#hes so Lana del rey coded as well

[theesirenteller]

[erwinsvow]

𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥

summary: you were a pogue, and now you're a kook. just like how once you were no one's, and now you're rafe cameron's.

author's note: here it is!!! imagine like s1 rafe with the s2 hair, and basically just having a former-pogue girlfriend through out the whole season. i just think rafe would actually be such a good boyf, he just needs someone to settle him down when he gets a lil crazy. follows the sequence of s1 until about 3/4ths down, where i just started making stuff up. you might read this & think no one would act like this.. and that's fine, i know they wouldn't, but this is a self indulgent story for rafe <3 part 2 of the other seasons maybe? enjoy!!

now spinning: black beauty by lana del rey (soooooo rafe coded! he just needs a hug and some pussy!)

word count: 13.5k

warnings/tags: wheeze is a toddler for no reason. reader isn't the biggest fan of the pogues at this point in time. smut: oral (f receiving), fingering, degregation, use of daddy, rafe calls reader kid because <3, lemme know if i forgot something!

“So that’s it? Really? Your mom is marrying a Kook and you’re moving across the island… just like that?” John B speaks to you as if you had any choice in the matter. You look at him sadly, but you’ve cried so much the last few days, it’s hard to find any more tears.  

You want to tell him, want to explain everything. The way your mom has been so lonely for years, ever since your dad passed away. The way she would pull double-shifts every week just to make sure you had the nice, trendy shoes and hot dinner every night. The way you grew up in the cut but it never felt any different than growing up in figure eight, because she took care of you.

And now it was your turn, to take care of her. Blake Richards was rich, and he wanted to take care of your mom, which meant for the first time in a long time, she would be the one being taken care of. And you owed that to her, you owed that much.

“I-I don’t really have a choice, John B. I mean, this is my mom. And she’s getting her chance to be happy. I can’t ruin it for her.”

“Yeah, I get all that but, like, does this mean you’re gonna go full-Kook on us? Because I think that would just be disturbing,” JJ says, and you crack a smile, even as you feel a tear spill down your cheek. 

“I don’t think I could ever go full-Kook.” It comes out quietly, a notch above a whisper.

“Hey, hey,” you hear John’s voice again, as he stands up to get closer to you. You feel embarrassed, the way your cheeks flush and heat up when he’s only a few inches away from you. He wipes the tear away with his thumb. “No crying, okay? Nothing has to change.”

The way he says it, you almost believe him.

“Right,” you say, still quiet. There’s a sob stuck behind your throat, and you don’t want the boys to know how upset you really are. You’ve stitched up these boys more times than you can count, set shoulders and bones and nursed bruises for them. “Nothing has to change,” you repeat, trying to convince yourself. Everything was about to change, starting with your relationship with them.

And that’s the one thing you wish could stay the same. Deep down, no matter how many times you were teased and laughed with, there was a part of you, buried away, that thought you would end up with one of these boys one day. Sweet John, funny JJ, smart Pope. Well, maybe not Pope. You’ve seen the way he stares at Kie, even when no one else notices.

But John and JJ, the possibility of being with one of them always lingered in the air. Even when they’re flirting with tourists or cracking so-called boy jokes that you just wouldn’t understand, you always thought they were your endgame.

If only you knew. 

Pope and Kiara drive up, just as you’re wiping away another tear. You’re dreading repeating everything to them, shedding more tears. 

౨ৎ

“Who is that?” Topper asks, eyeing some girl entering the club. Rafe was getting sick of Topper crying over every pretty girl he saw on the street when he was supposedly dating his sister. He hardly cared about Sarah, daddy’s favorite, but that was his family, and he wouldn’t tolerate disrespect to his family. 

“She must be fresh meat,” Kelce says, “I’ve never seen her before.”

“Tourist?” Topper questions. Rafe downs the rest of his drink. 

“Nah, man, see that guy ahead of her? That’s Blake Richards. My dad works with him, he’s a big finance guy. He’s a widower, but I guess not anymore.” 

“Step-daughter? Jesus,” Topper says. “It’s like a cheesy porno. But I wouldn’t be surprised if he married her mom to tap that, I mean-”

“Enough,” Rafe snaps. “Shouldn’t you be in a fight with my sister?” Topper blanches. 

“I mean, look at her Rafe. That is something special,” Kelce says, and then finally, Rafe lifts his head to look at you.

You look… confused. Your head is turning, taking in everything about the club, like you’d never been there before. A waiter comes up to your family with tall glasses of water, little pieces of cucumber and lemon floating around in them with ice cubes. Richards—your step-father—takes a glass and hands it to a woman who can only be your mother, with the same hair and complexion. Before he can take a glass to hand to you, you take it from the tray yourself, smiling and saying thank you. The waiter, some teenage Pogue, blushes at your affection.

When you start walking, continuing the tour, the waiter turns to look at you walk away, gawking like men do when they see something pretty. Rafe feels an overwhelming urge to punch the kid, and cover you up with his jacket. 

You’re not in anything too immodest, compared to what he’s seeing girls at the club walking around in, but it feels like it’s too much for the leering eyes that follow you. Your jean skirt comes down a little less than half-way to your thighs. Your shirt is white, with puffy sleeves and little buttons that tighten around the chest.

He sees a glimpse of cleavage, which makes his chest tighten uncomfortably, not in the way he’s used to when he sees a pretty girl. He wants to take his shirt off his back and slide it onto you, buttoning it up all the way and making sure no one else looks at you the way he’s looking at you right now.

“Rafe?” his friend calls, and he’s not sure which one. In your glancing, you turn towards Rafe and you lock eyes for a second. You must have noticed him staring. You probably think he’s crazy, but he doesn’t seem to care much at the moment. Your mother must have beckoned you, because you turn away in a second, walking towards the older couple, trailing behind them again.

“Be right back,” he says, leaving a confused Topper and Kelce behind him at the table. He cuts through the tables near the bar, entering the walkway where your family is already, but coming out of the other end. He gets there just in time to run into Richards, who’s leading the little group.

“Hi, Mr. Richards, right?” he says, holding his hand out. “Rafe Cameron.”

“Oh, Rafe, hi,” the older man replies, shaking his hand. Rafe grips hard, making sure Richards doesn’t think he has a wimpy handshake. Otherwise he’s never gonna agree to what Rafe has in mind. “I haven’t seen you in years, I mean you were half your height last time I was over at Tannyhill.”

“Crazy, right? Well I just wanted to say hi since I ran into you. How’s, uh Benny and Brax?” 

“I can’t believe you remember them, they haven’t been to Kildare in years. They’re good, yeah, Benny’s in California now, and Brax is out at law school, at Oxford.”

“Oh yeah, international law, right?”

“Yeah,” Richards says, smiling wide. “You’ve got quite a memory, son, I’ll have to tell Rafe when I see him.”

“Oh yeah, he’s around here somewhere.” Then, he makes his move. He turns his gaze to your mom first. He thinks about it briefly, but if he addresses you before her, your mom will be on guard. He knows how their minds work. “I don’t believe we’ve met before, I’m Rafe,” and he shakes your mom’s hand, but turns back to Richards for the introduction—something else in his little cheat-sheet of rules. Let dad do the talking, so he feels like he’s in control. 

“Rafe, this is my wife, Anna-”

“Nice to meet you, Rafe,” your mom smiles at him sweetly, and he smiles back. 

“-and my step-daughter.” You smile, and hold your hand out. He shakes your hand, gently, and looks at your face, because he can tell the smile is forced. He wonders why. 

“Nice to meet you.” he says, and you smile that forced way again.

“You too, Rafe.” You let go of his hand, and it’s good, because if he held on any longer, the adults would get suspicious.

“First time here?” he questions, still looking at you.

“Yes,” your mother answers, laughing, if not a little uncomfortably. “Is it that obvious?”

“Nah, it’s a lot to take in, I remember that much.” Richards smiles at him, almost beaming. He knows Rafe has been coming here since he could walk. That means the old man appreciates him trying to comfort his new family. Another step closer.

“It is,” Anna says, looking at her daughter. She has those worried eyes, the one Ward’s new wife won’t stop looking at him with. 

“Well, it’s the perfect place to be all summer. I mean, pretty much everyone our age is at the pool or the courts.” At his mention of the both of you, you look up from staring at your shoes quickly to looking right at him. He smiles. You don’t smile back. 

“Really?” Richards asks, still openly friendly.

“I mean yeah, Mister R, I remember Benny on the golf course, like, everyday. And Brax, I mean he practically taught half of us how to swim.” Richards nods and laughs, continuing small talk about his sons. Rafe sneaks another glance at you, and you look back knowingly, like you can smell his intentions from a mile away. 

“Honey?” your mom asks quietly. “Do you wanna go with Rafe?”

“What?” you reply quickly, surprised. You weren’t listening, and he tries hard not to laugh.

“Well, I can take you ‘round, introduce you to everyone. I’ll finish the tour if you and Mrs. Richards are heading up to the course?” He nods at the golf clothes your parents have on, that you are lacking. 

“I think that sounds great, right, honey?” Anna presses, and after you lock eyes with her, you nod in agreement.

“Yeah, sure,” you say quietly. Rafe smiles again.

“Great, great, yeah. Well, it was great to see you Mister R. Missus R.”

“Thank you, Rafe. Kiddo, you can ask for the car to go home when you’re ready, okay? Your mother and I are going to get dinner here.” Anna looks up confused, probably wondering how they’ll get back.

“I’ll call someone to bring the car back, honey,” he explains, and your mom smiles.

“I can also take her back,” Rafe interjects. “Tannyhill is the same direction, and I’m headed back anyways. If you wanna leave the car here.”

“Really, Rafe, that would be great, thank you.” You look even angrier than before, but the plastic smile spread over your face doesn’t faze them.

“Right, thanks, Blake. Bye mom,” you say, and then lean over to kiss her on the cheek.

You watch them walk away, chewing your cheek and turning back to Rafe with anger splashed all over your pretty features. 

“I can’t believe that worked on them,” you tell him quietly, smiling when your mom turns back to look at you before they turn the corner. Your parents were too gullible sometimes.

“Yeah, me either, kid.”

“Don’t call me that,” you reply right away. “And despite what you think, I’m not touring this place with you. I’m probably never coming back here after today.” You start walking away, in the opposite direction of your parents, when he chases behind you.

“Y’know, I don’t get you. Every girl your age lounges around here all day, and everyone else wishes they could.”

“Well, you know what they say,” you start, smiling sweetly, though he sees through it again. “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop.”

“Really?” he shrugs. “Never heard that before.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t have.” 

“Come on, you’re not even giving me a chance. You don’t even know me.” You laugh at that.

“Yes, I do, Rafe, you just don’t recognize me.” You continue your brisk pace, looking for the exit and getting closer. He reaches out to grab your forearm, holding you back for a second. He guides you into the corner, between the hallway where there’s no one else around.

“Yeah, that so?” Rafe is almost caging you in. He’s so close you can smell his cologne and the scotch on his lips.

“I’m from Kildare, Rafe.” You try to break free of his grip, but it proves even harder than you thought. He holds you in place without even breaking a sweat.

“No, no, no, because I know every pretty girl in Kildare. And you’ve definitely never been here before, so-”

“Really? Even the ones from the cut?” You thought that would be enough to get him to drop your arm, but he doesn’t budge.

“Huh. So that’s why you’ve never been here. Old Man Richards married a Pogue and made her daughter into a Kook? Did I get that right?”

“I’m not a Kook,” you say, squirming, because you still don’t want to be trapped by him. His cologne smells good, your mind wanders and thinks, like ocean air and sandalwood. You snap out of it at once.

“Not yet, you’re not.” 

“I’m not going to be, either. A little money isn’t going to change anything for me.”

“Yeah, yeah, kid. That’s what everyone says, ‘til it does.”

“Rafe, let go of me, I said let go-” And he does let go, quickly, and your arm falls. Faint red marks appeared when he was holding on, what can only be a bruise tomorrow. He’s marked you, and you’re not half as angry as you would have thought. 

“Come on, kid, we’re finishing this tour. I promised,” he says, and the last bit is so mocking, you can’t believe mom and Blake fell for his act. 

He takes you around the entire club, shows you the restaurants, the spa, the pool. At least a handful of girls stare at the two of you walking side by side, but Rafe doesn’t look back at anyone. You don’t know how to feel about that.

The oldest Cameron isn’t a mystery to anyone in Kildare, but you don’t know anything about him besides what the boys have told you. JJ hates him, naturally, John doesn’t let you look at him in passing, and even Pope can find a few bad things to say. But right now, he’s not doing any of those things you would have expected once he found out you and your mom are from the other side of the island. The crude jokes and gold-digger comments are nowhere to be heard.

But you can’t write him off completely yet. After all, this is Rafe Cameron.

He finishes the tour on the golf course, so you can wave to your parents on the course. You’re sipping on a lemonade through a little pink straw, and he finds it hard to look away when your cheeks hollow to draw up the liquid. Your mom and Blake wave back, and you smile—genuinely—for maybe the third time that morning. 

“They’re good together,” Rafe comments, on the walk back to the front door, where his truck is waiting. 

“Do you really think that?” you ask quietly. You’re tired, he can tell, drained from trying so hard to make sure he knows you hate him. 

“Yeah, kid, I do. He’s been a widower basically my whole life. And he married your mom, so he must really love her.”

You can’t tell if he’s just saying it to get on your good side. You hope he’s not. Through all of this, all the crying and the suffering and how much you miss your old life and your friends, if your mom doesn’t at least end up happy, it’ll all have been for nothing. You feel more tears brewing.

“Thanks, Rafe,” you end up saying quietly, as you put on the seat belt in the passenger seat of his truck. His music plays softly in the background of the drive - rap, something you've heard before but can't place - back to Blake’s house. With your window down, you stare out of it and try to pay attention to the breeze in your hair rather than the entirely overwhelming scent of Rafe, which is all-consuming in his car.

Rafe turns to look at you every few minutes. You look perfectly in place in his car, leaning against the panel with your eyes closed. That means you trust him, even though every word you say makes him think otherwise.

Your eyes flutter open when he puts the car in park, outside the door to your house. 

“Home sweet home, kid,” you hear his voice in your ear, but he sounds closer than he should be. When you turn to look, he’s leaning over you and so close to you, you feel the heat radiating from his body. 

“What’re you doing?” you ask quickly, heartbeat picking up and rocketing off. 

“M’just getting the door for you, kid.” His arm flexes, only an inch or two away from your chest, pulling the handle and swinging open the door. He leans back into his seat, smirking. “Why, what'd ya think I was gonna do?”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in and swallow uncomfortably. Your throat feels dry and your palms are suddenly clammy.

“Nothing.” 

“Sure. Whatever you say.”

You climb out of his car, shoes hitting the ground a little too hard. He strains his neck, trying to make sure you’re okay. 

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, not meeting his eyes, closing the door behind you. 

“Anytime, kid. I’ll be seeing you around.”

You thought he would take over the second the passenger-side door was shut, but he doesn’t. He stays and watches you fix your skirt that had ridden-up on the drive, and walk into the front door, glancing behind you, just for a second, before going inside. And then you hear the roar of the engine, only after the door was closed and you were safely inside.

౨ৎ

You didn’t take it literally, that you would be seeing him again. Rafe seems like the type to play with his toys and get bored before long, but true to his word, you see him days later. And to his luck, you were feeling even worse than the first time you met him.

The morning started like any other—showering in a bathroom that’s just yours, and no one else’s, and attached to your bedroom. You can hardly remember the years when your dad was alive, but after he passed, you and your mom moved into a tiny two-bed, one-bath with your mom’s best friend. You were there for the next five years, until she got married and moved out, and it was just the two of you. But even in all the years since, you’ve never had your own bathroom until now. 

You shower as long as you want, whenever you want. Your room is in a completely different hallway than the master, where Blake and your mom sleep. You blast music at night, singing along off-tune from the bathroom, and would stay on the phone for hours with your friends. If anyone answered your calls anymore. 

It’s been three weeks since you broke the news to everyone that you were moving. Two weeks since you actually moved. One week since Rafe walked you around the country club and drove you back home, like you belonged to him. In that time, you’ve driven down to the Chateau twice, walked by Kie’s house, which is now just a few blocks away, and texted multiple times—all with no responses. At first you panic, thinking something’s happened, but then you realize this was what always happened. When you’re off on an adventure, you don’t think about who’s waiting for you back at home.

That’s what’s running through your mind when you run into Rafe again that day.

You had showered without interruption, taking your time doing your hair up just because you felt like it. There was no work to be done, no chores assigned to you anymore. Breakfast was always prepared when you went downstairs, so you took your time getting ready now. 

You missed a lot of things about your old life, but the limited time and constant rushing and anxiety were not among them. 

Your clothes were picked out with the anticipation of seeing your best friends again, your favorite overalls from the thrift store—which had been bought when you were still two sizes too small for them, and had been baggy on you until last year, but they were such a steal your mother refused to let you put them back—and a yellow shirt to match your ratty, yellow converse. They had been washed so many times they were more brown than yellow, but it didn’t matter much. 

This outfit was the old you, and it brought up feelings inside you that nothing in figure eight could change. You wore it because you wouldn’t look any different to your friends in this outfit, and for maybe a few hours, you wouldn’t be the girl in the fancy house with the country club membership anymore.

“You look nice, sweetie,” your mom says, when you head downstairs. She’s drinking her coffee at the table, your step-dad nowhere to be found. It’s eleven in the morning and she’s just woken up too, in her robe and slippers, and you smile, watching her more relaxed than you’ve seen in years.

You swing by her side of the table to give her a kiss, and steal a piece of toast from her plate. You’re relieved she doesn’t mention your clothes, not when she keeps offering to take you shopping with Blake’s money, which you keep refusing, but is getting more tempting every time you step in a puddle in these shoes.

“Thanks mom, I’m going to see the boys and Kie, I’ll be back later, don’t wait up!” and with that you’re gone, before you can discern the disapproving look in her eyes. 

Your junky old car, older than you by several years and still somehow the nicest thing you own—used to own, a voice chirps in the back of your head—is hidden around several fancy cars in the driveway. It’s intentional, you’re sure, and likely your mother’s doing. Nothing embarrassed her more than you handing out constant reminders of your old life to everyone around you.

And then you’re on the way to the Chateau, windows down and no music, since there was no way to connect your phone and the radio was busted by Pope a year ago, who claims he was trying to fix it. 

But it’s what happens when you get there that embarasses you the most—no one’s there, and no one will answer your call. You wait around for a half hour, trying to see if they come back, but they don’t. 

And that’s when it hits you. They were off on their adventures, and you weren’t just down the street anymore, which meant you weren’t invited. You get back in your car and slam the door, humiliated, tears falling down your face and probably ruining the makeup you had done, stupidly, this morning, because you wanted to look nice for them, like your old self for them. You don’t realize until later, after you were done crying, and seen Rafe again, that your friends didn’t want to bother you while you were adjusting to your new life. 

You feel betrayed, and the words that John had told you rattle through your head, because he was wrong. Everything had changed, and nothing would be the same. 

You take off, heading back home. There’s a big storm brewing and your Accord gets dramatic in the rain. It’s not until you cross the border back into figure eight that you realize two things. One, that you had just thought of your new house as home for the first time. And two, that you had never felt more alone. 

There’s not much to do about either of these feelings, besides stopping for the biggest bowl of ice cream you can reasonably carry back home, and eating it in your room, crying and watching You’ve Got Mail for the hundredth time.

So that’s what you do, pulling into the ice cream shop closest to home. Your car also doesn’t have the greatest functioning air conditioner, and you don’t need any more questionable stains in your seats, considering how many times JJ had borrowed it and returned it, promising you it’s nothing and that that spot in the back seat was always there!

In line, tapping your foot, calling your mom’s cell. Your eyes are puffy and your nose is red from crying. She’s not answering, but the unspoken rule of your little family is to always, always call when you’re getting ice cream in case the other wants something. You’ve only been gone something like two hours, and you can’t imagine what she’s doing that she can’t answer your phone. You dial Blake’s number, hoping he answers instead, and while it’s ringing you realize it’s your turn to order. You haven’t even looked at the menu yet. 

You turn to the people behind you, telling them they can go in front, but when you look up from your phone, you almost drop it. 

Of course it’s Rafe Cameron behind you. Of course. Who else would it be? Who else would keep catching you at your lowest moments? He’s with a little girl, who can’t be older than four or five, with dark hair and glasses, holding his hand patiently while staring up at you, while you stare at him and he stares back.

“Rafe, she said we can go in front,” she says, tugging on the hand she’s holding. 

“Yeah, Wheeze, I heard. Let’s go order and then thank this nice girl for letting us go ahead, right?” The little girl nods, and follows him up to order. Rafe looks back at you but then your step-dad answers, so you turn away, cheeks heating up. You don’t want him to see.

“Hi, what’s going on?” you hear his voice through the phone, sort of staticky and jumbled. 

“Hi, Blake, I just wanted to ask if you and mom wanted ice cream? I’m at the place… yeah, the one near the house.”

“Oh, yes, let me ask her, one second-” You hear him put the phone down, or cover the mic, and then, “Honey! Kiddo’s asking if you want ice cream.” 

You feel yourself soften a little bit at the nickname. And then you hear your mom and Blake talking back and forth, for what feels like ages. The girl behind the counter looks at you with a glare and you try to look back at her with an apologetic smile, but you’re a little fed-up from the emotional turmoil you’ve just endured. 

“Hi, sweetie, I’m okay, I had some at the club with lunch and twice in a day is just not a good idea-”

“Just get it, who cares? We can have it later tonight too-”

“What if the power goes out? It’ll melt, and then it’s just a waste of money-” Crap. You hadn’t thought of that.

“We have generators for that.” Blake picks up the phone again. “Hey, kiddo, get your mom her usual and make sure you use the card I gave you, okay?”

You hang up the phone, smiling, and then order. It feels weird, being oddly comforted by someone other than your mom or your friends for once. In your distraction, you don’t see Rafe and the little girl hovering near the freezer window that showcases all the ice cream they offer. When you’re reaching for the shiny black Amex, you hear him again. 

“I got it, kid,” Rafe says, pressing his matching card against the reader and pushing your wrist down and away. He does it so easily, without trying, just like he did in the country club. You look up at him stupidly, brain not registering what he just did and why he did it, and you don’t move for a moment. You don’t move until he leans down a little, close enough to smell that enticing cologne again but not nearly close enough. 

“I think the words you’re looking for are ‘thank you’. And you should probably get out of the way.” You blink back up at him, and he’s smirking again. You feel kind of stupid, the way he’s talking to you, but you also don’t mind as much as you thought you would. The girl behind the counter yells out Next! and that’s when Rafe takes you by the arm, just above where he had bruised you, and moves you away himself.

“You okay, kid?” he asks, and you feel yourself melt like ice cream left in your car for too long. You don’t know if he really means it, or if he really cares, but you do know Rafe Cameron needs to stop talking to you like he likes you, or you’re going to be in trouble.

“Fine, yeah. Thanks, uh, thanks for the ice cream.” You’re still blinking slowly, stupidly, stuck in a daze. You should really get it together around him. It’s a little pathetic if a strong grip and a couple of nice actions gets you acting like this. That’s a problem for another day right now.

“Is she okay, Rafe?” the little girl asks quietly from beside him. 

“No idea, Wheezie. Why don’t you sit and eat your ice cream?” he replies, and she sits down a few tables away, beginning to shovel chocolate ice cream with a tiny wooden spoon.

“Hey,” he says, and you begin to snap out of it. It’s raining outside now. You hear the pitter-patter of the drops on the roof. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yes. I am. I just had a bad morning. Sorry.” But you don’t know what you’re apologizing for.

“Well, are you gonna talk about it and shit? ‘Cause I don’t know you that well yet but you’re kinda freaking me out right now.”

“I-I…I just-”

“You, you, you just?” he mocks, and then when tears fill your pretty eyes and he sees one slip down your face, his own eyes panic briefly. “Hey, hey, I was just joking, kid-” He pulls out a colorful chair for you, and sits you down next to Wheezie, who is still eating ice cream at an alarming rate. Your ice cream is ready at the counter, and he brings it down next to you, holding his own strawberry cone in his hand. 

“Hold this for me Wheeze,” he says, not really asking, and the little girl shakes her head right away.

“How’m I gonna eat mine then?” 

“Wheezie,” Rafe says, in a voice that you haven’t heard him use before—and then you realize how stupid you sound. You’ve talked with him twice, you don’t know anything about the voices he uses or how he sounds when he’s talking to this girl who can only be his little sister. 

“Can I have some?” Wheezie propositions back, and Rafe nods. “Okay!” she says, taking a bite of the scoop with her front teeth.

“So, y’gonna tell me what’s going on or am I gonna have to guess everything?” 

“My friends, I just keep missing them, or they keep missing me, maybe. I just wanted to see them. It’s really lonely here, that’s all.” You’re staring into his eyes, his really, really blue eyes that are currently a little alarmed and concerned, and the fact that they’re that way for you is making you a little dizzy. 

“Yeah, I get that. Sorry, kid, that’s the lay of the land, right? Not a Pogue anymore, are you?” 

“I don’t know what I am.” You feel silly and embarrassed for pouring your heart out over ice cream with Rafe Cameron. He doesn’t know you, and he never will.

“Well, right now you have a choice. You can sit here and eat ice cream with us, or you can go home and cry about it alone. But if you choose the second one, Richards and Anna will see you, or hear you, and ask about it. And I’m not gonna keep asking if you don’t wanna talk. So pick one before this shi-stuff melts, okay?” 

You nod dumbly again. You’d like to turn your brain off and let Rafe decide for you. 

“I need a spoon.” He smiles, not smirks, for a second, before getting up to get you a spoon.

A few things float through your mind while you eat ice cream with the Camerons. First, Rafe remembers your mom’s name. Second, Rafe doesn’t swear in front of his kid sister. And third, and most important of all, Rafe Cameron cares about you.

“That’s a lot of ice cream,” Wheeze, or rather—as you’ve just learned—Wheezie, comments.

“I was feeling really sad,” you reply, shoving another spoonful into your mouth, watching the little girl eye your peanut and chocolate ice cream inquisitively. “You’ll understand someday.”

“Boy problems?” she asks, and you can’t help but crack a smile. Rafe looks up from his phone momentarily 

“Not really, but a good guess. This would also apply to that situation.”

“My sister’s always got boy problems.”

“Really?” you ask, and then look up Rafe. “You have another sister?”

“Yes,” he says, in between licks of strawberry ice cream. You should really look away when he does that, because your heart rate is picking up. “And she’s even more annoying than this one.”

You laugh while Wheezie frowns.

“If I’m so annoying, why do you always take me for ice cream, huh?”

“She’s got you there, Rafe,” and you resist the urge to look at him, even when you can feel his eyes on you. 

“Because you wouldn’t stop asking, dork, that’s why.” Wheezie shrugs in reply.

“I’m not gonna finish all of this. You want some, Wheezie?” you ask, offering her your spoon. She looks back at you smiling, and then at Rafe for permission, who nods.

She digs into the pile left, while you finally give into the urge to look up at her brother again. He takes another lick of his ice cream and you look away within a second. 

“Been eating that for a while, haven’t you, Rafe?”

“Yeah.” 

Somewhere in between Wheezie eating so much of the ice cream so quickly that she gets a brain freeze, and Rafe finally tossing his half-eaten cone into the trash, it’s time to go home. And as much as you hate to admit it, you don’t want to leave. The rain is coming down hard outside, a preview of the impending hurricane.

“Drive here, kid?” he asks, as your feet hesitate by the door. 

“No,” Wheezie answers, “I came here with you, dork.”

“Not talking to you, kid,” he replies, rustling the top of her hair with his hand, getting an ugh, Rafe, in response.

“Yeah. Yes, I drove here. But my car doesn’t do so good in the rain.”

“Huh?” he questions.

“It’s old, okay. Junky. The AC is broken. And the radio. Sometimes she just stops, y’know?” You gesture to your blue car parked out front, the rusty, tiny sedan two spots down from his shiny truck.

“No, I don’t know. Richards lets you drive around in that thing?”

“She.”

“It’s a car. Barely, at that.”

“She has a name, okay. HoHo. That’s her name.”

“Alright, well, you’re gonna have to ditch the hoe, because I can’t let you drive home in a hurricane in… that.” You turn to glare at him. “Her, sorry.”

That’s how you end up soaking wet in the passenger seat of Rafe’s truck, Wheezie secured in her booster seat and Rafe even wetter than you are. He drops you home and says the two of you can go pick up your car tomorrow—if it’s still there, he adds at the end, leaning over you again to open your door. You stare at him dumbly again, which has now become a bad habit, and it’s not until Wheezie says you’re getting her wet in the back that you finally climb out and close the door. You stand behind the front door with your mom’s melted ice cream in one hand, and your phone with Rafe’s contact saved in the other, wondering what exactly just happened. 

౨ৎ

The next few weeks pass through as quickly as they came. Your car—to your chagrin and your mother’s joy—does not survive the hurricane. Blake gives you a fancy, luxury car to drive around in that he just had laying around, which you don’t believe for one second. But, your mom is pleased when you actually start driving it, and you can actually listen to music from your phone and enjoy air conditioning and the most luxurious of luxuries—a backup camera. 

The night of the ice cream shop incident, Rafe texts you. You were completely ready to wallow in bed, waiting for the text from him that never comes, drowning your sorrow in more ice cream, but he does text you. First and right away. 

R: Is it wrong if I hope hoho drowns tonight?

that’s so mean. she never did anything to you.

R: She’s kinda ugly. And what was that about no ac?

so she deserves death????

R: The impound lot at the very least

if she dies, it’ll be because YOU manifested it

R: Never thought I’d believe in that manifesting shit, but here we are

did Wheezie eat dinner after how much ice cream you let her inhale?

R: No.

R: Ur fault. You gave her yours

you gave her yours too

and btw, I offered her a bite. she ate the rest. not my fault

R: She’s five, genius

R: I’ll come around noon tomorrow. Sleep tight kid

౨ৎ

Somewhere in between picking up your car—which entailed no less than stopping for lunch, even more ice cream that you can’t stand to watch him eat, and driving through town to see how bad the damage from hurricane Agatha was, and altogether three hours together ending with a wet, heated kiss in his truck with the windows fogged up—and today, you’ve been with Rafe more times than you can count. 

And you try hard to suppress the thought that it’s just because he’s available, that the availability is the reason for your attraction. And then you catch yourself trying to justify why you want to see Rafe so much, this guy that you had just been assuming was bad because your friends told you he was bad, without much in the way of an explanation. 

But Rafe is the furthest thing from bad. He’s so sweet to you it makes you delirious. He picks you up all the time, even when you tell him you’re just at home, and your car is right there. He pays for everything, he opens every door, the gentle but teasing way he is with Wheezie makes you even more head over heels.

But most important of all, he calls you first. He texts you first. He makes you feel wanted, and you definitely, definitely, want him, so you don’t think twice before saying yes to accompanying him to Midsummers. 

You actually don’t know what it really is, besides for a big party. It was always one of the worst nights at the hospital—litters of teens with alcohol poisoning and from car accidents— so your mom would be working. When you turned eighteen, your mom paid for classes to become a junior nurse, and so busy nights like the one of Midsummers usually was, you would get called in too. So before this week, you’d never spent Midsummers doing anything other than cleaning wounds and fetching suture kits.

You tell Rafe this and he looks at you strangely, another of his looks you hadn’t seen before, with furrowed brows, and you flush and apologize, regretting even opening your mouth. 

You know you’re deeper than you thought when he takes your head between his hands and kisses you—messy, with tongue and spit left glimmering over your mouth, so much so that he wipes the corner of your mouth with his thumb when he’s done. 

“Go get yourself a pretty dress, and we’ll have fun, yeah?” You nod stupidly again, the way you’re prone to doing around him. He must have realized you get a kick out being told what to do by him, what to worry about and what to focus on. 

You finally take your mom up on the offer to go shopping. Her and your step-dad are going to this thing anyways, but you can tell she wasn’t completely sure you’d go to something so Kook-y, maybe not just yet, and she doesn’t want to push it since your mood finally seems to have picked up. But then you tell her Rafe asked you to go with him, and the two of you smile and jump around the living room, laughing like kids. She’s happy for you and you’re happy that the two of you are happy at the same time.

Rafe sends you money for a dress—enough money to pay for a month’s rent at your old place. Your mom says your step-dad insists on paying. You feel like things are coming together for the first time.

You wander the stores, trying on different dresses and feeling like a scene out of a movie until you finally find the perfect blue dress. Blue for Rafe’s eyes and his suit jacket, because you’re not embarrassed to admit to him that you want to match for Midsummers. It’s patterned with little flowers, ruffles and lace moving in the wind when you twirl, and for once, you stop feeling like you need to pick a side to be on—Pogue or Kook—and you decide just to be Rafe’s for now.

The night of the party, Rafe offers to pick you up, but you tell him you’ll come with your parents. They’re both wearing shades of peach and salmon, the three of you together look like you’re headed to a baby shower, which you and your mom laugh about in the car ride there. 

You text Rafe to let him know you’re there, and tell your parents you’re going to walk around to find him. When you glance back, they’re talking with some of Blake’s friends, people he had invited to the wedding.

You see, what you can only think, is a glimpse of Pope, in his usual waiter get up, but he disappears before you can see where he was. His father is still there, though, and you make your way through the crowd to get near him.

“Hi, Mr. Heyward,” you say, smiling and unsure if he’ll recognize you. You don’t think he’s ever seen you in anything but your overalls or scrubs. 

“How can I help yo-wait, is that you, well I’ll be damned. You’re blending right in, aren’t ya?”

“Well, it took long enough.” You suddenly feel embarrassed, because he knows the old you, the one who wouldn’t be here in a million years. “Do you know where Pope is? I thought I saw him, I just wanted to say hi.”

“He just went off that way, but if you see him, tell him I still need his help over here, just like I did before he walked away—”

“Can I help with anything?” you ask quickly, but he shakes his head and tells you the direction Pope went in.

You follow it generally, trying to see where he could have gone in such a short time. But then you see all of them, and you can’t stop your feet from running over. Kie, JJ, and Pope, all standing and talking about something, but you don’t really care about interrupting. Kie’s all dressed up too, and you suddenly don’t feel so embarrassed.

“You guys,” you feel yourself gushing. “It’s been so long,” and you go in for a hug with each of them. 

“Wow, god, you look so pretty,” Kie says, and you hug her again. You don’t realize how much you missed her. 

“You too, Kie,” your smile is so wide it starts to hurt. “Isn’t this so weird, all of us here at this party? Where’s John B?” you ask, looking around. 

“So weird,” JJ says, and you notice the bruise around his right eye because he’s turning to look at Kie again. 

“JJ, what the hell happened to your face?” JJ doesn’t answer, he actually doesn’t say anything at all, which should have been your first sign that something was wrong. You look at him quizzically, before turning to Pope.

“Pope, your dad’s looking for you, I just went over to say hi-”

“Oh crap,” he says, heading back in the direction you just came from. “Sorry, be right back.”

“W-what the hell is going on?” you question Kie and JJ, searching for any answer, desperately hoping that it isn’t we don’t wanna tell you. Your phone goes off, twice, and you pick it up. The look on your face must have been beyond palpable to your friends.

R🧸ྀི: Come inside the house

R🧸ྀི: Got a surprise for you

“I-I gotta go inside,” you say, looking at the confused faces of your friends.

“What’s inside? I thought-”

“No, nothing, I don’t know, Rafe just asked me to go inside, and I haven’t even seen him yet-”

“Rafe? What, Rafe Cameron?”

“Y-yeah?”

“What are you, with him, or something?” JJ asks, and you feel your heart fall into your stomach.

“I-I yeah, maybe. I’m here with him tonight, he-” Your phone goes off again. “I’m sorry, I have to go find him, but I’ll come find you guys right after, okay?”

You leave the two of them there, looking at each other confused, looking at you like they don’t recognize you. And it stings, for a moment, until you get inside the mansion and find Rafe hanging out by the entrance, nursing a glass of scotch and eyes lighting up when they see you. 

Everything with him is like that scene from that movie. Lights go dim, you walk in slow-motion, the room goes quiet. He watches you walk up to him and his eyes take in everything—your pretty hair, your dolled up face, the way your dress moves when you walk, and most of all, that you’re here with him. He reaches his hand out to grab you by the waist to bring you in for a kiss. It’s not like the others, it’s chaste and soft and romantic. 

“Hi,” you breathe out, resting your forehead against his.

“Hi, kid. You look fantastic,” and he presses another sweet kiss to your temple. 

“We’re matching,” you say with a smile, taking in his blue suit jacket and the way you feel dizzy right now, and you feel his grip tighten around your waist. 

“Yeah, we are. Now get in line with me, we’re walking out together.” Your eyes are big like coins, because you understood that you were coming here together, but this is his family’s big night, if everything your mom and Blake told you was to be taken seriously.

You don’t have time to say anything, because Rafe’s nice parents line up ahead of you, and his two sisters behind you. Wheezie tugs on your dress and you turn to greet her and Sarah quickly, because then the doors open and you’re walking out, following Rafe’s lead, lots and lots of eyes on you, but only one pair of blue ones you really care about. 

You almost want to cry, the whole thing is so magical. You have a flute of champagne and a sip of Rafe’s scotch, and you are deliciously tipsy for the next two hours. Your parents come over to talk to you and Rafe, and you can see how happy your mom is in her eyes. You and Rafe dance until your feet hurt, and it’s only then, when he leaves your sight, that things seem to get back down to how they normally are. 

You can’t find Wheezie’s parents or Sarah anywhere. The little girl spilled ice cream on her dress and is crying quietly, fat tears rolling down her chubby cheeks. You want to get her parents, because you think they can help, but you end up taking her to the bathroom yourself. With a damp paper towel, you wipe as much as you can, and you promise to get her another ice cream if she stops crying.

“It’s just a stain, honey, don’t worry.” You toss the dirty tissue and grab another one, wiping the tears and then letting her blow her nose. “It’ll come out when you wash it. And no one will notice because it’s so dark now, right?” She nods in agreement. “Do you wanna go find your big brother?” Another sad nod. “Let’s go honey,” and you take her hand and lead her back out. 

You’re not entirely sure what you missed in the last fifteen minutes. Everyone’s gone quiet, staring at what you hope is a trick of your eyes—all of your friends running from the party, hooting and hollering. Kiara’s parents look hopelessly upset, Mr. Heyward downright disappointed, and your mom scanning the crowd, trying to see where you are, until she spots you and Wheezie.

Her and Mrs. Cameron come running over, and you instinctively flinch, thinking the giant headpiece she’s wearing will poke you. You hand off Wheezie and turn to look at your friends, and you think, for a second, they’re waiting for you. They are, you realize slowly, waiting for you.

And you almost take off right then and there, until you feel Rafe’s warm hand on your shoulder, and you look up to see him bleeding.

At that moment, you turn right back around and head inside to the nearest room, sitting Rafe down on the bed and scrambling to find something to clean his wound with, and something cold to help the swelling, and in your panic, you don’t realize you’re rambling.

“I mean, what the hell was all of that? I turn around for two seconds and everyone’s running from the party like there’s a fire, and destroying things and throwing punches, I mean, I get they hate the whole Kook thing, but it was never like this before, even when I didn’t know you yet, and I-” you drop the frozen bag of peas onto the floor in your sudden realization. “I just let them leave. They waited for me. I didn’t go with them.” Your eyes fill with years. That’s a betrayal, not all the stupid stuff you thought was happening before tonight. They waited for you, and you turned right back around to go inside with Rafe.

“Hey, hey hey,” Rafe says quietly, taking your head in his hands again. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay.”

“You’re bleeding, Rafe,” you say, voice trembling. Your tears are ruining your makeup. 

“I’m gonna be fine. You know why?” he asks, and you feel more tears rush down. “Hey, hey, no crying.” Rafe wipes away the tears with his hand, then he brings his hands to your back and rubs soothingly. “You know why, kid?” “Why?” it comes out a whisper.

“Because you chose me. We’re gonna be fine, okay?” 

The way he says it you believe him. 

You spend the next two days at Tannyhill with Rafe, wearing nothing but his t-shirts and doing nothing but rolling around in bed. It’s been a month, maybe a little bit more, and you haven’t even had the talk yet—the sex talk. There’s no doubt in your mind that he’s not ready for it, but you’re not ready for it, not yet. You’re working on it. He doesn’t make it easy for you, either. You’ve spent hours now, making out in his lap, grinding against each other until you make a mess all over his shorts and his hair is sticking up in every direction, and working your way up to telling him what you want. 

You’re almost there. You’re waiting for the perfect time. Which was almost right now.

“You like that? Shit-” he breathes into your ear, pressing a kiss to the tender skin of your neck right underneath. It makes you moan again, louder, until he clamps a hand—the one not three fingers deep inside your leaking pussy—over your mouth, barricading the noise from leaving. “Gotta be quiet, kid, you want the whole house hearin’ what a little slut you are?” 

His blue eyes, lustful and blown, stare into your own. You shake your head softly underneath the tight grip of his palm. You’re always obedient with him, but he really likes you like this. 

“Yeah? You gonna do whatever daddy tells you? Just so I keep my fingers in this tight pussy?” You nod compliantly, head falling back on to the pillow. His fingers are thick, and the cool of his ring rubs against your clit in the best way, in ways you didn’t even realize it could feel.

He keeps fucking three fingers in and out of you, moans muffled by his hand but not completely silenced. You must be making a mess, because it’s what he keeps talking about, rambling about your messy cunt, greedy and sucking him in, and how you’ve been cumming for him like a little princess for the last two days, but it���s never enough for you. 

It’s when he removes his hand and kisses you hard instead, tongue deep inside you mouth, the metal of his chain dangling on your chin, and you feel the similarly cool metal of his ring on you, you finish again, exploding around your boyfriend’s fingers and moaning into his mouth. He hears you, repeating his name over and over again, not Rafe, but rather daddy, and he swallows your chants into his mouth. When you calm down, he makes a show of licking his fingers off while locking eyes, and then you get flustered and bury your head into his neck. 

He laughs, because it’s so cute, but only for a minute. Then you two shower together and he makes another show, but this time out of you, kneeling on the floor of his tub while he paints your face with his cum, making sure to cover the necklace you’ve been wearing recently too, the silver, loopy little R hanging between your collarbone. 

Then you get dressed—a little pink dress that’s been his favorite recently, with buttons down the front and a pretty bow where your tits sit— and the two of you have lunch with his family like nothing ever happened.

Rafe drops you back at home later that day, gives you a kiss where he grabs the back of your head to bring you in, and then waves bye to your parents as he unlatches the door for you, in his usual way. 

౨ৎ

A week later, he does the same thing. Drops you off, drives away once you’re inside, and you’re starstruck walking back, so much so, you don’t realize there’s someone waiting for you.

It’s Kie, and Rafe’s sister, Sarah. You’re a little confused since you thought the two of them didn’t get

along,  but they look like they’re fine now.

“Hey, listen, we need you to help us. Can you come down to the Chateau later tonight, after sunset?” Kie asks, and you must look as confused as you feel, because Sarah speaks right away, before you can get a word out.

“You cannot tell my brother. Promise us you won’t.”

“Why are you asking me that? Why can’t I tell him?” Sarah and Kie exchange a look, and it’s clear to you that you are missing several pieces of the puzzle. “Guys! Come on, you-you can’t expect me to just be on board with lying to my boyfriend and showing up to help you guys without knowing what it even is, right? What’s going on?”

“We will explain everything, just please promise us that you’ll come,” Kie implores and you nod hesitantly. 

“And you won’t tell Rafe?” Sarah asks again.

“Come on. Pogues for life, right?” Kie says, and you get a flashback to your life two months

ago—doing anything for your friends and dreaming of how you’d end up with one of the boys someday. It all seems like a million years ago.

“Yes, yeah, yeah, I’ll be there. I won’t tell him.”

You guess that God was on your side today. 

R🧸ྀི: Hey kid. Busy with my dad today. Dinner tomorrow okay?

sounds perfect!! don’t work too hard! i'm gonna watch a movie with my mom and blake and stay in tn

R🧸ྀི: You got mail again?

you know me so well

R🧸ྀི: Have fun princess.

You set down your phone on your dresser, feeling like you could throw up your dinner. It’s just starting to get dark outside, and you’ve just lied to Rafe for the first time since you’ve met him. It feels terrible, like something’s gnawing inside you, begging you to come clean and confess, or not to go out at all. You think about it for a moment, maybe if he knows you’re with some of your old friends, it won’t be like a real lie.

Then you remember your old friends are the ones who punched him. You tell your mom you’re going to Rafe’s, and then you get in your fancy car that Rafe helped you christen the other day—in the backseat, specifically—and drive to your old life.

You park next to the Twinkie and get out, stepping into a slush of mud. Your shoes are new, and were clean, and you cringe internally at how much you started caring about these things. You don’t want Rafe to see you with dirty shoes.

The boys and Kie are sitting on the logs near the fire pit. Sarah is sitting right next to John B, looking at him how you look at Rafe, and then you realize the magnitude of just how much you’ve missed.

“Hey,” Kie says, looking up first, smiling. “You came.”

“Yeah.” You’re at a loss for words. Everyone looks the same. Everything feels so different.

A part of you wants to sink down between Pope and JJ, crack a beer, and laugh at jokes you think you would still understand. Another part wants to get into the fancy car and drive to Tannyhill. You opt for neither, standing a few yards away and letting the light from the fire cast its hazy glow over you and all your old friends.

“Did you tell him?” Sarah asks. She means it well, not in a rude way, but that’s how you feel. 

“No, no, I didn’t. He, he thinks I’m at home. With my mom and Blake.”

“Alright,” JJ says, tossing his empty beer can. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

“Listen,” John B says, getting up and sounding too sincere for your liking. “We all appreciate you coming. Because we need a favor from you, and it might not be easy.”

“I mean, I think it’s gonna be pretty easy. Unless Rafe is like, really, really crazy, like even crazier than we already know he is-” JJ says, but stops when Kie and Pope shake their heads. “What? She knows, she’s the one dating him.”

“Know what? I don’t even know what you want from me-”

“We need a distraction. For Rafe, okay?” John B starts.

“An hour, okay, that’s all we need, right guys?” Sarah asks, looking back at everyone. They nod, trying to convince you, except Jayj.

“Well, like, maybe a couple of hours. If he’s up to that, y’know, I don’t wanna assume shit ‘bout stamina and all that-”

“JJ,” Pope says, shoving the blond’s arm. “You’re not helping.”

“What?” you breathe out, even more confused than before. You start to get what they’re asking, you just don’t want to admit it.

“We need to distract Rafe, for an hour, or like two hours, and we figured you’re our best bet.” John B says, and you look at them with your mouth falling open a little.

“You want me to…sleep with my boyfriend, to distract him, so you guys can do something that you won’t tell me about?”

“Kind of, yeah. Pretty much.”

“And is, is this thing going to hurt him in the long run? Is he going to be upset? When he finds out what happened?”

“My Kook feelings radar is a little off, right now, but who knows, I mean hell, he might not ever find out,” JJ says, and you want to sit down, because your knees feel weak, but the ground is muddy and the logs are occupied. “If we do our job right, he won’t know for a long, long time, right guys?” A chorus of right, right rings around the fire. 

“And you’re not gonna tell me what this is about at all?” 

“Well, it might not be a good idea. Because, you’re dating him, and listen, we just need like an hour, and he never has to know you were a part of this, okay? I will never tell him, none of us will,” Sarah says, and you do believe her. But you can’t believe that they’re asking you to do this.

“And if he finds out, and he breaks up with me, then what?” 

“Yeah, I, uh, knew this was a bad idea. She’s not gonna do it, guys, so let’s just reformulate-”

“Oh, you knew I was gonna say no, JJ? Lying to my boyfriend? For the people who hurt him?”

“He hurt us too, y’know,” Pope says, and you feel your heart begin to race. 

“No, I don’t know, because no one tells me anything! No one answers their phone and no one’s here when I drive down. Kie, you live two streets away from me now. The first time I saw you all month was at Midsummers and then, today. Asking me to come here to lie to Rafe, to sleep with him to distract him.”

“No, no, we shouldn’t have asked you, because I knew you would say no, I told them-” and you can’t believe the words coming from your friend's mouth. “Look at you, you went total Kook on us.” 

And then you feel like they’re taking it all in. The R around your neck, the jewelry that sparkles in the light of the fire, all yellow citrine, for Rafe’s birth month. The pink dress that’s his favorite—you put it on this morning in case you ended up back at Tannyhill tonight. And worst of all, his white button up hanging from your shoulders, smelling like ocean and sandalwood and Rafe Cameron. 

“It’s like you belong to him now.” You feel a tear sliding down, but you wipe it away. 

“Maybe that’s because he was actually there for me, when I needed it. And I get it, maybe I should have tried harder. But you guys should have too.”

The group of you stand there in silence for a moment. Your phone goes off. You know it’s Rafe. They know it is too. It starts with Kie, and then a course of apologies from everyone. John B wipes away your tears like nothing has changed. JJ scratches his head, and then hugs you tighter than he ever has before. Pope tells you how much he’s missed you, how he had to start bandaging wounds in your absence. 

“I’ll distract him. An hour, that’s all you get. I’m not sleeping with him because you guys want me to, okay? So if he leaves, he leaves.” 

You take off for Tannyhill, leaving your old life behind and risking your new one all at once.

౨ৎ

Rafe’s phone goes off again, and he lets out a short, tight breath. 

Princess: are you still busy at home? i need you

Princess: please rafey

“I’ll be back,” he tells Ward, and before he can even respond, he’s out of the room, calling you. The line rings twice, and then you answer.

“Rafey?” you sound quiet, like you’ve been crying.

“Hey, hey kid. What’s going on? I told you I was working tonight,” and then he runs a hand through his hair, because he knows he’s fucked, if you’re crying and you need him, then he’s going.

“I know, Rafe, I just really need you, I had a really bad night-” “Woah, wait, I thought you were just with your parents?”

“I was, it just got really bad, I-I’m outside Tannyhill because I had to leave, and then I got lost and I was scared so I just came straight here.”

“Lost? Jeez, kid, it’s, like, down the street.”

“But I didn’t wanna bother you, ‘cause you were busy-” and then he hears a hiccup, and then a sob.

“Okay, okay, stay there, I’m gonna come get you,” and he hangs up the call. He darts outside, spotting your navy car and you inside, still in the same clothes from this morning, just wearing his shirt over it, like a jacket. He gets close and you climb out of the car yourself, jumping into his arms and burying your face into his neck, like you always do when you get like this. He can feel the way your body shakes under his arms, the wetness of your tears on his black polo.

“Okay, it’s okay now, come on, let’s go inside.” You make it up the stairs to his bedroom, when Rafe guides you inside and pulls his blinds, so no one peeks inside. 

He sits you up on the edge of his bed, squatting before you, hands in yours, arms resting on your knees. 

“You gonna tell me what happened?” You shake your head, another tear falling. You wish you could say you were pretending, but the tears find their own way when you think about the encounter you just had. You’re lying when you tell him it’s between you and your parents, but his reaction makes you regret it instantly. “Did they say somethin’ to you? Did they try something? I’ll go over there and sort it all out, okay, kid, don’t worry about a thing.” He stands up, running another hand through his messy hair, letting it fall in the moppy way it always does, over his forehead. “Stay here, okay, princess, I’ll be back.”

Then you realize he’s gonna go over there and talk to your perfectly happy, clueless parents, so you stand up and turn him back around.

“No, no, Rafe, don’t leave,” and then you melt into a hug, taking in everything about it. Rafe rests his chin on the top of your head, his arms tight around your back. He smells so good, and the way he’s taking care of you makes you realize a couple things. “Will you just…make me forget?”

Your boyfriend looks down at you, and you don’t shy away from his gaze like you often, when you get flustered. 

“Make you forget?” he questions. 

“I just don’t wanna think about anything else,” you start, undoing the bow of your dress, more cleavage revealing itself. “I just wanna think about you,” and then your fingers undo the buttons trailing down the front of your dress. It falls off your shoulders, and you stand before him, naked, certainly not for the first time but what feels like the most intimate it’s ever been. 

There’s a pretty lingerie set hidden in the back of your closet, what you had actually put aside for this moment, but you had no time to run home and get it, so you opted for the next best thing, taking your bra and panties off in the car ride here, shoving them into your purse, and hoping that Rafe was as tempted as you were.

“Just about me?” he questions, and you take his hand into yours, leaning in to press a soft kiss against his lips.

“Just you, Rafe. I’m ready, Rafey, I want you to fuck me,” and it seems like that’s all it takes. Rafe crushes his lips against yours, kissing you how he always does, tongue in your mouth and spit everywhere. He holds you by the back of your head and your hands run through his hair. You want him closer, even closer than he already is, than he possibly could be.

His hands leave your head and go down to your ass, grabbing both cheeks roughly and wrapping your legs around his waist. He drops you on his bed, head hitting the pillow, and you pull away for a second, to catch your breath. Rafe doesn’t let it happen, gripping your cheeks between his hand and bringing you back in for another kiss. You’re naked, and he’s still completely dressed, but you don’t miss the obvious way his hardened dick presses against your bare cunt.

You can’t breathe, and all your senses are overpowered by Rafe, but you also don’t really care. You keep kissing, moaning into each other’s mouths and gripping hair and skin that’s sure to leave a bruise tomorrow, until you feel him finally pull away for a second. You catch your breath, open-mouthed and heaving, eyes locked.

“‘M only gonna ask this once, kid,” he breathes, leaving another hot kiss on your neck, which makes you spread your legs further open with instinct. “Y’sure you want this? ‘Cause there’s no going back.”

You nod in that way you always have with him, telling him everything with no words at all. 

“That’s my girl,” he breathes against your neck, and you feel him bite down into the soft skin of the flesh there. You yell out, but it turns into a moan when Rafe licks his tongue over the wound. “That’s just so you can remember this night, okay baby?” You look back up at him, wet eyes, swollen lips, and flushed, sweaty skin. 

“Thank you, daddy.” He smiles, because you’re in for it now.

“You’re welcome, kid. Shit,” he breathes out, “I knew you’d like it, little freak.” He starts with more hot kisses, all the way down your neck, down your sternum, and stopping to press a kiss to each side of your ribs, before continuing down to your stomach. You whine from your position below him, one huge hand holding your hip in place and the other tracing the pattern of the kisses down, until he finally reaches where you want him to be.

“Gotta be quiet, kid, everyone’s home. You gonna let them all hear how much of a whore you are for me? Huh?” he mocks, and you shake your head fervently. “Good girl. You’re being so good, you’re gonna get a treat, okay?” You nod stupidly.

His breath catches for a second, when he gets down to your glistening cunt. He looks up at you from his position there, your chest heaving, tits bouncing with how much you’re squirming, how much you want him to do something. He moves his hands, one resting on your breast, pinching the nipple with his finger, and the other running a line down your pussy. Your whole body twitches up when he runs the metal of his ring over your clit, because he knows you really like it. 

“Rafe, please,” you cry, sounding stupid and fucked out, even though he hasn’t started yet. “Please, please,” and your hips jerk up. He pushes them down. 

“Be patient, kid. Gotta admire this virgin pussy for the last time before I ruin it, ‘kay?” You feel your walls tighten at his words, and you hope he missed the way everything just clenched, but it’s Rafe, and he didn’t miss a thing. “Like that, huh? You like being my little slut?”

You shake your head, trying to deny it, but the damage is done.

Rafe dives in, and you let out a moan that you didn’t realize you were capable of producing. You clamp your own hand over your mouth, because you know he’ll stop if you get too loud. His tongue licks you up and down, and true to what you had always thought, he does know what he’s doing.

The hand pinching your nipples doesn’t relent, and the weight of his arm holds you down when you buck up as he pushes two fingers inside you, scissoring them to stretch your walls out. It hurts, in the best way, and before you know it, he’s added a third.

His mouth stays focused on your clit, and your legs tremble, even though it’s barely been a few minutes. It’s all of it, all at once. Being naked in Rafe’s bed, his hand groping your tits, the way he holds you down without trying, the smell of his cologne and his skin and his sweat, making you lightheaded.

His fingers push in and out, and when he hits that sweet spot inside you, the one your own fingers have never been able to reach but somehow, Rafe’s have become well acquainted with, you can’t help the noises you make.

You repeat his name over and over again, and you think you’ve felt the height of this pleasure, that nothing could surpass this feeling, until your stomach tightens in an entirely new way. Your fucked out brain gets it together for a minute, to feel the overwhelming, ecstatic pressure of Rafe’s tongue on your clit, spelling out his own name. Your stomach tightens, unbearably so, that coil winding up, but before he even finishes the F, it snaps all at once. 

You let out a scream—which you think is so stupid of you. But it feels so good, there was no way around it. Rafe reacts instantly, grabbing your hand that’s pulling his hair and using it to snap over your mouth, all while he rides you through it. 

His nose presses against your clit while he slides his fingers out, your pussy walls clamping around nothing, missing him already. He laps up the mess you just made with his tongue, the noise being so overwhelming, you want to scream again. 

You use your other hand to yank his hair, pulling him up to look at you, because you know you want to see this. Rafe, your Rafe, your boyfriend, with blown, wide eyes and the entire lower half of his face glistening with your juices, with the mess you just made, and then you collapse back down onto the bed. 

Your breathing is heavy. You aren’t sure it’ll ever go back to normal.

Rafe pulls his shirt off by grabbing it from the back, yanking it over his head. Your hand floats up to

touch his chest, to make sure he’s still real and not just a vivid sex dream, but he slaps it out of the way.

“What did I say, hm?” he asks, leaning over you. His face is just an inch too far to kiss. Your limbs feel numb, and you can’t pull him down yourself. You want to cry, because you want to kiss him so badly. “I said you had to be quiet, or everyone’s gonna know what a little whore you are.”

“I tried, daddy, I did-”

“I don’t think you tried at all, kid.”

“No, I did, I swear-”

“You’re lucky that I-” and before he finishes his sentence, you pull him down into another kiss. He tastes like you and scotch, and the combination is so intoxicating, you can’t pull away. “Hey, hey,” he breathes. “I’m not going anywhere, okay?” and the soothing way he says it, you believe him.

“I’m lucky that you what?” you ask, unbuckling his belt and snaking it off the loops.

“That I love you, and I’m not gonna punish you tonight for not listening to me.” You drop the belt over your stomach, the melt part hitting with a little clink. You look back up at him, your eyes wide, you imagine, your cheeks flushed. 

“You love me?” you ask, quietly. You can barely hear yourself over the thud of your heart pounding in your chest.

“I do,” Rafe replies, running his hand to smooth over your hair, which you’re sure is a mess now. “Enough that I’m gonna fuck you now, but I had to say it first, because I’m gonna fuck you until you break.”

You’re speechless, watching Rafe unbutton his pants and kick them off, boxers going with them. He strokes himself once, twice, and you’re still staring up at his face, even though normally you would get distracted. 

He looks up again. 

“You ready, kid?” 

“I love you, Rafey,” you say, twisting your hands around to the back of his neck, pushing him into yet another kiss. You can’t pull away, even if you want to, you want him so close that you forget everything else in the world for now. While you’re kissing, he lines himself up with your leaking pussy, which has probably ruined these sheets, and pushes in the tip.

You pull back from the kiss, just to moan, but Rafe silences you with his mouth again. He pushes in more, and more, until you’re sure he’s bottomed out. Your cunt is so, so stretched, you can’t fathom this is what you’ve been missing out on, and it feels so good, like nothing has ever felt before, not his fingers, not his tongue, not any other part of him. 

“That’s halfway, kid, you doin’ okay?” and your eyes jolt up to his in a second.

“H-half?” you breathe out. “I can’t, I can’t take any more, s’not gonna fit Rafe, not gonna fit-”

“Hey,” he repeats, which always has that calming effect on you. “You let me worry about that, okay? Just relax this pussy f’me, okay?” and the way he says it, you do, because you have no other choice. He pushes in again, fast, hard, and then pulls all the way out. You’re too scared to look anywhere but his eyes, so you stay locked in on them, until he pushes all the way in again, and your eyes clasp shut.

“Oh, oh my god, Rafe-” And you don’t care who hears you this time. He pulls out again, just his lip still inside you.

“Look, princess, look down,” he urges, and you follow his instructions, because you always do. “Look where we’re connected, yeah?” He fucks in and out of you, slowly but then faster, and you do look, entranced at the way your pussy sucks him in, the way your cum is coating his dick, at the brutal pace he’s set. 

You look until you can’t anymore, leaning back against the pillow and watching Rafe above you, his face twisted in pleasure, eyebrows furrowed, mouth panting. He buries his face into your neck, and you grip the top of his shoulders, nails digging in, because you just need to hold onto something.

He told the truth, you think, in your fucked out, blissful state, that he was going to fuck you like he hated you, battering into your sore pussy over and over again. 

You repeat his name—daddy, not Rafe—until he shuts you up with a kiss, and he watches the strings of spit connecting your mouths when he pulls away.

“Just needed this dick, didn’ya princess? Just needed daddy to think for ya?” You moan in reply. “You got it then, kid, because m’never gonna stop fucking you. Y’never gonna think about anything else again.”

And then he finally does you in, because he presses down, right below your stomach, while he slams in, and you feel something inside you break, like a flood breaking through a dam. It washes out to every part of you, from your ears to your fingers to your toes. White hot pleasure runs its course through your body, cunt tightening and shaking, eyes rolling back, your spine arching forward. Through all of it, Rafe pins you down, and fucks you through it. And finally, deliriously, you open your fucked-out eyes, looking up at him.

“I love you, daddy,” and he cums before he can even pull out, messy rivulets shooting inside you, leaking out onto his expensive sheets. He moans into your neck, and his entire body slumps forward, and you giggle under the weight.

A few minutes pass by.

“Rafey, you’re gonna crush me,” you say quietly, sing-songy. You’re so happy, you’ve forgotten everything else that’s happened.

Rafe presses a kiss to your forehead and rolls off, slumping next to you. Your head lands on his chest not a second later, his arm around your shoulder and another kiss to your hair.

“Feel better, kid?” 

“So much better, Rafey.” 

You don’t know when you fall asleep, only that you woke up to the sound of your phone going on. You pick it up, trying to turn down the light so Rafe doesn’t wake up too. There’s one message.

JJ: I thought you said you weren’t gonna sleep with him?

౨ৎ

[lizthewriter]

like snow on the beach / theodore nott

PAIRING  theodore nott x bubbly!fem!reader

SUMMARY  christmas is your absolute favorite time of the year! the tree, the lights, the music, the food . . . however, to you, the most important thing about christmas is spending it with your loved ones.

your world falls apart when you find out you can't go home for the holidays. you're stuck at hogwarts with a bunch of stuffy professors and zero loved ones. however, you make an unlikely friend who also happens to be stuck at hogwarts for the holidays . . . and you find out he despises christmas. you make it your mission to prove him wrong.

TAGS  theodore nott x bubbly!fem!reader, christmas, holiday cheer, the power of belief, reader loves christmas, this is soooo dash and lily coded, inspired by dash & lily's book of dares, grumpy!theodore nott, simp!theodore nott, i'm a slut for pathetic men 😩

QUOTE  "i've never seen someone so lit from within, / blurring out my periphery, / my smile is like i won a contest, / and to hide that would be so dishonest," - snow on the beach by taylor swift, featuring lana del rey

WORD COUNT  5.7K

WRITTEN  12.4.2023

You shoved your hands in your pockets - despite the fact that you were wearing gloves in this freezing weather, you could still feel the harsh wind nipping at your skin. Here you stood at Hogsmeade station, your friends boarding the train as you watched in discontent. They were all going home for the holidays this year, but you were going to be stuck at Hogwarts. No Christmas tree, no baking gingerbread cookies, no sipping on hot chocolate while snuggled in a warm blanket, no watching holiday movies. Just the freezing cold and your own company.

You plastered a grin on your face when the train began to move and waved to your friends. They bid you their last goodbye from their compartment window. Once the train disappeared from your sight, you trudged your way back up the path to Hogwarts. Well, the sight of the castle was beautiful, in the very least. You could see snow capping the towers and covering the shingles. But even then, it was just another reminder that you were here and not there, at home, with your family. There was only one thing to cheer you up.

-

"Afternoon Madame Pince," you greeted softly as you walked into the library. She sent you a stiff nod in return. While she didn't really like anyone in paticular, she was at least kinder to you than other students.

You knew exactly which books you wanted to cozy up with by a warm, crackling fire. Dashing across the library, you ammassed an entire stack of books, one that was tall enough to obstruct your vision. You waddled through another row, searching the shelves for one paticular title. Spotting it on a high shelf, you found a rolling stool and pushed it with your foot until it was directly under the book you seeked. You tried to place your pile of books somewhere, but it wouldn't fit on the sheleves and you couldn't plop them onto the floor without angering Pince. Stupidly, you decided to step up onto the stool, carrying the pile of books under one arm all while reaching for the desired book. Of course, you should have expected what came after.

You lost your balance, the books tumbling backward out of your arm, the weight of them pulling you down too. You fell off of the stool and expected your head to meet the bookcase behind you, but in your suprise felt someone catch you as your books loudly clattered to the ground.

It took you a moment to catch your breath, to let the adrenaline and fear run it's course before you turned towards your savior. He was tall, devilishly handsome, but with oddly dead eyes. He had an odd way about him - devastatingly beautiful, yet there was this aura of melancholy around him. It was unusually attractive.

"You all right?" He asked, his tone short and gruff.

"Yeah . . . sorry about that. Should've just put my books down somewhere, I suppose."

"What is all this noise?" Madame Pince's striking voice ring throughout the library, her footsteps approaching rapidly. Soon enough, she turned around the corner and let out the most horrified gasp, hand flying to her mouth. She glanced at the two of you with a dark, murderous glare. You suddenly became aware of the fact that his hands were on your shoulders and your back was resting against his chest. "You two! Out of the library at once! I will not have you diabolic teenagers destroying the sanctity of this library! Out! Out!"

She shooed the both of you out of the library and slammed the door in your faces. Now there you were, banned from the library, with no means of proper entertainment. Of course.

Bah humbug, you thought.

"Great," said the boy sarcastically. "As if I have anything else to do now." He sighed and turned around, bumping his head against the wall.

"I'm so sorry!" You squeaked, a blush rising to your cheeks.

"Don't be," he responded, turning back around. "It's not your fault."

Realization struck just then - you recognized him. "Wait . . . you're Theodore Nott, right?"

"You've been stalking me, have you?" His tone was always one of solemnity, so it really wasn't your fault that you couldn't tell he was joking.

"No, of course not, I've just seen you in a few of my classes is all," you responded, quite defensively, but mostly out of embarrassment. "You're in Malfoy's gagle of friends . . . shouldn't you be at home with your family?"

"Shouldn't you?" He returns swiftly.

"Point well taken," you respond with a grimace. He didn't respond and neither did you - what was there to say? You had never really had to interact with him, you weren't friends . . . yet you felt some sort of pull towards him. Like an invisible string that kept you hooked. He did save you from falling to possible death after all. "Well, you know, now that neither of us have anything to do, we could . . . I don't know, hang out or something?"

"Why?"

You arched a brow at him. "You got anything better to do?"

A flash of a smile flitted across his face. "Point well taken."

-

You were once again snuggled in a large coat, a knit hat atop your head and a large wool scarf pooling out of your jacket. Theodore's hands were shoved into the pockets of his thick, plaid trench coat. His hair billowed in the wind as the two of you wandered the ground, snow falling around you.

"So!" You jumped in front of him and began to walk backwards, keeping the same pace as before. "What is your absolute, favorite part about Christmas?"

Theo simply shrugged. "I don't have one." Your jaw almost dropped to the floor - how could he not have a favorite part about Christmas? Christmas, to you, represented love, family, and compassion. You loved everything about it: the tree, the lights, the music, the food, the presents. In fact, there wasn't one thing you could pick as your favorite because you adored all of Christmas too much.

Your shocked expression didn't seem to suprise Theodore in the slightest. "You don't have one?" You reiterated in disbelief, stopping. He jolted when you stopped walking, the two of you damn near as close as you were in the library. "But it's Christmas?" Theodore shrugged again. "You don't like Christmas?"

"No, truthfully . . . my family doesn't really do Christmas," he responded begrudgingly, glancing out at the Forbidden Forest as though he were disinterested. Really, he just didn't want to get into detail about his personal matters.

"Oh," you could only respond. Now that you thought of it, you could only imagine what Nott had to deal with at home, being a pureblood and all that. You knew that a lot of pureblood families were abusive and strict.

Suddenly, everything became clear. His family may not do Christmas, but you certainly do . . . you want him to feel the Christmas spirit that you do. Doesn't he deserve to understand exactly what the holidays are all about?

He tilted his head in curiosity as a grin spread across your rosy cheeks. Your eyes glittered with excitement and something akin to child-like wonder. "You know what? No. I'm going to prove to you that Christmas is the best time of the year."

Nott let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. He kicked at the snow, staring down at the ground as he shook his head. "I don't think you can."

"Do I hear Theodore Nott turning down a challenge?" You asked, cupping your ear with a mock judgemental expression. "Are you scared that I'm right, is that what it is?"

Nott sighed, biting back a grin as he finally met your eyes. "Fine. But I'm telling you now, it's not going to work."

"Oh, we'll see."

-

Theodore would be lying if he said he hasn't had his eye on you. How could he not? How could anyone not? You were quite literally the most outgoing person in your year. You were friends with mostly everyone, give a select few, and participated in many different student organizations. You were modest yet brash, kind yet firm, intelligent yet open-minded. You weren't afraid to speak your mind, even if it made you unpopular with certain crowds. He admired that about you.

So admittedly, the main reason he had gone to the library was in hopes that you'd be there. He's trying building up the courage to talk to you in the past, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Must be the reason why he's not a Gryffindor.

He felt an odd feeling in his chest when he saw you - as if he were so light he could float away, but also regurgitate his lunch all over the hundreds-year old carpet. He built himself up in his head and finally followed you into the rows of bookcases. When he saw you struggling with your pile of books, he froze, insecurities clouding his mind like a thunderstorm hurtling through his head. But when you were about to fall down, he instantly forgot whatever he had been thinking about and jumped to your rescue. Catching you, feeling you pressed against his chest, his nose burrowed in your sweet-smelling hair, he couldn't help but feel his heart beating incredibly fast and hard.

Finally, when the two of you were outside touring the grounds and you had so optimistically wanted to prove to him that Christmas was the best time of the year . . . he couldn't help but want you to prove him wrong.

That's why he was fussing over his hair as he stared in the bathroom mirror, tilting his head back and forth. It took him a whole ten minutes before he decided his hair would never comply and threw on his favorite plaid trench coat. You hadn't told him where the two of you were going, but he trusted that you weren't trying to pull anything funny.

You turned around as he exited the Slytherin dorm, the portrait slamming close behind him. He felt his stomach twist nervously as he looked at you - you were dressed rather festively, wearing a short green and red plaid skirt along with a mahogany turtleneck. Mini ornament earrings hung from your hears, gently bobbing as you turned to face him with an excited smile.

"Ready? Wonderful!" You exclaimed. "Come on, let's go!" He joined your side as you began walking at a brisk pace up the stairs. You lead him outside, chattering about holiday traditions you and your family had. He couldn't help but be enraptured by you - the way your eyes twinkled with joy and your hands gestured feverishly. Your bright rosy cheeks and how your scarf made them look plump and adorable.

"Oh, sorry, I've been rambling on so much you haven't even been able to get a word in!" You said, chuckling nervously, hoping that he wasn't annoyed with you.

"No, I like listening to you talk," he assured you pointedly. "Go on."

"But -"

"Honestly. I don't mind."

He could see your shoulder visibly sag with relief and you continued to explain to him as you walked down stone steps towards a small little hut next to the forest.

"What's that?" He asked you, gesturing to the hut.

"You'll see," you replied with a secretive smile. Once you were standing on the front steps of the house, the sound of a dog barking resonated from within. You knocked on the door with force, three times.

"I'm comin', I'm comin'!" A gruff voice responded from within. "Oi Fang, back! Get back, you mangy mutt!" Suddenly, the door swung open and Theodore was taken aback. Before him was a man towering at eight and half feet, a long, gangly beard running down his front, and a rather excited dog at his heel. "Ah right! You told me you were coming down today - and you've brought a friend I see!" The giant man turned towards Theodore with a friendly smile. "Rubeus Hagrid - I be the Groundskeeper. Ah! Don't want to keep you two out here in the cold - come, inside! Inside!"

He ushered the both of you into his hut, which was rather quaint. While Theo's eyes danced across the hut, you were already removing your coat and making yourself comfortable. His eyes fell upon a pine tree sitting in the corner, as well as a pile of boxes sitting next to it. He glanced back towards you and found you placing a kettle on the gas stove and setting out three teacups.

"I thought we'd start with one of my most favorite traditions - decorating the tree. Hagrid keeps a tree in his hut and he's asked me to help him decorate this year!"

"Them boxes over there are filled with ornaments!" Hagrid told them, gesturing to the boxes. Theodore noticed that the dog (Fang, he supposed it's name was) had approached you with a wagging tail and you had bent down to pepper kisses all over it's face. "I really appreciate youse two's help! Tha's why I made some of my famous rock cakes for ya to take back up wit' ya to the castle!"

"Thanks Hagrid, that's really nice of you!" Hagrid handed you a large, bulky package wrapped in a floral tablecloth. You placed it inside the bag you had brought with you. All the while Theodore watched as Hagrid slung some kind of bag around his shoulder and called Fang to join him by the door.

"O' course! Just remember to eat them while they're fresh!" He exclaimed with a chuckle. "Don' want 'em too hard. Ah, anyways, must get going. I've got to do my rounds about the grounds with Fang. You two young'uns have fun."

"Bye Hagrid!" You said as he closed the door behind him, offering a cheery wave. Once Hagrid left, you went back into the kitchen to remove the whistling kettle from the stove and pour the two of you some tea. "Here you go," you said slowly, more focused on not spilling the tea you were handing to Theo than what you were saying.

He took a sip of the tea, swallowed it, and then stared down at the yellowed water. You watched him in amusement, holding back your laughter. "You don't have to drink it if you don't like it."

He placed the cup back down on the table. "That is absolutely abominable," he told you with a sour look, pushing the cup towards you. You laughed, placing down your cup as well.

"It's not the most delicious thing I've ever tasted, but Hagrid found these incredibly rare plants in the forest with healing properties! So he's been using them for tea."

"How did you come about to be friends with the Groundskeeper, I wonder." Theodore pulled out one of the kitchen stools, rather large in comparison to himself. It wasn't easy to sit atop it, but in the end he triumphed over the chair.

You shrugged in response, taking another sip of your tea. "Well, Harry, Ron, and Hermione have known him for ages so they introduced me as well. People are kind of - I don't know - weird about him, but he's honestly lovely and gentle. He's not anything like he seems at first glance." Moving on from that topic, you clapped your hands together excitedly and ran over to the pile of ornament boxes. You separated and opened each and every box, displaying all the different ornaments. Theo approached, scrutinizing the glass balls with the tilt of his head.

"Some of these are . . . interesting, I must say." He grabbed an ornament of a brown bear and turned it around in his hand. You plucked the bear from his hand, placing it back in the box. In your other hand was a long string of tinsel.

"There are a few rules to decorating the tree," you started, walking backwards towards the mantle over the fireplace. You flipped on the radio, Celestina Warbeck's "Nothing Like a Holiday Spell," softly playing in the background. "First, you must listen to Christmas music. Second -" You held up the tinsel in your hand. "- you always do the lights and/or tinsel first. Okay? So, I'm going to need help wrapping this around the tree. I'll stand on one side and wrap it around my half, then I'll hand it to you so you can wrap around your half and you give it back to me, all right? Sound good?"

Theo nodded - this didn't seem too hard, nor unenjoyable. You didn't notice, too caught up in your jolly Christmas spirit to notice the way Nott was fondly watching you humming under your breath, tinsel trailing on the ground behind you as you stood on the opposite side of the tree. Standing on your tip-toes, you leaned up to wrap the tinsel around the top branch but struggled. When he noticed you were getting nothing out of your efforts, Theo walked behind you and grabbed the tinsel out of your hand. His chest was pressed against your back as he reached up with ease and wrapped the tinsel around the first branch.

You froze when he had come up behind you, a blush painting your cheeks. It wasn't your fault he had decided to come so close and that he was so damn attractive. You did your best to hide how flustered you suddenly felt, no matter how dimly veiled.

He didn't seem to notice, preoccupied with wrapping the tinsel around the top area of the tree that you were too short to reach. "Uh, thanks. Just, um, when you're wrapping the tinsel, make sure you don't wrap it too tight or too close to another row, okay?"

"I'll keep that in mind," he responded absent-mindedly, brows furrowed as he gave his task the upmost attention. He wanted to make the tree look perfect, just for you. He was trying to figure out how he should space the rows - as of now, are they too close together or too far apart? Maybe he should separate them a little.

"Don't think too much about it. It's not supposed to be perfect," you said, as though reading his thoughts. You grabbed the tinsel and began to wrap it around again. You handed it to Nott, who wrapped it around his side of the tree and handed it back to you. "It's supposed to look imperfect and wonky and unusual - that's what makes it your Christmas tree. Trying to make it look perfect takes all the fun out of it."

"So . . . the uniqueness is what makes it special?" he asked as he took the tinsel from you yet again. You were pretty special . . . unique. You stood out from your peers. Maybe that's why he was attracted to you - all his life, he was pushed for excellence. He was pushed to be perfect all the time and finding someone like you, so free-spirited and imperfect, well . . . he couldn't help but admire you.

"Yeah, exactly!" When you handed him the tinsel again, you said, "well, we're getting near the bottom. Just hand me the - yeah, the tinsel." You took the tinsel again and bent down as you wrapped it around the bottom of the tree. He followed you to the other side of the tree, preparing to finish the job once you passed the tinsel to him. "And I'll just finish this - oh!"

He hadn't realized you were planning on finishing the tinsel yourself and the two of you walked straight into each other. Your noses accidentally brushed together, your lips only centimeters away from his. You noticed an odd sort of glance in his eyes. It disappeared only a second later, but you were certain you saw it. A hunger, a longing. Like he wanted to kiss you.

"Sorry," he mumbled, not moving from where he was bending down.

"Yeah," you said breathlessly, quickly standing straight and clearing your throat. It must have been a flicker of light - there was no way the Theodore Nott liked someone like you. He was prim and proper, you were disorganized and eccentric. Not exactly a match made in heaven, especially in the eyes of his parents. "Sorry . . ."

-

You couldn't think clearly after that - all that was on your mind was a tall, quiet, brown-haired Slytherin boy who hated Christmas. But his especially those lips of his. Pink, full, just begging for a moment of your attention. Scenes in your mind played our what could have happened if either of you had made a move. Many ended with both of you in rather interesting positions.

Maybe it had just been you. Or maybe there was a spark there. You hoped, you dreamed, that he was feeling exactly how you were. You held onto this hope as you left your common room and rushed down the Grand Stairs to the Great Hall. You had another grand adventure in mind.

"What is on the roster for today?" Theodore had asked when you met him by the tall, oak doors of the Great Hall. The two of you set off towards the courtyard path.

"It's a suprise, silly!"

"Ah, suprises."

"What, you don't like suprises?"

"I didn't say that."

"How can you not like suprises?"

-

"If you don't mind me asking . . . why aren't you home for the holiday break?" Theodore asked as you slowly made your descent into Hogsmeade. He was kicking at the snow with his feet, secretly nervous. "You're not usually here."

"You've been stalking me, have you?" You replied with a wicked grin, remembering your first encounter. Theo flushed a bright red, his ears turning an especially poinsettia-like red. "I'm just joking." You sighed, your grin turning to a dismal frown. "Yeah, usually I'm at home for the holi's, but my parents are both away on buisness for work . . . so I had to stay here this year."

"You don't want to," he stated simply. You grimaced, shaking your head.

"Nope. I just want to sleep in my bed, my real bed, and wake up home on Christmas morning, surrounded by my family. But I'm stuck here." You sighed - talking about this didn't make you feel much better. You decided to brighten things up, sending a grin Theo's way. "At least I have you, Nott."

He stopped you. "Theo," he said, staring at you with those dark, alluring hazel eyes. "It's what all my friends call me," he added sheepishly.

The corners of your lips curled up, your heart fluttering like a fall leaf in the wind. "Theo," you repeated softly. "Well, Theo . . . perfect timing. We're here." You looked towards the shop on your right, the exterior wood painted a forest green with faded lettering. The window was frosted over, Hamilton depicting the festive scene inside. Warm fairy lights floated around the window, a variety of holiday-themed presents and objects on display not three inches from their eyes. "Holiday store. Perfect for getting gifts and getting in the holiday cheer."

"This was here all this time?" Theo asked.

You made a grand gesture towards the entire road you were standing upon. "I like to call this the Forgotten District. Great stores, but only the locals come here really. A fair few students know of it, but not many. Let's go inside."

You swung open the door, keeping it open with your foot as you entered so that Theo could enter right behind you. Though the ceilings were low and the room was so filled with whimsical trinkets and do-dads that it did feel a bit tight inside. "Hi Fred, how're you doing?"

"Good, good, and you?" Replied the man standing at the registers. He was a rosy-cheeked, middle-aged man with a round belly who looked rather friendly indeed. Almost like Saint Nicholas come to life.

"Great! This is my friend Theo! I'm introducing him to Christmas."

"Introducing him?" Fred responded in disbelief, looking towards Theo as though he were a puppy that had been ran over by a car. "My dear boy, you must have a look around. Take any one item you'd like with you, for free, I insist."

"Thank you, sir." As Theo gradually made his way into the shop, scrutinizing every little object, whether it was a spinning top or a rocking chair. You sent Fred a wide grin behind Theo's back, gesturing towards him with excitement. When Theo turned around, you stopped and quickly made your way to his side.

"Find anything eye-catching?" You asked, your exuberant mood quite obvious to all who could see you. You were grinning, watching Theo with that child-like wonder, standing on the balls of your feet while you took a good look at the place. You let out a gasp and grabbed a cute snowman mug. "Look at this! This is cute. You know, Mrs. Weasley would probably love this."

While you began to chatter on, grabbing various items and displaying them to him with starry-eyes, he couldn't help but watch with a sense of fondness. At some point, you realized he was staring at you oddly and paused. "What?" You asked with an awkward laugh, wiping your mouth with edge of your sleeve. "Is there something on my face?"

Unsure how to recover from having so blatantly worn his heart on his chest, looks away from you, his gaze void of any emotion now. "Nothing."

-

With each passing day, his fondness and adoration for you grew. You were so bright and exuberant, so careless in the way you bestowed that angelic smile of yours upon anyone. He felt honored, still, that he was a receptor of one.

You had begun to spend a lot of time together. Sneaking into the library and nabbing plenty of reading material, wandering about the castle and grounds, stealing food from the kitchens. However, whatever else you had planned to convince him that Christmas was indeed, gay with yuletide cheer, had not yet occurred.

You both were spread along couches by the fire in the Slytherin Common room, void of people except for the both of you. You laughed and talked until your lungs couldn't handle the action anymore - he was the first to fill the silence.

"My mother . . . she had loved Christmas," Theo said softly, his head still hanging off the couch. "As soon as November 1st came around, she would pull the decorations out of the cellar and start putting them up. Father insisted that she let the house elves do it, but she was firm in the belief that decorating was a holiday tradition that we should all celebrate together. It was her favorite time of year."

His tone sounded almost . . . sad. You pushed yourself onto your elbows and watched him. His eyes were just glazed over, water bubbling at the edges of his vision. "Your mother -"

"She's dead," he said in an empty tone of voice. Suddenly, as though realizing himself, he wiped his eyes and sat up. "Sorry, I don't really talk about that with anyone. I shouldn't have -"

"No, no, it's okay," you assured him with a kind smile. "I don't mind. Tell me more about your mom, she sounds really cool."

He hesitated, fidgeting with his fingers, before he ran his hand through his hair and leaned back on the couch. "One year when I was a young boy, she got me Fiabe italiane a cara di Italo Calvino for Christmas, or Italian Folklores by Italo Calvino. She would read it to me every night. After my mother . . . died, my father tried to erase everything that reminded him of her. Including that book."

"Oh no," you whispered, a hand hovering over your mouth.

He gave you a grimaced smile. "Yeah, but it's been so many years . . . I don't really care that much anymore, it's not a big deal."

To you, however, it seemed like a very big deal.

-

On Christmas morning, you woke up extra early and gathered your presents. You knew you looked ridiculous - hair frizzy and wild, still dressed in pajamas, presents flying in the air behind you. Finally, you entered the Slytherin common room and clambered up the stairs to the boy's dormitory, finding Theo's room.

Your pounding upon the door startled him awake and he practically ran to the door to yell at whoever decided to wake him at this ungodly hour. Instead, he found someone he didn't expect to be there at all - you.

"Merry Christmas Theo!" You shouted in excitement, throwing your arms around his neck. In your fervor, your focus was drawn away from the hovering presents and they soon clattered to the floor. He swung an arm around you, envolping himself in you, but you pulled away too soon to look back at your presents. "Oops."

"Merry Christmas," he responded, quite late due to the fact thatft he had just woken up. He opened the door wide so you could enter, and you sauntered inside with your presents hovering behind you once more. You say down on the floor, placing your presents gracefully down in front of you. He closed the door and turned to see you watching him expectantly.

He hadn't opened presents with anyone before, at least, not since his mother was alive. He had thought at first that he would be upset, you falling into his life and pushing him back into the world of Christmas . . . but he found that he actually enjoyed your company. More than he liked to admit. "Do you . . . want to open presents together?"

You flashed him a toothy grin. "Why else did you think I came over here, silly? Come on!" You patted the ground in front of you.

He shuffled over, gathering the small cluster of presents by his bed next to yours, and seating himself on the ground. "You go first."

"All right then." You grabbed an oddly-shaped parcel that looked like a lump of under-cooked bread. You unwrapped it with care, making sure not to tear the packaging. You pulled out a forest green sweater with the initial of your name and a container filled with mince pies. "It's from Mrs. Weasley! She knits sweaters every year for all her kids and their friends." You raised it to your nose with a content sigh. "Smells like her cooking too. All right, now you go on!"

Theod can't remember the last time he had recieved a homeade present, from someone so kind and motherly. He pulled a neatly-wrapped parcel towards him and unwrapped it, revealing a set of books he'd been wanting for a while. From Blaise. Don't go reading it all at once :)

"See? Opening presents can be fun!" The two of you continued to unwrap presents, chatting about what you had gotten. Finally, a wrapped present sat in front of you - both of you stared at it.

"You're not going to open it?" Theo asked. You shook your head with a knowing smile, pushing it towards him bashfully.

"Actually . . . it's for you," you said slowly with a nod of your head. Nervously, you glanced at him, trying to read his expression. He looked rather . . . confused.

"You didn't have to get me anything," he said, pulling the present into his lap. He stared down at it stubbornly, because he felt too guilty accepting a present from you.

"Oh go on, open it!" You encouraged, nudging him. He couldn't help but smile at your excitement, nothing the way you fidgeting in anticipation.

"All right, all right," he responded, raising his hands in mock defense. He untied the ribbon and gently unwrapped the present, making sure not to tear the paper. He froze once he saw what was sitting in his lap, staring up at him.

You watched him with trepidation. You didn't go to far, did you? You hoped that - well, you weren't sure what you hoped, but you wanted him to treasure the gift. You wanted him to say something, but didn't dare question him. You were afraid of his reaction.

"Fiabe italiane," he spoke softly, running his fingers along the spine of the book. It didn't have the weathered grooves his mother's copy had, but it felt like home. He turned towards you with an expression of disbelief. "How - you didn't have too -"

You offered a sheepsih shrug. "I wanted too. You sounded so . . . happy when you talked about your mother. But also sad, so I thought this might cheer you up. Brighten up Christmas a bit."

Theo kept staring at you with an odd expression - you weren't sure what to expect from him. You certainly didn't expect his lips to smash against yours, resting his hand on your thigh. The suddenness of the kiss left you in shock, unable to move. He took this as a sign that you were uncomfortable and unreceptive. But, as soon as he pulled away, you grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pressed a kiss to his lips, soft and tender. You couldn't help but smile as you pulled away and you noticed that his eyes had lost that melancholic darkness and was instead replaced with something much more merry.

"I think I'm starting to like Christmas."

You giggled, bringing a wide grin to his usually stoic face. "C'mere," you said, pulling him into a cuddle. "As long as I'm here, I will make sure that every Christmas you have is filled with love and comfort. All right?"

He glanced up from where you had buried his face in your shoulder. "You're amazing, you know that?" He asked, starry-eyed.

You offered a mock uncaring shrug. "I know." You were both silent before you burst out into laughter. "I'm not." As Theo started to protest, you interrupted him. "No really! I'm not, I'm just showing you what a caring relationship is like."

"I still think you're amazing." He paused. "I'm glad we ran into each other."

You glanced down at him and brushed the hair out his face, pecking him on the nose. "Me too."

[anakinsdove]

𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 | 𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐤𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫

pairing: anakin skywalker x reader

summary: he’d like to make you cry, but in the process he’ll cry too.

c/w: nsfw, sfw, fluff, choking, dom/sub dynamics, dacryphilia, (listen to pretty when you cry by Lana del rey)

discord - twitter: anakinsdove

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧! ｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ。Love you

𝘄/𝗰 - 1,263

Anakin loves you, he loves so fucking much, he really does… there’s not a single doubt in his mind and he hates to pretend that he doesn’t love you, the Jedi code, no attachments, only if they knew, he’ll destroy the galaxy to save you, he’ll kill everyone to save you, he’ll kill himself to save you.

This isn’t how it was supposed to be, you’re under him while he pounds you mercilessly, his hand tightens around your throat making it difficult to breathe, to think, to care, he wants you crying, crying for him and begging for him, but when he looked at you, despite the naughtiness of the act, he only sees love, his wife and reason to exist, his entire universe. Anakin can’t help it when he feels tears welling up in his eyes.

You’re there, eyes closed head rolled back, tightening around his cock as it kisses your cervix painfully delicious, milking him. He’s there on top of you, furrowed eyebrows, mouth hanging open ans his hand grips you hips tightly to keep you in place, a bead of sweat falling from his hairline, fighting the urge to close his eyes as pleasure overtakes him.

You’re not going anywhere, you’re not going to slip away and disappear if he closes his eyes for just a second, he tries to fight his thoughts, he growls and comes down to kiss your cleavage sucking marks into your skin, bruising you the only way he’ll ever will and taking your pebbled nipple into his mouth, his eyes won’t leave yours… he massages your other boob pinching your nipple with his index finger and his thumb, your back arches accidentally and you let out a strangled cry.

Your hands pull at his hair and anakin groans muffled by your skin then takes your wrists and pins them over your head with one hand, switches to your other boob so she can receive the same treatment, he’s so eager to please you, he’s eager to make you love him even when you already would sell your soul to be with him, he just doesn’t get it, he doesn’t get it how can he have something so fucking good in his life… or under him precisely.

“Keep your hands in there will you?” You nod dumbly staring at his frowning expression…. “Ani-” “Take it” he says and you wonder how long is going to take him to cum, his cock pulsates inside you and he already dragged 3 orgasms out of you but it’s not enough, he wants more… your pussy is sore and unbelievably wet he doesn’t ever want to leave.

The sounds of skin slapping get louder as he moves erratically against you, he’s getting tired but he won’t stop, his grip loosens up on your wrist releasing them, you take the chance to dig your nails in his back, he groans, it’s painful, it’s perfect… dragging them slowly scratching him… hurting him, the only way you’ll ever do.

“Tell me you love me” his voice is strangled

Everything is blurry, your tears are blurring your vision “I love you” you say, but it’s not good enough.

“Again”

“I love you”

“A-Again!”

He’s losing it, he’s so close, so close to let the white pleasure take over him completely, the kind of pleasure that makes him see stars, the kind of pleasure that will make him hold you so tight it’ll leave marks. “I love you Anakin! I l-love you so- f-fucking much!” That sends him over the edge, and his eyes roll back into his head and hides his face on the crook of your neck, his mouth hanging open, brows furrowing together, it’s too much for him.. who would have tought that Anakin skywalker, also known as “the hero with no fear” by the rest of the galaxy would completely come undone by someone telling him they love him.

Your 4th orgasm of the night hits you without warning as you were concentrating on the beautiful man on top of you, watching him unravel… your back arches prettily as you let out a cry, of pleasure, of pain, of overstimulation, love, everything… it’s the most beautiful noise anakin has ever heard, you lay there exhausted panting and holding him tightly… closing your eyes in pure bliss when you suddenly feel his still hard cock moving inside you again.

“Anakin!” Your pussy clenched around him making him moan… “One more” he says breathlessly “I need one more” tears well up in your eyes at the overstimulation nodding at him as you cry quietly… you’ll do anything that he ask. “Gonna pound you now” he warns.

It hurts for him too, his cock is too sensitive for this but he wants it, he needs it, the sticky mess between your legs only encourages him to fill you up again as the sticky cum drips from your pussy, his hand slides down to your sensitive yet untouched clit to draw tight little circles.

It’s the best thing you’ve ever felt in your life, you hold so much love for him in your heart that it’s almost impossible to think about it without without crying because loving Anakin Skywalker is overwhelming, it’s raw and addicting like a drug, you’re completely high on him and the best thing is that it’s mutual, it’s everything you could ever wish for, he would do anything that you ask, no questions, it’s scary but devotion is everything and if breaking the Jedi code had consequences you’re disposed to pay them, whatever the price is to keep living this life.

“I love you y/n” Anakin breathes out

“You belong to me” he stops rubbing your puffy clit to bring his fingers to your mouth making you choke on them pressing on your tongue so you can taste yourself “Say it”

“I- i belong to you” it’s unintelligible but he smirks

“You’re mine” he growls

“I’m yours”

“No one else’s”

“No one else’s”

You keep choking on his digits as his tip hits that spongy spot inside you perfectly “it’s okay i got you” he says, his mind recognizes the signs of your body when you’re close, not only to cum but to break… “i want you to cum okay? Want you to milk me my love… t-take what’s yours, I’m yours do you understand?”

The pleasure is unbearable and your body comes undone in his arms, anakin captures your lips and muffles your cries, it’s a clumsy kiss considering he’s coming undone on top of you too, he slides his tongue in your mouth tasting you, you taste so sweet and he’s already drunk in you. His hips stutter as more cum drips from your pussy… he wasn’t intending to breed you tonight but maybe he did… he finally breaks the kiss and you’re both left in silence only heavy breathing can be heard… Anakin rests his head on your chest and sighs.

“You’re everything to me” he says and you play with his hair delicately making his eyes close involuntarily getting lost in a different kind of pleasure

“You’re my adoration Anakin” he grins like a child, pure and only happiness behind it

“D’you think you can tell obi wan you’re not going to this mission?” He says

“I don’t know, do you think master yoda is tall?” his boyish giggle warms your heart…. “Hey…. I’m yours until tomorrow, we’ve still got plenty of time alone together” your fingers tug delicately at the roots of golden curls.

“Tomorrow” he says

“Tomorrow”

masterlist 𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗱𝗼𝘃𝗲 © --- all rights reserved. no reposting/translating/ copying will be tolerated.

dividers - @i92-93

[glotoru]

i’m your national anthem | eren jaeger

the note ☆ this is part two of my lana coded!eren ‘series’, see part one here. once again my soft spoken and older eren (drooling) spoiling his lovely little wife with everything he can but this time it’s at his place of work after she pays him a visit. it’s not as “cinematic” as the first part but i like this one a lot and it’s a birthday gift for myself lmao. inspired by national anthem (demo), lana del rey.

contains ☆ nsfw, fem!reader, stupidlyrich!eren, soft husband!eren, established relationship, semi-public sex (there are cameras), office sex, eren in a yummy suit, lotta praise, oral (m. receiving), handjobs, facefucking, vaginal, sex on a desk, backshots, unprotected sex, creampie, size kink, panty stealing (kind of), possessive eren, he likes you in a sundress, use of pet names. black reader as always but it’s all subjective so read if you like it my loves <3

wc ☆ 4k words (it was meant to be much shorter lmao)

eren jaeger is a successful man.

many would even stretch out as to say that he's almost won in life. he's made it on the forbes list, attended every exclusive gathering to be thrown in society, racked up hundreds of thousands of dollars in his chequing account; he's a well deserved ceo—not from start up connections, not from nepotism—eren jaeger has worked his way to the top from down below. and while he's considered to have everything a mortal man could ever dream of, eren believes his true fortune lies within you.

"mr. jaeger?" a timid voice calls from the entryway to the conference room, where a suit clad eren stands at the table's apex, which holds a stack of printed papers, with two other shareholders seated at the sides listening in on his presentation.

another thing about eren is that he likes rules—he has rules. there are rules employees know not to break; no bribes, no in house disputes, and certainly no entering his boardroom when having a meeting with his shareholders without his request. so when one of his brightest interns shifts uncomfortably under his gaze with a look of fear morphing his facial features, eren knows he’s been asked to do so by someone with more power than even him.

"i take it that my wife is here?" eren breathes, mindlessly running a hand through messy growing hair but still refusing to acknowledge the fact that you came at such an inconvenient time. "could she wait for another twenty minutes? we've almost concluded the contracts."

the sorry smile given by the intern is enough of an answer for him, "i don't think it would be appropriate for me to repeat the words she said, but she didn't give off the impression of wanting to wait long, sir."

so…spoiled.

he could already imagine how you would be waiting there; making yourself comfortable up on his desk, legs dangling in your four inch heels and tapping your nails against the glass whilst admiring the photo of the two of you on your honeymoon situated at the desks edge. of course, you would be doing this all with a small pout on your face, ready for you scold him for how long it's taken him to head back to you.

nursing an apologetic smile, he glances towards the man and woman on each side as if silently asking to resume this another time. they wave him off with small laughter, going on about keeping you happy and all the unimportant other things; eren's too preoccupied with going to see you to register their words.

he's quick making his way to the elevator, but not before swiping a single champagne coloured rose from a vase nearby; eren knows he can't show up empty handed, not with you. it's not irregular for you to come to his work so unannounced; at a random time on any given day. you strut around the office like it's yours, you make friends with the secretaries and listen to office gossip like you're one of them, and you tell his assistant all about the plans the two of you have like he doesn't already know. at this point his employees hold you in higher regard than they do him.

it's expected though; seeing how you have their boss contorted around your pretty finger.

your face lights up from it's bored expression when you hear the elevator chime. it takes four of eren's long strides to reach his office doors, and he opens it to a carbon copy of what he'd imagined only minutes ago.

"'ren!" smiling at his tall frame, you open up your arms for him to take. the smell of his rosewood cologne pronounces itself through the hug, which shortly turns into intertwined lips. "missed you." you mutter against his now gloss stained mouth, taking hold of his stubbled chin with long nails to deepen your kiss.

"i missed you too baby, got you this," he mumbles, handing you the flower before steadying his hands on both your sides, essentially baring you to his warm body, "how was your hair appointment?"

"thank you," you soften, casually dipping your nose into the welts of the rose to take in it's scent before continuing, "it was good, didn't take as long as i thought so i wanted to come say hi!" your eyes dilate to black expanses as you properly take him in. eren left early today, so you couldn't get a glimpse of him leaving the house. but seeing him now, with his hair pulled up into it's signature messy ponytail and the blue armani suit you told him buy—you could quite literally drool.

"it looks good." he takes a piece of your hair before leaving it alone. "and your dress looks real pretty on you."

grinning at his words, you shimmy out of his hold; intentionally ignoring the way his eyes follow the dips, curves and pudge highlighted by the sundress you wear. "so, i thought we could eat some food together."

for the first time since entering the room, his eyes shift from you over to the wicker basket on the nearby sofa.

you're sitting on his lap as he rests in his chair, putting some radish on the cucumber roll before feeding it to your husband, "hope i didn't pull you from anything..."

ah…

eren is a calculated man; he doesn't act irrationally. instead, he thinks—thinks for just a few seconds of possible outcomes depending on what he does. but with you? there's no need for that; you probably knew there was a high chance of him being in a meeting, if you weren't already told that by his assistant—so, as always, he chooses the answer that'll ultimately keep you happy.

"hm? nope, nothing important enough."

"oh, mkay." you nod, taking a mini donut from its cute package and popping it into your mouth. after dusting off your hands, you fiddle with the strands of hair that frame his face, “you coming home early today? we can watch that movie i was talking about—and i’ve been dying to get to properly use the theater with you.”

“let me think about it, princess—but i’ll try.” he sports a boyish smile, accepting the water bottle you hand him before watching you clean up the empty trays and takeout boxes. his words are most definitely for show, that man will be home by six instead of eight—hell, make it five.

perhaps eren jaeger truly has won at life; god…you look alluring, walking around his space with your heels like the place is your own, fragrancing the room with the scent of your lotion mixed with the perfume he gifted you. his wandering eye is fixed to your legs, catching how your dress rides up with every step taken.

“can feel you starin’ at me.” you tease in a sing-song voice, wiggling your hips as you bend down to pick up fallen trash.

“good.” his long legs aid him in striding towards your frame, large hands come to rest on your hips from behind. his thumbs begin to rub soft circles on them as he plants a kiss on your forehead, “did my employees see you in this?”

“duh—i had to see them to see you,” you laugh. 

you know damn well what this is about, and you find it amusing. for the most part, your husband is a calm man; slow to anger, leans towards calmly solving disputes as opposed to growing aggressive, and when he gets agitated, he takes a break. but at the mere mention of his wife, eren seems to abandon all sensical thoughts of zen he once had. 

“any of ‘em stare?” 

“dunno.” you respond with a shrug and turn to face eren, smoothing down the collars of his outfit with your hands, “i don’t pay attention to any of them. they’re not you.”

“okay.” he makes his way back to his seat, gesturing to you to follow along. “i really do mean it when i say you look nice in that dress—well, i always mean it but…”

you’re giggling, standing in between his spread legs while looking down at him, “thanks ‘ren.”

“mhm, i’m the luckiest man in the world.”

oh…he has that tone in his voice again; the rasped one that has your legs pressing together when he speaks. it’s the kind that happens when he gets a lustful glint in his eyes—when he wants to fuck you. his hands wander up the fabric of your dress, the feeling of his cold wedding band makes you gasp and steady your hands onto his shoulders for support.

“h-hold on.”

“something wrong?” he stills, “if it’s the cameras, i’ll get the footage removed—or maybe you want me to get a copy of it?”

“nothing’s wrong.” you shake your head, but make a mental note to ask him to indeed grab a copy before deleting it, “just want you to relax for a moment—i know i took you out of that meeting.” you speak as slowly and your fingers move down his arms, keeping his eye contact as you lower your knees to the ground. “‘m sorry love, i wanted to see you for a bit.”

why are you apologizing? there’s no need for you to, there’s never been a need for you to, and eren doesn’t think he would ever make you either. 

“let me make it up to you.” 

you don’t let him get much of a word out before you’re unzipping his slacks and palming the prominent bulge that greets your eyes. his body shows it’s gratitude by sinking into your ghostly touch. eren can only breath in sharp inhales as you free his dick from it’s confinement, straightening itself out as translucent pre stumbles from the tip. you shouldn’t be shy but eren is big in every sense. and your brain seems to struggle with object permanence; eyes almost blowing open in surprise of how thick he is despite you practically owning it. the phantom ache in your jaw seems to be a warning—you shouldn’t try anything.

but eren’s presence alone overrides all alarms and commands in your brain, and the hazy look he gives you from his seat has you subconsciously wrapping your hand around his base, shifting across the length and tracing the roads and ridges of his veins with your tongue. 

he sucks his teeth when you pucker your lips at the slightly pinkish tip, feathering a little kiss before letting spit fall from your mouth and onto his cock. the dribble doesn’t make it past the head before you’re meeting it with your lips, steadily taking him into your stretched walls. the feeling of the burn from your mouth molding in indecent ways would make you wince if not for the effects eren’s soft groans and breaths have on your cloudy mind.

“such a pretty sight. p-pretty fuckin’ view.” a sigh escapes him when you hollow your cheeks. admittedly, it’s nothing like the home he knows your cunt as, but when you bottom out and his tip punches the back of your throat, it seems like the closest thing. it surely is a sight to see: a sweet woman like you, doing something so damn nasty.

your throat tightens with each bob, trying its best to prevent a gag but failing every now and then. still, you plant a hand on his knee for stability to lessen the slight burn in your knees given by the nylon carpet beneath them, and allow the mixture of precum and saliva escape your mouth and dribble everywhere. 

“oh, fuck—yeah, you got it.” he’s amazed, seeing you take him like a fucking champion, choking all over him without a single complaint. “that’s my girl.”

despite going nice and slow, you get messy—his dick fucks up your sensory system. glittery tears breach your water line, threatening to drop and roll as you sniffle away. 

eren is pulled out of his trance when your mouth escapes him, watching you with a slight furrow in his brow. you gaze at him through your pretty lash extensions, tongue unfurling out for you to tap him on. “tastes so good eren.”

“shit—don’t say that to me.” his whimpers are loud, as loud as his heaves for the same air that seems to avoid him. conscious of the chance that sound could somehow transfer, he drapes his hand across the lower half of his face and captures the guttural groan from his chest.

“you don’t need to be quiet,” your hand grabs hold of his own, carefully guiding it from his mouth to the back of your head. silently, you watch him with admirable and expectant eyes that could make him cum from the sight alone, “don’t you own this place?”

my god… you want him to face fuck you, you’re outwardly asking him to do so without a drop of shame. right until your makeup is ruined and a crying mess from how full your mouth is. he doesn’t do it often—he’s too scared of watching you cough up spit and develop a sore throat the next day for it to happen regularly. besides, eren is a pleaser—very rarely did he have you like this unless you openly wanted it. but with the look of expectation you have, sniffling and pleading for him to help you like a dutiful husband he promised to be, it’s difficult to him to do anything other than comply.

eren wants to give you a standing ovation watching you submissively relax in his tender hold. with eyes full of love, he steadily lines you up with his tip, counting you to three before guiding you down the length of his cock. your husband starts off slow, keeping a nice pace that makes it easy to inhale enough to go back down. but like all things, it grows—grows faster. hands tangle in your hair, driving your head down to meet him halfway; you gag and choke and drool out the corners of your mouth, you dig and scratch with your nails, you savour quick inhales that are quickly consumed and leave you with even less air than before. 

the tip of your nose tickles the pubic hair at his pelvis as he holds your head steady at his base. the cut off of circulation has your eyes going spotty, but the lightheadedness just feels so so so good.

upon seeing the twitch in his brow and the rapid rise and fall of his chest, your breath hitches—he’s going to cum if you continue. whatever words you attempt to speak translates to vibration that makes his dick jump, so twice, you pat his arm. 

there’s a look of panic on his features, ignoring the mess left on his lower body and he releases you from his grasp. almost subconsciously, he pushes all traces of hair from your face, cupping you cheeks and forcing you to look at him, “did something happen? are you alright? was it too much—i’m sorry, love.”

“no.” you shake your head, moving from the position in front of him that made your knees ache and buckle. quietly, you turn your back to him, hazardly pressing your body into his desk while your hands tease up the back of your thighs, dragging the dress’s fabric along with it. “just want you to cum inside, it doesn’t feel as good when you don’t.”

symphonies ring through his head: eren is sure he’s won at life—and he’s going to be selfish with it. you’re his freedom—your pussy is his national anthem, not the fucking two minute song that rings monotonely in his mind after hearing it. he can’t rip his eyes away when your dress climbs up and over your ass; it exposes your thong and it’s  practically swallowed by the folds of your pussy, which leaves a damp spot right near its entrance. 

“oh, eren…” you sigh in relief at the feeling of your hand fumbling to pull your panties to the side for your husband to see just how wet you get on the mere thought of him. your fingers are met with no friction as you slowly rub your clit, nails clacking against each other and you spread the slick that coats your cunt. 

you pull away from yourself with a string connecting your fingers to your pussy, all before giving it a few love taps once more. “‘s all yours.”

it’s all his…what a fucking lucky man. your scent has commanding control over him, clinging to his body and moving him towards you like a puppeteer and he’s the woodwork. hands rounding over the fat of your ass, he makes quick work of pulling your thong off one leg and letting it pool at your ankle. he’s not afraid to admit it: eren jaeger will die for this pussy—his wife’s pussy.

he makes quick work of you, slotting his dick within your folds, fucking himself up against your clit a few times before convening at your hole. he sheaths himself inch by inch, reveling in the soul snatching grip you welcome him with. the pulsation of your spongy walls almost bites at him—cause a stuttered moan to fall from him as he bottoms out into you.

“fuck!” you squeal at the feeling of his tip budding up against your cervix. frantically, you try to inch forward to build some space between you two. 

“nuh-uh, no fucking running,” he sucks his teeth, digging his dull nails in your hips to keep you flush against his body, “take it whole, didn’t i teach you better than that?”

“mm—mhm!” baring your eyes shut, you allow your upper body to relax into the glass surface of the desk while he finds his rhythm. but you’re at a loss for words, mouth hanging open as he drags out to the hilt and buries himself back in until he’s trying to bypass your ass. his repeated strokes strikes against the soft spot at the roof of your cunt, “you’re going so fast.”

“am i—shit—am i supposed to go slow?” he asks knowingly, to which you frantically shake your head no to. had he gone any second slower, you’d be throwing a damn fit, whining about his talking too much time in teasing you and throwing yourself back into his hips instead. “yeah, that’s what i thought.”

each thrust drags out more of the milky white slick that forms a nasty ring around the base of his cock. “r-ren, you’re kissin’ me…” you whine, wiggling and writhing as you feel him reach your cervix—‘n it hurts, hurts real good and eren knows you don’t want him to stop. 

your sobs fog up the glass below, and with tear stained eyes you turn your head to look back at your husband. his pace falters when he locks your gaze—it’s hazy and pretty, your once neat waterline is now smudged against your lower eyelids, and your plump lips are in a pout to suppress what would be breathy moans to quick whimpers—all which reach his dick just the same. 

eren wastes no time grabbing a hold of your leg and hoisting it up to meet your torso on the table. the new angle gives him leeway to hit deeper—rub against his favourite spot that has you seeing stars.

“fuck, yeah—p-please eren.” you’re babbling incoherently, eyes gluing shut to give yourself some peace of mind as you shift your hips backwards to meet him halfway, “give it to me, jus’ like that!” 

oh, shit. 

your eagerness messes up his pace, making him curse at the feeling of his cock slipping out of you and instead slipping up against your neglected clit.

“c’mon…put it back in.” you’re whining, rubbing your cunt all over him like the neediest thing he’s ever seen—but you’re so molded to eren; there is undoubtedly nothing else in the world that makes you feel better than the way he does.

“calm down, be patient.” his voice is smooth—firm. it pulls you down into a sense of docility; security. it almost makes you forget how you’re being defiled on the desk where he earns a living so you can wear the pearls on your neck. “you’re so good to me.” he’s mumbling, fucking himself through your folds. 

you can hear the sounds of your juices mixing, and eren giving a low groan before bottoming back into your sweet pussy that welcomes him back like a man once at war.

“baby…gonna—i’m gonna cum.” you shake your head at the inevitable—you’re already whimpering and your legs are buckling under the pressurizing buildup in your bottom torso. 

and eren? he would never deny you of anything you wanted—in fact, he loves when you cum; your body goes rigid and develops an ironclad grip on him, and your mouth hangs open in the most obscene, yet pretty, way. so he encourages you, coaxes you on by keeping steady, hitting harder. 

“f-fuckfuckfuck—fuck!” when your hand shoots down to rub and fuss and your clit, you’re done for. 

eren’s strokes don’t stop when you do. instead, he lets you ride out your high right on his dick—and you…your walls are fluttering around him. uncontrolled sobs leave your mouth as you grip onto the table for some sort of stability, “that’s it.” 

“you feel good?” he asks, moving your leg from the tabling and bringing you up to meet his body. 

your mind is so gone, you can only mirror the words of your husband, “mhm—feels good.” 

his hands grab your waist, pulling you down into the chair with him. there’s little time for you to process your surroundings before eren’s got your back flush against him, arms hooked around the back of your legs, bringing them back towards your chest. 

“you can take a little more for me, right?” he huffs, blindly navigating himself back into your hole before receiving extra aid from your fucked out self. 

truth be told, you’d take anything for eren—even when you’re crying from the sheer overstimulation you feel as he sloppily bounces you on his cock. you can only pray he cums quick, all before you truly start to get messy in his place of work. 

“give it to me ‘ren.” moaning sweetly, your hands make their way to the nape of his neck and tug at the hair found in your fist, “c’mon—give me what i came here for.” 

and eren…he doesn’t like to keep you waiting. 

“fuck—you’re just the most spoiled thing aren’t you?” he moans—truly, he knows there is no one to blame but himself. and when you give him pussy this good, what else can he do?

your heeled feet clack together as eren fucks up into you with little regard for decency. his breathing is erratic, either heavy or almost laboured and still. your name is stuck on his lips—rolling around on his tongue like candy—he says it like a chant, rambling on about how only you can get him like this. shallow groans and grunts as he stills in your cunt—making sure you feel every rope of him by keeping you right on him despite your squirms.

“feel full?”

you scoff playfully, moving from your position once eren lets you, only to see a coy grin settling on his face. he’s not expecting an answer—especially when you return his smile while tugging your dress back down your legs. his eyes follow your movements, watching as you gather the picnic basket, keys to your pink porsche, and lace thong within your hands before making your way back to him.

slotting the underwear into the pocket of his blazer jacket, you whisper, “you’d better be home early, mr. jaeger.”

[artytaeh]

for those who read a little of my panicking about how huge the original lorenzo berkshire headcanons post was— here it is: random hcs + lorenzo as your boyfriend.

this man is so carmen - lana del rey coded. i can't say if i love lorenzo berkshire or not, help.

(l.b.) RANDOM HEADCANONS :

⭑ a big fan of herbology. to avoid some stupid comments, lorenzo insists that it's out of fascination for dangerous plants, like the devil's snare (enzo thinks that they're disgusting); in reality, lorenzo really likes to see different flora, being knowledgeable of the romantic language of flowers. one of his favorite plants are the ones meant to be pleasant and pretty.

⭑ so petty. if lorenzo has some nemesis or a rivalry, he would be try to mess up the guy's relationship, by convincing his girlfriend to cheat with enzo. prefers to punch someone emotionally rather than a physical scar.

⭑ if he has a rival that happens to be a girl, well, lorenzo finds it somewhat attractive to banter with someone. might be a one-sided rivalry, since the girl might genuinely mean those comments, while lorenzo is trying to flirt with her and get an angry make out session.

⭑ the biggest gossiper around school. as i've said before, lorenzo knows all versions of the story; might be the type of person who's a friend to all, friend to none (the slytherin boys are an exception). if you want to know something, you'll go to lorenzo berkshire. if he doesn't know, he'll know by the end of the afternoon.

⭑ became a prefect during his sixth year, because he hated umbridge with a burning passion— even though he put on a polite smile to keep himself away from umbridge's radar. even though he was offered the position of prefect at fifth year, and even had some slytherins trying to convince him to accept, lorenzo only took that place as soon as umbridge was gone.

⭑ the biggest fred and george weasley's fan. always had an eye out to testify their pranks, and gave side-eyes to draco whenever he was rude to the twins. their biggest defender, and a bit embarrassing whenever he tried to speak to those 'gryffindor legends', as he calls them.

⭑ became more of a fanboy during his fifth year, and didn't shut up about the twins until the end of the year, praising them for the chaos they created before running away from hogwarts. lorenzo is telling this story to his kids, i promise you that.

⭑ would genuinely try to become friends with his friends' girlfriends— if theodore brought his girlfriend to hang out with their group, lorenzo (and blaise) would be the first one to welcome her into the group. he sympathizes that new groups can be scary.

⭑ attends to every party, nevermind the house hosting it; as a slytherin he'll always claim that the snakes throw the best ones, even though he really likes hufflepuff's ambience. lorenzo stopped going to gryffindor parties as soon as the weasley twins left hogwarts; lorenzo tolerates any kind of music, but fuck, gryffindor makes his ears bleed out.

⭑ isn't that competitive with quidditch matches; if anything, lorenzo is the wise voice that keeps mattheo from hitting his bat straight to another player's skull. instead of being furious that slytherin lost, lorenzo has the tendency to blame himself.

⭑ could and would enter a fight if necessary. one of lorenzo's reasons to swallow his temper (in front of everyone, at least) is to keep his reputation; the other one is to keep his handsome face intact of cuts and bruises.

⭑ frequently excuses his worst actions by convincing himself that he'll change for the better, as soon as he meets the one. lorenzo would never hurt someone that badly — (maybe he's just as selfish as his mother, bellatrix lestrange, inheriting her tendency to abandon everything to pursue her own happiness. as soon as they she feels fulfilled, who cares if others get hurt?) — right? all of his bad habits, all of the things he's done; it will all be gone as soon as he's with her.

and since we're mentioning the one, lorenzo grows anxious in relationships; he contemplates whether this girl is his true match, and becomes paranoid that he's wasting his time on her, instead of the girl meant for him. to decide, lorenzo usually does a list of pros and cons about this recent fling— he'll decide to give it a week or longer than that, after considering what he wrote.

⭑ criminally pretty. the slytherin boys made a scientific study about this infuriating talent of berkshire's heir: managing to look good in any. possible. photo. no matter if lorenzo tries to look silly— he ends up looking good. so unbothered if people take photos of him or keep silly ones; enzo knows that he looks good.

⭑ 'liquid smooth - mitski' vibes. lorenzo was born to be pretty— if he's no longer pretty, if he's not stunning, or not feeling like himself that day, he will have a breakdown and throw some things around the room. for all his masks, lorenzo wonders if the only genuinely good thing about him is his appearance— if he loses it too, what will be of him, with nothing else to love about lorenzo berkshire?

⭑ so unlucky with animals— care of magical creatures isn't the best subject for him, since they seem to smell lorenzo's bullshit miles away. there was this one ravenclaw's cat that almost clawed at his cheek, when he tried to kiss his owner... well. as much as lorenzo tries to win them over, cats give him a specially hard time.

⭑ that being said, lorenzo only has an owl as a pet, specifically to be able to send letters. even so, lorenzo makes sure that she (he named her artemis) is well groomed and taken care of. he always has treats for artemis back on his dorm room, to reward her hard work.

⭑ one of his hobbies is exploring muggle london, and other cities mainly occupied by muggles. lorenzo genuinely believes that the wizardy world is much more interesting, however, he likes to experience muggleborn's life as well— lorenzo is genuinely interested on their method of living.

⭑ his favorite places at hogsmeade are honeyduke's and zonko's; there is yet to be a hogsmeade trip where lorenzo doesn't bring some honeyduke's treats with him— he usually brings extra for his friends, if he notices that one of them is having a hard time.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

(n.) L. BERSKHIRE : as your boyfriend :

this man has experience and a big heart that wants to love, fueled by his (sometimes, extreme) expectations of falling in love.

gives gifts 'just because'; the berkshire family is wealthy, and lorenzo genuinely never had to look at a price tag before; he'll do it even less for the sake of your smile.

however, lorenzo finds more value in handmade gifts, perceiving them as having more emotional value and effort, than something bought at a store. in random days, he'll gift you something that reminded him of you— in special dates, like month anniversaries or your birthday, lorenzo will work on handmade gifts.

some examples are: love letters, bracelets that he got younger years teaching him how to make, photo albums of the two of you, etc.

would have matching plushies with you, though. lorenzo would try to find little outfits for them, specially wedding themed ones; if you happen to be upset with lorenzo, he'll take his plushie to your dorm, and put the two of them on top of your bed, ''kissing.''

not the type of guy that would yell and start a brawl, should someone flirt with you in front of him. lorenzo will open a smile, and say: 'i know, right? my girl is so attractive.' in a way that might leave the other guy embarrassed.

... the thing is, as soon as you're back to your dorm room, and lorenzo catches him alone— mysteriously, it seems like he was a bit unlucky. infirmary wing, unable to go to classes? lorenzo wonders what happened to him. specially because the guy wouldn't be an idiot to land lorenzo in detention, much less try his luck with you.

loud lover that feels no shame about his relationship with you. lorenzo is a romantic person, treating you how he seeks to receive the same treatment from you: he wants you to be a proud girlfriend, the same way he is, showing off his beloved, letting the whole school (and even scotland) know that you're his.

is very attentive about dates. lorenzo knows that life as student of hogwarts is never uneventful, and that your responsibilities grow with age. even so, lorenzo makes sure that you two have a full-on date, with dressing up + planned out activity, at least three times per month. it's a sacred rule to him, that allows your relationship to remain romantic and interesting for both of you.

some of the petnames that i see lorenzo using for his loved one are: sunshine, sweetheart, angel, pretty girl. only ever uses your name when it's a serious conversation or an argument.

heavy gossiper. so mean about it too— would laugh at other people's unfortunes then make a serious face and nod as soon as you reprimand him. he's still laughing inside. as soon as he gets new source of gossip, lorenzo is running to find you.

study dates don't work with the two of you. if he gets a glimpse of you, lorenzo gives up on reading whatever annotations to look at you with heart eyes.

if there's someone you don't like, lorenzo will probably find some bad stuff about that person— just in case, you know? if there's ever an argument between you and them, you already have ammunition to strike them with! lowkey loves badmouthing other people with you. it's his favorite thing to do.

has so many friends that are girls, however, doesn't give them any chance; lorenzo is aware of his reputation and that his many flings might leave you insecure. would genuinely distance himself from a girl for the sake of your relationship with him, or change his behavior near her.

gets nervous when you watch his quidditch practices; lorenzo finds it harder to focus on defending quaffles, knowing that you're there to watch him. will ask you what you thought about the practice— discreetly fishes for some praises here and there.

whenever there are slytherin matches that he plays as a keeper, lorenzo and you will match outfits; it doesn't matter if you're not a slytherin, you will wear slytherin's colors on that day, with lorenzo's jumper on your body and his surname, berkshire, written on your back.

speaking of matching outfits: loves to match with you, or at least wear the same palettes, at least whenever the two of you go for a date together. it's a simple yet cute way to show that hey! we're together! and a happy fashionable couple!

a really good person to go shopping with. not only does he cover any cost without looking at the price tag (lorenzo doesn't want you to spend your own money, since there's no reason to) but he's really good at giving opinions. as i said before, this man dresses so well, so he has a good sense of fashion and an instinct over what works, and doesn't work. what colors favor you, and others that don't you justice.

if you're cold, and it happens to be a chilly weather outside, instead of giving you his warm clothes for the rest of the date, lorenzo will temporarily give you his coat and seek for any clothing store to buy you something warm.

l : sunshine, are you cold? come on, let's buy you a pretty coat. warmer, preferably.

🗯️ : can i choose a scarf for you?

l : of course, sweetheart. let's see if we can find a scarf that matches this new coat of yours.

this becomes a fun game; if one of you buys something, then you'll get something matching for the other. not only does it had to your collection of couple-matching-clothes, but also feeds his large wardrobe. dating lorenzo berkshire comes with extra luggage to pack new clothes, i promise you.

so patient when you're getting ready. lorenzo doesn't mind waiting longer until you're satisfied with your outfit— he knows the struggle, believe me. will help you and give you some opinions (if, and only if you ask.), not wanting you to stress over not feeling pretty enough. even if you had specific hours to leave the castle, enzo knows that any reservation can be postponed, so there's no stress on his part.

passive-aggressive. you know the term, right? unfortunately this is how conflict starts on your relationship; something deeply bothers lorenzo, he gatekeeps it to had some bitterness to his heart, then verbalizes that something is wrong by an unrelated comment.

has a hard time understanding when he's in the wrong, even though he will gladly apologize first to be in good terms with you — even if lorenzo isn't truly apologetic. he priorizes a good ambience in your relationship, than having the world knowing that he won a stupid argument.

kisses you silly. this man is so affectionate; sometimes you're just talking about whatever, and lorenzo will dissociate as he looks at you, cupping your face before peppering many kisses to you cheeks, nose, jaw, chin, lips— anywhere.

lorenzo prefers slow kisses, enjoying the moment without a rush, teasing you by giving you some glances and breaking off the kiss to smile, before tempting your lower lip. couldn't care less if it's in the middle of a hallway, or behind a tree in the courtyard— let people see that you're two teenagers in love!

speaking of physical contact: lorenzo is a bit picky over who touches his hair (he spends a stupid amount of time to make sure that it looks pretty), but loves it when you fix his hair for him. doesn't mind it if you twirl his hair between your fingers, he thinks that's sweet.

loves to hold hands, yet you'll find him walking around with his arm around your shoulders more frequently. also likes to have you sat on his lap, rests his chin on your shoulder and will have you there, even when he's spending time / chatting with his slytherin friends.

if someone's hostile with you, you have five counted seconds to defend yourself before lorenzo jumps to your defense. did someone point out an insecurity of yours? lorenzo is making a nonstop list of things that that person should be insecure about. won't apologize either— they're the one who started!

loves cliches. if you don't know how to dance, lorenzo will teach you during some sleepover to his dorm; helps you learn the steps by having your feet on top of his own, arm around your waist, hand caressing yours as you two giggle and tease each other for your clumsy first try.

would be so pouty and even pushy, if you don't feel like going to parties with him. lorenzo adores going to those— genuinely because he has fun, nevermind how chaotic it can get. besides, he wants to brag about his girlfriend! :( might suggest that you're embarrassed of him, and that is the reason why you'd rather stay in your dorm. (dramatic much, berkshire?)

walks you to classes, only failing to do so if he has classes with professors like snape, on the other end of the castle. this man is punctual, leaving slytherin's dorms early to walk you to the great hall, having breakfast together without a hurry, then walking to class while holding hands. genuinely gets better scores in assignments of classes that you don't have together— he gets distracted if you're there!

now that we're mentioning cliches, there was this one time in october, that you decided to spend the afternoon in the library to study, since it was raining outside. lorenzo came to your side, closed your books and gently took them from your grasp— then, he tugged you to follow him, lifting you by the waist to get the two of you under the rain.

lorenzo spins you on his arms; now that both are soaked with the cold rain, he makes a curtsy, asking you to dance, 'would you conceed me the honor of dancing with you, my lady?' only to kiss your hand, before tugging you closer to him, being that sickeningly sweet couple that brings jealousy to others.

not to your surprise, some other pairs did join you in the courtyard, dancing and jumping over the wet floor.

to mcgonagall's disapproval, she had way too many students skipping next day's classes for being sick.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

౨ৎ the boys, the girls, they all like ▉, he laughs ♡ ͡

like god, his mind's like a diamond, he's still shining . . .

🪻 ; . . . fandom : harry potter.

— lorenzo berkshire is a topic that has been on my drafts during these last days. general headcanons of lorenzo were supposed to be posted first, but i'm still working on them </3 so i plan to post it tomorrow. 🗯️ tysm for reading. ♡

the headers + gifs + icons aren't mine. credits to the respective creators ! 🌷

[silaswritesthings]

“He will do very well, I can tell, I can tell.”

Summary: Your newfound friendship with Zayne is flourishing, the only problem is that he hasn’t reached out to you after your last hangout… what shall you do? You will take matters into your own very capable hands. 

Starring: Zayne

Genre: Romance

Warnings: Reader has a somewhat distinctive personality

Author’s note: I’m in agonising psychological pain so here’s a cute little Zayne fic to satiate my pain <3 Zayne is so lana del rey coded and I was listening to 'national anthem' while writing this. Reblogs, comments and new followers are always welcome.

Word count: 845

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Nobody gave you the time of day like Dr. Zayne did, and this was very problematic. He seemed to have his entire life in order, he was young, rich, successful. He was poised, a lily pond in a royal garden. And you? You were a mess, to say the list. A hot mess, but a mess nevertheless. 

You looked away from your reflection in the mirror in Zayne’s office, you were admiring yourself as you waited for said doctor while he was away. He sighed your name, he sounded hopeless- tired even. 

“Who let you in and what are you doing here?” He asked, but his lack of enthusiasm neither deterred you nor your dazzling smile. 

“Dr. Zayne” You began, “I knew you missed me dearly and were too shy to reach out first so I did the honours.”

“...” 

“You know your office would look much better with a bit of personalisation.” You offered in the face of his silence. 

“...” 

“Look! At! This!!” You pulled out a framed picture of the both of you from your bag and held it out proudly. You were the one who took it the previous week when you had come across Zayne while dragging yourself home in dejection after a failed job interview. Noticing your odd lack of energy, Zayne offered to buy you a treat as you were headed in the same direction and that happened to be exactly what you needed to lift your spirits. By the time you both departed, you were back to your usual self and since you expected Zayne to refuse to take any pictures with you during your hangout, you took one while his back faced you- as shown on the framed picture in your hands. 

Zayne pinched the bridge of his nose. “I suppose this is my fault for feeding a stray cat when it is strictly known not to do so.” 

You chuckled, faltering just a bit. “If you mind my company I could always lea-” 

“You’re already here, it’s too late to regret your actions now.” He cut you off with finality in his voice before he walked over to you to take the framed picture from your grasp. He mumbled, “How did you even manage to take this,” before placing it gently on his desk then taking a seat. 

You blinked at him, feeling a little helpless. Zayne couldn’t fight his amusement. 

“Speechless?” 

The corners of your lips quirked up, “I just didn’t expect you to accept my gift so easily, Dr. Zayne.” You took a seat across from him, placing your bag on the ground by your feet. 

“Just ‘Zayne’ is fine.” 

“‘Dr. Zayne’ has more allure to it, don’t you think?” You said, and your eyebrows raised in a teasing manner. Zayne was not impressed. 

“What other business do you have with me?” He ignored your earlier remark. 

“I just wanted to see you.” You admitted, sheepish and not knowing what else to say. Zayne was a pretty smart guy, you felt you couldn’t easily get away with beating around the bush or lying about your intentions. He did not seem particularly disappointed in your confession and you took it as a positive thing. Your smile persisted. 

“I cannot say I don’t share the same sentiments.” 

“Then I was right about you being too shy to reach out first?” You began, surprised. 

“Of course not, I was just particularly busy as of late.” He was straight to the point. 

Your smile turned from confident to awkward in a moment. “Then let me not hold you off from work-” You picked up your bag then glanced at Zayne, “Just don’t forget to find time to reach out or we will find ourselves in this situation but only worse.” 

Zayne’s eyebrows furrowed. “How?” 

“You see,” You began, “I only managed to get into your office today because I know the receptionist very well. A little bit of bribing can go a long way. I’ll make sure to bring your favourite pastries and lock us in your office until we’ve had a meaningful conversation over tea.” 

Zayne chuckled but your expression was completely nonchalant. Seeing this, concern flashed across his expression. “You’re not serious… are you?” 

You smiled teasingly. “Would you like to find out, Dr. Zayne?” 

He shook his head in disbelief. “There won’t be a need for that. You are free this weekend, yes?” He stood up and you followed suit, Zayne then moved to escort you out. 

He held his hand out for you to take, and after pausing in awe for a moment, you took it. “Yes, why?” 

“There’s a restaurant I've been wanting to go to but it would be odd if I went alone.” He explained as he led you out of his office. 

“Oh okay.” 

When you reached the exit of the hospital, only then did you register his words. “Wait, Zayne did you just ask me out on a-”

He was already gone. You stood dumbfounded outside the hospital, staring at the closed entrance as heat slowly travelled to your cheeks. 

[gothghostiie]

Listen: 141 + more with a reader who has massive daddy issues

aka me lol

also like,, this is based on my own experience so yea👍🏻

Ghost

I feel like Ghost would kind of 'refuse' to properly deal with it. Would definitely do little things like holding your hand while crossing the street, calling you little one, soft shit like that. Also occasional, soft praise.

It's one "Good job, love." from him and you will melt I promise.

but gives you so much fucking reassurance. like, if you have abandonment issues, he'll singlehandedly heal them.

Soap

Definitely jokes around about it. Will regularly randomly play daddy issues by the neighbourhood and thinks its hilarious. Will call you a good girl/boy/etc every chance he fucking gets.

Definitely tries to deal/help in a very jokey manner, like overly baby talking you and stuff like that - promise he means well

he can also be serious if needed tho

Gaz

Doesn't think much about it to be honest, will keep treating you as he always did. definitely offers comfort if you need it tho - depending on your and his mood he will joke about it with you.

like if you initiate a joke he will definitely go in on it with you, he's genuinely happy to help you cope with humor

Price

good lord. where do I start.

He'll heal it without even trying. Hold his hand, sit on his lap, cuddle up to him - he'll happily oblige. Whether he knows or not he just takes a leading/nurturing role - it's natural to him.

All the praise too, good lord. "That's my girl/boy/etc.", "Just like that, good job.", "I'm so proud of you sweetheart" I'll literally combust

Alejandro

Naturally kinda same as Price but different yk?? kind of stricter but soso loving and nurturing.

if you tell him about your daddy issues his heart breaks for you, he'll just hold you tightly and give you a gentle forehead kiss (even if you tell him its okay, he insists its it's in fact not okay)

Will try his best to help you cope, genuinely sweet about it

Rudy

Where to even start. Will naturally heal your daddy issues with his kindness and understanding.

he does so many sweet little gestures that make you feel that kind of way yk???

like putting his hand on the small of your back or on your neck, holding your face gently, forehead kisses,,, ahhhh

K��nig

Also feels really sorry for you, no matter if you reasure him its okay.

will ask if he can help somehow and just does his best to be there for you honestly.

Unhealthy amount of pet names but it's so fucking amazing trust me

also bear hugs that will make you feel like a fucking kid in his arms because that man his humongous fucking look at him

will let you hold his fingers instead of his hand

Graves

Excuse me while I scream

Look at him. hes so lana del rey old money coded I dont even know where to start.

hand on your thigh while driving, calling you all the sweetest pet names "darlin', sweetheart, babydoll,,,,", those stern little looks that make you melt, all the good shit. also constantly being called a good girl/boy/etc

will let you call him daddy

[leviathanspain]

he’s got that fire

doctor strange x reader

synopsis: you have an unusual relationship with your mentor/boss, and when he asks you to be his date to an important awards ceremony, you can’t help but relish in his fire

a/n: stephen strange is so lana del rey coded omff, so heavy sad girl vibes. i haven’t proofread and it’s longer than any of my usual works i think.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

he always told you how much of a gift it was for him to choose you. it was always like that, he chose you, like some god. that he had made your life better by choosing to be in it. he repeated that to you whenever you became ‘insubordinate’.

you never really argued though. you knew that it wasn’t ever the right thing to do, especially with someone so arrogant, you’d be wasting a breath and your career if you did so.

but you learned to live with his narcissism, he was the best surgeon in new york, and arguably in the states. his credentials are why you’ve never argued back.

this day was not any different.

“i said that we should do the shunt.” stephen stared at the films. he was cross, had been since the morning and was now profoundly irritated but hadn’t stated why.

“you’ll kill him. think about it, what if we do another approach in a few days? give him enough recovery time so that when you actually do the surgery, he won’t die on the table.” you explained your decision, but stephen had already stopped listening. he was shaking his head, clearly none of this was going as he wanted.

“stephen-“ you closed your eyes, already preparing to apologize for undermining him, when he shushed you. “i-“ you scoffed but didn’t say anything else.

“we’ll do it tomorrow. it’ll be the first surgery of the day, i want it to go well.” he recycled your idea, and turned around with a nod, “get me dr. palmer. i want her to be in there.” he demanded.

you looked up from your notepad and raised your eyebrows, “you don’t want me in there?” you were his student, his resident, you were assigned to scrub in on all his surgeries-

“no. i want dr. palmer. that is final.” he stalked over to the door, pulling it open and letting it shut behind him without another word.

you couldn’t lie and say you were disappointed. you had hoped that after last night, that you and stephen had finally come to an understanding. but this had just proved that he wasn’t capable of listening. and that he was still hopelessly in love with christine.

“dr. l/n.” a nurse had stopped you as you walked around, moping about stephen kicking you off the surgery. she handed you some papers, “dr. strange has requested you in his office. and he needs to sign these papers for the patient in 203.” she smiled thinly, clearly making you do part of her job.

you shoved the papers back, and stalked off.

you had swiped a salad on your way to his office. you had learned from the first few times that stephen requesting you in his office was like attending a lecture, all about him. and you wouldn’t starve if you were going to be stuck there.

you knocked on the door once before pushing it open. stephen was sitting at his desk, an untouched piece of salmon and greens was in front of him. he didn’t even look up when you walked in.

“what’s up?” you set your salad down, including some of your patient files. you took the chair opposite of his, and cracked open your salad.

“i hate it when you speak like that.” his eyes remained glued to his computer screen.

you looked up, rolling your eyes, “one of the nurses said you requested me? might i inquire why or are we just going to stare at each other and pretend like last night didn’t happen?” you were angry.

he could tell.

your voice shook with a twinge of rage that only he could be the reason behind. it was always the same twinge, it was the same twinge earlier when he had requested christine for the surgery.

his eyes broke away from the screen for the first time since you had walked in. he stared at you, as if trying to calculate this moment in his head. he paused, silence taking the both of you as he stared into your eyes.

“i- i didn’t want to have to do this-“ stephen sighed, “we’re at work. when we’re working, i’m your boss, you are my resident. we can talk about us, later.” he sounded so professional that if you didn’t know him so well, you’d probably throw yourself on the floor and beg for forgiveness.

“just tell me why you picked her over me. that’s all i want to know.” you challenged, your eyes boring into his.

stephen scoffed, “i chose dr. palmer because she is a more experienced surgeon than you. you would just-“

“fuck it up?” you finished his sentence and rolled your eyes, “if you don’t have faith in me than that is a reflection on your abilities as a teacher, as my mentor.”

“no it is not. because if you actually did what you were told, you would be on your way to making an incredible surgeon. but you aren’t. you’d be mediocre at best.” his words cut hard. he hadn’t blinked, and you didn’t dare to look away.

it was weakness to look away. you had to be able to continue to stare him down, if he was going to listen to you.

“i do exactly as i am told. last night was the perfect example of that, wasn’t it, doctor?” you raised your eyebrows and incredibly, stephen broke the eye contact.

“get out.” he returned his gaze to the computer screen and you were taken aback.

“what-“

“i said get out. get your shit, and get the fuck out of my office.” stephen didn’t hesitate to yell at you, which made you want to cringe.

you stood up, sighing as you collected your things, you had almost made it out when you stopped, hand lingering on the doorknob, “this is why christine left you. you’re a fucking asshole, and no one will ever love you.” he had turned, but you had already left before he could yell anymore.

you knew you shouldn’t have slept with your boss. clearly, as you sat at home instead of scrubbing in on a surgery, that it wasn’t working out well.

you had left the hospital after your little outburst with stephen. your pager kept going off, but you had ignored it since they were all from, unsurprisingly, stephen. you tossed and turned in your bed, not having the energy to do anything else.

he had ruined you. he had ruined you from the moment you had entered the program.

but yesterday, he had really ruined you. he ruined whatever perfect balance the two of you had. you knew him, and he knew you, but now you were too involved, too emotionally attached.

you couldn’t even curb your jealously. it wasn’t about your abilities or her abilities, it was the fact that he wanted his ex-girlfriend to scrub in with him, and not you.

stephen stared at the wall. he had been staring at it since you left. assumingely, you had gone home. all of his pages went unanswered, and he knew that he had really, really fucked up.

there was a knock at the door and stephen turned, “come in.” he had hoped it was you, but he never had to welcome you in. you’d always just waltz in, carrying food and random case notes.

“i’ve been looking for your resident all day. i heard she’s the expert on the case?” dr. palmer had graced his office for the first time in a long time. stephen didn’t have the best poker face when it came to surprises, and he couldn’t hide this one.

“uh-“ he laughed slightly, blinking as he focused on her, “yeah she wasn’t feeling well today. she might’ve gone home but the case is at the nurses station.” he didn’t smile, he never did at her anymore.

christine nodded, “hey, stephen.. why did you ask me to scrub in with you? if you already have a perfectly capable resident-“

stephen shook his head, “i- i just wanted you there. i don’t know why- but,” he shrugged, “i cant trust residents, can i?”

christine laughed awkwardly, her attempt at trying to get out of this was already shot to the ground, so she just exited.

you wanted to quit. you had spent all night practicing how you’d do it. you were going to go to his office, set the resignation letter down on his desk and walk out without saying anything.

but you couldn’t even gather the courage to print your letter out. you had left the paper jammed in your printer, half inked, as you left to go to work.

“good morning.” stephen greeted you at the nurses station. it was time for the early mornings rounds. you nodded, but didn’t say anything as you walked off.

stephen chose to ignore the fact that you ignored him, and walked after you, “i am going to need any and all case notes on that patient today.”

you scoffed, “why? you never read any of my notes.” which was true. he always thought your notes were just annoying little scribbles.

“they’re for dr. palmer. she requested that she get any notes relevant to the surgery today.” he responded.

“oh, okay. i’ll drop it off at your office along with all the respect i have for you.” and you turned a corner, leaving him in the dust for rounds.

you were sitting in the cafeteria, head in your hands over your tray of food, you hadn’t even noticed the people gathering around your table.

“dude- long time no see.” you looked up to see one of your old friends that you had met during your internship, thalia. before all of this, before him.

you smiled, a real one in a long time, “we’re residents. we’re lucky if we even have clean underwear.” you joked. she smiled, “i heard you’ve been working closely with dr. strange. how is it? he’s got the hands of a god, you know.”

you blinked, almost happy to be able to get through a conversation that wasn’t plagued by stephen strange.

you blinked, hesitating with your words until it all came spilling out. “we slept together. multiple times.”

thalia’s jaw fell, practically hit the floor as she stared at you in disbelief.

“and we’re fighting right now so i’d really love it if we could just move on-“

“dr. l/n.” you turned at the sound of that voice, abruptly ending your conversation with your friend, you couldn’t hide the shock on your face to see stephen standing in front of you.

he never came to the cafeteria. he was always too good for it, and it was evident that even just his presence was shocking enough. all other conversations seemed to quiet down to complete silence.

“stephen-“

“you’re scrubbing in. dr. palmer has another surgery that will run late so-“

you nodded, “understood.”

your unwillingness to say anything more was evident, and stephen would not open that can of shit right in the middle of the cafeteria for all the underachievers to hear.

he nodded, leaving as quickly as he came.

you stared at his hands moving gracefully in the patient. he was a god, it was clear in his work, that’s why he was the way he was.

“suction.” you immediately brought down the tube in your hands, sucking at whatever he pointed at.

his glove caught on the tube, the air trying to suck up his finger. he pulled back, just as you pulled the tube away.

“oh my go-“ you stared at the tube, and turned back to stephen. he raised his eyebrows just as you dipped your head back to laugh.

stephen looked around at the rest of the staff but didn’t say anything as you finished laughing by yourself.

you let out a sigh, your laugh turned into a quiet chuckle, even as you met his eyes, you still couldn’t stifle it.

“i’m sorry.” you apologized, “that was unprofessional and it won’t happen again.” you blinked, head bowed as you waited.

but stephen didn’t say anything, he looked up to stare at you once before going back to work.

stephen asked you to meet him in his office after the surgery. you had to practically throw yourself up each step to get to his office, exhaustion weighing heavy on your bones.

you didn’t even bother to knock this time, you just pushed the door open and dragged yourself in. stephen was sitting at his desk, but he had the case files in his hands.

he looked up once he saw you, and you took a seat across his desk. “you wanted to see me?”

stephen nodded, throwing down the case files, “this is good stuff.”

you blinked. hardly did stephen ever freely give compliments. you had thought you were the worst resident until he had called you “okay” once during an assistive surgery. another surgeon had said that meant you were good.

clearly stephen knew what you were thinking, and he grimaced, “christine suggested i read them.” you hummed in acknowledgment, “and she also told me to apologize.”

you looked at him expectantly, eyebrows raised.

“i am sorry for not calling you, or texting you after..” he mumbled off, “and im sorry for kicking you out of my office, it was rude and i am so-“ he faltered and you sighed, standing up.

he watched as you strode over to his side of the desk, hips swaying in your tight scrub pants. your hand gripped the leather of his desk chair, pulling it back as you positioned yourself on his lap.

stephen watched you carefully, watched as you dragged a finger across his cheek, smiling coyly, “i accept your apology, stephen.” you hummed again, “and i am sorry for what i said.”

stephen held your hips, his large hands tightening around them so you wouldn’t fall. “it’s okay. it’s okay.” he assured you, hands moving to caress your neck, he planted a kiss on your collarbone, just underneath your scrub top.

you shivered at the contact, but you were eager for more. stephen was hardly affectionate, especially at work. it made you wonder how it all even happened in the first place, as he was always so clipped with you.

stephen kissed your neck, sucking hard on the skin that you were sure they’d bruise.

“come away with me.” he whispered, “put on a slutty little dress and come away with me tonight.” he gripped hard on your hips, and you laughed, “what? where?” you were surprised he hadn’t mentioned anything about a trip to you.

“i was nominated for an award in california. the ceremony is tonight and i was hoping that you would accompany me.” he didn’t smile, but there was a hint of one.

“publicly?” you drew your brows together, hand on his shoulder as you looked into his eyes.

“well- people would only assume that we work together. but yes, publicly.” he nodded, and you felt your stomach drop to your ass.

“uh-“ you scoffed, “yeah. sure, i’ll go.” you couldn’t hide your hesitation. the last person that stephen ‘worked’ with was christine, and people would notice.

stephen nodded, “okay. i’ll see you tonight, kid.” his lips brushed past yours as he planted a kiss on your cheek. “tease.” you commented, gripping his shoulder as you hopped off his lap.

“i’m the tease?” he grabbed your wrist and you looked at the tent in his pants. a laugh escaped you, even as you strutted out of his office.

waiting was unbearable. you found yourself glancing over to the clock hoping hours would roll by until it finally did, and you were gathering your things to head home and prepare.

stephen said that he had arranged a private flight to california, and that he and a driver would be at your apartment by 8.

“are you out of here?” thalia, standing at the end of the hallway, broke you out of your thoughts, “i heard you’re going with strange to that ceremony?” you nodded, as you met her at the end, you couldn’t hide your smile.

she nudged you, smiling, “aw im so happy for you. especially after we all thought dr. palmer would go with him.”

your smile fell immediately and you stepped back, “what? why would you think that?”

thalia shrugged, “because he asked her. i heard them in the attendings lounge, when i had gone to find my-“ she continued to ramble on but you had stopped listening. you walked past her and slammed the double doors open. she called your name, but you were already in the wind.

all you could do was practically run out of the hospital, dashing past the front desk and out the doors. you panted, feeling the ache of a sob in your chest. you walked now, breaking down in tears on the way to your car.

how could he have asked her, before he asked you?

you realized you couldn’t go home now. stephen would be there soon to pick you up, to take you to an event that you weren’t supposed to be at.

stephen paced the apartment lobby. your doorman said that he hadn’t seen you since the previous morning. your car hadn’t been parked in its designated spot either, evident of your absence.

“fuck..” stephen muttered, his fingers breezing on the screen as he tried to call you. thing was, you always called him, never the other way around so he couldn’t remember the numbers to even dial.

he scrolled through his call list but it was a sea of unknown numbers, and stephen didn’t remember the last time you called.

stephen walked back up to the doorman, “can i go look in her apartment?” the doorman raised his eyebrows and stephen sighed, “i’m her bo-“ he paused, unsure of what to call himself, he grimaced, “i am her colleague. i just-“

the doorman nodded, there was a look on his face as he looked at stephen up and down, “yeah..i know who you are.” as he spoke stephen realized that it was disdain that this doorman held for him.

but as the doorman let stephen up, he didn’t even care how you talked about him, it was that you talked about him at all.

the apartment was messy. of course it was. you were a fifth year resident who clocked in more hours at the hospital than all the combined time spent at home. but it wasn’t dirty messy, it was a barely moved in, hadn’t had time to unpack messy. the stack of broken down boxes in the corner was evident. he pursed his lips at the sight, but continued in.

your bedroom was close, he could see the edge of a mattress through a cracked door. it was barren, besides the bed and dresser, it was filled with packing peanuts and a box of hospital scrubs. he hummed, stepping out and deciding to check out the next room.

he pushed the door open, revealing a very organized office space. there was a long desk along the wall, a chalk board took up the entirety of another wall, medical scrawl was all over it. pictures of anatomy were hung up, including unknown jars of specimen.

stephen was more than intrigued, he was impressed. the rest of your apartment was messy, barely lived in, but your work was your life, and your office was clear of that.

he trailed towards the desk, a dim light shone from your desktop, and he nudged the computer mouse to turn it on.

dear stephen,

i am writing to formally tender my resignation as a fifth year resident under your tutelage…

there was a mix of worry in his mind that he hadn’t felt in a long time. the rest of the letter was just professional bullshit on your decision to leave him. you weren’t leaving the hospital, you were leaving him.

but he had to get the truth.

it had been hours since the award ceremony. hours since it would’ve started at least, looking at the clock, you knew that it was time to return home.

stephen probably didn’t even make it to your house, since you hadn’t received a single call. the area you had gone to, outside of the city, still got decent cell service, so you knew he didn’t even try.

you no longer felt the rage of being overlooked in your career and in your relationship, all you felt was the regret of believing him. you tightly gripped your steering wheel, and silently drove back home.

stephen waited silently. he had looked through your pantry, trying to find something to snack on until your arrival; he knew he’d be there all night.

but didn’t take anything, deciding that he wasn’t even hungry, just restless and angry, and as soon as he heard keys jingle at the door, he stood up.

“stephen.” you were breathless, your hand was clutching hard on your doorknob as your bag hit the floor. it landed upright, but you pushed it to the side with your foot. stephen didn’t move, watching as you cautiously stepped forward.

“what- what are you doing here?” you swallowed thickly, hands feeling clammy against the rough fabric of your hospital scrubs. you looked at him up and down, eyes lingering on his sharp suit, hands positioned at his side. “i’ve been waiting for you.”

you nodded, “i’m sorry if you missed the award-“ you felt your voice shake, afraid of how this confrontation would proceed. you kept your eyes glued to the floor, afraid to look again into his striking face.

“you think this is about that?” he scoffed incredulously, his eyes narrowing at you. you could just feel the edge in his voice, it was the same edge that had haunted you nearly all of your residency.

he took your silence for shame, and continued, “i found your letter. when were you planning to hand it in? hmm? after you assisted on a major surgery or after i was presented with an award with you by my side-“ it was your turn to scoff. you looked up, walking towards him at a speed that had you now nose to nose.

“you think that i’m proud of being second choice?” your voice broke, and you sighed, knowing just exactly how this would end. stephen’s face fell, and he looked speechless at your emotion.

you inhaled a breath, trying to calm yourself down as you fought to say your piece. “i- i had to hear from thalia, of all people, that you had originally asked christine to be your date tonight.” you felt a tear fall down your cheek, “you come in here, into my apartment, look through my things and accuse me of what? riding your success?” you spat, your voice still wavered, but you carried on, “i’ve had to be second to the greatest love of your life. and i will not continue to be.” you sniffled, looking at stephen right in the eye, “i quit. i don’t ever want to see you or that fucking hospital again.”

stephen was absolutely wordless. he didn’t even know what to do with it, and as he watched you strut down the hallway to your bedroom, he found himself following you.

you sniffled, and noticed he was right on your trail, “get out, stephen. get-“

he stayed firmly planted, and instead raised his eyebrows, “christine is not the greatest love of my life- i thought she was.” you rolled your eyes, not wanting to hear his speech, “until i met you. and i’ve been selfish. i’ve been keeping you from your potential. so you should quit, be a better surgeon under someone who-“ he faltered, and his features softened, “who doesn’t love you.”

you felt your face get hot as you tried to speak. stephen strange just told you he loved you…

“it’s okay.” he stepped forward and you found yourself stepping into his embrace. he kissed your forehead, “it’s okay.” he repeated, assuring that it in fact, was okay.

as bittersweet the moment was, you had to release all of the truth, even if you knew it would only hurt him more.

“i love you, too.” you whispered, hands gathering up his suit fabric, gripping it tightly you didn’t want to let go. but he didn’t say anything, the two of you continued to hug until you practically fell asleep in his arms.

[theesirenteller]

HE MAKES ME THINK OF THROUGHFARE BY ETHAL CAIN !!

[torialefay]

this may be kind of an unusual question so feel free to ignore it, but i tend to make lots of links and associations of concepts/situations with music and stuff and so i'm curious, what are some songs that you'd pick to describe what it would be like to be in a relationship with chan? or some songs that suit his placements (for example, i think work song by hozier is peak scorpio venus devotion level haha)

okay i LOVE this question!!! (also currently in a hozier phase so i love that you brought up that song.) if you have any other recs, pls send them my way, but here's some that had come to mind:

✨🎶 Dating Channie Sounds Like 🎶✨

the friendship/relationship stage:

i don't think it's just me who thinks that chan is gonna have to know & be friends with someone before progressing to a romantic relationship. i think he could definitely pine over someone for a while and be too scared to say anything. and then if something DID happen between the two of you, you would have to hide it for a pretty longgg time. that's why i chose these 2 songs :)

• human - dodie ft tom walker ✨

• hush hush - the band camino✨

actual committed relationship phase:

• medicine - royal sugar ✨ this gives me such new-relationship, pent-up sexual tension vibes. this man would not be able to stop thinking ab you sexually when you first get together... 100%. sex w/ him is likely initially more fun, like in this song, but once he gets to KNOW you, it gets wayyyy deeper

• tenerife sea - ed sheeran ✨ this one might be a cop-out bc chan has sung it multiple times on channie's room but i couldn't NOT put it in here. moving past the superficial, this song paints such a new, mesmerizing love story. you are elated you finally found your person.

• mess is mine - vance joy ✨ i'm sorry but the lyrics "this body is yours and mine" & "now your mess is mine" is so channie-coded to me. he is offering himself up to you. anything you want from him is yours & he will take on all of your hurt

• fire and the flood AND lay it on me - vance joy ✨ these were just so all-encompassing, i couldn't not include them. you become the most consuming part of his life. he quite literally can't go a day without thinking of you and how fucking attached his heart is to yours. you are his everything and only thing. "i always feel you in my blood" & "your love's always finding me out."

• until you - ahi ✨ this song isn't as relevant NOW, but it really throws me into a pre-debut channie love story tbh. bless his little heart 💔 i couldn't NOT include it bc it's still beautiful.

• anointed - miguel AND religion - lana del rey ✨ these have the same purpose, so i'm including them together. when channie is truly in love with you, he won't fuck you- he fucking worships you. well, you worship each other in the bedroom. and i feel this a million times. he needs something deeper and he needs to feel consumed in it. praising each other until you physically have no stamina left in your body.

tough times/drifting apart/ fights:

sorry but i had to add a couple of angsty songs that i could totally see playing out in a relationship w channie </3

• fleeting love - royal sugar ✨ i 100% see this song being about your struggles with a long distance relationship. not being able to work anything out, but also not being able to let them go. "in the elevator with your passport... goodbye is 10 floors down." you just want him so badly, but you don't know you can do this. you were so happy to have him, even if just for a little bit.

• berenstein - the band camino ✨ chan always talks about alternate universes, so i had to add this one in. the line "at another place in time, you were infinitely mine," it makes me think so much about if you were perfect with channie, and you both knew that... but you simply couldn't be with him because of his idol life. but you knew that somewhere out there in a parallel universe, he wasn't an idol, and you were together like you were meant to be :((((

bonus song:

this song reminds me SO MUCH of chris. the first time i heard it, i instantly thought of him. it isn't a love song by any means, it just makes me think of him && his life/all he's been through ❤️

• time's eyes - riley pearce ✨

if anyone has a song they automatically think of with channie, pls pls pls let me knowwww!!!

[coqvttes]

Hey Lola, I hope you won’t mind me asking for some rasberry jam. I was thinking NSFW and for the song to be, “Pretty when you cry” by Lana Del Rey and for the character to be Leon Kennedy.

Please and thank you, have a good day wherever you are!!

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓 hey thank u, nonnie for the request! sorry this took so longg! leon is so lana coded! i love this song and thank uu, u too pookie! <3

nsfw : gn!reader, sub!reader, rough, crying, angst, dacryphilia, comfort.

"you make me feel like your whole world"

leon knows that you'll always be there for him. he knows that sometimes he can't control his emotions, but he also knows that you'll always love him, no matter what.

he'll come home to you stressed and tense. tired from work and he doesn't seem interested in talking it out with you. his mind and body too busy with ache for you, for your warmth, for your tears.

and you yearn for him so. you yearn to please him, to make him feel better, so much better, just like you always do. so you let him use you. you'd let him do anything to you; you know he'll always care for you the way you've cared for him and he knows you don't mind.

"i'll wait for you, babe, that's all i do, babe"

your eyes light up when he approaches you and you jump up to greet him. your gentle voice asking him how his day was and such. but he doesn't answer.

and you know what he wants when he captures your lips in a rough kiss. murmuring between quick breaths for you to take your clothes off. and you do, without hesitation.

he maneuvers your pliant body onto the bed, and you squeak when he hoists your legs over his broad shoulders, nervous wide eyes in anticipation of what he plans for you as he tugs your panties off hurriedly.

"don't come through babe, you never do"

you gasp when he slips into you and your palms find purchase on his shoulders. holding onto him tightly as you try to relax yourself, the stretch is more painful from the lack of foreplay, and suddenly, his hips are snapping against yours.

you whine out from his roughness, the lack of preparation causing you to feel overwhelmed as you urge him to slow down desperately. but your pleas go ignored as he chases his pleasure.

"because i'm pretty when i cry"

tears well up in your doe eyes and your lips wobble as you stare up at him, pleading for him to kiss you or touch you gently. but he's not paying attention to you, and his pace fastens and you turn your head to the side, the tears spilling into the pillow beneath you as you whimper with each harsh thrust.

"fuckk, you're so pretty, aren't ya. look at me, let me see you."

his fingers tilt your jaw, forcing you to look up at him properly through your wet lashes. he smirks when he takes in your messy state, mascara running down your cheeks and your lips desperately pining for his.

but he doesn't kiss you, and after he pulls out to finish on top of you, he apologizes. his touch, now gentle as he pulls you into his arms, wiping your tears away as he coos in you ear.

[manheeiim]

rafe cameron coded songs - part two

summary: rafe cameron coded songs || warnings: drinking, smoking, rafe is mean and controlling || genre: established relationship, fluff, angst, headcanons || word count: N/A || a/n: more coming soon

𐙚 off to the races - lana del rey

"My old man is a bad man, but, I can't deny the way he holds my hand, and he grabs me, he has me by my heart."

In every single au of him I have in my head, he's always older than reader but significantly so when it comes to father figure bf!rafe and dad's best friend!rafe. He's also totally not the best person, he's literally a bad man, but despite that, reader can't bring themselves to stop loving him.

"He loves me, with every beat of his cocaine heart"

We all know he does coke and is a druggie but either way, he'll love you, drugged up or not and you'll love him both ways as well because you just can't help it.

"Watch me in the swimmin' pool, bright blue ripples. You sittin', sippin' on your Black Cristal, oh, yeah,"

Swimming in the pool in the backyard of Tannyhill, Rafe sits on a lounge chair in his bathing suit, a pair of sunglasses on his face, and a bottle of Schwarzbier in his grasp as he watches you in the pool.

"My old man is a tough man, but he got a soul as sweet as blood-red jam,"

Rafe puts on a tough exterior to everyone else and even to you at times but at the same time, you're the only one who really gets to fully see his sweet side. He won't dare to show it to anyone else, not wanting to seem weak.

"He doesn't mind I have a flat broke-down life. In fact, he says he thinks it's what he might like about me,"

I'm thinking trailer park bunny!reader x kook!rafe. She's poor and unfortunate overall but he doesn't mind. It's kind of intriguing to him. He'll take you into his care, and show you what it's like on his side of town. He likes how fascinated you seem to be with everything he'd taken for granted after having it all of his life.

"Light of his life, fire of his loins. Keep me forever, tell me you own me. Light of your life, fire of your loins. Tell me you own me, gimme them coins"

Yes, I know this in reference to the book "Lolita" and I'm not saying Rafe is a pedo. What I want to mention is the whole power imbalance between Rafe and reader. Rafe would definitely be the one in charge of the relationship, whether you liked it or not. He didn't find anything wrong with it, not at all, and you didn't either, well, most of the time.

"Because I'm crazy, baby. I need you to come here and save me,"

You just want Rafe to keep you in check, to make sure you don't make any mistakes, to keep you out of trouble. He acts annoyed about having to do that, and he honestly does get annoyed. At the same time, though, he likes to have you depend and rely on him like that.

"I'm not afraid to say that I'd die without him. Who else is gonna put up with me this way?"

You don't know what you'd do without him. If he weren't around, what would you have? Nothing. Nothing materialistically anyway. You can't imagine your life without him, you rely on him and love him too much. Things wouldn't go well for you. He's the only one who can put up with your attitude and issues. The only one to love you for you in the way you want.

ᥫ᭡ link to my masterlist

[meowlfoy]

06/2024

ᯓ★bambi's record: June

―୨୧⋆ ˚ Artists of the month ⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

ᡣ𐭩 Lana del rey

My queen my love and my inspiration. I think she could be on top of my artists list for long enough. I've been listening to her much more recently

ᡣ𐭩 Chappell Roan

Love this wiw princess. Her songs resonate with me deeply and with my personal romantic experience with women.

ᡣ𐭩 Ayesha Erotica

Who doesn't love this sl*tty big juicy woman? Heavy bimbo energy femme fatal but make it pink and sparkly

ᡣ𐭩 Night club

Band that doesn’t disappoint. I love their retro style with electronic vibes

ᡣ𐭩 Ten (10) CM

Korean calm chill artist. Loved him since day one and go to his profile every time i need something relaxing or little bit sad but beautiful

―୨୧⋆ ˚ Top 10 tracks ⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

01 ᡣ𐭩

fluorescent adolescent by artic monkeys

I love monkeys with my whole heart more then almost any band, this months i felt extremely nostalgic with them and lana and couldn't resist listening to this song

02 ᡣ𐭩

flesh & bone by sammy rae & the friends

I LOVE this kind of jazz and you should too!!

03 ᡣ𐭩

stupid in love by max, yuniin

I can't describe how much i love this song it’s just perfect in every way, it's catchy sounds gentle and voices!!!! their voices just HIT

04 ᡣ𐭩

the girl, so confusing version with lorde by charli xcx, lorde

girly girl song! hearing this song legs ask to move move

05 ᡣ𐭩

licky hérve radio edit by larry tee

Ive been listening to this song a lot imagining myself in edits or like in a runway as a model

06 ᡣ𐭩

andromeda by weyes blood

need a song to slow dance to? or maybe cry? this one is for you

07 ᡣ𐭩

le temps de l'amour by françoise hardy

do i need to say anything? just check it out. it's sexy and sensual

08 ᡣ𐭩

you wish by flyana boss

you must've heard this song in tiktoks, it's so groovy and bad bitch energy coded

09 ᡣ𐭩

war isn't murder by jesse welles

great touching song about war. you can get a hint it's about Palestine mostly but about any other war too. folky sounding!

10 ᡣ𐭩

black rose by taemin, kid milli

taemin and everything he does is epitome of sex what else can i say

―୨୧⋆ ˚ Albums ⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

ᡣ𐭩 AKMU, Love episode

akmu makes me see the world through gentle rose glasses

ᡣ𐭩 Charli Xcx, Brat

slaying this queer a*s

ᡣ𐭩 The smiths, hatful of hollow

Classy band everyone should listen to at least once

ᡣ𐭩 Fiona apple, Tidal

Everyone knows this wonderful singer nothing add besides how good she is and she is

ᯓ★Editor’s note

Hii!! I’ve been inspired by @huellitaa and decided to do my own monthly records.

I love music dearly and want to share stuff that i found or hyper fixations i got this time! Hopefully you will like it~ You can text me your songs recommendations i will happily check them out ⋆⭒˚.⋆𝜗𝜚

[abibliophobiaa]

firstly I love your new blog layout it’s so fucking cute, secondly I love you 💕 thirdly, for your baby prompts, I’m thinking……… butterfly

happiness is a butterfly

got a little carried away with this one. 3k words of modern day!best friend!eddie munson x afab!reader. contains: fluff, alcohol, confessions of feelings, bisexual reader, two friends in a room who might kiss (they do), suggestive innuendo (eddie’s a sweetheart), and argyle’s matchmaking ways. thank you @breddiemunson and @ghost-proofbaby for always calming my wild thoughts, and katie’s line where eddie asks reader not to make him say what she already knows. genius, that one.

-

“happiness is a butterfly

try to catch it like every night

it escapes from my hands into moonlight…”

happiness is a butterfly - lana del rey.

-

Photo after photo. Swipe after swipe. Endless hopefuls that aren’t really hopefuls, because there aren’t many of those in Hawkins these days.

No—there are merely boys, wearing the skin of men, playing with hearts with a carelessness that leaves damage in their wake. Leaves your heart ripped to shreds; battered and bruised. Wounded, but not broken, with jagged lines where smooth surfaces had once been.

Tonight is no different. Tonight you mourn your relationship with Travis. Travis, who played hockey and apparently a different girl or guy in every state. You’d only found out through social media.

One of the girls he brought back to his hotel room had posted an image on her story while he slept, which then surfaced on another person’s social media account, and then eventually became a social media article on some gossip website you couldn’t, for the life of you, be bothered to remember.

You suppose the “Travis debacle,” as Eddie has been calling it, is your fault. A guy from out of town. The allure of some famous player with a broken down car in front of the Hideout, where you worked as a bartender, that you’d had your friend Eddie fix up as a favor.

You’d tossed him his keys as the sun set, burnt orange and red across the summer sky, and he’d asked, “How much?”

And suddenly you’d spent the week welcoming him around Hawkins, as well as the intricacies of your susceptible heart. Had preened and praised him while he perused his options in the next town over on his problematic apps.

The same apps you’re now frowning at, watching the population around you continue to dwindle with every pass of your thumb.

“You know, they say insanity is—”

“Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.”

You shoot a glare Eddie’s way, watching his dexterous fingers pull his hair back into a makeshift bun at the back of his head. Those same fingers reach down to grab your glass, chipped black nail polish capturing your attention as he draws your drink up to his lips and takes a long sip.

“Tequila. Travis really fucked up.” He chuckles. The movement has his cropped shirt billowing around his hips, tattoos on his sides visible where the holes his arms extend through as he settles down beside you. “You know, I think you need to ditch the apps. I did, and I’m much better for it.”

“You got a puppy a few weeks ago,” you point out, finger jabbing him in the ribs. He hisses, cupping his pec. “Getting a puppy is code for throwing in the towel.”

“Ozz is the cutest puppy, I’ll have you know. Look—” He waves to Gareth as he passes by, drumsticks twirling in his hands. “Delete the apps. Take a break. Isn’t there some quote about happiness? That Nathaniel Hawthorne one. You know, the ‘happiness is a butterfly’ one you used in a paper back in school.”

“One, I can’t believe you remember that.”

Your nose wrinkles at the thought of your teenage years. Of you with braces and he himself being the first person to welcome you to sit with him on your first day of school, snapping at Jason Carver when he’d brushed by you and thumped your shoulder a little too hard for his liking.

“And two, the quote is actually ‘happiness is like a butterfly, which, when pursued, is always beyond our grasp. But, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you.’”

“So stop chasing it. Just let it happen. C'est la vie. Carpe diem. Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?”

You don’t even bother letting him know none of those things mean what he thinks they do.

“Eddie.”

He loops his arm around your neck. Presses a kiss against your temple. You lean into his embrace, comfortable warmth that seeps into your bones and floods you with familiarity.

He’s hard lines against your softer edges. Inky tapestries of collected memories that tell a tale of his adventurous life on the forearm tangled in your hair. His ring-clad fingers delight in toying with the tips, hair shifting between digits like water.

Calming and soothing Eddie. A constant in your life since you were teenagers, now going on ten years of friendship later. Someone you’ve always been able to turn to at the end of the day; someone who never once questions your motives, even if he might suggest you try different methods to your lifestyle habits.

And now, your dating habits.

“I’m just saying it’s worth a try.”

-

Maybe you don’t stop right away. Maybe it takes a date with Joe, Jim and Jessica to realize the truth of Eddie’s words. Maybe there’s some weight to pushing it all aside, stepping out of the way of your own preconceived timeline, and allowing someone to walk in at the right place and time.

And on a night such as this, where Corroded Coffin are getting set up on stage and citizens are packing out the bar to see the increasingly popular band play, it’s easy to remember why swiping on your phone has brought you here. To asshole Andy Lerman standing before you while you work. Basketball coach at Hawkins High and douchebag royalty from what you remember of him back in your years of teenage angst and adolescence.

He’s had a few drinks now. You know because you’ve served him. But all they’ve done is instill courage in him to step over to the girl who people teased in school for being a “freak fucker” by merely being associated with Eddie, claiming time ‘really did wonders for you.’

He’s staring at your tits when he says it, and it takes everything in you to not toss his next drink in his face. But in a town where money is hard to come by, and there’s not much to do by way of work, bartending pays the bills, and you’re not about to mess up one of the few good gigs left.

“Andy, it’s really not going to work,” you tell him, “but here. Your last one of the night…on me.”

With a quick pat to his shoulder, you send him on his merry way with a fuller pocket and a story to warp when regaling his friends with the time he pity-invited the “freak fucker” on a date.

“Don’t look now, my lady, but Eddie Munson is staring at you,” Argyle says, working on mixing a margarita beside you for a patron.

“He’s not staring at me,” you retort, sliding a vodka soda across the bar, thanking your customer for the hefty tip they toss your way. At Argyle’s raised brow, you reiterate, “he’s not.”

“He’s always staring. That’s the look Eden gives me. You know, the look of someone in l—”

Argyle’s words are cut short as Eddie appears on the other side of the bar, bare elbows pressing against the counter, hair falling out of his ponytail, bangs long overdue for a cut shifting every time he blinks.

“Are you okay?” He asks, thanking Argyle as he passes him the beer he knows he prefers. At your arching brow, he continues, “I saw Andy Lerman flirting with you. You looked uncomfortable.”

You snort, getting to work on a moscow mule. “That’s because I was uncomfortable. But I took care of it. I appreciate you always looking out, though.”

He reaches over and grabs your chin. Gives your head a little wiggle until you’re grinning against his palm. Then reaches his fingers over toward you, rests them so gently against your curled palm resting on the bar and pauses. He waits a moment and closes his ringed fingers into a fist, knocking his knuckles against yours.

Then he’s off toward the stage to get ready, leaving you with a knot in your throat and warmth prickling against your skin.

Argyle passes you a knowing smile and before you can yell at him to get back to work, embarrassment roiling in your chest, he announces he’s going to take a quick break and call his wife.

His words spin in your head once more. Comparing Eddie’s gazes to Eden’s. To the nature of the depth in which he cares for you. But you shake your head free of it.

You’ve been unlucky in love.

It couldn’t be so simple.

-

Argyle’s words don’t change much in regards to your Eddie conundrum.

They’re a phantom in the back of your mind. Wispy tendrils of a memory that feels distant now.

Weeks pass, and the warm heat of summer in Hawkins turns to a sweltering hell on earth.

The Hideout becomes quieter most evenings. Those with air conditioning prefer to stay home, remain by their pools, to host gatherings where alcohol and coolers are plentiful.

And you don’t blame them, letting out a long huff as you wipe down the counter, while Argyle counts your tips.

“Oh, how was that date with…Paul, was it?” He muses thoughtfully, beginning to split the money.

“Not great.”

“You said that about the last three. What was wrong with this one?”

And that’s the thing. You sit across from these people, trying to force a square into a circle, trying to sparse out the qualities that they’re lacking.

Not funny enough. Not the right hair color. They lack that unruly smile. That glimmer of brightness in their amber eyes. There’s no dimple in Paul’s cheek. No banter on your date with Jeremiah. Caleb doesn’t like metal, and Kayla thinks D&D is a breeding ground for satanism (you’d thought that one was left in the 80s, but it appears not).

“He said Dio was overrated.”

“Interesting,” Argyle laughs, shaking his head.

You whirl around, damp bar towel flicking water his way. “What’s so interesting?”

“Just funny when two people are so obviously similar and don’t even see it,” he says, humming to himself, conversation over.

And that was that.

-

It’s funny, you think, that it only hits you then.

Like the flutter of butterfly wings on your flowerbeds you’d managed to stumble upon earlier that morning, the flicker of wings on a bird in the sky. The soft beating of both, like the constant thump of a heart in a chest.

A constant.

It’s the word everything hitches on as you sit on that work table in your garage, watching the man who stopped everything he was doing when you’d called earlier at the drop of a hat. All just to make sure you were okay.

That same person who is now up to his elbows in grease, fingers stained an oily black. With his hair pulled away from his face, you catch the determined line of his mouth, the jut of his tongue pushing lightly against pink lips. The corded lines of his arms move as he works, barest hint of stomach on display when he reaches up to slam the hood of your car down once it’s finished.

You toss him a towel, grinning at the shadowy form of him blocking the sun from your eyes. “Sorry you’re doing this instead of the movies.”

“Stop that. You know I’m happy to spend any time with you, sweetheart,” he laughs, wiping the planes of his face that are streaked like the fingers pressing against terry cloth to keep it in place. “Fixed the alternator and did an oil change. Seeing as you always forget anyway.”

He walks over slowly, grunting when your sandaled foot kicks him playfully in the kneecap. “That was why my car made that awful sound and shut off?”

“Exactly.” He curls the towel around his neck. “Day is still young. How about we—”

“Why’d you delete all your dating apps?”

The words fall from you in a rush. A swift exhale that has Eddie’s back drawn ramrod straight. Rigid, but not with anger. Instead, you watch that full mouth part just slightly. Like the words he had been about to say were lost to the wind, left to titter away into nothingness.

He swallows audibly, palm sliding over the towel across his neck. “I…just didn’t see the point in them.”

Determination hardens your resolve. Brings to attention Argyle’s teasing these weeks. The wondering, questioning, burgeoning curiosities brimming. So you utter a simple, “Why?” and try your damndest to ignore the nerves welling up in your chest at the fear of what comes next.

“Just kind of felt like I was using them to get over someone else,” he admits, taking a step closer.

Your bare knees brush the tops of his thighs. Warmth seeps into your skin, bristles at his touch.

Dark eyes drag along your form. Along the dress you wore that evening, covered in flowers, a thin thing that would have fluttered in the wind if you and Eddie had been able to do what you’d planned for the day. Simple drive to the lake to eat some lunch, share a joint and fish (a new hobby he'd picked up from his uncle), then movies at the theater when the sun had set.

You meet his stare. Remind yourself of those eyes that had been on you the whole time Andy had leaned over the bar just weeks ago. Ready at any moment to come to your aid, should you have needed it. He’s never pushed you, never crossed the boundaries of your friendship, trusted you knew best.

But he’d always been there if you ever needed a hand.

You only ever needed to reach out.

Always.

You swallow thickly. “Who?”

“Don’t make me tell you what you already know.”

It’s quiet. A plea for pity that has your heart clenching within your chest.

But it’s not scary.

It’s not frightening at all.

Dozens of memories flash behind your eyes.

Of teenage years, laughing in the cafeteria, trading snacks, sneaking off to the woods between classes to smoke. Of you in community college, and his van screeching through the parking lot to take you to lunch between classes. Of nights at his place, your place, the movies, around town. Of ice cream at Lover’s Lake with his van doors swung wide, trying to make out the shapes of the clouds in the sky.

Birthday parties, milestones, weddings, grieved losses.

To highs and lows and everything in between. To all those shitty dates, to his own failed dating escapades. To that time you had to ice his lip in the back of the Hideout when Jeff had accidentally elbowed him in the face, or when you’d fallen off Max’s skateboard and ripped open your shin and he’d had to hold your hand while he disinfected it.

To this very moment, where he’s just finished fixing your car. To him with his dirty palm tapping lightly against your kneecap, feet shifting awkwardly beneath him.

Your head tips up and you catch the downturn of his lips, frozen in time by your prolonged silence.

Argyle was right.

“What?”

You hadn’t realized you spoke out loud, but confusion swirls behind Eddie’s gaze all the same, mollified only when your hand snakes up around the back of his neck and drags him downward to your level. Only when you pour your affection into him where you’re finally, lovingly, connected at last.

The fullness of his mouth against the softness of yours is hesitant at first, like his brain needs a moment to catch up to his current reality, before he’s tipping your head up with his hand. Until his fingers slide across your cheek, cupping you gently, easing you closer to him.

Before long he’s gripping you closer. Deft fingers in the dough of your thighs, tugging you flush against him, skirt indecently high up on your hips. But you don’t care. Not as your ankles lock around his waist, nor as he hums into your throat while he leaves a sloven path along your skin, learning the sounds you make when he’s tender, sweet—when he scores his teeth against your pulse point and you melt like putty beneath his devotion filled fingertips.

Ten years. Ten years of watching that silly butterfly float away into the sky, only for it to have been there all along.

Only for it to have been the man with his forehead against yours, noses flush together, your fingers beneath his shirt and his around the bend of your kneecaps.

You’re not sure where you start and he ends, but even that incites a new thrill, a new world to explore further. A desire to know the depths of him beyond the limit of friendship.

“Argyle got to you too, huh?” At your nod, Eddie barks out a laugh. Kisses you softly. “Fuckin’ guy thinks he’s Cupid or something.”

“I don’t want to talk about Argyle right now.”

Eddie’s lips curl into a grin. The whites of his teeth flash in your gaze, your fingers trailing along his stubble-lined jaw.

“I don’t either.” His thumb comes to swipe at your cheek, dimple in his cheek twitching slightly. “Got you a little greasy. Just…ten years, you know? Got a little carried away.”

You nod, reaching out to lace your fingers with his. He watches as you hop down from the work table, brow arching curiously as you tug him toward the door leading into your home. “Well, like you said, we’ve got ten years to catch up on. So before I kiss you more, Edward Munson, we’re going to shower.”

“We?” He swallows, voice hoarse. “Like a two people conserving water shower?”

You enter the small laundry room, humming as his chest brushes your own, his weight just enough against yours to press you into the lip of your drying machine. Cool metal chills your skin at the open back of your dress, balanced by the heat of the knee that slides between your thighs to pin you in place. Your body both buzzes with life and oozes honey into your system as you melt into him, pliant under that smoldering dark gaze of your best friend in front of you.

“We,” you nod, grinning into his kiss. “After that we’re cuddling on the couch and ordering a pizza.”

“And tomorrow…I’m taking you on a date.”

-

🦋

[skiiyoomin]

ღWhat the JJK characters listen to part 2

ʚCharacters included: Yuuji, Megumi, Nobara, Inumaki, Yuuta, Maki

⤑Back to navigation ⤑part 1

a/n Nobody asked for a second part. Do i care? no. idk if im missing anyone anyways YO THIS IS FUN

Yuuji Itadori

Honestly, he screams Shakira to me, and Jennifer Lopez too.

His entire music taste consists of 2000s pop music thats super nostalgic and at the same time makes you cringe.

ALSO, he has the Backstreet Boys on repeat. Like literally on loop all the time.

Tried, keyword tried, getting into classical music just to seem cultured and fancy but he ended listening to piano covers of Call Me Maybe and Britney Spears.

He´s the type of person you´d take with you to do carpool karaoke cause you know he´s gonna play the songs everyone knows.

Honorable mention: NewJeans (cause he´s secretly not so secretly a kpop stan)

Megumi Fushiguro

Isn´t it obvious?

He´s SO Lana Del Rey coded.

ALSO, he had a Melanie Martinez phase that´s really not a phase but he says it is.

Other than Lana, he listens to soft beat type of songs, like Cigarettes After Sex, Men I Trust or Clairo.

Even if its not his usual vibe, he lowkey highkey really enjoys Coldplay after Yuuji showed him one of their songs, especially their softer tuned songs. (aka Sparks im gonna cry hol up)

Honorable mention: Billie Eilish

Kugisaki Nobara

SHES A BARBZ ALL THE WAY

Her whole vibe is hot pink and a hot girl typa gal. That applies to her music taste as well.

Shes very much into female rappers like Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion too.

And lets not forget the classic pop stars like Ari or Jessie J.

Shes honestly in that sense a lot like Yuuji. They both connect because they listen to a lot of older pop music, except Nobara listens to more girly ish songs or in general songs that are very much female empowerment (queen behaviour)

Honorable mention: SZA (she had Kill Bill at full volume on repeat every time the boys annoyed her)

Inumaki Toge

Okay listen. I see a lot of headcanons that Inumaki is a huge gamer, like Fortnite type of gamer.

The first thing i thought of when i thought of this was dubstep and electro music. Also underground beatboxing.

Like bro i´m sorry im not but to me gamers are equivalent to that when it comes to music and im telling yall cause i had A PHASE (very cringe one we do not talk about it)

I also feel like he tried to be emo once but he only got as far as listening to Twenty One Pilots which isnt even emo so.

Honorable mention: Pitbull, he started listening to him as a joke because of the memes but its not a joke anymore

Yuuta Okkotsu

Ok ok to me he´s very soft boy coded, kind of like Megumi but more bright and cheerful.

HES A SWIFTIE. I dont make the rules sorry

You know that 2020 phase where everyone listened to soft music like Clairo, mxmtoon, Conan Gray, etc? Yeah he never got out of that phase.

BUT, hes evolved yall, his top genre is indie music.

lowkey feel like Inumaki got him into Twenty One Pilots and now he uses their music as an excuse to scream. He´s hella good at rapping their songs too like zayum.

Honorable mention: One Direction cause he never got over their disbandment

Maki Zenin

HEAR ME OUT

Before yall say anything listen to me.

I had to think this one through but shes very much rapper vibes to me, like og 2000s rappers like 2pac and Eminem.

I dont even know WHY but she just screams west coast thug life type of music.

Disses on modern rappers except Kendrick Lamar and MAYBE Travis Scott but thats saying too much.

I´m also convinced Yuuta introduced her to Joji and she cried in her room afterwards.

Honorable mention: Bruno Mars, dont ask