.”

“It doesn’t sound stupid.” She leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm. “But if he is, what would that change?”

You frowned. “I… I don’t know.”

Your mom smiled gently. “Sweetheart, if you love him, then you love him—superpowers or not. But secrets can hurt, even if they come from a good place.” She squeezed your hand. “Just be patient. The truth has a way of coming out.”

"Are you sure? I really don't know how much longer I can take this," you said, hunching over a little bit.

Your mom stood up and came around to your side of the table, wrapping her arms around your form. She kissed your forehead, and caressed your cheek, tilting your head so that you were making direct eye contact.

"Darling, he's a teenage boy. How complicated can he really be?"

The truth, as it turned out, came out a few days later.

After school, you decided to swing by the Teen Team base. It wasn’t unusual for you to hang out there, but today, something felt different. Call it instinct, or maybe just stubborn curiosity, but you needed answers.

Before heading inside, you made a stop at a quiet, abandoned rooftop nearby. This was your usual spot—somewhere to think, to breathe, to feel the world beneath your feet. You slipped your guitar strap over your shoulder, fingers settling over the strings as you played a slow, rhythmic tune. Each note sent the tiniest pulses into the ground, and you closed your eyes, letting yourself feel everything—the way the vibrations traveled, the way the city hummed with life below you.

Music had always been your anchor, but it also helped with your control. With a deep breath, you switched focus, resting a palm against the concrete rooftop. Slowly, you sent out a precise tremor, just strong enough to make the cracks in the pavement shift without fully breaking apart. A single exhale, and everything stilled again.

It was a small, controlled display of power—something you’d worked hard to perfect. Unlike raw strength, this was finesse, something deliberate. Anyone could cause an earthquake, but you? You could shape them. Direct them. Command them.

Feeling slightly steadier, you slung the guitar over your back and leapt down, landing lightly before making your way inside the base.

When you arrived, the last person you expected to see was Mark.

He stood next to Eve, still in his suit. He was talking animatedly, his voice familiar yet surreal in this context. You stared, heart pounding, as realization set in.

Mark was Invincible.

He turned and locked eyes with you.

“Oh. Shit.” He said.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you blurted out.

Mark nearly jumped at the sound of your voice, and his jaw nearly hit the floor. “What the hell am I doing here? What the hell are you doing here?”

You pointed at him. “I asked first!”

He pointed right back. “No, I asked louder!”

Eve facepalmed. “Oh my god.”

Your eyes flicked to the yellow and blue suit, the familiar voice, the way he stood. “You’re Invincible?”

Mark’s eyes widened. “You’re Shockwave?”

Silence.

Then, at the exact same time—

“You’ve been lying to me?”

Eve groaned. “I cannot deal with this right now.”

You ran a hand down your face. “Oh my god, I knew something was off about you.”

Mark gestured wildly. “You knew something was off about me? You’ve had powers this whole time and didn’t tell me?”

You crossed your arms. “I had a good reason!”

Mark scoffed. “Oh yeah? And I didn’t?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but then…

Well. He had a point.

Mark let out a breath, rubbing his temples. “Okay. Okay. This is a lot.”

“You’re telling me,” you muttered.

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, taking it all in. Then, despite everything, you let out a small laugh. “You know what? I can’t even be mad.”

Mark gave you a dry look. “Oh, really?”

You shrugged. “I mean, it’s kinda funny.”

Mark groaned. “Unbelievable.”

You smirked. “Guess we’re both good at keeping secrets.”

He sighed, but a smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah. Guess so.”

Mark shook his head in disbelief. Then, after a pause, he grinned. “Okay, but now I HAVE to see what you can do.” Almost instantly, his face brightened with an idea. “Wait. Can you do the thing?”

You raised a brow. “The thing?”

“The Shockwave thing. The cool ground-shaking, wall-smashing thing. Please? I’ve seen it on TV.”

You tilted your head, pretending to consider. “Hmm. I don’t know…”

“Please?”

You sighed dramatically. “Fine.”

You took a step back, planted your foot firmly against the ground, and exhaled. With a controlled motion, you raised your hands, and a wave of kinetic energy pulsed through the air, rattling the entire room. The ground beneath Mark trembled—just enough to make him stumble slightly. A few loose items on the shelves clattered, but nothing broke. It was a flex, but a controlled one.

Mark’s mouth fell open. “That is so cool.”

You smirked. “Told you.”

He grinned. “Okay, wow. My girlfriend’s way cooler than me.”

You laughed. “Glad you finally figured that out.”

Mark ran a hand through his hair, still in awe. Then, suddenly, he grabbed a piece of paper from a nearby table and held it out to you. “Can I have your autograph?”

You burst out laughing. “Are you serious?”

He grinned. “Dead serious. Shockwave is officially my favorite hero.”

“And I wasn’t before?” you jokingly asked, placing a hand on your cheek for dramatic effect.

“Well…you were okay, but…”

“But?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I always thought Black Samson was cooler, until now, that is.”

Shaking your head, you took the paper and scribbled your name across it before handing it back. Mark held it to his chest dramatically. “I’m framing this.”

You rolled your eyes. “Dork.”

He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close. “Yeah, but I’m your dork.”

You smiled, leaning into him. “Yeah, you are.”

And just like that, everything finally made sense.

[short-honey-badger]

An Outlaw, a Sheriff, and a Deputy walk into a bar...

Part 2 Part 3

You jump when the door to your office slams open and you look up to see a terrified local, breathing heavily and their hand clutched to their chest. You jump from your seat, hand on your pistol, ready to go before they can even tell you what's going on in the sleepy town of Valentine.

“Outlaws, Deputy! Red-Hair and his posse!” The man cries and you push past him and to the front porch of the building. The bank is just down the road and a quick sprint has you there within seconds. You recognize the two men that guard the door, Lucky Roux and Yasopp, and you slide to a stop in front of them.

“What the fuck do you think you're doing in my town?” You snarl hotly and the men in front of you throw their heads back and cackle. Your face flushes in rage and your pistol is out like a flash, hand steady as you aim it between the two. Backup would be here soon, you were sure. It was just a shame that the Sheriff was down in Blackwater for a meeting with his father.

“What does it look like we're doing, sweetheart?”

You sneer at the roguish voice that comes from within the bank. Red-Haired Shanks steps out in all his glory, white shirt tucked into a pair of old jeans, belts hanging from his waist, and a bandolier across his chest. His hat is weathered and does a poor job of hiding his shaggy red hair.

“Fucking with your brother, looks like,” you hiss right back and aim at Shanks, eyes narrowing into slits, “Got nothing better to do than get under his skin, huh, Red?”

Shanks grins and boldly steps out on the porch, uncaring about the revolver that points at his chest. He knows that you would never shoot him, the two of you had too much history for that. He rakes his eyes up and down, eyes half-lidded as he crosses his arms over his chest and cocks his hip.

“Maybe I just wanted to come see an old friend. She won't give me the time of day unless I cause trouble in her town.”

You grit your teeth at his casual tone, eyes blazing with rage. It pisses you off to have good memories of you and the twins tossed back in your face, but Shanks had been the one to fuck all that up. Not you.

“I'm not your friend, Red. So how about you drop the act and get out of here before my backup shows up? I'd hate to see you in cuffs,” There is nothing but mean sarcasm in your voice, and you smirk at the redhead when he frowns.

“Damn it, sweetheart. I wanted to do this the easy way, but I guess you're too stubborn for that, huh?” Shanks drawls lowly, and you watch him lope forward, his gait careful but uncaring.

A bad feeling curls in your stomach and you don't have time to even make a sound before Shanks is on you. He snatches the revolver from your grip, and you hiss at the feeling of your finger dislocating from its socket. The next thing you know is pain, your weapon used to wack you in the back of the head, and down you go out like a light.

Shanks sighs and hefts you up and over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, “Sorry, baby doll. I'll fix you up when we get back to camp, okay?”

He knows that you can't hear him right now, but the assurance makes him feel better. Shanks looks at his crew and jerks his head.

“Let's get outta here, boys. Don't wanna linger and get caught.”

@nocturnalrorobin @sanjisleggy @mit-suri @forever-a-night-owl @sordidmusings @mfreedomstuff

[cherrywriterrr]

psych 203 eight

college!rafe x pinkhaired!oc

warnings: 18+ mdni, strong language, suggestive themes, mentions of sex, chaotic best friend energy, sibling awkwardness, post-hookup tension, fluff, jealousy, hints of possessiveness, slight angst, pillow talk aftermath, emotionally confusing behavior, more bickering, casual hookup dynamic with unresolved feelings

seven eight nine

“you didn’t have to throw him out,” nova muttered, arms crossed over her bare chest, one of sarah’s oversized hoodies barely hanging off her shoulders.

sarah stood in the doorway, clutching her iced coffee like it was her emotional support. “oh, i absolutely did. nova. you were literally cuddling. cuddling with my brother. naked. on my bed.”

nova rolled her eyes. “we weren’t naked—“

“you were naked,” sarah cut her off flatly. “his shirt was on the lamp.”

nova glanced toward the lamp and winced. “…that’s not proof.”

“and my blanket was on the floor!” sarah groaned, dramatically flopping onto the desk chair like her soul had just left her body. “do you know how traumatic that is? i came in thinking you’d be watching some dumb rom-com, maybe crying about your ex or something normal. not—not whatever that was!”

nova huffed, brushing her messy hair out of her face. “okay, first of all? we are not serious. and second of all? you didn’t need to walk in like the fucking kool-aid man and throw him out.”

sarah gasped. “nova! he’s my brother! you and rafe were looking at each other like you were one blink away from round two.”

nova gave her a flat look. “…we might’ve been.”

“gross,” sarah gagged, covering her ears. “do not say that. do not ever say that again. i can’t believe this. i trusted you.”

“oh come on,” nova laughed, tossing a pillow at her. “you trusted me with your trauma and birth control schedules, but not with your hot older brother?”

“exactly!” sarah threw the pillow right back. “and now i have to bleach my eyeballs.”

nova just grinned, falling back onto the bed, tugging the blanket back over her legs. “you’re being dramatic.”

sarah sipped her coffee like it was her last hope. “i’m not. are you sure you’re not catching feelings? because that whole ‘cuddling and forehead kissing’ situation didn’t scream ‘casual.’”

nova’s smile faltered for a second, but only for a second. she masked it with a scoff. “no feelings, i swear. i literally told him we’re not a couple. he knows the deal.”

sarah raised an eyebrow. “uh-huh. and what did he say?”

nova hesitated. “…he said he thought we could go on a date or some shit.”

“oh my god.”

“but i shut that down,” nova said quickly, waving her hand. “i told him it’s just fucking. casual. secret. exclusive-ish—like, no layla.”

sarah blinked. “…exclusive-ish?”

“you know,” nova shrugged, “like he can fuck whoever he wants, just not that bitch.”

sarah stared. “nova.”

“what?”

“you’re in so deep.”

nova tossed another pillow at her. “shut up.”

sarah caught it midair, smirking. “so when’s round two?”

“probably tonight,” nova said without missing a beat.

“i hate you.”

“you love me.”

“unfortunately.”

and through all the chaos, neither of them noticed the unread text from rafe sitting quietly on nova’s phone screen:

“u left ur necklace here. wanna come get it. or should i bring it over. also—i want round two. no interruptions.”

nova didn’t see it yet.

but she would. and round two?

yeah, it was coming. with a hell of a lot more than either of them expected.

“please, please, please,” nova begged, hands clasped dramatically as she leaned forward off the bed. “don’t tell anyone. swear on your overpriced hair serum.”

sarah squinted at her. “…the one from sephora?”

“yes.”

“damn,” sarah said, sighing, “okay. fine. you know i won’t.”

nova dropped back onto the mattress with relief. “thank you. you’re my favorite bitch.”

sarah stayed quiet for a moment, spinning slowly in her desk chair. “but nova…”

“oh god.” nova groaned into a pillow. “don’t ruin this for me. i can hear it coming.”

“i’m serious.”

nova lifted her head just enough to see sarah’s face—and yep, there it was. the concerned sister energy. the one that always came before a hard truth. her stomach twisted a little.

“i’m not gonna tell anyone,” sarah said softly, “but i don’t want you to get hurt. or… you to hurt him.”

nova blinked.

“i know how you are,” sarah continued, sipping her coffee like it’d help soften the blow. “you’re all tough and whatever but you feel shit so deep, nova. you say you don’t catch feelings but when you do? it wrecks you.”

nova stared at the ceiling, jaw clenched.

“and he’s…” sarah trailed off, biting her lip. “he’s rafe. you know how messy he can be. but he’s also my brother. and lately? i’ve seen him trying. like, really trying. and you’re probably the first person in a long time that he actually wanted to date.”

nova turned her head slowly. “…you’re saying this like we’re soulmates.”

“i’m saying this like i care about both of you,” sarah corrected, voice low but firm. “and this whole sneaky, secret hookup thing? it’s fine until it’s not. and when it blows up—because it will—i just… i don’t want you both to end up hating each other.”

nova didn’t respond. she just stared, fingers curling into the blanket.

“you don’t have to promise anything,” sarah added, standing from the chair, “just… think about it, okay?”

nova nodded once, almost imperceptibly. “i will.”

“good.” sarah leaned down, pressing a kiss to nova’s temple. “i’ll see you after class.”

nova waited until the door shut behind her.

then she rolled onto her back again, pulled her phone into her hands, and stared at the unread message from rafe.

nova chewed her lip.

no one was supposed to get hurt. but her heart?

it was already on the table.

the thing was—nova did call herself a slut. all the time. loud and proud.

“whore rights,” she’d say in class after casually flirting with the barista and the professor in the same breath.

“slut power,” she’d whisper when she left someone’s dorm at 3am with lipstick smudged and no regrets.

“queen of hoetry,” she’d declare when her film photos turned out beautifully raw and aching, like love notes to strangers she barely knew.

but it wasn’t always just a joke.

not when she sat alone in the bathtub at night with her knees to her chest wondering why she couldn’t just not care about people.

why it always hit so fucking deep.

why one kiss, one smirk, one look could make her stomach twist into hopeful knots she’d never admit to anyone—not even sarah.

because for someone so loud, nova hart loved to suffer in silence.

she fell too fast, too hard. every time.

a stranger held her gaze for three seconds too long? she’d start wondering what their apartment looked like. what their cologne smelled like on bedsheets. if they’d remember her birthday without needing the instagram reminder.

it was embarrassing. it was dangerous.

so she protected herself the only way she knew how.

she became the one who left first.

the one who said, it’s just sex, don’t get clingy.

the one who laughed when her heart cracked open like a damn glass bottle and said, “whatever. he was mid anyway.”

because deep down? no one had ever stayed.

her dad “left” emotionally before she was old enough to even spell the word “abandonment.”

and even after all the therapy and the jokes and the carefully curated chaos, her daddy issues still called shotgun in every situationship she entertained.

and rafe fucking cameron? he was a walking red flag.

a man with his own scars.

and the worst possible person to give a piece of her heart to.

but he made her feel. wanted.

like she wasn’t just a punchline with pink hair and a sharp mouth.

and that terrified her more than anything else.

so she rolled her eyes, picked up her phone again, and typed.

nova: just bring the necklace, i’m lazy

nova: and round two depends. are you gonna cry again if i call you pinkie pie

rafe: no, but i might shut you up with my mouth again

nova: promises promises

she smiled at the screen, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

because jokes were easy. and feelings were not.

and falling in love was the most dangerous thing nova hart had ever been good at.

there was a knock at the door.

nova didn’t bother checking who it was.

only one person knocked like that, lazy, like the door owed him a favor. she pulled it open and—there he was.

black hoodie. gray sweatpants. hair still damp from a shower.

holding a tiny bag between his fingers.

“brought the necklace,” he said, stepping inside like he owned the place.

like they hadn’t just been naked and gasping against each other.

nova raised a brow. “only one? where’s my crown and my daily morning kiss?”

he leaned in. slow. intentional “i can take care of that second part.”

and he kissed her.

soft. warm. dangerous. the kind of kiss that lingered. not just physically, but somewhere beneath her ribs.

and nova—nova fucking froze.

only for a second.

only long enough for the panic to flash behind her eyes before she smiled, clapped her hands dramatically, and said— “congrats. you’ve officially made out with a slut in her pajamas. bucket list item, huh?”

rafe didn’t laugh.

he just looked at her. eyes narrowed slightly, studying her like he was starting to see through the glitter, the noise, the walls she built with sarcasm and red lipstick.

“why do you do that?” he asked.

“do what?” she blinked.

“act like this doesn’t mean anything.”

nova opened her mouth—closed it—shrugged. “maybe because it doesn’t.”

he tilted his head. “so if i said i wanted us to be exclusive, what would you say?”

her heart dropped into her stomach. then bounced.

then shattered and reformed itself all in the span of three seconds.

“i’d say it’s okay, rafe. really. i don’t mind if you see other women.”

she said it lightly, like a joke. like she didn’t care.

like her chest wasn’t aching already.

rafe stepped closer. “but i don’t want to.”

his voice was quiet. honest. “and i don’t think i want you seeing other guys either.”

nova’s eyes flickered up. fast. unsure.

he went on, slow and careful.

“i wanna maybe… get to know you. for real. we have a whole semester together.”

she hated how that sentence made her breath catch.

how her throat tightened like she might actually cry. so instead she rolled her eyes, like the words hadn’t knocked the wind out of her.

“you tryna be my boyfriend, cameron? what’s next? you gonna ask me to prom?”

“i might,” he smirked. “if you stop calling me pinkie pie.”

she grinned back, but her voice was quieter now.

“i’m… not good at this.”

“me either.”

a pause. just breathing. just looking.

then she finally said, “fine. exclusivity. but if you so much as look at layla, i’m killing you.”

“deal.”

they didn’t kiss again. they didn’t need to.

the promise had already landed—somewhere fragile.

nova shifted her weight, folding her arms, eyeing him with that dangerous mix of nervousness and bravado.

her fingers toyed with the edge of the necklace he’d just given her—small, silver, something delicate that didn’t feel like it should be in rafe’s hands, and yet… somehow did.

“but no dating,” she said flatly. “like—no couple shit. no matching bios or brunch or posting me on your story with some stupid heart emoji.”

rafe leaned against the wall, arms crossed, head tilted. “yet.”

she blinked. “excuse me?”

he smirked like he’d been waiting to say this. “you’ll catch feelings before you know it.”

nova scoffed. loudly. stepped back like the very idea was a crime against her brand.

“we agreed to no feelings, rafe,” she shot back, chin tilted in defiance. “this is a fucking arrangement. i get off. you get off. end of story.”

he pushed off the wall, walking up to her. close enough for her to feel his breath.

close enough to make her heartbeat stutter. “we’ll see, pinkie baby.”

his voice dipped lower, smug and certain. “we’ll see.”

nova held his gaze for a beat too long, the necklace chain tangled in her fingers, her mouth parted like she wanted to argue, but didn’t know how.

because deep down,buried beneath glittery sarcasm, layered in fake confidence and heavy eye makeup, was a part of her that was already falling.

and it scared the fuck out of her.

so she did what she always did. rolled her eyes, flipped him off, and said, “get outta my dorm before i forget we’re not doing feelings and let you kiss me again.”

he grinned. and didn’t move.

next<< taglist series masterlist my work

just a quick reminder — if you ever want me to stop tagging you, please don’t hesitate to let me know. no hard feelings at all! also, if you’re not interacting with the posts, I’ll assume you’re no longer interested and might remove you from the taglist to keep it active. appreciate you all 💋

tags: 🏷️ @rafesbabygirlx @rafescloudie @iconiccolo @viqtoria @devoutedlover @k4yr14 @purplerose291 @qversazex @sc05 @t0x1cfaerie @certifiedlovergirl112 @faithlyn444 @mrspuffdriving @feverg1rl @eviev097 @cherryhoneybabe @ijustwanttoreadlols @rafecamwifeyy @alphabetically-deranged

[applepiiex]

NOT MY DOCTOR ! ! ! ✃𓄧꒷꒦

Frank Langdon x FTM!Reader

When Frank Langdon watches someone recover, he sees lab results, fluid levels, healing rates. But when it’s his husband, bruised and bandaged from top surgery, he forgets how to see anything but risk. Y/N just wants comfort. A hand to hold. Someone to tell him he’s still strong, still his. He doesn’t need his chest examined. He needs to feel seen. And loved. And whole.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈-ˋˏ✄

You’d never been one to resent help, especially not from Frank. He was built to be caring, precise in every way, wired to protect and serve and soothe.

But four days post-op, nestled in a mountain of pillows on the couch, drains tugging gently at your skin, your tolerance was running low.

Which meant still sore, still swollen, still taped up like a fragile art piece, and absolutely sick of hearing Frank say the words “incision site.”

You were curled up on the couch, blanket over your legs, binder long discarded in the closet, drains tucked beside you like awkward little accessories you hated, when Frank came in with the med schedule, wearing the same concerned furrowed brow he wore at work. His gray scrubs were half-wrinkled, his stethoscope still looped around his neck even though he was off shift, like some part of him couldn’t un-be a doctor. Even for you.

"Time for meds," he said softly, crouching at your side. "You’re due for Tylenol and the antibiotic. Want water or juice?"

You sighed, not answering at first.

Frank looked up. His voice dipped into concern. "Are you in more pain today?"

“Frank,” you said, trying to keep your tone neutral. “Can we not do this like you’re on rounds?”

He blinked.

You met his eyes, dark, worried, gentle, but all physician. “I’m not your patient. I’m your husband.”

The room went quiet.

He set the clipboard down slowly, something in his posture crumbling a little. He didn’t look offended, he looked... lost. Like you’d knocked something loose in him he hadn’t realized was holding him upright.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice low.

You shifted slightly, wincing a bit as the tape across your chest pulled, and reached out to touch his knee. “I know you’re trying. And I love you for it. But I didn’t go through this surgery just to be handled like I’m breakable. I need you. Just... you.”

Frank let out a breath, dropping down fully to sit on the floor beside the couch. He ran a hand down his face, then looked up at you, really looked. Not assessing vitals. Not measuring swelling. Just taking you in.

Your hoodie was unzipped and hanging off your shoulders, your chest flat beneath the thick surgical binder. There were faint bruises still fading across your ribs, and the gauze peeked out a little from the bandage line. It wasn’t neat or beautiful yet. But it was yours. Finally.

And his heart hurt, seeing you like this, but not because of the pain. Because you looked... real. More yourself than he’d ever seen you. And he realized, in that moment, he’d been so busy making sure you healed, he’d forgotten to celebrate the becoming.

“You’re right,” he murmured. “I haven’t been treating you like my husband.”

You shrugged slightly. “You’ve been treating me like someone who might fall apart.”

Frank gently lifted your hand and brought it to his lips. “You’ve never fallen apart. You just took yourself back, piece by piece. I’m sorry I forgot that.”

Those words hanged in the air for a moment, quiet, but warm. You both sat there, the television murmuring something in the background neither of you heard. He let you lean your head on his shoulder, mindful of your chest, mindful of your space but offering his full weight, finally, as your partner, not your physician.

After a few minutes, you murmured, “I still need the meds though.”

He chuckled into your hair. “Yeah. But this time I’ll give them to you like a husband, not a resident.”

You pulled back and gave him a tired smile. “Good. Because if you ask me to rate my pain on a scale of one to ten again, I’m hiding your ID badge.”

“Noted.” He kissed your temple. “But I’m still fluffing your pillows later. That’s not medical, that’s husband tax.”

You rolled your eyes. But your hand never left his.

And this time, when he gave you your meds, he did it with one hand and held your face in the other, brushing your cheek softly with his thumb.

[boy-eclipse]

ciel walking down the street before he’s accosted by a stray, black cat. it rubs up on his leg and then weaves through them, almost tripping him up. about to scoff at sebastian’s reaction, ciel looks up to realise his butler is no longer at his side. before he can do anything about that fact, the cat is demanding his attention again, standing up on it’s hind legs to dig it’s claws into ciel’s coat.

ciel attempts to push the cat’s face to knock it off it’s balance and leave him alone, but strangely, it fails. ciel had assumed his strength is greater than the average domestic cat, but it seems he is wrong as the creature knocks him onto the ground and climbs into his lap before he can resist. ciel drops his cane and swears, wondering why his eyes aren’t itching from close exposure to a cat.

now kneading on his chest, the cat’s eyes open wide at him and turn a familiar reddish pink with slit pupils, before it blinks and its eyes are yellow once more. ah, so that was it. “you moron.” ciel huffs, placing his hand on the cat — sebastian’s — head. he leans into ciel’s touch and purrs loudly; smiling as much as he can in this form, little fangs peaking out between sebastian’s lips. his demon did like to be pet, and for the sake of ciel not feeling completely ridiculous, sebastian had provided the solution of altering his form to that of an animal to indulge in that which he adores. whether or not this solution succeeded in reducing ciel’s embarrassment is up for debate, but it has become a favourite among sebastian’s practical jokes.

when ciel stands and insists sebastian change back so that they can go home, sebastian flops his head to the side as if to ask, “what?”

ciel huffs, retrieving his cane. “fine. do as you like tonight, so long as all of your chores are carried out.”

with that, ciel turns and walks in the direction he was originally headed in — towards where his carriage is parked. he plans to return home alone, and sebastian can make his own way. but the little cat trots behind him, and begins meowing incessantly.

ciel’s ears burn and he’s thankful it’s so late, that the streets are mostly empty. he turns and stares at sebastian — looking down at him is a strange feeling. “what is it? don’t toy with me.”

sebastian taps one of his paws against the ground until ciel leans down and places his hand on the ground, confused on what the wretched demon wants. without hesitation, sebastian climbs up ciel’s arm and settles himself across ciel’s shoulders. ciel tands without any care for sebastian hanging on, and is tempted to shake him off for being so absurd.

without any care, sebastian lays down and begins licking his outstretched front legs. “you are…” ciel begins, losing the words to describe how irritating sebastian is being. he ultimately sighs, and continues on his walk. “you will change back once we reach the manor — that is an order. the servants know i’m allergic to cats.”

sebastian simply yawns in response. ciel throws a glare at him over his shoulder and, when they meet eyes, sebastian nods slowly. ciel can’t help but feel mocked.

reluctantly, ciel trudges to his carriage and climbs in with sebastian still on his shoulders. in the night air, the warmth of sebastian’s body is, annoyingly, quite pleasant. but once sat in the carriage, ciel pushes sebastian off of him. fallen onto the seat beside ciel, sebastian quickly recovers and settles in ciel’s lap instead.

ciel taps the ceiling of the carriage with his cane, sighing at how affectionate and insistent sebastian is being. figuring he may as well give in, ciel kisses sebastian between his ears and then settles a hand in the black fur again, letting sebastian roll over and reveal the strange white patch of fur that only ciel recognises as an approximation of sebastian’s contract seal.

when they return to the manor, ciel is once again accompanied by his butler, who is smiling unusually wide for no obvious reason. his purposefully unkempt hair looks genuinely disheveled.

[ofreardcns]

Adrian’s not taking to the kiss well. That’s too damn bad. Gael keeps his mouth pressed to Adrian’s until the hunter’s jaw clamps shut and the slick spill of copper is forced to pool between them. He tastes denial—salt, stubbornness, the metallic whine of pride—but beneath it thrums the spark he needs: that single drop of vampiric grace, already threading through Adrian’s bloodstream, searching for torn flesh to knit. 

The line—don’t kill any of them— rings in his skull, sour as curdled milk. Any of them? Morgan’s plea fractures something deep, because it folds his children into the same ledger as the man who burned their lives down. He swings his gaze to her, the porch light carving harsh hollows in his face.

“Any of them?” he repeats, voice raw, hand cinching tighter on Adrian’s throat until the pulse thumps frantic beneath his thumb. “Morgan, no. Him—just him. And clearly even that’s touch and go.” Case in point: this stupid fucking kiss. “But my children are exactly that: mine. I crossed the grave for them. I won’t lay a finger on their heads.”

But the house still denies him. That vampiric curse of the threshold, it might as well be iron bars. Gael adjusts, knuckles whitening around Adrian’s collar as he drags the hunter sideways, nudging him inch by inch toward the doorframe.

Morgan hesitates, lips quivering. She looks smaller than she did a minute ago, guilt widening her eyes to brittle porcelain. He almost pities her. Almost. Because he’s watched pity bloom into weakness before, and what waits on the other side of that door is not weakness but salvation.

“Let him inside first,” she whispers and “That’s the arrangement,” Gael replies, low. He pushes Adrian forward like a battering ram.  Adrian lurches, furious, one-­handed on the jamb as though he could brace away the inevitable. The gun is still tucked at his waistband, but Gael can feel its weight trembling—a threat on life support. He wonders whether Adrian realizes the barrel will never line up before Gael’s fingers sever the tendons controlling it. Some equations solve themselves before they’re written.

With a choked sob, Morgan steps back. There. The veil breaks; Gael feels the invisible film of the threshold peel like wet paper. Power slides into the foyer on a cold breeze. He almost sighs at the sensation—relief, hunger, the intoxicating scent of human heartbeats thudding from upper rooms.

But he’s not foolish enough to drop his guard. Adrian could still throw something tragic and heroic into the gears. Gael shifts, twisting the hunter’s arm behind his back until tendons creak, guiding him through the doorway. “Think you can hold him for me, Morgan?” he says, nodding toward the stunned woman. “I’m just going to go upstairs, call Gemma off and bring them both downstairs. I promise.”

Adrian snarls incoherently. Gael ignores him. His ears are tuned to softer frequencies—the rapid patter of twin heartbeats at the top of the stairwell, the low growl of Star, the scuff of Gemma’s sneakers on hardwood.

He can't wait to see his kids any longer. He lets Adrian go. Two steps and he’s at the base of the staircase. He puts his palm flat to the banister, remembering the hours he’d spent here on some pizza night. Still your family, he tells himself. You only have to show them.

For the second time that night, Gael takes the stairs two at a time. The hall smells of dust and laundry soap—mundane, comforting things that snag his undead senses and pull him backward in time. He braces against the ache those memories stir—lets that hunger for all that was clot in his mind like scar tissue, thick and functional.

At the top landing he slows. No need to spook them more than he already has. The guest-room door hangs ajar, a sliver of lamplight spilling across the carpet. Inside, Gabe stands rigid beside the nightstand. Gemma hovers behind him, cheeks blotched crimson, defiance trembling through her shoulder. She’s bleeding from the back of her head. Fuck, that must have been the crack they heard—

But for the first time in two years, Gael sees his kids together and it’s like the sun. 

“Gemma—easy you can stand down now.” His gaze shifts to the boy’s white-knuckled grip. “Gabriel, no one’s here to hurt you. Let’s all head downstairs, the three of us, and talk this through—together.”

@sclviagant

Every time she thinks she has herself protected, a particularly motivated vampire proves just how little control Morgan has over anything.

In this case, she watches with abject horror as Gael fails to compel her, and then immediately turns that horrible power on his daughter. "Gemma, no, don't listen to him!" But it's useless. She knows it. And she doesn't dare reach out over the threshold where the vampire could grab her. So she's helpless as the girl marches inside. A weak attempt to stop Gemma is made as Morgan's hand just slips past her arm -- she knows how strong a compulsion is. She can't stop it, and she doesn't want to hurt Gemma (and lacks the strength to hold anyone for long). Morgan doesn't dare call for Gabe at this point either. "Shit."

There isn't long to sit with her disgust at Gael, though, as the woman stands firm in her doorway as if she is the only thing holding the walls up. With the current state of the Castillo-Fiori clan, she very well might be. "You -- I can't believe you just tried that. All of it!" Her shouting is drowned by the sound of an engine, though, and her relief is only momentary when she realizes the pizza boy hasn't just shown up in the middle of some sort of domestic.

No, it's Adrian, and once more Morgan stays rooted to the spot as Gael reacts faster than she could even blink. There's a harsh crunch of man on metal, and the woman is already near to tears as her conscience grapples with labeling cowardice as courage, staying safe inside and doing absolutely nothing as the twins collide upstairs and the husbands clash in her driveway. She hears Star climb the stairs after Gemma and the dog begins barking outside the door to the guest room. All while she stands, knowing every choice is certain death -- and making no choice at all is still a damning decision.

The vampire drags Adrian to her doorstep, some vicious mockery of a cat presenting you with its prey. Yes, I see it. Drop him, please. Morgan's glistening eyes catch the one of Adrian's that isn't covered as he struggles and her nails dig into the paintwork of the door jamb, reminding herself that what Gael has done to his husband he could do to her the second she leaves the safety of her home.

But words carry across the threshold just fine, and suddenly he's driving daggers through her with the mention of Bradley. Suddenly, she's back in that arcade while a monster roars at her before reminding her how desperately hungry he was, how sweet her husband tasted, and how he killed the man just because he could. Because he believed he should. And after what Gael has done to his daughter, after what he tried to do to Morgan herself, she isn't sure she can risk this being a bluff.

"He lost someone recently, so he's going to spend a little time with us. Is that okay, Mo?" "Can we help him find the person he lost?" "No, sweetheart. Sometimes when you lose someone, it's not like hide and seek. You don't get to see them again, but you remember them still, and then you can find them again in your memories."

She's lost things she didn't have, before. The family she never had and still somehow lost. But Morgan has lost people, lost her person, and she'll never forgive herself if she loses someone on her doorstep, two feet away, while she stands and does nothing. While she stands crying for everything she's lost and still stands to lose.

"No... p-please," Morgan begs, her voice barely a whisper at first as she emerges from the deep pit of memory she was thrown into. The sound of a hard thump upstairs shakes her back to the present once again and she looks at Adrian as Gael forces himself onto the man in this strange beast shaped like passion, rage, and insatiable hunger. The foundation of Morgan's resolve is crumbling, and it feels like the whole house Gael wants to enter so badly might collapse with all of them inside. Morgan begs again.

"I'm... I'm sorry. S-stop, please -- I'll let you in i-if Adrian comes in first. Please, just... don't kill him. Don't kill any of them, please."

@ofreardcns

[mw00nie]

thinking about how nanami’s personality does a whole 180 when he’s drunk.

sober nanami is all quiet control, buttoned-up tension, and low-effort elegance. he moves with purpose. speaks in perfect timing. never lets himself slip.

but drunk nanami?

drunk nanami is a mess.

not tipsy. not buzzed. drunk.like shirt unbuttoned three buttons down, tie hanging out of a back pocket, eyes heavy and glassy as he stares at your mouth mid-sentence

he gets flirtyand not suave, calculated flirty. he’s all breathy “you always look this good or is that just the gin talking?” while leaning against your shoulder like you’re gravity itself

he gets handsy rubs your thigh under the table tucks your hair behind your ear cups your face and whispers “you’ve got a really beautiful face, you know that?” like it’s the most tragic thing he’s ever said

he starts calling you pet names he’s never said sober

“sweetheart” “my love” “baby” like he’s trying it on for size and then immediately falling in love with the way it tastes in his mouth

and when someone else tries to flirt with you? he’s behind you in a second pressing against your back, lips brushing your ear, all low and unsteady “tell them you’re mine, darling. or I’ll have to make a scene.”

and the thing is? he means it. because drunk nanami feels everything too much and when you get him alone?

he kisses you like he’s drowning

his hands are everywhere not coordinated like usual no graceful unbuckling or perfect pacing he fumbles with your top and lets out a frustrated groan when it won’t slide off right

“fuck– sorry. I’m usually not–” “this drunk?” you offer, breathless

he laughs into your neck warm and soft and ruined “this clumsy.”

he pushes you onto the bed and climbs over you with a kind of heavy desperation his hands are shaking a little his breath is hot and uneven as he mouths at your chest, your throat, your jaw “need you,” he mutters “need you right now. can’t think. you’re all I want.”

he eats you out like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your pleasure a little messy a little too eager tongue slipping just off-target until he finds the right spot and groans like it physically hurts to feel you twitch against his mouth

his fingers tremble when he slides them in slower than usual thicker, deeper

when he finally gets inside you he gasps actually gasps like he’s never done it before like he can’t believe you’re letting him

“shit, you feel good– so fucking good– please, sweetheart– please don’t let me mess this up.”

and it’s not the usual Nanami rhythm not smooth or paced he thrusts in shaky, desperate rolls of his hips brow furrowed, lips parted, hands gripping your waist like he needs the anchor

he’s so far gone so in it so full of whimpers and please and don’t stop looking at me

you wrap your legs around him and pull him closer because this version of him? this raw, undone, needy-drunk version? you love him too

he comes with his face buried in your neck muffled curse full-body shudder holds you through it like you’re the last soft thing he’s allowed to touch

the morning after? he wakes up with his head against your chest hair a mess shirt half on

and the moment he realizes what happened, he groans softly and covers his face with one hand “…did I talk a lot?” you grin, already pulling the sheet up around your chest

“you begged,” you say sweetlyhe lets out the softest, most horrified sigh and doesn’t make eye contact for three hours

[xoxojisu]

CLINGY!

synopsis: in your relationship with rin, you've always been the affectionate one. the touchy one. the clingy one. so one day, you pull back from touching him so much, and it kills him.

notes: "jisu isnt this idea oddly similar to this katsuki fic you just wrote? BOY SYBAU MY BLOG I CAN DO WHAT I WANT.

you always touch first.

you’re the one who loops your arms around him from behind. the one who squishes his cheeks in your hands and calls him pretty. the one who laces your fingers with his while he’s mid-sentence like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

rin calls you clingy.

he says it with a sigh, with a roll of his eyes, with a “god, again?” when you kiss the tip of his nose.

he grumbles and looks to the side, but he never pulls away.

so you thought it was okay.

until you start wondering. what if he’s just tolerating it? what if he just doesn’t know how to tell you to stop?

you don’t bring it up. you just… stop. quietly.

no more casual touches. no more kisses on the cheek. no more spontaneous hand-holding or forehead pokes or clinging to his arm while he scrolls his phone or as you walk.

at first, rin doesn’t notice. not really. he thinks maybe you’re just tired. maybe you’re distracted.

but two days pass.

then three.

and then he realizes something’s wrong.

you still smile at him the same way. still talk to him, still text, still sit beside him on the couch.

but you keep your hands to yourself. you don’t lean on him when you laugh. you don’t reach for him. at all.

and it’s driving him crazy.

he’s sitting next to you now, knees barely brushing, and he’s sweating. his hands twitch in his lap. he glances at you from the corner of his eye and you’re looking down at your phone, legs tucked up under yourself, completely unaware of the war he’s waging inside.

he wants to touch you so bad he feels nauseous.

goddamnit, he feels so.. needy. but he can't even bring himself to care much.

he wants to feel you. in any way, shape, or form. just wants to feel your warmth against his.

but he’s never had to be the one to start it. he doesn’t know how. what if you pull away? what if you don’t want it anymore?

his throat’s dry. his heartbeat’s stupid.

he gives in.

“…are you mad at me?”

you blink up at him. “what?”

he looks away instantly. cheeks dusted pink. “you’re not… doing your usual.. stuff. it's weird. so i figured you were mad.”

you frown a little. “you mean the clingy stuff?”

his eyes flick to you, then away. “…yeah.”

you’re quiet for a second too long.

he panics.

“i didn’t mean it like that,” he says quickly. “i didn’t..! i-it's not annoying. i don’t want you to stop.” the words tumble out like he's been holding them in his whole life.

you look at him, surprised. “you don’t?”

he groans softly, dragging a hand over his face like he’s peeling it off. “i just say that because i've never really had it before. but i like it. i just don’t know how to ask for it. okay? i don’t know how to do that stuff. but you do, and i got used to it, and now you’re not doing it and it’s-” he cuts himself off, looking everywhere but at you. “…i miss it.”

you stare at him.

he looks miserable.

“…you miss me being clingy?” you say slowly.

he mutters, “don’t call it that,” but he’s blushing so hard now.

you try to hold back your smile. really, you do, but you can’t.

“so you like when i hang off you all the time.”

he groans again, turning his face into the couch cushion. “shut up.”

"aweeee, did my rinnie misssss me? he wants to be held?"

"shut up!" his face is on fire. he can't bring himself to look anywhere near your eyes.

you scoot closer. he tenses.

you lean in gently and press your forehead to his temple.

“i thought i was annoying you.”

he breathes in, shaky. “never.”

“so i can be clingy again?”

his answer is immediate.

“yes.”

but then, after a beat:

“but let me try, too.”

you blink. “try what?”

he reaches out with a hand that’s awkward, hesitant, and gently laces your pinkies together.

he won’t look at you. his ears are so red.

you smile so softly it hurts.

and you squeeze his hand back.

he sighs, relieved, and rests his head on your shoulder like he’s finally home.

(he is)

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