#i did not plan to get this devastated tonight.

[sacredfixation]

Loki fixes his jacket, Mobius doesn't look, and I fall apart

I was in the midst of making a thirst edit for loki, I was just admiring loki being unfairly attractive when I ended with anything but a thirst edit and got emotionally devastated instead.

I refer to that little moment of Loki straightening himself out. First, when he's trying to find his footing at the TVA. When he first puts on his jacket, its this smooth, practiced motion, he sweeps that hair back, adjusts his lapels, chin up, like he's slipping into a role, trying to play along, trying to present himself as someone in control even though he is anything but.

And mobius, watching him, already amused, interested.. and Loki sees that, clocks it, gives that tiny little 'oh you like this?' smile.

Then cut to Dons timeline and tell me why Loki does the exact same motion, only this time, its hesitant. In the TVA it was almost performative, like he was trying to present himself well.

But Dons timeline? its more tentative, like he's nervous, like he wants to get it right.. Because now it isn't just some TVA game. This is Mobius, living a quiet human life that Loki isn't apart of. Its almost like Loki's bracing himself before stepping back into something he knows he can't stay in.

And Mobius-Don- god. Mobius doesn't clock it this time. Because this isn't that kind of story anymore. Theres no knowing little smirk, no teasing remark- just Don, squinting at Loki like a stranger.

Its the tragedy of the saddest little muscle memory. The way Loki's hands move before he could ever even realise why. Because once upon a time, in a place that doesn't exist anymore, he did this exact thing. He straightened his jacket, swept his hair back and looked up- and Mobius was there.

Watching him. noticing him. Seeing him.

Mobius doesn't see him this time. Not in the way he used to. And yet, Loki straightens his jacket. Because some part of Loki remembers what it was like to be looked at by him.

[if-mirrormine]

closing shift

summary: grayson and alex help teagan close the restaurant for the night.

pairing: gralex x teagan (nb!oc)

word count: 870

hi hello do you remember my follower giveaway? this is for the first winner chosen, @bohemianquacksody, who asked for some fluff with our beloved poly! and of course, the beautiful artwork is done by @somewillwin, who is very talented and you need to check her out because i say so.

"that's the last one!" callie announces with a clap of their hands. after a long day of refilling coffee cups and listening to the idle chatter of patrons, the restaurant is finally and blissfully quiet. they rip off their apron as they make their way over to the counter and throw it at tegan, who just barely manages to catch it. "which means i am out of here!"

"don't cause too much trouble tonight," tegan says, trying and failing to sound stern, a teasing smile shining through and their sibling only rolls their eyes.

"i could say the same thing to you. grayson and alex in one room all night long? try not to burn the place down."

"hey!" grayson says from his place sitting at the counter, his hands raised in defense. "we're capable of getting along."

"yeah, i'm not buying it." callie tuts, shaking their head. "i give it five minutes before the bickering starts." the bright headlights of a car pulling up outside the restaurant suddenly flash across the windows and a bright smile unfolds their face. "that'll be my ride. later losers!"

tegan laughs quietly as their sibling practically skips out the door and into the night, off to whatever party or club they have planned for the night, and they turn their attention to the man sitting in front of them. "speaking of lex, where is she?"

grayson chews on his lip, humming as he glances down at his phone. "she's on her way," he says after a moment. "apparently the buses were delayed."

they snort. "the buses are always delayed. weren't you supposed to pick her up?"

at that he pouts. "i wanted to but she was pulled into an emergency surgery."

smiling at him, they reach over the counter to ruffle his hair, causing a bright red blush to bloom across his cheeks. "you're such a sweetie, gray."

he gives them a shy smile and opens his mouth to reply when they're suddenly cut off by the door opening, the bell overhead announcing the newcomers arrival. "honey's, i'm here!" alex announces, slightly out of breath and her face flushed from the cold outside. her eyes land on the two of them at the counter and a look of amusement twists her features. "you two having fun without me?"

"wouldn't dream of it, babe," tegan grins as they pull back. "now that you are here though, we can get started on clean up duty."

"oh joy," she replies dryly as she begins to shuck off her backpack and her coat. "and here I was worried I'd miss out."

grayson rolls his eyes. "you're being dramatic; it's not that bad."

"no, it's devastating actually." she throws her head back, grimacing, the back of her hand pressed to her forehead. "how ever did I let you to convince me to do this?"

tegan laughs as grayson looks back at them, his face deadpan. "callie was right," he groans.

"qnd yet the night is still young," they reply, amused at their partners. "i'll deal with everything back here, alex on restocking and gray on the floors and seating?"

"sounds like the perfect plan to me," alex beams.

again grayson rolls his eyes. "of course; she can make the mess but god forbid she clean it up."

alex swiftly walks up to him up and presses a chaste kiss to his temple. "now he's getting it."

with the tasks divided amongst them, they get to work, a comfortable silence settling over the restaurant. the time seems to fly as tegan swipes down the counters, grayson sweeps the floors and alex refills serviettes and cutlery. it's nice really, being together even if it's doing something so mundane, and it makes it easier to do.

before long, the restaurant is spotless and their hardwork comes to a satisfying end. grayson and tegan put away the cleaning the supplies while alex stands in the middle of the room, admiring their work with her hands on her hips. "i think we deserve a treat for all of this," she states. "grayson, I trust you have dinner covered?"

he narrows his eyes at her as he goes to stand next to her and she cranes her head back to flash an innocent smile at him. "you’re not funny," he tells her, the same pout from earlier making a reappearance.

"why's tegan laughing then?" she retorts and his eyes snap towards them as they rush to conceal their laughter, a look of betrayal forming on his handsome face.

"et tu, amor?" he turns his eyes away from them, his hand held over his heart.

tegan smiles as they finish pulling on their coat before walking towards them. they put their arms around each of their waists, pulling them close and pressing a kiss to each of their cheeks. "alright, you two," they say as the three of them make for the exit. "i'll handle dinner if you at least pretend like you love each other."

"i don't need to pretend," alex says as she nuzzles into their side.

"neither do I," grayson smiles down at the two of them fondly and together they walk out into the night, all too ready to go home.

[elytrafemme]

i'm starting to wonder if therapy is going to be productive because no matter what happens i'm probably going to experience this every night of my fucking life

[niningtori]

supermodel | part two

part one

pairing: choi beomgyu x you

summary: after finding out one of your closest friends sabotaged your relationship with beomgyu in hopes of having him all to herself, you end up spending a night with him. you may come to regret it when you realize beomgyu may not have been as innocent as he initially seemed.

genre: romance, angst, MELODRAMA, yandere, smut (MDNI!!!)

warnings: MDNI!!! yandere!gyu (super manipulative!gyu at least), more (justified imo) cheating, unprotected sex, oral (m. receiving), creampie, dacryphilia, praise, degradation, pregnancy kink, voyeurism (ig?), dom!gyu, sub!gyu, if i'm missing anything lmk

word count: 6.2k

notes: alright ;_; after much debate i'm reposting this probably only for a few days just so everyone who wanted to read can read it before i (probably) delete again! posting this made me feel rlly insecure for some reason but thanks to my moots and anons i feel a lot better ab it :) at least for a little bit. also, i know the direction may have taken quite the turn but this is genuinely just how it came out 😭 if you don't like it i'm sorry ( ཀ͝ ∧ ཀ͝ )

it’s hard to reason with beomgyu as he presses hot kisses down your neck, but it’s not like you’re not trying. you think you’re trying really hard, actually, but it’s nothing in comparison to the effort he’s putting in to make you lose your mind. you have no control over your moans when he sucks a hickey into your neck. you feel heat pooling in your stomach as he grabs your ass and snakes his other hand up your hoodie to catch one of your hardened nipples between his fingers. he’s finally tasted you and, like a man starved, he’ll be damned before someone takes away what’s his.

“b-beomie, we can’t! let’s go back to my place, at least,” you try to reason, but your resolve is weakening as you feel your pussy wetten under his caresses. 

“shh, hana’s not gonna be home tonight,” he whispers. “just want you so bad, can’t wait.” he looks so earnest, you can’t bear to part from him. his puppy eyes look devastated, so what else can you do besides relent? and he knows it, too. now he’s got you. 

he leads you to hana’s bedroom, where he’s spent countless nights listening to her talk about how much she loves him, has loved him for years. he wants to roll his eyes at this, but he doesn’t want you to misunderstand, so he keeps it to himself. he’ll admit, she really did pull the wool over his eyes when she said you didn’t like him, so he can’t wait to see her reaction when she realizes you two have finally figured it out. if she wants to play dirty, they can both try their hand and see who wins. 

and it feels an awful lot like he’s winning when he sees you undress once again, body bare with traces of him on every part of you. even if he hadn’t marked you up so much, and he has, there’s still evidence of his impact on you leaking out of your pussy. you letting him come inside was truly unexpected, but welcome, nonetheless. he knows, when you’ve sobered up from your lustful daze, you’ll ask him if he’s ever fucked hana raw. you’ll probably cry again and rush to get plan b, but he’ll tell you he’s not stupid. he’d never fuck anyone without protection, especially someone he likes as little as he likes hana. he just likes you so much, he couldn’t help but want to feel you. you’re everything he dared to wish you would be. even better, actually, and now that he’s tasted you, he never wants to stop. 

the feeling of wanting to be close to you reemerges when he sees you dropping to your knees for him. you fiddle with the zipper of his pants and he sighs when cool air meets his bare cock. and you're so perfect with your makeup smudged, hair in disarray, and mouth open, prettily presented for fucking.

you start with a lick of your lips and he’s already rock hard from the anticipation. you grab his base and tease little licks up and down his length. he never thought he’d be particularly into that, really, but you look so hungry for him it makes him whine. finally, you lick the precum off of his tip and he moans when you shallowly take in the tip of his cock, hollowing out your cheeks. you bob your head shallowly and it’s taking every ounce of self control he has not to grab the back of your head and shove himself down your throat. but he doesn’t want to hurt you, so he lets you tease him. for now, at least. you take more and more of him into your warm mouth until you can feel his tip searing the back of your throat. you can’t possibly fit all of him into your mouth, so you take the rest of him in your hands. you look up at him with watery eyes, almost like you’re asking for his approval, and his already thinning patience snaps. he grabs your hair and pumps himself in and out of you. you try to meet his thrusts with teasing swipes of your tongue, never once breaking eye contact. the combination of your gaze and the sight of your drool mixed with his precum dripping out of your mouth drives him crazy. 

“baby, look, you’re drooling all over my cock.” you hum in agreement, but a nasty thought crosses his mind as he remembers that you almost went out with another man tonight.

“mmm, who taught you how to use that slutty little mouth?” he asks, riling himself up for reasons unknown. the thought of someone else seeing you like this is enough to push him to madness. he fucks himself into your mouth mercilessly. you’re coughing and slobbering all over his cock, but it’s only when hot tears pour down your face that he registers what he’s doing. how can he bear to hurt you? he pulls out and you’re gasping for air. 

“shh, it’s okay, you’re okay. c’mere,” he coos, leading you to the bed.

you lay down shakily and he takes a moment just to admire your body and the work he’s done to it. he can’t control the want in his gaze when he sees your pussy dripping on hana’s comforter. it’s sick to see, in a way, but it excites him even more. 

“turn around,” he commands, and you would, you really, really would, but your limbs feel so weak, it’s a chore. he sighs and roughly turns you on your stomach himself. he manhandles you into kneeling on all fours and it’s all you can do not to buckle under such force, but you can’t deny the way it makes your pussy clench around nothing when he does this. as if he can read your mind, he lets out a soft laugh as he lines himself up with your entrance and pushes himself in. you’ve obviously just fucked, but you’re still as tight and hot as the first time. slowly, he feels you stretch and spasm to accommodate his length – pussy gripping him like a vise. he shakes when he feels himself completely sheathed in you. 

“g-good girl,” he praises. “so good for me.” then, without giving you another moment to adjust, he begins thrusting into you. his hips meet your ass and he’s awestruck by the sight of it as the tip of his cock kisses your cervix relentlessly. as he’s pumping into your heat, you don’t mean for your arms to give out from under you, but they do. he’s just fucking you so good you can’t help but feel weak. he chuckles at how you’re becoming undone after just a few strokes, but truthfully? he’s endeared. you were so brave in talking back to him earlier, but that attitude is completely gone as you lay there and let him take you over and over again. 

“nghh… not so hard, beomie,” you moan. 

“is it good, baby? i can feel you milking my cock. tell me it’s good, or i’ll stop,” he threatens.

“mmm, ‘s good! too good!”! you cry.

you’re so busy moaning out beomgyu’s name with your face mashed in the pillows, you really don’t hear the apartment door open and keys being thrown carelessly on the table, but as for beomgyu? he hears it all and it brings a mean, lopsided grin to his face. you’d think he would, at the very least, slow down, but he only rams harder and harder into you. the sound of wetness and skin slapping skin echo throughout the room. hana really wasn’t supposed to be home, this much is true, but what beomgyu didn’t tell you is that she had texted him saying her plans have changed and that he should come over. truly, he couldn’t have conjured up a better outcome than the one unfolding before him.

“beomgyu?!” hana shrieks. you’re so surprised you nearly jump out of beomgyu’s grasp, but he holds your ass in place as he continues his thrusts.

“don’t listen to her, just feel me,” he says in a raspy tone. and what can you do besides listen when he drills himself even harder into you? when you feel the veins of his cock dragging against your insides, you’re tuning out hana’s desperate cries, intentionally or not.

“coming inside, okay?” he, well, you would say ‘asks’, but it’s more of a statement of fact rather than a question. “take it all, baby,” he says as his hips begin to stutter. he smacks your ass — just because he can — and you feel it pulsate throughout your entire body as you clench around him, seeing nothing but white behind your eyelids as your release finally comes along with his.

you’re gasping for air when you finish. he carefully pulls out and watches as your cum and his mix together in the most sinful way. it’s a truly a sight to see, and if he had more time, he would be whipping out his phone and capturing the moment to revisit the next time he’s alone, but hana’s words are cutting into his bliss before he can fully appreciate the sight before him.

“b-beomie? w-what’s going on?” hana asks, tears streaming unabashedly down her pretty face. beomgyu is far too preoccupied to appreciate them, though, as he gently helps you sit up and thoughtfully wipes the drool and tears off of your face. 

“‘what’s going on?’” he begins mockingly. “do you really need me to show you again?” he sneers. 

meanwhile, you feel like a deer in headlights as you meet hana’s gaze. you feel dirty and small as you try your damndest to cover yourself up. hana’s soft eyes harden while she stares at you. 

“you. you did this, you fucking slut,” she spits. you break your gaze and stare down at your naked body. you feel incredibly vulnerable because, as you already know, she’s right. you feel your eyes heat up with tears, this time from guilt and humiliation rather than pleasure.

“you’d better watch your fucking mouth,” beomgyu says, eyebrows furrowed and voice even deeper than usual. 

“i just don’t understand. why? why her? and how could you do this to me? you said you loved me!” she shrieks, grabbing beomgyu’s arm. he harshly pulls away and instead collects your sweats and hoodie. you can’t help but stare. he said he loved her then he turned around and fucked you? oh no. 

“well, i lied, if that’s not clear enough,” he shrugs, gingerly dressing you like you’re some kind of catatonic doll. and, right now, you might as well be as you let him do what he wants. his callous words don’t match his gentle actions and it’s making your brain short-circuit. 

“if and when he does the same shit to you,” she says, looking at you with more hurt than you’ve ever seen on a person, “don’t you fucking dare come crying to me. or any of our friends, actually. just wait ‘til they hear what you fucking did.” you shiver at her ominous words. she’s right, after all. beomgyu dropped her the second you showed interest in him, who’s to say he won’t do the same to you? sure, he’s acting lovey dovey now, but you’ve seen firsthand how quickly his tune can change. you’re absolutely fucked. it’s your word against hers, and with the evidence of your betrayal seeping into her sheets, you don’t like your odds. you can’t help but stare at beomgyu, and, as if he’s reading your mind, he says his next words patiently.

“i love you. i would never hurt you like this.” he loves you now? you continue to look at him doubtfully. his words seem cheap after hana’s unforgiving speech, and he realizes he’s losing you when you don’t respond. hana doesn’t stop there, though.

“if he did this to me, i can’t wait to see what he’ll do to you,” she laughs. hana is, objectively speaking, a lot more of a catch than you are. and to the very bitter end, she won’t let you fucking forget it.

“shut your fucking mouth!” he exclaims and she flinches, as do you. you’ve never seen him so angry and it’s enough to scare you. 

“... i should go,” you croak.

“yeah, you should,” hana ridicules. you do an incredibly shaky walk of shame as you quickly gather your things. 

“hey, wait!” he pleads, but you’re already booking it out of the door. he goes to run after you, but hana grabs him forcefully by his shoulder and he spins around to face her. you slam the door, not wanting to know what kind of makeup sex they will probably be having relatively soon. as soon as you’re gone, hana begins.

“are you fucking crazy? her, of all people?!” she hisses.

“i thought i told you to watch how you talk about her,” he says lowly. his eyes are so intense, she’s momentarily stunned, but he’s crazy if he thinks that’ll shut her up. perhaps to her eventual regret, she says her next words.

“if i tell everyone, she’ll be fucking ruined. she’ll have nobody after this.” 

“so?” 

“so, stay with me,” she says softly, while, to his disgust, grabbing his hands and pleading with him. “stay with me, and i won’t tell anybody.” she looks as pathetic as a dog right now, and her words make him laugh in her face.

“tell them,” he says. 

“w-what?” she sputters.

“tell them all. i want you to tell them how i fucked one of your best friends and got her pregnant. tell them how i fucked her raw in your own bed. go on, i’d love to see their reactions when they find out.” 

“you’re… you’re fucking crazy,” she gasps.

“maybe, but not crazy enough to stay with you,” he shrugs. “i got what i wanted, i don’t need you anymore.” for once, she shuts her mouth. the puzzle pieces finally fit together and her jaw drops in awe.

“you did this on purpose?” 

“maybe you’re not as dumb as you look,” he sneers, and with that, he zips up his pants and pats her cheek. “you were okay in bed, but that’s about it.” 

her tears are falling, but that does nothing to mar her beauty. still, his heart remains unfazed. 

“when she finds out, she’ll leave you,” she sobs.

“and who will she believe? her ex friend who’s out to get her, or me? the only person she has left? i’d love to see who she believes.” his words leave her in even more tears, but he does nothing to placate her. he just grabs his shit and slams the door behind him.

-

hana wastes no time in telling your friends about your scandal. your incoming texts range from “what the fuck is wrong with you” to “is it true?” to “you’d better not show your face to us again”.

you attempt to explain yourself, but to no avail. even if hana lied to you first, you committed the ultimate betrayal with a smile on your face. nobody wants to hear your sob story about your forbidden love with beomgyu. nobody, not even your best friend, dares to defend you now.

the one person who’s on your side has been texting you relentlessly, though. beomgyu’s insistence on making sure you’re okay does little to quell the uneasiness in your heart. hana’s words resound in your head. “if he did this to me, i can’t wait to see what he does to you.” you don’t want to give him that chance, but your resolve is weakening when you feel yourself becoming more and more isolated from the people you used to call your friends. 

for days, you don’t leave your house except to go to work. where else can you go? you don’t have anyone to go out with you anymore. still, beomgyu texts and attempts to call you through it all. his messages are all about how much he loves you, how much he misses you, how much he needs you. how much he promises to make things right with you and how you’re the only one he’s wanted all along. more and more, you feel yourself slipping away. even though you never respond, you still sift through his messages and it’s enough to bring smiles, no matter how small, to your face. he loves you, wants you, needs you. who else do you have in your life to say things like that to you? 

still, the thought of trusting him scares you to your bones. what if he does the same shit to you? you don’t have a support system anymore. you don’t have anybody to rely on when he inevitably hurts you in the same way. why wouldn't he, after all? you’re no match for the kind of girls who come his way. what happens when he gets sick of you and wants to fuck another girl in your bed? you’re stuck with these thoughts as you nurse a bottle of vodka, alone in your apartment with nobody but yourself. this is what you deserve, you think. 

a knock on your door is enough to pull you out of your drunken haze. is it one of your friends? could they have finally gotten over their intial shock and disgust and understood that you didn’t mean for any of this to happen the way it did? you stumble to the door and you’re too drunk to even think about checking who it is before desperately swinging open the door. you are not met with the familiar face of one of your friends, however. instead, you see the face of the boy who’s been haunting your dreams for the past few nights.

“beomgyu?” he looks absolutely devastated, eyes reddened and wet with his face ghostly pale. he reeks of alcohol and he stands almost tremblingly. he doesn’t respond to you, just stares at you with the same intensity that entranced you from the very beginning.

“what are you doing here?” you ask. 

“can i come in? please?” you’ve never been able to say no to him, and you especially can’t in his current pathetic state. you move from the doorway to allow him access and quietly shut the door behind him.

“what do you want?” you try.

“want you,” he sobs, tears finally flowing from his sad brown eyes. “all i want is you.” your heart aches when you see him like this. you thought hana’s reaction was devastating enough, but he looks absolutely wrecked right now, putting her despair to shame, really. 

“i don’t know what to say,” you admit. “we fucked up, plain and simple. and i don’t know how i can trust you after what we did.” you’re not a victim in this, to be clear, but you’re far too vulnerable to accept the heart that he's holding out for you so carelessly. 

“i know, and i'm sorry. i'm so, so sorry. what can i do to make you trust me?” he begs. your already soft heart softens even more at his words, but you have to be realistic.

“i… i don’t think i can. if you had just talked to me in the first place things could've been different,” you reason. this only puts the boy in an even worse state. he’s almost wailing now, and he looks to you for comfort.

“p-please, just please. give me one chance,” he cries, looking absolutely frantic. “i’ll prove it to you, just let me.” he reaches for your face and you didn’t even realize you’re crying until he swipes away your tears. well, you’re already going to hell. what’s the point in atoning for your sins now? 

as if he can read your mind, he musters up a shaky smile before leaning in and giving you a chaste kiss. his lips taste salty, but sweet, and he’s kissing you with a passion you’ve never felt before. you almost believe him when he says you’re the only one. almost.

“h-how do i know you’re not going to do the same thing to me?” you ask unsteadily. 

“i would never,” he says immediately. “i would never hurt you.” at least, not like this. but you don’t know that yet. 

-

in the weeks following his drunken appearance at your door, being with beomgyu is even better than you thought it would be. it’s like a switch has been turned back on and he’s back to treating you like a princess, almost like the months since your “breakup” never happened. he randomly brings you flowers, showers you with kisses, and he can’t seem to keep his hands off of you along with declarations of love, which you never directly reciprocate. no matter how well he treats you, though, there’s an underlying sense of unease. you still find it difficult to fully trust him, and he can tell. it’s driving him to the brink of madness trying to come up with ways to show you how much he cares.

you’re in the middle of pensively reevaluating the nature of your relationship with beomgyu for the 100th time when you hear a knock on your door. at this point, you don't even bother checking who it is because you already know it'll be beomgyu. no matter how desperately you wish it were one of your ex-friends, you’re always met with his face, instead. you open the door and you’re shocked, to put it mildly. standing before you is not the beomgyu you know and (probably) love, but hana.

“we need to talk,” she grumbles. almost as if you’re possessed, you let her in without much fuss. is she here to rekindle your friendship? to tell you she’ll forgive you after what you’ve done to her? 

“hana, listen i’m so incredibly sor—” 

“save it,” she says, lifting her hand. “i’m only here ‘cause i have something i need to say to you. it took me weeks to come here because i don’t even wanna look at you.” you gulp and nod, genuinely anxious as to what she has in store for you.

“i’m just going to tell you straight up. beomgyu’s not who you think he is,” she deadpans. 

“w-what do you mean?” if she’s talking about how he’ll eventually betray you, you’ve already thought of that. why she thinks this is news to you, you don’t know.

“listen to me, he planned this whole fucking thing.” what could she possibly mean by that? he planned to get caught by her? that doesn’t even make sense. “i told him i’d be home the night that i walked in on you.” your jaw drops in horror, but she continues as if she doesn’t notice.

“i think… i think he heard us over the phone and knew you’d be there before meeting with jay. he told me he wanted our friends to find out and to see who you’d believe if i told you. whether you believe me or not, i really don’t give a fuck, but it’s true. he said he got what he wanted, so he doesn’t need me anymore.” she chokes on her last words and you can't help but feel sorry for her, but that feeling is overshadowed by the feelings of anger towards beomgyu. you don’t think hana would lie about this. she looks so flustered and heartbroken, you don’t believe for a second that she’s lying just to rile you up. before you can reply, the door opens and beomgyu’s figure appears in your doorway. he has a smile on his face, but it drops lightning fast when he sees who’s standing there.

“what the fuck are you doing here?” he says with a scowl.

“i’m on my way out,” hana mumbles, pushing past him. he doesn’t even attempt to stop her. he registers the mixed emotions on your face and he can guess what she said to you without much effort.

“let me explain,” he says lowly, already heading towards you to placate you like you’re some sort of wild animal he has to coax. and you’re so angry, you might as well be.

“explain what? that you ruined my fucking life?” you spit. he flinches at your tone, even more so at your next words. “what i don’t understand is why? is my life a fucking game to you?” his face crumbles at this. 

“n-no! never!” he sputters.

“then what is this? what’s your reason for planning for hana to walk in us? is this a kink or something?” he shakes his head frantically. 

“you don’t understand, i just wanted it to be us,” he pleads. “i don’t like them. they’ll just try to take you away from me.” 

“take me away from you? beomgyu, i’m not some fucking toy. i’m a person. a person whose life you fucking ruined for no reason!” you exclaim. you’re so frustrated you could cry, so you do. does he not realize how badly he fucked you over? “you promised you’d never hurt me,” you sob.

“i-i did it for us! they wouldn’t care about how we feel… they’d just take hana’s side without even thinking about it!” he argues, grabbing your hands. you want to pull away, but if you do, that means you’ll be completely alone. 

“you didn’t even give them a chance,” you reason. “now it’s really over,” you say between sobs. “i… i could’ve talked to them, but you ruined it!” 

“i just want you all to myself, is that so bad?” he asks, as if he genuinely can't understand why you’re so upset. he’s actually sick in the head.

“why?!” you ask again, ripping your hands from his grasp.

“because i love you,” he says desperately. “i just love you so much. i’m sorry, i’ll never do anything like this again,” he promises. 

“yeah, you won’t,” you reply bitterly. “because i won’t give you that chance.” 

“w-what do you mean?” he asks, lips trembling and eyes red.

“i’m not doing this with you anymore. this whole thing was doomed from the start,” you reply firmly. he shakes his head as if denying it with fervor will undo what you’ve said, tears now flowing freely from his reddened eyes.

“no, p-please,” he cries. “i only did it because i love you so much. ever since i first saw you, i only ever wanted to be with you. i… i know i fucked up, but it was the only way. believe me, please.” your already soft heart is softening even more as you listen to the desperation in his voice. he sounds so lost and scared, as if he really doesn’t know what he’ll do if you tell him no. you briefly wonder if he’s ever heard the words: “no, beomgyu. you’ve gone too far this time.” but as you watch him come undone before you, you don’t think you’ll be able to be the one who tells him no, anyway. 

“i’m giving you one, and i mean one, last chance. if you fuck up this time, i promise you, you’ll never see me again,” you declare. you don't know what you’re expecting, really, but the sight of even more tears streaming down his face is not it. he grabs you and pulls you in his warm and trembling embrace.

“th-thank you,” he cries. “you won’t regret this.” 

“i’d better not,” you mumble. even if you do, you can’t deny the way your heart skips a beat at his pure, unadulterated need for you. even if you do come to regret it, it’s impossible to look at him right now and say he’s not being sincere. he pulls away from you and hurriedly captures your mouth, and as if your next words will take back what you said, he seals them in your throat before you can manage to get anything more out. as the kiss becomes more heated, you feel something hard and angry poking into your stomach.

“already?” you tease. he actually blushes at this.

“can’t help it. need you,” he replies sheepishly. 

“you need me, huh? is that why you’ve been so bad?” you ask, palming him deliciously through his pants.

“n-not bad! just love you so much, couldn’t stop myself.” your temper actually flares a little at this. you palm him more harshly and his breath catches when you do.

“really? but you’ve been so bad, i don’t think you deserve me,” you say menacingly, pulling your hand away. he audibly whimpers at this.

“no, no, no, please! i’ll be good from now on,” he pleads as he grabs your hand and begins to snake it under the waistband of his pants. you let him, but you don’t take his hardened length into your hand like you usually would. instead, you tease the sensitive area around it, even going so far as to ghost your fingers over his balls, but you conveniently avoid giving him any sort of friction or attention, so he’s gasping when you give him a mean and unexpected tug. 

“p-please stop teasing me,” he cries, eyes so beautiful and watery. “i know i’ve been bad, but i can make you feel so good.” he’s right, in a way. you’ve never and will never feel as good as you do when beomgyu pumps into you and shoots his hot load in your pussy, but he’s deranged if he thinks you’ll let him have you so easily tonight. not after what he’s done.

“hmm, i’m not so sure about that,” you hum. you lead him to your bedroom as if he’s hypnotized. you haven’t even let him enter you yet, if you’re going to let him do so at all, but he’s already acting like he’s drunk on you. 

“strip,” you command simply. without any questions or doubts, he eagerly takes off his hoodie and shoves his pants down, stepping out of them and closer to you. it’s sickeningly sweet to see how possessed he is by you. he tries to take your own clothes off, but you smack his hand away. 

“bad boy,” you say, and he whines like a dog. “lay down.” he does what you say, lying completely exposed on your bed as he gives a few pulls on his throbbing cock. “stop fucking touching yourself or you’re not getting anything from me,” you add, and he whines even louder. 

“please touch me,” he begs, cock standing all red and weeping. 

“you don’t deserve it,” you shrug. you take off your pants and he leches at the image of your pussy dripping wet for him, and so soon. all he can think about is how warm it is and how fervently he wants to be in it. he thinks you’re going to sit on his cock, because that would be the most natural course of action, but all you do is lay next to him and pull something out of your nightstand drawer. a vibrator. are you fucking serious? 

“no!” he begs, already knowing how this is going to go.

“you can take what you get from me or you can beat it,” you bite back. that shuts him up. he’s biting his lip, trying not to get scolded again, but he can’t help but whine again when you spread your legs and turn your vibrator on. 

“ah,” you moan as the rubber tip hits your clit. “feels so good.” 

“i’d feel better,” he insists, eyes widened and desperate like a madman. 

“touch yourself,” you say in response. “i'm not touching that dirty cock of yours, so take care of it yourself.” he doesn’t need to be told twice. he immediately spits on his hand and begins to wildly jerk his weeping cock. he whines at the friction. you, however, are so lost in the feeling of the vibrations pulsating throughout your pussy, you couldn’t seem to care less about what he does. this only makes him whine even louder. he’s experiencing pleasure, sure, but the sounds coming from him are exaggerated and theatrical. he’s just trying to get a rise out of you. he just wants you to look at him, is that too much to ask?

you open your eyes at his petulant noise and say your next words so quietly, if he wasn’t paying more attention, he’d miss them. “kiss me.” so he does. the kiss is filthy and nothing more than the tangling of tongues, but that combined with the stimulation on your poor pussy is enough to make you near the edge. 

beomgyu can tell you’re close, and his kisses become even more heated as he abuses his cock under his hand. he’s moaning into your mouth, showing you, in no uncertain terms, just how badly he wants to be in you instead. 

“let me do it,” he begs. “come around me, instead. it’ll feel so much better.” his dirty words break you out of your trance and you annoyedly shut the vibrator off while tossing it god knows where. you tear his hand away from his cock and mount him, teasingly rubbing yourself against him, but refusing to put it in. he whines and pouts, but you’re far too busy trying to get yourself off to appease him. then, as if he’s possessed, he raises his hips and his tip catches on your entrance. you both gasp at his shallow intrusion. 

“p-please sit on it, it hurts,” he asks rather pathetically. 

“i can’t, beomie. you haven’t even fingered me yet — you’ll break me in half,” you say provocatively. he whimpers at the imagery. “and you've been so bad, how can i let you get what you want? you’ll never learn if i do that.” 

“i’ve learned! i promise, i’ve learned! just, please, help me,” he cries, bucking his hips up and holding your waist so hard you’ll know he’ll leave bruises. 

“mmm, i don’t knowwww,” you drawl.

“please!” and with that, you angle your hips and begin to sink on his thick length. the stretch burns and you can’t help but cry out as you feel your pussy enveloping every inch of him mercilessly. he’s in tears when he feels you throbbing around him, pussy stretching to accommodate how big he is. when you finally, finally take him all in, he can’t help but begin to fuck into you wantonly. 

“b-beomie, slow down!” 

“c-can’t! feels so good,” he says, tears streaming down his pretty face. he grabs your waist even tighter and flips you around so you’re lying beneath him. his cock continues to hammer into you and you’re seeing stars. his mouth is open, drool pooling out of the corners of his lips, and he’s moaning out your name like a prayer.

“pussy so good, so perfect,” he babbles. “missed this. missed feeling you like this.” 

“i missed it too,” you admit. 

“wanted you, wanted you for so long,” he continues. you don’t even think he knows what he’s saying, but you can tell he means every word. he reaches to your stomach and presses down where his cock is ramming into you. your eyes roll back at the pleasure that comes with the pressure. 

“my baby could be in here,” he muses. “our baby.” this should scare you into sobriety, but it does nothing of the sort. you find yourself tightening even further at the thought of him breeding you like a bitch. 

“i’ll take care of you, i swear,” he says as he thrusts so hard your head nearly meets the headboard. “i’ll give you everything you need. sh-shit, baby, wanna fill you up so good you feel me for days,” those words in addition to his sloppy thrusts are what send you over the edge. you clench around him and he hisses at how you’re even tighter than usual. you feel his thrusts become even more sporadic and he’s emptying himself into you unceremoniously. as he softens, he pulls out and you wince at the feeling. to your surprise, he moves down to your pussy and begins to lap up all of the cum like a starving animal. then, he pulls you in for one last nasty kiss. 

-

you don’t know if you necessarily trust beomgyu, but it’s hard not to at least try to when he basically prostrates himself in front of you on a daily basis. he lets you walk all over him, really. if you call him, he comes running. if you’re mad or upset, he soothes you. when you’re being unreasonable, he reasons, anyway. you still haven’t heard from your friends, but you’re starting to accept the fact that you never will. he introduces you to his friends, and surprisingly, they actually welcome you with open arms. apparently, they didn’t like hana very much and knew beomgyu always had a thing for you. you’re not sure how to feel about that, but you’re flattered, nonetheless. 

you call beomgyu crazy, and maybe he is, but he always says it's because he's crazy in love with you. you want to playfully smack him when he says such cheesy words, but you're starting to really believe him.

[hittmeandtellmeyouremine]

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨

pairing: older bf!rafe x gf!reader

warnings: pure fluff, mentions of an age gap.

word count: 700+

summary: rafe has a surprise up his sleeve.

a/n: trying to get back into writing. i saw an edit to 'buy me presents' by sabrina on tt (specifically the second verse) and it got my gears going. i literally wrote this in an hour. i know christmas is over but lets just pretend!

"baby, come on! we got ten minutes to be out of the house!" rafe called from the bottom of the stairs.

"i can't find my shoes!" you yelled, stress evident in your tone.

you had a specific pair of heels in mind. you had been mentally assigning them the whole week, having your outfit planned two weeks in advance.

tonight was the country club's annual christmas eve party. rafe's dad used to make them go every year and the tradition just kind of stuck. here he was, years later, bringing you with him.

this wasn't your first time going. in fact, this would be your third time going as rafe's official girlfriend. you remember the first time like it was yesterday, being so nervous about what everyone would say about you two being together. rafe was a couple years older and had a reputation that preceded him, the town had their thoughts.

"i brought them downstairs for you!" he called.

you silently thanked god for him. he was always a few steps ahead of you, making your life easier when it seemed to be the opposite.

your feet padded their way through your bedroom as you shut the lights off and made your way downstairs. you expected your heels to be by the door but they weren't. neither was your boyfriend.

"babe?" you called out, turning the corner and looking for rafe.

"i'm over here baby" he said and your eyes found him sitting on the couch.

"there's my pretty girl" he cooed, smiling as his eyes ran over you in your red dress.

"hi" you blushed, making your way over and sitting next to him. his hand found its way to your thigh, softly running up it.

"see? you were all stressed out for nothing" he smiled, easing your nerves.

"i still can't find my shoes" you frowned a bit.

"oh, that's right. here" he feigned, pulling a wrapped box from behind him.

"what's this?" you questioned, taking the box in your hands. it was wrapped in gold wrapping paper with a pink ribbon tied around it, a bow sitting on top.

"open it" he encouraged.

you hesitated, savoring the pretty bow before your fingers pulled it undone. you found an edge and began to strip the gift of its wrapping paper.

you froze when your eyes landed on a black box with a white designer logo centered on it. you quickly realized what the gift was.

"you didn't" you said, a smile threatening to form.

"keep going princess" he urged.

you took the top of the box off and revealed the heels that you had been eyeing for months. the versace ones you gave up on getting because they had sold out everywhere. you were devastated. rafe was away on a business trip and you called him crying when you couldn't get them. he had calmed you down, told you maybe it just wasn't meant to be and you would get a different pair.

"oh my god! how did you get them?" you squealed, fingers running over the shoes.

"i made a few calls" he smiled, happy you loved them.

rafe knew you like the back of his hand. the second you mentioned the shoes he had made sure he got them in your size. he acted as if he was busy on his work trip, which he was but never too busy for his girl. he even took the liberty of making sure, for one reason or another, you couldn't get them yourself.

the same way he had waited until you were occupied earlier. once you were, he hid the heels he knew you planned on wearing tonight so he could surprise you with the ones you really wanted. everything went according to plan.

whatever his girl wants, she gets.

"thank you! thank you! thank you!" you squealed, throwing your arms around him happily and kissing him.

he gladly kissed you back, arms tightening around your waist and pulling you closer.

"come on, let me put them on you"

you nodded and he took one of your legs, pulling it over his lap. he slipped the heel on your foot and made sure the straps were secure. he repeated the process to the other. you watched him in adoration, falling even more in love with him if that was possible.

he tapped your thigh, signaling you when he was done so you could get up and walk around in them. you smiled wide, admiring the new heels on your feet.

"ugh, they're perfect! i love them rafey!" you smiled, looking at them in the mirror.

"they look nice baby" he smiled, getting up from his spot on the couch to stand behind you. even with the added height, he still towered over you.

his arm hooked around your waist, fingers rubbing your side contently. you loved rafe cameron and you always would.

-

[tortillamastersblog]

Back To You - Part 11 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, blood, injuries, and swearing

Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.

Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

_______________________________________________

The rest of the walk back to the apartment was uneventful. Sam and I stayed a couple of paces behind everyone and even though we didn’t speak I kept stealing glances at her, feeling my heart flutter every time I caught her snuggling deeper into my hoodie in search of comfort.

Now, we’re back at the apartment. Tara and Chad are in Tara’s room, talking, according to Quinn, while the rest of us is gathered in the living room.

Well, almost everyone. Sam stayed downstairs when we got here, saying she needed a moment to compose herself.

I completely understand where she’s coming from, tonight’s been a lot and I get that she needs some space, but I still have an innate need to comfort her.

I know we’re not on the best of terms especially after our little tiff on the way to the party, but I still care deeply about her and I hate seeing her upset.

Which reminds me. . . I should probably have a little chat with Tara.

I set down the bottle I just took from the fridge after taking a big sip of water, and slowly make my way to Tara’s room.

Much to my surprise, Quinn is already there and what she’s saying makes my eyebrows rise up.

She’s saying something about cock blocking Tara and Chad, something they both vehemently deny and I slow down so as to not get into the middle of it.

Eventually they drop it though, and Quinn leaves the room, smirking at me when she passes me in the hallway before Chad exits the room as well after telling Tara not to kill Sam.

He sends me a small smile as he brushes past me and I pat his shoulder with a sympathetic look before going to the door and leaning against the doorframe.

Tara still hasn’t noticed me and when she lets herself fall back on the bed with a dopey smile I can’t help but smile too.

Oh, she and Chad have it bad for each other. I can’t wait to ask how and when that happened.

For now, there are more important things to talk about though.

I push myself back off the doorframe. “Knock, knock,” I say quietly.

Tara’s head whips around and she immediately sits up when she sees me, her dopey grin turning into a somber smile. “Y/N, hey. . .”

“Can I come in?” I ask and when Tara nods and pats the spot beside her I cross the room and take a seat next to her. “You okay?”

She shifts closer and rests her head on my shoulder with a sigh. “No, not really. I hate fighting with Sam, but she’s so overprotective, it’s suffocating. . . I’m sorry I didn’t greet you properly How was your drive? I thought you and Liam had plans for tonight?”

“We did, but he was called into work. The drive was fine, long, but fine and you don’t have to apologize, I know you didn’t do it on purpose.” I nudge her softly and press a kiss to the top of her head. “As for Sam,” I continue. “I get it. It’s a lot and she might have overreacted tonight, but she’s just worried about you. I’m worried about you, I mean—Date Rape Frankie? Really?”

When Anika told Sam and me the name of the guy Tara’d left with I thought I’d heard wrong.

Tara winces and fidgets with her fingers.

“I know, I know. Not my best move, but I just. . . I want to make my own choices and, yes, Sam is worried, but she keeps treating me like a child. You don’t.“

I sigh and let her play with the bracelet on my wrist, so she stops fidgeting with her fingers. “No, I don’t. But she lives with you and takes care of you, and she was gone for five years, so she’s probably trying to make up for everything she missed.”

Tara doesn’t say anything, but her fingers still as she thinks about what I just said.

“I know it’s a lot, too much even some times, but you have to understand where she’s coming from. Sam loves you so much, Sprout.”

“I know. I love her, too, but. . .” Tara trails off and sighs.

I chuckle softly and press another kiss to the top of her head. “Yeah. . .”

We stay like that until Tara lifts her head off my shoulder a couple of moments later to study me.

When she does say anything, I raise an eyebrow and ask, “What?”

“You look. . . tired,” she says which makes me shrug.

“I mean, yeah. It’s late and the drive was pretty long,” I say, not knowing where she’s going with this, but Tara just shakes her head and deflates a little, her eyes softening.

“No, I don’t mean like that.” I frown, which prompts her to continue. “You and Sam. . . You barely speak these days and I can tell you’re both miserable because of it. I mean, I get that you have your own life and it was hard to stay in touch when you were in Boston and we were in Woodsboro, but we’re here now, so why don’t you try to fix things between the two of you.

I sigh. “It’s not that simple, Sprout. We’ve all changed and even though I love Sam with all my heart, I realized I can’t be around her. She doesn’t think of me as anything other than a friend a-and it hurts. It hurts so much, I just can’t be a friend .”

“But she loves you, too,” Tara tries to reason which makes my heart ache because oh how nice would it be if that was true. “You guys just have to talk. I mean, she watches all your games on TV and you’re the first one she wants to call when something’s wrong or when something good happens.“

I blink back tears and avert my eyes. “That doesn’t prove anything, Tara. She knows how I feel about her and she’s never done anything about it. Besides, why would she be fooling around with Danny if she loved me?”

Tara grabs my wrist to get me to look at her again. “She knows?! I mean, it’s pretty obvious, but. . . How? And since when? And who the fuck is Danny?”

I smile sadly at her rambling and pat the top of her hand. “Danny, you know—cute boy? No one knows though, so keep that to yourself. As for since when she’s known, Richie called me out on it at Amber’s. We never talked about it, but yeah, she knows. . .”

The pity that fills Tara’s eyes is almost too much for me to bear, and when she sigh and says, “I’m so sorry. . .” I have to blink back a new wave of tears.

“Well, it is what it is, Sprout, but I need you to know that no matter what happens between Sam and me, I’ll always be there for you. You can always call me and should you ever need a break from everything you can come visit me in Boston.“

Tara hugs me tightly and whispers, “Thank you.”

I hold her closer and press another kiss to the top of her head before pulling back and suggesting we join the others in the living room.

I still want to ask about her and Chad, but there will be time for that later.

She agrees and together we make our way to the living room where the others are in the middle of turning on the TV and finding something to watch.

It is pretty late, but it seems as though no one is ready to call it a night yet.

I don’t pay much attention to what they’re watching as I go to the kitchen to retrieve my water bottle, but then a collective gasp makes me turn back and when my eyes land on the TV, I freeze.

A news host is talking about a recent Ghostface killing, and even though it could all just be a big coincidence, I have this eerie feeling that it’s not and that we’re in for another ride with the masked killer.

He’s back. Ghostface is back.

It’s just like Sidney said, they always come back.

Fuck.

Various scenarios of what might happen go through my head and I shudder when I think of anyone getting hurt, or worse, killed again.

Tara. . . Sam. . . The twins. No, please, no. Not again.

“Someone get Sam,” Mindy says. It snaps me out of my thoughts and before anyone can get up, I head to the front door.

Outside in the hallway, I peer over the banister, expecting her to be sitting on the stairs at the bottom of the stairwell where we left her. She’s not though, and when I see her standing there instead, holding onto the lapels of Danny’s jacket, I have to swallow the bitterness that rises in my throat.

So much for not being a thing. . .

I push my hurt away and focus on what’s important instead.

“Sam!” I shout, doing my best not to let my voice waver. “Get up here right now. There’s something you have to see.”

At the sound of my voice, both Sam and Danny immediately look up, and I try not to read too much into the way Sam instantly lets go of Danny and takes a step back.

They share a quick look before making their way up the stairs, and I turn to go back into the apartment without waiting for them.

I leave the door open and stand next to Chad, watching the news report until Sam comes storming in with Danny right behind her.

“What’s going on?” she asks and Chad just points at the TV.

Quinn smiles briefly at the sight of Danny and shoots Sam a knowing look, saying, “Cute Boy. . . nice,” but both Sam and Danny, despite his confusion at the nickname, don’t react.

They stare at the TV in a mix of surprise and confusion and when Mindy points out that one of the two victims was in their Film Studies Class, Sam’s face hardens and she turn to Tara, saying, “Pack a bag, we leave in ten.”

I can’t say I’m surprised because I knew she’d want to leave, but we already found out once that running away doesn’t work.

Sam heads into the kitchen to do god knows what and Tara looks at me pleadingly for a moment, hoping I’ll say something to change Sam’s mind but I just shake my head and sigh.

I’m scared, too, and once again a million scenarios of what could happen go through my head, but it’s not my place to interfere and even if I did, I doubt Sam would listen to me.

She’s got one thing on her mind right now, and that is protecting Tara, and even I won’t be able to change her mind, especially now after nine months of almost complete radio silence between the two of us.

Tara’s face falls, seeing that I’m not going to come to her rescue, and she jumps up to follow her sister into the kitchen, protesting. “Sam, wait! Sam!”

Danny frowns and goes to follow them, confused why Sam would just straight up pack a bag and leave at the first sign of trouble, but Chad steps in his way and places his hands on his shoulders.

“Thank you very much, suspicious new guy, but I think we’ve got it from here,” he says, ushering a still confused Danny out of the door before closing it land locking it.

I’ve got to say, I understand why Chad doesn’t trust him, but from what little I’ve seen of Danny so far, he seems like a decent guy and I doubt he has anything to do with this whole Ghostface situation.

“Sam, hold on!”

I turn back at the sound of Tara’s voice and try to hide my surprise at the sight of Sam coming back out of the kitchen with a knife in hand, Tara hot on her heels.

So that’s why she went into the kitchen. If you ask me, she’s overreacting just a little bit. Yes, Ghostface is back, but he’s not here right now, so I really don’t see the need for the knife.

“No, come on, we’re leaving,” Sam says, heading to her room, presumably to pack a bag, but before she gets there, Tara grabs her by the elbow and spins her around.

“No, wait! Let’s talk about this for a second ‘cause this might not have anything to do with us.”

True, but I doubt it. Still, I don’t get in the middle of it. I even take a step back to give them some room and when I glance at the others I see they’re also conflicted about what to believe and whose side to be on.

Well, they all are except Ethan. He just looks scared and his eyes keep darting between the two sisters and the TV.

When Sam points out that it can’t be a coincidence, Chad and Mindy back her up, mumbling, “Yeah, it is a little bit close to home,” I see Tara deflate.

She looks at me helplessly and I just shrug timidly, agreeing with the rest of them which prompts her to turn to Quinn for help. “Quinn, your dad’s a cop, right? Can you call him and find out what’s going on?” She turns back to glare at Sam, adding, “Before you make the unilateral decision to abandon my college education and flee the fucking state!”

Sam flinches slightly, but looks at Quinn for answers, her eyes filled with desperation and an underlying fear that makes me feel for her.

I’m scared, too.

The redhead cringes slightly and nods. She obviously doesn’t like the fact that she’s been roped into the fight, but she takes out her phone nonetheless. “I’m calling him now.”

Tara lets out an exasperated sigh. “Thank you.”

Quinn sends her a tight lipped smile and lifts her phone to her ear after dialing her dad’s number, only for the rest of us to flinch a second later when Sam’s phone starts ringing on the kitchen table.

Oh no.

Her eyes find mine and I do my best not to let my own fear show as I tilt my head, silently telling her to answer it.

Whatever happens, we’re in this together. The past nine months be damned.

She visibly shudders but takes her phone after setting down the knife. She doesn’t answer it though. She just stares at the display before declining the call and turning back around.

Huh. What was that?

The atmosphere is charged and a tense silence has settled over the living room and the only one who dares to break it a second later is an oblivious Ethan.

“Why did everyone just freak out when her phone rang?” he asks which makes Anika roll her eyes and say, “You’ve got to keep up my dude.”

She’s right. How can he not know Ghostface calls his victims every time before he attacks. By now, that’s like common knowledge because Stab is a franchise everyone knows, but then again, he doesn’t strike me as someone who watches horror movies, so his question seems fair.

“Sam? My dad wants to talk to you,” Quinn says, getting off the couch and holding out her phone.

Right. Her dad.

Sam takes the phone and we all watch with baited breath as she raises it to her ear, saying, “Mr. Bailey, hi,” but then a thought strikes me and I’m quick to pull out my own phone and excuse myself for a moment.

I dial Liam’s number in the hallway outside of the apartment, waiting with a racing heart until he finally picks up.

It’s not been confirmed that Ghostface is back, but I still have to warn him. I can’t ask him to leave again because of his new job, but I can give him a heads up.

“Hey, Y/N. You good? I’m sorry I know it’s late and you probably thought I’d be home by now, but my boss—“

“No, no, it’s not that.” I cut him off, but before I can say anything else he beats me to it.

“Okay, good. You know speaking of my boss, he’s a big fan of yours and I may or may not have slipped him your resume and he’d love you to work for him should you retire any time soon.l

I shake my head even though Liam can’t see me and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Liam—“

“Also I talked to Paige on my way to dinner and she’s, like, so jealous the two of us are spending a couple of days together, even though you visited her in Portland a couple of weeks ago and—“

“Liam!”

Liam shuts up instantly and for a second there’s silence. When he speaks up again the concern in his voice makes it clear that he knows something is wrong. “Y/N, what’s going on?”

I exhale shakily and tighten my grip on the phone. “He’s back, Lee. . . Ghostface is back.”

“What? But—“

“Listen to me,” I say sternly before he can go on. “I know I can’t ask you to leave again, but I need you to keep your distance from me until this whole thing blows over. Stay vigilant, stay in crowded places and maybe even stay with a friend for a couple of days. He might not be after you, but you’re my friend and when he finds out he might want to hurt you.”

Liam huffs out a disbelieving laugh. “If you think I’m going to go into hiding and let you face this motherfucker alone again you’re out of your mind, Y/N! Let me—“

“No! You’re staying out of this.”

“You can’t just decide that for me!” He fires back and I clench my jaw.

“Liam, the less people that are involved, the better,” I say. “I told you before and I’ll tell you again, if something happened to you because of me, I’d never be able to forgive myself. You’re not going into hiding, you’re keeping yourself safe. . . I’ve faced Ghostface before, so I know what I’m getting into, and we’re prepared this time. Quinn’s dad is a cop.”

“Y/N. . .”

“Lee,” I whisper, feeling a lump growing in my throat. “It’s going to be okay. We’re all going to be okay as long as you stay out of it, okay? Please promise me you’ll do what I said.“

I hear Liam sigh and it’s clear he doesn’t want to agree, but he does eventually. “Fine. Fine. I’ll stay out of it.”

“Thank you.” I swallow thickly. “I’ve got to get going now, but before I do. . . Please, don’t tell Paige about this. She’ll only worry and she’ll want to come here to help.”

“I know,” Liam says. “I won’t tell her.”

“Thank you.” I hang up after telling him to stay safe, and turn around just in time to see Sam and Tara coming out of the apartment.

Both of them have changed out of their clothes from the party. Tara’s wearing a striped shirt, jeans, and a pink corduroy jacket and Sam is wearing a simple white long-sleeved shirt and my hoodie.

Her necklace glints in the low light and distracts me for a moment.

“Hey, where are you guys going?” I ask when I snap out of it.

Sam grimaces. “Detective Bailey asked me to come down to the station because they found my driver’s license at the crime scene and Tara’s coming with me.”

“What? How’d that get there?” I ask, following them down the stairs without hesitation.

Wherever they go, I go, even though I’m only wearing a shirt and I know it’s going to be a little chilly outside.

Sam throws her hands up, keeping her eyes trained on the stairs so as to not stumble while Tara holds onto my arm. “I have no idea, but I reported that it was stolen two nights ago.”

Why would someone steal and then plant her license at a crime scene? It’s almost like they’re trying to frame her, but why?

I feel like I’m missing something.

We step outside and I wrinkle my nose at the smell of wet dirt and urine. It rained while we were inside, I realize, and the air is much cooler than I thought it would be, but there’s no turning back now, so I just lean into Tara when she huddles closer for warmth after noticing the goosebumps on my arms.

I’m just glad it’s not raining anymore.

Sam is walking two paces ahead of us, seemingly lost in thought and I’m about to speak up and ask her to tell us what’s on her mind when her phone suddenly rings.

She stops walking and Tara and I catch up to her, watching her pull her phone out of her pocket.

I freeze when I see the caller ID and the three of us share a horrified look.

Richie Kirsch

“What the fuck?” Tara whispers.

“I never deleted his contact,” Sam admits.

“Don’t pick that up, just let it ring,” I warn, knowing that it can’t be anyone but Ghostface, but after looking around with a clenched jaw, Sam picks it up anyway.

Tara and I share an incredulous look, but we stay quiet when Sam asks, “Who is this?”

I can’t hear what the person on the other end of the line is saying, but even without the speaker I can make out Ghostface’s distorted voice.

Sam tenses and she stares straight ahead, her grip on her phone so harsh her knuckles are turning white. “I want you to think long and hard about whether you really want to do this because the last two people that fucked with us ended up dead,” she spits and my chest fills with pride at how confident she sounds.

Ghostface says something I can’t quite make out, but I don’t focus on him because as he speaks, a hooded figure rounds the corner in front of us.

They’re on the phone as well with their head down so we can’t make out their face and I instantly shake off Tara and step in front of her and Sam.

Not today. . .

My ears start ringing and I ball my shaking hands into fists, ready to pounce, but then the stranger looks up with furrowed eyebrows. It’s a man in his late thirties, and he looks weirded out by the fact that we’re just starring at him, but he doesn’t comment on it and simply walks by while still talking on the phone.

I feel a hand on my lower back and deflate a little.

That wasn’t him. . .

I turn, thinking it’s Tara who’s touching me, only to freeze when I realize it’s Sam.

She’s not looking at me, and I’m not even sure she knows what she’s doing, but when I shift out of reach her jaw twitches.

“So, what? You’re protecting us now?” she asks Ghostface which makes me frown.

What are they talking about?

Tara steps closer and tries to listen to what they’re saying with a frown of her own pulling at her lips all while resting a hand on my forearm to make sure I don’t go anywhere.

A police car races past us with blaring sirens and blinking lights, but I keep my focus on Sam whose face tightens more and more with every word Ghostface spews.

“You shouldn’t believe everything you read on the internet, asshole,” she says with a tilt of her head which only fuels my earlier confusion.

Yeah, I’m definitely missing something here.

Tara looks at me, her brown eyes filled with worry and I go to comfort her by wrapping an arm around her shoulder, but then movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention right as Sam says, “You better watch yours!”

I spin around and pull Tara behind me just in time to kick Ghostface in the stomach before he can get his hands on either of us.

He stumbles back and doubles over, and I use his momentary distraction to push Sam and Tara in front of me.

“Shit! Run!” I shout and they do as I say, running ahead with me hot on their heels.

I keep checking over my shoulder where Ghostface is, and my stomach sinks when I see him picking himself up faster than anticipated.

Shit. He’s tough. And he’s not small either.

“Help! Please!” Tara shouts, but no one in their car hears her and there are no pedestrians around, so Sam does what I would have done too if I was in front and drags Tara around the corner and into a bodega.

I follow them inside and turn so I can keep my eyes on the door while they frantically plead with the man behind the register to call 911.

The other customers who’re stand in line to pay for their stuff complain and shout at us for cutting the line, but I ignore them and keep my eyes on the door.

And then he comes in. Ghostface stands tall and unbothered, looking almost calm which makes him even more menacing than when he was chasing us.

I take a step back, bumping into Sam and Tara, and keep my eyes on him when one of the customers who complained about us cutting the line steps in front of him.

“You got a problem here, guy?” he asks Ghostface and I have to suppress a scream when not even a second later, Ghostface pulls a knife out of his robe and stabs him with it.

The other customer gasp and scream in horror as absolute chaos breaks out, and I don’t protest when Sam pulls me backward, further into the store and away from Ghostface who drops the customer he just stabbed before ramming his knife into the neck of another guy who comes at him.

It’s all happening so fast, it feels like a dream, but I know it’s not because Sam keeps dragging me with her and Tara until we’re at the back of the store with our backs against the coolers.

Ghostface’s latest victim collapses, his lifeless eyes staring at me when he lands on the floor and I think this is it. He’s going to kill us now, but then the store owner behind the register pulls out a shotgun and fires it at Ghostface.

He misses, but it makes Ghostface scramble for cover and Sam, Tara, and I stare in horror as the owner cocks the gun, his eyes scanning the isles for any sign of the masked killer.

“Go out the back!” he shouts and we rush to the back door, but it’s locked and before the owner can give us the key, Ghostface appears out of nowhere.

He stabs the poor man in his shoulder and rips the gun out of his hands before shoving him to the ground and shooting him without a moment’s hesitation.

The sight makes my blood run cold, but it’s a reminder that if we don’t act, we’re going to be next, so I’m quick to pull Sam and Tara to the ground behind one of the nearby shelves.

There’s only one way out, and Ghostface is blocking it, so we’ll either have to somehow get around him or distract him long enough for the police to get here.

I’m sure by now someone’s already called them, but with Ghostface each second counts and if we don’t play this right we’ll be dead long before anyone can help us.

We crawl down an isle out of sight of Ghostface, but when we hear the shotgun cock again, we stop.

It’s nearer than I would have liked and my heart pounds in my chest when I meet Tara’s and Sam’s eyes.

They’re both white as a wall and Tara is crying silently, her mascara running down her cheek, and I grit my teeth, trying to keep my own panic at bay.

This is like the time Tara and I hid in the hospital. We’re sitting ducks, just like we were back then, and I know the only thing that kept us alive back then was staying as calm as possible for as long as possible. Well, that and Dewey, but there’s no time to dwell on that now.

Deep breaths, Y/N.

There’s a crunch, and I close my eyes, trying to figure out where Ghostface might be heading. Not a moment later though, a shot rings out and my eyes fly open again when the glass door of the cooler behind us shatters.

Tara let’s out an involuntary whimper which leads to another shot being fired in our direction. It hits the shelf above us and makes bags of chips explode and rain down on us.

Then, silence.

Sam ushers us around the other side of the shelf and we press ourselves against it in hopes of making ourselves less visible and for a moment I feel her hand on mine.

Even now, her touch sends sparks up my arm, but I don’t look at her. I just turn my hand around and slip my fingers between her trembling ones, squeezing gently.

It’s not an acknowledgment of defeat—I’m not going to just let us die like this— but I want to reassure her that I’m here. I’m here and I’m going to do everything in my power to prevent anything from happening to her or Tara.

They have to get out of here. That’s all that matters.

The sound of approaching footsteps right behind us makes me hold my breath, and my eyes dart around the floor in front of us until they land on a crushed soda can.

It’s by Sam’s feet and when I squeeze her hand again and tilt my head in the direction of it, she reaches for it. Tara watches us with wide eyes and a tear running down her cheek.

We need a distraction. That’s our only chance.

Sam shoots me a questioning look, but I just raise my hand in front of us and hold up three fingers.

3. . .

She frowns, but I gesture at the can and fold down a finger.

2. . .

Understanding dawns on her and I nod encouragingly and jut my chin in the direction of the other side of the store before folding down another finger.

1. . .

I fold down my last finger and Sam grits her teeth before throwing the can.

It clatters against a shelf on the other side of the store and not even a second later a gunshot rings out.

This is my chance.

I jump up, much to Sam’s and Tara’s surprise and make a run for Ghostface who’s got his back turned to me.

At the sound of my footsteps, he spins around and aims the gun at me. My heart drops for a moment, but when he pulls the trigger nothing happens.

He didn’t reload it which is exactly what I was counting on.

I close the remaining distance between us and grab the barrel of the gun and push it up so it’s no longer pointing at me. I push against it with all my strength which makes Ghostface stumble back and into a shelf.

“Y/N!” Sam shouts when he manages to cock the gun again.

I grunt and shout, “Run!” right before he pulls the trigger. This time the gun fires, but Ghostface misses me because the barrel is still pointing at the ceiling.

Debris rains down on us as our struggle continues and because my hands are sweaty, my grip on the gun slips until I’m shoved backward.

“No!” Sam’s scream breaks my heart when Ghostface reloads the gun and points it at me, but just like the first time, nothing happens when he pulls the trigger.

It’s empty.

“Run, Sam!” I shout again, lunging at Ghostface before he can grab his knife. “Get out of here!”

“No!” she cries in protest and when I catch a glimpse of her to my left I’m surprised to see that Tara is actively holding her back and dragging her to the front door of the bodega. “Y/N! No!”

“Just go!” I try to focus all my attention on Ghostface, but Sam’s continued cries of protest make my heart hurt until Tara finally manages to get her outside.

I honestly don’t know how she did it because she’s like a foot shorter than Sam, but all that matters right now is that they’re both safe.

Ghostface and I stumbled through the store, hitting every shelf imaginable all while I’m trying to stop him from reaching for his knife.

“Motherfucker,” I hiss through gritted teeth when he slams my face against the cooler, making the already cracked glass break completely.

Something warm runs down my cheek, but I don’t have time to wipe it away because not a moment later I’m kneed in the stomach and I double over, coughing.

This Ghostface is nothing like Amber or Richie. Whoever’s under the mask knows what they’re doing and if it wasn’t for the nearing police sirens I know I’d be done for.

Ghostface shoves me once more for good measure, making me drop to my knees. Then he hurries out of the bodega, leaving me alone to cough and chuckle mirthlessly in disbelief.

Sam and Tara are okay. I’m okay.

I sit down and stretch my legs out in front of me.

They’re both okay.

I rest my head back against the frame of the broken cooler door and catch my breath while watching the red and blue lights of the police cars dance on the ceiling.

I can hear some shouting, someone’s probably calling for me, but I’m too exhausted to respond, so I just close my eyes and wrap my arms around my aching stomach.

I stay like that for what feels like minutes but is probably just a few seconds in real life before feeling warm hands on my cheeks.

“Y/N, hey, open your eyes. Look at me. Look at me. Are you okay?” Sam’s shaky voice makes me open my eyes and when I see her kneeling in front of me, I smile weakly.

“I’m okay,” I whisper, but she doesn’t seem to believe me. Her eyes dart all over my face and she brushes her thumb just below the cut on my cheek. “Hey. . . I promise, I’m okay,” I say again when her chin starts quivering and in response she throws her arms around my neck and pulls me into a hug.

I return the embrace, although a little less energetic because my stomach still hurts and rub my hands up and down her back. I keep repeating that I’m okay until Tara comes into the store, followed by two police officer’s who take in the scene with wide eyes.

She drops down onto her knees as well as soon as she’s by my side and I’m quick to include her in the hug.

This is just the beginning, but we’re okay, and I will continue to do everything in my power to make sure it stays that way.

_______________________________________________

Good God, that was stressful, but we’re okay!

Hope you guys enjoyed this part. For some reason it was a bit of a struggle to write, but I did it and I can move on now.

Tag list: @bella423 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @canyonyodeler @quadofthec @pussyydestroyer @rqizzu @pithod @morganismspam23 @idontliketoread2137

[mywhisperingwords]

lost mail | fred g. weasley

summary: after a bad break up you try to get rid of the memories, instead you find something that turns your life upside down word count: 4.3k masterlist

You cannot remember why you chose to keep every little piece of your life.

That was the only thought in your mind while you went through every box you kept in your attic. And every box came with the memories.

You couldn’t decide if you were grateful for it or if you hated it.

At the front of the attic were the newest memories you have kept, the ones who were involving the one person you were trying to forget.

The person who was at fault in the first place for you being up here and going through every box.

It hadn’t even been a week since the person you truly loved at one point told you that they were moving on, packing up their bags and that there was no space for you in those plans.

You were lying if you said you weren’t hurt, but you knew that you should be more devastated by this. Deep down you already knew that that ending was inevitable. And maybe you had made peace with that a long time ago.

And if you were truly honest with yourself, maybe you never really loved that person at all. How could you love a person that never truly saw you?

Giving yourself up and everything you stood for just to not be alone? You were foolish to believe that it could work.

You decided to make a clean cut. And that involved getting rid of the boxes that kept pieces of the memories you wanted to forget.

But once you started going down the memory lane, you couldn’t stop.

In every box were pieces of people you had not seen in a lifetime, at least that’s what it felt like to you.

These boxes had hidden secrets in them, ones you almost forgot but never really could. Like the coin that used to be your lucky charm, the one you would always carry around.

The castle was quiet at this time of night.

Not a soul around, just you and the moon.

You weren’t the kind of person who could easily break the rules, but at nights where you couldn’t sleep the only thing to help was to take a walk around the deserted hallways.

Never before have you been caught, but luck didn’t seem to be on your side tonight.

The sudden sound of footsteps made you stop in your tracks and with them came the one and only Fred Weasley.

He ran right past you, straight into the empty classroom behind you.

Before you could process that, Snape was in front of you.

“What are you doing wandering this castle at night?” he asked you, hair a mess and just a tad out of breath. He had been seemingly chasing after Fred.

“I was just thirsty,” you lied straight through your teeth, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

Snape on the other hand did not look impressed with your lie, but he seemed to have more important matters to tend to. “This is of no interest to me. Have you noticed someone running this way?”

“Have you lost someone, Professor?” you joked, immediate regret following with the way Snape looked at you. “I did, he ran that way,” you said, pointing in the opposite direction.

“If I ever see you again wandering the castle at night or see you misstep in any way, you will have detention for the rest of the school year. Also ten points lost. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” you replied, no longer finding joy in this situation.

Snape turned around before the words left your mouth, having no use for you anymore.

After he was out of sight, you knocked softly on the door of the classroom Fred was in. “You can come out, he’s gone,” you said in a hushed tone.

The door opened with caution, and you were looking at the grinning face of the red head. “Well, hello there and thank you from the bottom of my heart, love,” he said, sending you a wink that made your eyes roll.

“I think you owe me one,” you told him, taking a step back so he could step out of the room.

“Oh, I’d do anything for you,” he agreed, his grin widening even more if that was even possible.

“A normal person would offer money or something,” you hushed, with flushed cheeks. Never before have you been at the receiving end of the Weasley charm.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I do have…,” he rummaged through his pockets, fishing out one coin of a currency you did not recognize, “I have that.”

He offered it up to you, but you pushed his hand back to him, saying “I was only joking.”

“Maybe, but I’m not,” he said before taking your hand and placing the coin in it, closing your hand around it.

The brush of his hand was gone in a second, but something about it settled into your skin, a warmth you couldn’t shake even as you put the coin in your pocket.

“It’s my lucky charm, so you better keep it safe,” he said in mock seriousness, before turning around and walking away.

“I’ll try my best, Weasley,” you murmured as you watched him go.

You closed your fist around the coin, imaging that it still carried the warmth of Fred, but it did not. It was cold in your hand, leaving you feeling guilty when you remembered that you hadn’t been around at the shop as much as you used to.

It wasn’t that you had ignored him intentionally—you’d just been caught up in work and your relationship.

The same relationship Fred had disapproved of from the beginning. But you were determined to make it work, because that’s the kind of person you were.

You took crumbs of love and affection and tried to turn them into something more, desperately holding onto someone who did not even look back as they left.

Fred knew you better than anyone, and he’d told you this wasn’t right for you. But he’d respected your decision.

Still, it had put a strain on your friendship. Now, you felt a sudden urge to go and apologize, to make things right. But you didn’t—you were too much of a coward to admit you’d been wrong, especially so soon after the breakup.

You always used to be like that when it came to arguments, even if you knew deep down you were wrong, you still carried on. Maybe it was because you were telling yourself that sometimes it was better for everyone if you just ignored the truth—a tendency you also had when it came to other things.

“Why can’t you just admit you were wrong?” Fred asked, shaking with laughter.

You crossed your arms, turning your head to the side, trying to stifle a smile. “Because I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” he insisted, tugging on your arm like a child begging for sweets. “Just admit it. Admit it. Admit it. Admit it. Admit it.”

You kept your mouth shut, unwilling to give in. But despite yourself, you couldn’t help smiling at his antics.

“There it is!” he crowed in victory, as though your smile was all he’d been after.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” you said, no longer able to hold back a laugh.

He gasped dramatically, placing a hand on his heart. “You wound me.” Dropping down beside you, he put on his saddest face. “I’m leaving soon, and all you can do is insult me. How terrible of you.”

You shook your head, though his words struck a pang in your chest.

It was true. In less than a month, Hogwarts would no longer echo with the laughter of Fred and George. They would leave to open their shop and leave everything—including you—behind.

This was Fred’s dream, and you supported him wholeheartedly, but the ache of his coming departure had settled inside you and refused to go away. You knew it would linger, long after he was gone.

“Don’t remind me. It won’t be long now,” you muttered, a grimace on your face.

He nudged you gently, offering a smile of his own. “Don’t be sad. Once you graduate, you can come work for me and George. You could even move in with us.”

A chuckle escaped your lips. “Where? In your room?” You knew their flat above the shop only had two bedrooms.

“I wouldn’t say no,” he winked at you.

All you could do was stare at him, needing a moment to process his words.

The idea of moving in with Fred warmed your cheeks, and your mind couldn’t help wandering to the idea of a life together.

But that’s all it was—a fantasy.

“Very funny, you git,” you laughed, trying to defuse the tension that had appeared for just a moment. Moments like these seemed to happen more often lately.

There were times when Fred said something that could have meant more, only for you to turn it into a joke. It was easier that way—or at least, that’s what you told yourself to not have your heart be broken by false hope. Because this was Fred, he was just joking around, nothing more. That’s just what he did.

Fred took the lifeline you threw him, laughing along before saying, “I’m not the one who said Chocoballs are better than Jelly Slugs.”

And just like that, your old argument started up again.

Maybe in a few weeks, you’d be ready to face Fred. For now, you kept sifting through memories in the quiet of the attic, where the evening sun cast a warm glow.

There were so many pictures and keepsakes from the past few years, and looking at them now, a sense of dread washed over you. Years spent giving your love to someone who had never deserved it.

One box was filled with old parchments, overflowing with thoughts—a diary of your mind. It was a habit you had given up soon after meeting your ex, who never understood its importance. Not like someone else, someone special.

In another box, you stumbled upon an old photo from your days at Hogwarts, familiar faces you hadn’t seen in ages smiling back at you. Underneath it lay another photo, this one taken by an unknown person—a candid shot of you and Fred. You still remembered the day it was taken.

Sitting by the Great Lake in your favorite hidden spot, you couldn’t put your quill down. So many thoughts were swirling around your head that you needed to pour them all out.

That’s how Fred found you.

“Slow down, you might set the paper on fire,” he teased, a smile on his face. You jumped at the sound of his voice, not having noticed his arrival.

“Merlin, you scared me,” you sighed, looking up at him. His hair was disheveled, the top buttons of his shirt were undone, and his tie was slung over his shoulders.

Before you could ask what happened, he settled next to you on the stone, asking curiously, “What are you writing, anyway?”

“Anything and everything,” you told him earnestly.

“Huh?”

“I’m writing down every thought I have—it makes it easier to sort through the mess,” you explained, looking out at the water, a little nervous about his reaction to your strange habit.

You did not dare tell him that most of these thoughts involved him.

But his answer surprised you. “You’re a clever one, aren’t you?”

You turned to him, confusion written on your face.

Fred scratched the back of his head, his tone softer. “I mean… I get it. I’ve got a million things going on in my head all the time. Putting them down isn’t a bad idea.”

You hummed, a gentle smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe you should take my advice, then,” you said with a wink.

That made him laugh. “Maybe I should.”

A comfortable silence settled over you before you quietly confessed, “It’s also the only way to make my mind go quiet.”

Fred didn’t answer right away; instead, he stared out at the lake, watching the afternoon sun dance on the water.

But you were watching him, admiring the way his brows knitted and his lips—just the perfect shade of pink—pursed in thought. That look of quiet concentration made him more handsome than ever.

The silence stretched on, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt like the perfect expression of the connection you shared: the way you could sit together for hours without speaking a single word and still feel content.

When Fred finally spoke again, you nearly missed it. “I have you for that.”

You didn’t even remember seeing anyone there with a camera, but you were grateful now for the photo they’d captured of you and Fred. Those were the moments you cherished most.

Beside the picture lay a stack of your old schoolbooks. As you picked up Advanced Potion-Making, a small note slipped out and fluttered to the floor. Your name was written on it in familiar handwriting, though you couldn’t recall what it was.

With a sense of curiosity mixed with something heavier, you unfolded the paper, revealing a handwritten letter addressed to you.

May 1996

My love,

you’re surly wondering why I’m writing you a letter but I was told by someone special that sometimes putting words on paper was the only way to sort though the mess in your mind, and that mess has been there ever since the day I met you.

I know that this is sudden but also not…

There has always been something between us, ever since I first saw you in that hallway when I was running away from Snape.

Ever since that night I couldn’t get you out of my head to the point George wanted to kick me out of our room, because all I was talking about was you.

I've been carrying this secret for a while now. I kept telling myself it would fade or that maybe it was just a momentary feeling. But here I am, still reeling from it every time I see you smile, or when your hand brushes against mine. It's as if my heart can't help but leap toward you, even though you're already so close.

I have known you now for so long and you’re still all I think about.

I don't think I tried to fall in love with you, yet here I am, helplessly yours in every way that matters.

Even if all we ever are is friends, l'll still be grateful to have you in my life. If there's even the smallest part of you that feels the same... then I want you to know that l'll be here, waiting.

I’m leaving tomorrow, I know that this is sudden and might be already too late or maybe this is the perfect moment.

Maybe in a year, after you graduate, you will be working with me and George, share a room with me, like we talked about and make me the happiest person every day just by being with me—in any way you want.

Anyways, I’m waiting for you at our spot.

Don’t leave me hanging.

Yours, always,

Freddie

You never knew.

Tears had fallen onto the letter, and you hadn’t even realized you were crying.

All these years, and you’d never known about this letter.

All these years, and you’d never given Fred an answer.

What must he have thought? That you ignored him? That you didn’t feel the same? That you’d simply left him waiting alone in your spot?

Your throat tightened, and your heartbeat quickened. With trembling hands, you read the letter again. And then again. Making sure that the words were real, not some figment of your imagination.

He had to watch you fall in love with someone else.

That thought shattered you. Pressing a hand to your chest, you tried to contain the pain spreading through you, tightening around your heart.

With shaky legs, you stood, clutching the letter tightly, and walked away.

&

You found yourself in Diagon Alley, moving toward a place you hadn’t visited in ages. You weren’t sure how you’d ended up here—you only knew you had to come.

The shop was dark, already closed, but the door was unlocked, left open until they finished their work in the back. An old habit, one you knew well.

Because you knew Fred.

He had been the one constant in your life, someone you’d always loved, though you’d convinced yourself it wasn’t meant to be, forcing yourself to move on.

But the letter in your hand told you how wrong you had been.

Rounding the counter, you found the office. A soft orange glow seeped out from under the door, accompanied by the faint scratch of quill on parchment.

You hadn’t planned what to say—all you had was the letter, clutched tightly in your hand. Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open.

“George, I told you—” Fred began, looking up from his papers. His brows furrowed as he took in your disheveled hair and red eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I didn’t know,” you whispered, stepping further into the office. The familiar scents of smoke and cider surrounded you, grounding you.

“What?” His voice was gentle, but cautious.

“I didn’t know you loved me,” you replied, holding up the letter.

You saw realization dawn on his face, the moment he understood what you were holding. He shot up from his chair, his breath shaky, though he didn’t speak.

“I just found it, and I—I didn’t know,” you repeated, needing him to understand.

You needed him to know that you never meant to cause him pain—that you had never intended to leave him waiting alone by your spot at the Great Lake.

Tears blurred your vision as you repeated the same words, over and over, like a mantra: “I didn’t know.” They were all you could cling to as you trembled, heart pounding, unraveling in front of him.

Only when you felt Fred’s strong arms enfold you did the world seem to steady, his soft whispers reaching you through the haze. “It’s okay,” he murmured, “shh…it’s okay.”

You pressed your face into his chest, clutching his shirt as the letter crumpled in your hand. His voice anchored you, each word a lifeline as you soaked his shirt with your tears. Every emotion crashed over you at once. Regret, anger, grief and fear.

Fred never stopped murmuring reassurances, nor did he release you from his embrace. Only when your sobs quieted did he gently ease you back, his gaze searching yours. “We should talk,” he said softly.

And that’s how you found yourself curled up beside him on a small, well-worn sofa in his living room, a cup of tea warming your hands. The letter lay on the table before you, a tangible reminder of the conversation he’d been waiting years to have.

For a long time, neither of you spoke. The silence felt heavy, filled with everything you needed to say but didn’t know how to begin.

At last, you broke it, voice barely above a whisper. “We broke up.”

If Fred was surprised, he didn’t show it, merely nodding, acknowledging your words with quiet understanding.

He sat beside you, though with a safe, careful distance—as if he feared getting too close too soon.

“It never would’ve worked, you were right.” You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, studying his familiar face, still as warm as you remembered. “I think I was trying to turn nothing into something more. Trying to make it work, because that’s just what I do.”

He looked down, fidgeting with his long fingers, a habit you’d always known. He didn’t look at you, but somehow you felt his attention, unwavering.

“I don’t know if I loved-,” you cut yourself off. “I just had to move on from you, that’s all I knew,” you confessed quietly, feeling shame. “When I was cleaning out old things, I found all these memories… I found this.” You pointed to the letter on the table, the heart of it all.

You took a deep breath, preparing for the hardest part of all. “I never saw it before, and when I read it…” You laughed, a sad, soft sound. “It was everything I ever wanted. And I didn’t even know I could’ve had it.”

A tear slipped down your cheek as you whispered, “If only I’d known… I would’ve been there. I would’ve done anything. You must have thought I was heartless. You must have hated me.”

Fred’s voice was soft when he replied, “I could never hate you.” He set his tea aside, finally meeting your gaze with an intensity that made your heart stutter. “I assumed you just… didn’t feel the same. That maybe it was too hard to tell me that to my face. But I never hated you, not for one moment.”

You shook your head, needing him to understand. “If I had known—”

But Fred shook his head, stopping you. “In time, I accepted that loving you from afar was all I could do, and I knew that keeping even a small part of you was better than losing you entirely.”

The weight of his words sank in, each syllable touching something deep within you. Could he still love you, after all this time? The thought was terrifying and exhilarating, both the possibility of an answer and the risk of rejection. But there was a way to show him how you felt, one you’d kept close for years. Reaching into your pocket, you took out the coin he had given you so long ago.

A spark of hope glimmered in Fred’s eyes as he took it in, the recognition softening his features. “You kept this? After all these years?”

“You told me not to lose it,” you replied, your voice tender with a hint of a smile.

He took the coin from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours, leaving a familiar warmth that seemed to linger in the space between you.

“But you never were a very good listener,” Fred teased, his familiar grin reappearing for the first time that evening, making your heart flutter. In that moment, you saw not just the man sitting beside you, but the boy you had fallen for so many years ago.

Though it had been months, maybe years, since you’d spent time together as you should have, he still felt like home.

His soft brown eyes, the faint crinkles at their corners, the freckles scattered across his face like constellations, and his flaming-red hair, now grown longer—he was so much the boy you’d once known, and yet now a man, shaped by life and loss, sitting close enough to touch.

“What happens now?” you asked, voice quiet, as if afraid to disturb the fragile peace of this moment. But you needed to know. This was new and terrifying, and all you wanted was for him to take your hand and assure you everything would be alright.

“Whatever you want,” he replied simply.

But what you wanted wasn’t simple at all. You wanted him in every way you’d ever dreamed, to be by his side and share in his life. You wanted him to hold you as you mourned the years lost to another, yet you couldn’t find the words to ask it of him.

Fred understood, as he always did. “If you want to be with me, we’ll make it work. And if you need time, I’ll give you that.” He gently took your hand in his, his touch a silent promise. “I’ve waited years. I can wait a little longer.”

“I don’t want to wait,” you assured him immediately, your voice filled with the weight of all the years you had spent denying yourself this truth.

You could feel the shift in him, a warmth filling his gaze, his smile softening. Slowly, he leaned closer. “Are you sure?”

His voice sent shivers down your spine, his breath warm against your cheek. But your answer came without hesitation.

“About you? Always,” you whispered.

And that was when his lips met yours, a kiss so tender it felt like a wish made real, warm and gentle, a thousand memories woven into one perfect moment. His hand cupped your cheek, grounding you as you melted into him, your heart beating wildly in your chest.

His lips tasted of tea and something indescribably sweet, like warmth and comfort, like every dream you’d ever had of him. It was soft, unhurried, the years of yearning unfolding as his fingers brushed your skin, leaving a trail of warmth that you felt in every part of you.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, a mischievous grin lighting up his face as he whispered, “Took you long enough, didn’t it?”

All you could do was laugh, nudging him away before pulling him back in, savoring the warmth you’d both waited too long to feel.

Fred’s gaze fell on the letter lying on the table, the edges worn and softened from years of waiting. He ran his thumb over your hand, murmuring, “Funny how one piece of parchment kept us apart.”

You looked at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Guess it was just waiting for the right time.”

[dearhargrove]

thirty feet under

Evan Buckley x reader

summary The last thing you expected to see on the news tonight is Eddie trapped under 30 feet of mud with your husband desperately trying to get him out. Knowing how reckless he could get, you drive there after informing Bobby and have a talk with Buck.

word count 4734

tags basically s3 e15, reader and Buck are married, fluff, and hurt :<

a/n I dunno I was just sad watching that episode like the way Buck was immediately trying to dig Eddie up? I'm crying actually. I love these two fr. Yeah wtv I just needed to write something where Buck isn't suffering lmao 😭

masterlist

You've been following the news ever since you first saw that the 118 was at the scene of the small boy trapped in the well. You had nothing better to do, and if you had the chance to watch your husband work? You took it.

What you weren't expecting almost an hour ago was the drastic changes and complications arising as they tried getting Hayden - the trapped boy - out.

The obnoxious news reporter is talking about the weather and what's happening but you've stopped listening long ago. Your eyes were transfixed onto the background where Eddie was getting ready to go down the second tunnel they'd made in order to reach the boy safely.

However, something wasn't right. You don't know if it's Hen’s nervous expression or the overall unease of the team that carries through the screen, but something feels off.

You bury your hands in your hair as you continue to watch. The rain is pouring hard, the mud seems to be making everything worse and there were more firefighters arriving at the scene by the minute.

You're basically praying when the cameraman zoomes past the news reporter and onto Eddie as he's being let down into the hole. Evan is behind the winch, brows furrowed. You could see it on his face too; noone in the team seemed to be happy with this.

Considering they were letting one of their own down a 30 foot drop without fully knowing how stable the ground was, you understood.

For the first time since the broadcast started the blonde is quiet, microphone held at her chest as she watches and waits to see what's going to happen.

You're quite literally on the edge of your seat, knees pressing into the couch table as your hands press together anxiously. You trusted Bobby. He would never allow a plan to go through if it wasn't thoroughly planned and ensured at least a certain amount of safety to his team.

Nevertheless, your eyes move to Buck. He's clenching the remote control of the winch so tight in his hands you're sure if the material weren't as slippery from the rain he would've broken it. He doesn't just look stressed anymore but anxious.

That's a look you don't see often; he's confident and stubborn (arguably stupid and reckless). If he does something he commits to it and he's sure of it. But right now? He's the opposite. Bobby has a hand on his shoulder and you're thankful for his sensitivity to Buck’s feelings, the silent comforting visibly (to you - who could read Evan like an open book) helping him.

“Come on,” you chant under your breath as minutes pass. How could this be taking so long? Wasn't there a limited amount of time Eddie could be down there? You're sure he was wearing an oxygen tank and you remember Evan talking about the limited time that posed.

“And what is that- the rope has seemingly snapped! Neither the boy or the firefighter of the 118 is back up,” the news reporter is almost yelling now and you're thankful for her awful screeching voice as it had made you listen to what she's saying.

Wait. Did she say the rope snapped?

You frown and stand up, unable to keep sitting as you spot Evan’s devastated look as he discusses something with Chim. Oh goodness. This isn't happening. Why is the rope the only thing coming back up?

“The weather is getting worse as the firefighters decide to send down a second one, hoping this time the rope works. We're expecting a thunderstorm and the rain will continue-” you blend her out again as you see Chimney now in Eddie's spot.

“Jesus,” you mumble. He's down in a second, everyone moving even faster than before. Evan had his fists stemmed on his hip, watching the descent of his friend. Knowing him as well as you did, you're almost one hundred percent sure Buck had discussed going down instead - no doubt being shut down by either Hen or Bobby.

You couldn't help but feel glad he hadn't been the one as you could continue keeping your eyes on him.

It's Bobby's eyes which widen first, jaw dropping. Next follow Hen and lastly Evan. There, secured on the rope is Chim with a tiny boy wrapped in some kind of foil that would help him get his body temperature up again. His mother is crying as she welcomes him back into her arms, your lips quirking into a smile at the wholesome scene.

Now only Eddie was missing.

The 118 was discussing something in the back when you decide to text Bobby, seeing Evan being reprimanded by said man.

I'll come over and stay out of the way - just gotta make sure Buck does nothing too stupid…

You text the captain and receive a thumbs up emoji a moment later. You grab your phone, keys and wallet before hurrying to your car and driving there.

When you arrive your glad for the raincoat you'd picked, pulling it tight around your body as you try finding a spot where you wouldn't be in anyone's way.

You find it soon enough, and the first thing you notice is something akin to an argument breaking out between Hen and your husband. You sigh and hope he wouldn't do anything reckless, because by God that was his specialty. Bobby pats his shoulder more aggressively than necessary and points in your direction.

Buck turns around and when he spots you his face practically melts; excusing himself as he jogs over to the fence you'd decided to stand.

“How is it going? Where is Eddie?” You ask almost immediately and Evan sighs heavily before frowning again. You press your thumb against his forehead and smooth out the worry wrinkles, him already so used to the gesture he barely notices.

“He's- he's trapped. He cut his rope for some reason and we can't reach him over the radio. We're sending someone else down to see what happened down there.”

You curse and slide your hand to rest on his cheek. His skin is cold and wet from the rain and you're certain he caught a cold by now.

“You're not going,” you say. It's a question and demand at the same time; you trust him to do the right thing but he easily becomes reckless. He didn't like when you pointed it out, but it was true. It had gotten you two into an argument more than a handful of times but he never ceased to be stubborn when on a call.

“What do you mean? Of course I'm going, Eddie's down there!” He huffs and stiffens, leaning away from your hand on his face in the same notion. “Evan,” you start and he looks up from his feet and into your eyes, the pleading look in his eyes making you melt a little.

“I know you're capable of doing this but-”

“No! I'm capable so why shouldn't I?” He interrupts and you unhappily note the reporter approaching. You glare at him before putting on a fake smile when the woman stops in front of the two of you.

“Do you have a minute?” She asks and you almost roll your eyes at the flirty tone she regards your husband with.

He smiles shortly and excuses himself, looking at you meaningfully before going back to the rest of his team. She turns to you and before you can escape she starts talking, the camera right in your face. Great. You'd been ready for bed when you decided to drive here (and look accordingly) and now you're on national news.

“How do you know him? What did you talk about? There seemed to be some tension.” She makes an oohing noise and this time you can't contain your eye roll. “I was simply talking to my husband. Now excuse me please,” you see the shocked look on her face and she nervously adjusts her hair before turning back to the camera.

“Evan Buckley!” You say loud enough that not only Bobby but Hen and Chim turn around as well, eyebrows raised in surprise at your presence. The one you actually addressed was currently busy getting into a harness.

You stand behind him, mumbling thanks to Bobby when he steadies you as your feet slip on the mud and wet ground. “What do you think you're doing?”

Buck looks at you over his shoulder, red goggles on his face and similar gear to what Eddie had worn. “My job,” he grunts and you sigh exasperatedly. “I see that, I have two eyes.” Frankly you didn't want to be this upset. He wasn't special as in he should get special treatment; the team risked their lives daily all the same.

But you were scared. You'd seen it many times; he'd get an idea and pull through with it, no matter what anyone says or what the odds are. It simply pisses you off that he never thinks of anyone else.

He acts like no one cares whether he lives or dies and that's what's really bothering you, once again as he is getting ready to go down.

The desperation must be visible on your face because Bobby's comforting hand moves to your shoulder and you exhale and look at him, lips quivering.

“I'm sorry I shouldn't be bothering here, I don't know what came over me.” You apologize and suck up the tears stemming from foreboding fear.

He shakes his head, “It's okay, you know we'll tell you if you're in the way.” You nod and wrap your arms around yourself, ready to at least tell Buck you loved him before he went down.

You flinch at the Crack of the thunder. And then there's white sparks everywhere as the lightning strikes the crane, causing the LED lights to fail and cast everything in darkness. There's screaming and you just barely see Buck unclasping his harness before his arms wrap around your waist and he throws himself backward.

You scream as you cling to his arm, utterly confused until the crane creaks horribly and starts falling. It looks and feels as if it's in slow motion but it gets faster the closer it comes and then it lands on the earth with a loud booming sound.

You heave in shock at the whole thing until Buck let's go of you and runs the few steps to the well.

And that's when you see it. Your face falls and your pulse accelerates when there's not one or two holes but none. Someone to your left yells that the ground collapsed and over the ringing in your ears you see Buck kneeling over the spot as he claws at the mud, screaming in vain.

You whimper when the realization comes that Eddie is still down there. Under pounds if not tons of earth with no way out. You Clasp a hand over your mouth as tears fall down your face. Eddie would make it, you convince yourself in order to calm down enough to think rationally - especially to be there for who needed you most right now.

“Baby, come on, you'll save him but you need to come this isn't safe,” you urge as you tug at Bucks shoulders. He resists, muscles straining as he keeps digging only for every hole he makes to be filled with more mud. “Evan, please,” you cry and he snaps out of it, heavily breathing as he turns around to look at you.

He's crying and you can see the pure desperation and fear replaying on his face. “Inside! We need to discuss plans!” Bobby yells and makes a motion with his hand before all of the remaining 118 hurries after him and into the house.

“Let's go, yeah? They're thinking of a way to find him,” you repeat to your devastated husband. He whimpers and tries to say something as he weakly claws at the earth, you shush him and pull him into your chest, uncaring of the mud and dirt covering you both now.

“He'll be okay. You know Eddie. He would never leave Christopher alone.” he shakily nods and moves his hand to your hips to squeeze them. He knocks his forehead against yours and you can feel his exhaustion as he leans fully onto you.

“Buck you gotta calm down and focus. You can do that, right?” He nods dazedly and you move your hand onto the nape of his neck, cupping it to ground him.

“Eddie needs you. Focus. No stupid or reckless decisions.” He manages a tiny glare at you before he closes his eyes and inhales deeply, opening them when he's ready. There's new determination cursing through him as he stands up and pulls you to stand with him.

The pouring rain sticks his hair onto his forehead and you swear he's the most beautiful person to walk this earth. His blue eyes wander over your face and he seems to find what he was looking for when he presses a tender kiss to your lips, nose and forehead.

“I'm sorry I just- I can't lose him. Chris can't lose him,” he mumbles and you nod in understanding. “Shh, I know.” You keep your hand to cup his face for a moment and then sigh, ushering him towards the house. He frowns and pulls you with him but you smile and shake your head, “I'll go relieve Carla. I haven't seen Chris in a while anyway.”

He nods but is reluctant to let you go, kissing your forehead again and mumbling an ‘I love you’ into your skin. You smile and soothe your thumb over his knuckles, “I love you more. Be careful.” You say the last part with a warning but worried tone and glance at him with a small frown.

He huffs amused and pecks your temple before stepping back and adjusting the hood of your raincoat to sit tightly on your head, “I will be. Tell Chris I said hi and that I want to do a sleepover again.” You laugh and he does too for a second until his eyes and expression dull and the looming threat to Eddie's life moves back to the forefront of his thoughts.

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, mumbling something and then looking up again. He begins to say something when a commotion to the side drowns his voice out. Confused you both turn around and his arm slips around your waist to keep you close - a habit you adored.

“What?” You mumble. The huddle of people clears and in the middle is Eddie - his arms are limply slung over two other firefighters’ shoulders and his head is hanging down. His entire gear is dripping wet as if he'd gone for a swim (well technically he probably did… you note mentally as the positive shock wears off). His helmet and goggles are missing, hair sticking to his forehead and most worryingly his eyes are bloodshot and red, earth and mud dirtying his usually clear skin.

“What..?” Evan breathes out and his arm drops from around you as he runs over to his best friend and carelessly pulls him into a hug. You see Eddie's smile as he rests his head in the crook of Evan's neck, sluggishly moving his arms around the others shoulders to hold himself up. The two men who had helped him hover for a second in case their help was needed again but when Evan keeps clinging to the older they retreat.

Then you feel Hen, Bobby and Chimney rush past you - the two paramedics with their first aid bags. You're unsure whether to put your plan from a moment ago into reality or if you could be of help here when Buck starts dragging Eddie along and over to you.

With a stressed sigh you approach them, stopping a foot in front of them with a warning glance, “You both should get in the ambulance and let these two,” you point to Hen and Chim, “do their job. No wandering around, boys.”

Evan pouts and Eddie manages a chuckle that still clearly showcases how tired out and overall done he is but you welcome it nevertheless. “You're like, way too strict. He basically just drowned,” Evan starts, and both you and Eddie roll your eyes - you in fond annoyance and Eddie in amusement.

“Wow. Why do I always get the attitude?” He huffs and side eyes you as he drags Eddie to the ambulance but not before mouthing another ‘I love you’.

Shaking your head you pull down the hood of your coat and nod at Bobby, signaling him you were going to leave now. He nods and turns back to whatever important duties he had now.

After a last glance into the ambulance (where Buck actually sat still for once) you get your keys and drive off. The drive to Chris and Eddie is only about half an hour and when you get there you still see the light in the kitchen on. This was unusual - normally Carla would just watch some TV with the lights off when she waited until early in the morning for Eddie to come back.

You knock on the front door and wait, the older woman opening the door with a wide smile, “Thought I saw you approach. I saw you on the news, you wanna tell me what that's about, girl?”

You laugh and shake your head, reciprocating the warm hug and stepping into the house. “It's pretty boring. Thought I'd spend the night here today, Eddie will probably not be home tonight or tomorrow…” You solemnly explain and she hums.

“Saw it on the news. And.. for some reason he did too,” she sighs heavily and walks you to the living room. And surely there is Christopher perched on the sofa with a worried little frown on his forehead as he watches the news.

You furrow your brows and nod, “Did he see it all?” She nods again and you understand why the little boy wasn't in bed although it was nearing two in the morning when his usual bedtime is nine thirty.

“Chris? Hey, buddy!” You smile and ruffle his hair. He grins at you in that adorable way and you wave at Carla over his shoulder as she grabs her bag and keys. “You wanna explain why you aren't in bed?” He looks a bit guilty but pouts stubbornly. “I saw dad on the news.”

You didn't really need more explanation - you knew Chris worried for his father in the same manner Eddie was probably currently thinking about his son.

“I saw him too. And you know what?” He looks at you with big but tire, dropping eyes. “He's with some nice doctors now and he's gonna be completely fine again very quickly. Doesn't that sound good?”

He ponders for a moment and then slowly nods, “Buck?” A chuckle escapes you and you grin, “He's fine too.”

“Then why were you angry with him?” He asks and it takes you embarrassingly long to connect the dots. The news reporter seemingly had shown your and Evans little dispute earlier. “I wasn't angry with him he was just being stupid,” you shake your head and explain.

Chris hums and looks back at the news report. You bite your lip in thought and then tilt your head, “Do you want to talk to Buck?” Christopher basically lights up and nods eagerly clasping his hands under his chin as you video call Evan - praying he was still with Eddie and that in a few minutes Christopher would be calmed enough to finally go to bed.

“Baby? Don’t worry I’m fine the doctors just checked me out,” he’s slumped in a hospital chair in a way you know will have him complaining about his neck hurting tomorrow and his eyes are just as droopy and tired as the ones of the boy next to you.

“That’s good. There’s someone who really wants to talk to you.” Chris squeezes into the frame and you chuckle before handing him the phone, watching Bucks face light up as he sees him, “Chris! Hi, bud! What are you still doing up?”

Said boy giggles and starts recounting his evening. You start cleaning up a bit meanwhile, getting everything ready for Chris to go to sleep and for Eddie to return home without going straight to cleaning (because he would and that man really needs to rest for once).

The living room gets suspiciously quiet and you put down the kitchen towel and plate to check up on the two boys. “Chris?” Your heart melts when you see him laying down on the sofa with your phone clutched in your hand, still on the call and showing your husband also napping.

You gently take the phone and put it on the table to briskly talk to Evan after putting Chris to bed. Then you put an arm under his back and the other under his knees to carry him to his room. Luckily Christopher doesn’t wake up and you quickly tuck him in before leaving the room with the door opened a bit.

You turn off the lights except for the small lamp next to the sofa and pull a blanket up to your chin with your phone back in your hand.

“Buck?” He grunts in his sleep and the phone slips from his hand until it’s laying on the hospital bed and you huff a quiet laugh.

“Alright, I love you.” You whisper and hang up, quickly texting him to tell you when Eddie would be back.

The next morning you wake up to someone poking your cheek repeatedly and before remembering where you were you almost turn around and continue sleeping.

Then a small but very much insistent voice calls your name.

You squint your eyes at the light streaming in from the sun, the shadow keeping your eyes from being blinded belongs to Chris. “We need to visit Dad.” He decides in a sure voice. You stretch and sit up, reaching out to gently make him sit down as well.

“Visit him? I don’t know if we can yet I’ll have to ask the doctors…” Chris huffs unhappily and you nod in understanding. “I know, but you’ll see him soon.” Reaching for your phone you stop in your tracks when there’s a thump at the door before two voices can be heard throughout the hallway and into the living room.

Christopher looks at you with a confused look and your nervousness evaporates when you hear an exclaimed curse and another voice scolding him after. Well, that could only be your husband and the only one Chris wanted to see right now.

“Dumb and dumber are here,” you whisper to Chris and he giggles. After Bobby had called them that once Chris had picked it up and now it was kind of an inside joke between him and almost all of the 118 - to the displeasure of the two guys.

He holds his arms out and you pick him up, sneaking to the door to watch as one of them seems to try and get the key to fit into the designated spot.

“Let’s let them in?” The boy in your arms nods and you open the door, staring at Eddie and Evan with raised eyebrows. “You guys should never try robbing someone.”

Bucks jaw drops in offense and you can practically see the rebuttal on his face but he keeps it to himself and simply holds up two plastic bags, “We got breakfast.”

Chris is busy reaching for Eddie who seemed a bit unsteady on his feet but other than visible bruises he looked fine. You smile at him and pat his shoulder as he walks inside, kissing his son's head and gently murmuring about something as you focus on Evan.

“Morning,” you finally greet and lean up for a kiss, Evan gratefully giving you one. He grins down at you and then at the boy in your arms, “Chris! Did you protect her all night?” He asks with an exaggerated voice and you laugh and roll your eyes but take the plastic bags with food from him and pass Chris into his arms.

You leave the two to themselves as you look at Eddie and sigh before hugging him, “You scared us half to death yesterday.” He shrugs and grins “What else would I be doing other than stress you guys out?”

Your jaw momentarily drops and he grins with a shrug and fakes sympathy as he pats your shoulder. You two walk into the kitchen to prepare the food onto plates.

“How are you? Be honest,” you warningly add, fully aware of his habit to minimize his worries and pains same as your husband.

“Sore. Probably added some trauma to the collection.” He jokes and you look at him over your shoulder with a glare that makes him laugh. “No really. I’m fine. Just needed some rest and the bruises will go away with time.”

Nodding, you cross your arms over your chest and catch a glimpse of Buck holding Chris up and pretending to be an airplane. “How is he? He was ready to dig the earth up with his own hands when you got trapped.” You sigh.

Eddie nods and shakes his head, “Yeah, no he was pretty worried. I got quite the lecture when I woke up.” You both laugh at that and then you pass him two plates while taking the other two, “Let’s eat breakfast.”

-

When you’re home that evening you both are dead tired and yet Buck insists on carrying you up the stairs and helping you change into your pajamas (though you’re sure that was just for his enjoyment).

“I have tomorrow and the day after off. You know what that means? All day in bed,” he grins as he flops down onto the mattress next to you. With a smile you comb your hand through his hair and smooth your thumb along his temple.

“You definitely need to rest.” You agree and he turns his head to look at you, “Nope. I need you. So you better call in sick as long as I’m off.”

You huff at his demanding tone, raise both eyebrows and lean back on your elbows. The mattress and pillows make you groan in comfort as you concentrate your gaze onto him.

He was halfway laying down on his side with his arm propped up under him. He was wearing some black shorts and a dark blue t-shirt that was too tight around his biceps. His eye bags are worse than usual and you can tell since that night Eddie almost died he hasn't been sleeping well. His hair is an adorable mess and you don't refrain from reaching out and gently carding your hand through it.

He hums and closes his eyes with a small smile tugging on his lips. “I'll call in sick,” he perks up and opens his eyes again, a smirk replacing his earlier smile before you interrupt, “But only because I can actually feel that I'm getting a cold and not because you're asking me to.” He pouts and it goes unsaid by either of you that he played a big part in you taking some sick days.

After all, you usually put your health on the back burner, focusing on your job and other things like grocery shopping. Buck had always had a problem with that, lecturing you whenever he came home to see you passed out on the couch with tissues around you and a mountain of blankets keeping him from being able to throw himself on top of you.

“Alright, baby. I'm gonna be Doctor Buckley!” He grins and sits up, dusting off his shoulders and puffing out his chest. The action makes you burst into laughter and you fall on your back. He takes that as an invitation to lean over you and pretend to check your airways and pulse, pressing his ear over your sternum.

“You're so childish,” you comment and he happily ignores you to convert his checking of your breathing to laying on your chest with an arm wound around your waist.

It grows quiet and there's a comfortable atmosphere as you play with his hair while he snoozes on your abdomen.

Maybe you wouldn't mind being sick for a few days if this is the doctor taking care of you.

[roosterforme]

Covering the Classics Part 14 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Once again, Anna can't seem to get what she wants from Kevin. Bob realizes she needs a break, and the last thing he wants to do is leave her alone. He convinces her to go somewhere he knows she will be safe.

Warnings: Angst, Kevin is a dick, bruises on Anna's arm, adult language, 18+

Length: 4900 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more!

Of course this would happen. On the day when Anna was supposed to meet Bob, one of her colleagues from the English department actually wanted to chat in the lounge. Dr. Lukas was usually quiet, but today he wanted to have an in depth conversation about Anna's Classics lecture and whether or not she would mind if he sat in.

"Please, stop by any time. I would love to get some feedback from you." If she was going to stay in San Diego and try for tenure, she may as well get friendly with someone who'd been at the university for longer than she'd been alive. When she finally excused herself to drop the stack of quizzes she printed in her office before heading to Chippy's, she felt a little sadder. 

Would she be able to stay here indefinitely? Could she give up on her manuscript and get something just as fulfilling out of her job teaching here? She wanted to have both. Something about being with Bob and knowing he was falling for her made her feel like she could have both. Her manuscript and her job. The best thing about her old life and one of the best things about her new life in California.

Lost in thought as she took the elevator back up, she turned down the hallway to her office and almost screamed when her door came into view. She froze up, somehow unable to decide if fight or flight was her best option. But it didn't matter. He saw her. He was already walking her way. Once again, he had the upper hand in this scenario. Even when she tried to catch him off guard, he managed to surprise her just as much. 

And now a truly devastating thought occurred to her. Kevin knew where she worked. He had taken it upon himself to figure that much out. But what if he knew more than that?

"Anna," he said with a smile as if he was greeting an old friend and not his estranged wife he spent years taking advantage of. "I've been waiting for you."

A chill ran down her spine as she tried to push her shoulders back to her tallest height, and she knew he could tell she was nervous. "Waiting for what, Kevin?"

"Well," he started blandly, "you thought it was okay to interrupt my work event, so I decided I would do the same."

Her stomach felt like it sank to her feet. She needed to find a way to send him packing before she could attempt to leave the building. "I actually have plans tonight, so..."

He laughed in response. "You mean the nerdy guy with glasses? Yeah, I already sent him packing. Your plans are with me now."

"What do you mean you sent him packing?" Did Bob try to stop by her office rather than waiting for her at Chippy's? When she took her phone from her pocket to text him, Kevin snatched it from her fingertips.

Anna was completely alone with him right now, and he was scowling down at her. "I said your plans are with me. I'll hold onto this if it's going to be a distraction for you."

When she crossed her arms over her chest, she could feel the tender bruises on her arm where he grabbed her at his conference. She shouldn't have gone there, and now she didn't know what to do. When Kevin pocketed her phone, she asked, "Would you like to sit in my office and talk?"

"No," he replied calmly. "I think we should go back to your apartment on Monroe Avenue to chat."

There was no use in denying the fact that he just named her street, so she didn't even try. "I think I'd rather chat here."

"And I think I'd rather chat about your manuscript somewhere more private," he snapped even though nobody was around. Then he pulled a USB drive from his pocket, and Anna wanted to lunge for it on his open palm. "We can discuss how you're going to split any profits with me."

Before she could even make a decision about reaching for it, Kevin's fingers closed around it again. He already knew where she lived, and if he actually had her writing with him, she needed to try to play by his rules. "Fine," she told him, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "But only if you give me back my phone."

He nodded once. "As soon as we get to my rental car which is parked a block and a half away."

She could make it that far. She kept her eyes on him as she unlocked her office door, dropped off her quizzes for the following day and locked up again behind her. Then she followed a few steps behind Kevin as he walked down the stairs, out of the building and along the sidewalk, not stopping until he got to a silver Lexus.

"Phone," Anna said, realizing that Bob was going to think she stood him up at this point. That idea made her more upset at the moment than anything Kevin could do to her. She held out her hand and Kevin placed it on her palm. She saw some missed calls from Bob, but she didn't want to piss Kevin off any further at the moment, so she dropped it into her bag. 

When they were both inside the rental car on the very short drive to her place, Kevin said, "So, Anna, how do you like living in California?"

"It's better than New Jersey," she retorted immediately. 

Kevin snorted. "What's the saying? A New Jersey eight is a California three? I'm surprised you got that poor guy to sleep with you. And I'm surprised you can go out in the sun here without getting a blistering sunburn all over your freckles."

Anna sat there quietly, counting her blessings. She really only had three of them. Friends, a job, and her own apartment. "Are you going to give me that USB drive?" she asked when they were close to her place.

"If you sign some paperwork for me. You seemed keen on waving some bullshit from your lawyer in my face yesterday, so I'm sure I can get you to take a look at what I brought with me."

She hated him and his tone of voice, but mostly she hated the idea of him inside her apartment with her. She took a deep breath as she eventually unlocked her door and let him follow her into her tiny studio.

"Nice place," he said, clearly mocking everything he saw.

"Is it any shock to you that this is all I can afford, Kevin?" she snapped.

"I guess my medical degree is worth more than your arts PhD, huh? God bless medical school."

"You paid for it with my dime," she hissed, barely in control of her emotions now. She could see a smile spreading across Kevin's lips, and she knew she desperately needed to get a grip.

"You were a pretty good wife in some respects," he said, laughing at the look on her face. "But now you've become a pain in my ass. And the little stunt you pulled yesterday at my conference was enough to make me want to find you and let you know how it's going to be from here on out. Okay, Anna?"

When she didn't respond, he pulled that little USB drive from his jacket pocket along with a single folded up piece of paper. He smoothed it out before handing it to her. 

"Go ahead and sign that for me, and you can have what you want." That little bit of plastic was back on his palm, and she was almost afraid to take her eyes off of it to read the document. But when she did, she found it was drafted up by his lawyer. He wanted half of any money she made through her writing. The idea of it made her want to throw up.

"And what if I don't agree to this?" she whispered. 

"Then I keep it. I don't personally need it as badly as you seem to, so I'd think about how generous I'm being if I were you."

"Why are you like this?" Anna nearly shouted. "Why?"

And that's when Kevin snapped. "You tried to intimidate me!" he hollered. "At my own conference! After my keynote introduction! Do you really think I'm going to let that fucking slide?" Her lips were quivering as she pressed them together, but he just continued. "You're such a bitch, Anna. And apparently someone called Alyssa after they saw you there! She thinks we're already in the process of getting divorced!"

"We could have been by now! But you won't let me go with what's mine!"

But Kevin just yelled over her, and Anna briefly wondered if her neighbors could hear them. "You like your new job? Teaching reading comprehension to adults? I hope you still like it when I do everything in my power to get you fired!"

Tears filled her eyes, and her ears were ringing from his voice. When her apartment door flew open and hit the wall, she thought she had imagined it. But even her imagination couldn't perfectly conjure up Bob Floyd in his Dungeons & Dragons shirt and jeans, cheeks red with anger while his blue eyes flashed behind his glasses.

He was on Kevin immediately, taking him by surprise. Anna fleetingly took note of Kevin's shocked expression before Bob slammed him into the wall next to her bed. She gasped as Bob's forearm met Kevin's neck. "Don't yell at her," he said in that voice she loved so much. But he was gruff and angry right now, and Anna's heart pounded erratically as he added, "You don't get to yell at her like that."

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Kevin grunted, but Bob had him pinned firmly in place. "You're just some guy she's fucking."

Anna wanted to vanish into thin air. The way Kevin tried to make her sound disgusting in front of Bob made her skin crawl with shame. But all Bob did was glance back at her and calmly ask, "Are you okay?"

When she nodded, he turned back to Kevin and pushed him a little harder against the wall, and that's when Anna jumped to action. "Don't hurt him, Bob. Please, just let him go." She was shaking, terrified that after months and months, Bob would get himself in trouble over her. "He's not worth it."

When Bob loosened his hold, he stood firmly in place just inches in front of Kevin with his back to Anna. She had never felt protected like this in her life. Kevin pointed at her over Bob's shoulder and barked, "The deal is off the table."

"Just leave!" she begged, hands shaking relentlessly now. She needed him to go. She really needed both of them to go so she could have a panic attack in peace. 

Kevin shoved past Bob and headed for the door, and Bob locked it behind him. Then he turned to look at her, and she had nowhere to go as she sank down onto the floor next to her mattress and started to cry. Bob was there in an instant, and Anna was too tired to fight it when he collected her into his arms. She crawled into his lap, wrapped her arms around his neck and just cried until she was done. His hands were firm and solid against her back, and then he whispered, "Are you sure you're okay?"

She nodded against his neck, inhaling his clean scent. "It's my fault he knows where I work. It's my fault he knows where I live," she hiccupped. "I shouldn't have tested him like I did."

He just hummed and rubbed her back, his fingers tangling in her long hair. "Nothing Kevin decides to do is anyone's fault but his own. Now let's get you out of here."

Anna pulled away from him and swiped at the tears on her cheeks as she asked, "What do you mean? Where am I supposed to go?" She gestured around her tiny living space, but Bob's eyes remained on her face. "This is where I live."

"I'm not leaving you here," he whispered softly. "If he knows where you live and where you work, I don't think you should be here or on campus alone."

"He's mostly harmless," she insisted softly. 

Bob just looked sad as he sighed and started to stand. "He was screaming at you, Anna. And I don't like that. Will you please come with me?"

He was holding out his hand as she looked up at him. "Where?"

"My house. You can stay with me."

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

Bob watched as Anna collected some of her things. She looked so flustered, shoving clothing, toiletries and her computer into a backpack and a tote bag. She handed them to him and walked around her little apartment in a bit of a daze.

"I'll bring the food from my fridge for my lunch and some quarters for the laundromat," she muttered before chewing on her lip. Bob reached out and took her gently by the hand as she tried to walk past him, and she looked up at him with wide brown eyes.

"Anna, I have plenty of food. And a washer and dryer."

She took a few deep breaths and said, "But I can't just use all of your stuff. I can take care of myself."

"I know you can," he replied immediately. "But you need a break. My house is quiet. There are books and groceries. You can do your laundry. Let's go."

This time she nodded and let him lead her toward the door, but Bob accidentally kicked something across the floor and looked down to find a white USB drive hit the wall next to her bed. "Oh my god," she gasped, releasing his hand and lunging for it. She was kneeling and looking up at him as she whispered, "Kevin dropped it."

Bob's brow furrowed. "What's it from?"

She looked so hopeful now as she stood. "I think it might have my manuscript on it."

"Oh," Bob said in surprise. "Let's get out of here and check it." Anna's hand was back in his the whole way down the stairs, and when he held the door open for her, he pulled her a little closer. "What kind of car was he driving?"

"It was a silver Lexus sedan," she told him, and Bob started looking around at all of the parked cars. "I really don't think he would hang around. I'm telling you, he's an asshole, but he's harmless."

Bob wasn't going to risk it, even though Anna seemed excited now. He opened the passenger side door of his truck and helped her climb in before setting her bags at her feet. Then he walked to the end of the block, looking everywhere for something that could be Kevin's car. When he finally climbed into his truck and started the engine, he drove a slightly convoluted route back to his place, watching for any flash of silver paint.

"Thanks for looking out for me," Anna said softly as he pulled up to the curb in front of his house. "Even after everything."

He wanted to tell her that he would take care of everything if she would let him, but he didn't want to let his feelings overwhelm either of them. "You don't have to thank me for anything. Let's get inside and I'll make dinner while you check that USB drive."

Bob was thankful that Suzanne's door was closed, otherwise he would have had to explain to her why Anna was holding his hand and carrying her overnight bags. As soon as they were in his living room, he made sure his door was locked up tight while she scrambled to get her computer out. She sank down onto the couch and inserted the USB drive, glancing up at him with hopeful eyes. Then her face went expressionless when she looked at the screen.

"It's blank." That didn't sound surprising at all to Bob, and he sighed in relief as she said, "I thought this might be the case." She pushed her computer onto the couch cushion and stood saying, "Will you let me make dinner for you?"

He laughed softly and shook his head. "I already told you that you need a break." He plucked a collection of poems by Emily Dickinson from the top of his book shelf and handed it to her. "Read this. I'll tell you when it's ready."

"Thanks," she whispered, accepting the book from him. 

Bob left her in the living room, making a mental list of things he needed to take care of as he peeled some carrots and preheated the oven to cook some chicken breasts. It would only take him a minute to make up the futon in the extra bedroom. He would pack two lunches for tomorrow instead of one. He also needed to call Jessica. 

He wished he had something fancier to send Anna to work with, but he did have everything he needed to make sandwiches and fruit salads, and he had some packs of salted peanuts and cans of ginger ale. Once the chicken was in the oven, he slipped out the back door onto his patio, glancing at the street behind him for a silver Lexus while he called Jessica.

"I know, I know," she said when she answered. "I was supposed to send you the notes from D&D, but Jake took me out to dinner. We're on the way home now. I'll send it before bed."

"Hey," he replied. "No, I actually need to ask you to do something else."

"Anything," she replied easily, and Bob was so thankful for his friends.

"If you agree to do it, I need you to not ask a lot of questions at the moment."

"Sure," she told him so casually, his heart literally swelled.

"Anna is staying here with me for a while. Can you pick her up in the mornings on your way to work? I can get her after I leave base in the afternoon, but since you're heading into the city anyway-"

"Yeah. No problem. I can get her around 8:30 or 8:40," she told him. If she was surprised by his request, she didn't show it.

"Thank you, Jess," he said. He added, "I haven't given up," before he ended the call. He made an additional mental note that he needed to pull the weeds in Suzanne's vegetable garden, and then he headed back inside.

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

Somewhere in the romantic throes of Emily Dickinson, Anna passed out on Bob's couch. She woke up with the book tucked under her chin and his kind face in front of hers. His eyes were so sincere as he said, "Dinner is on the table, and I got the extra bedroom ready."

"Okay," she said as she sat up, still in a daze over everything that happened today. She was proud of herself for not getting her hopes up about what was on the USB drive, but it still hurt to know Kevin was such an ass after all this time. Then as soon as she sat down with Bob and took one bite of the magic carrots he cooked, her brain turned to complete mush. "Oh my god." She took two more big bites, practically moaning over the taste of a hot meal, and she hadn't even gotten to the chicken yet.

"It's nothing fancy, but it's getting late, and I can tell you're tired," he said as he cut up his food.

"Bob," she whispered, looking at him in awe. "This tastes like you went to culinary school."

He blushed bright pink, and Anna desperately tried not to think about how rosy his cheeks had been after he made her orgasm twice. "I'm glad you like it," he muttered, taking a bite and then clearing his throat. "I hope you don't mind, but I called Jess and asked if she could pick you up on her way to campus tomorrow. I would take you myself, but it would add at least 45 minutes to my ride to base in rush hour traffic, and I don't want you waiting for a bus alone."

Anna almost dropped her fork. She couldn't remember the last time someone looked out for her wellbeing like this, because it had never happened before. "Thanks," she whispered. She didn't know how many times she could say that word to him, but she meant it each time she did. And once again he was acting like what he was doing was simply part of his normal existence. Like he helped poor, hungry college professors all the time. Before she bit into the chicken, she asked what had been on her mind earlier. "Why did you come to my apartment anyway?"

He was blushing again as he adjusted his glasses and fumbled his fork. "Uh, well I was running early, so I stopped by your office. Kevin was there, jiggling the doorknob, trying to see if you were inside. He told me he was going to take you back to New Jersey so he could keep track of you."

"Like hell he is!" she snapped. "I'm not going anywhere with him!"

Bob scratched the back of his neck and said, "Yeah, well, as soon as I walked away to see if you were actually already at Chippy's, I just got a weird feeling. When I couldn't find you, I drove to your place. Kevin really rubbed me the wrong way."

The perfect man was sitting across from her, and Anna had to just sit there and eat her delicious chicken while she tried to process things. But then Bob asked, "Why was he there anyway?"

Anna looked up at him like a deer caught in headlights. She knew she needed to be honest with him if she ever had a hope or a prayer, so she said, "I may have figured out he's at a huge conference in Carlsbad until next week. And I may have gone up there and tried to get him to sign over my manuscript."

"Are you serious?" he asked, looking at her like she had two heads. "Anna. You went alone?" She nodded and he said, "I know you think he's harmless, but he looked up your workplace and your address. He tracked you down."

"Yeah," she said softly. "But I tracked him down first."

He sighed deeply. "The difference between you and him is that you wouldn't do anything maliciously but he would. Promise me you won't do something like that again."

The fact that he was worried about her was enough to make her agree, because if Bob Floyd cared about her, then she owed it to him. But also Kevin really got under her skin with his demanding behavior. She knew now that going up to Carlsbad was a bad idea, but she wanted to keep fighting as long as she could. She owed that to herself.

"Let me clean up," she said, standing once she had eaten every speck of food on her plate, but Bob was already shaking his head.

"I'm just going to dump everything in the sink and deal with it tomorrow. Why don't you go up and take a hot shower? You can use anything you find in my bathroom."

Anna wanted to argue with him, but there was such a bone deep ache inside her, and she knew a steamy shower would help alleviate it so she could try to sleep. Once again she thanked him, and once again he told her he didn't mind one bit.

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

Bob ended up not only washing all of the dishes and pans but wiping down the entire kitchen, too. Just knowing that Anna was in his shower was making his skin tingle. He thought about being in there with her, but it turned into something more than a sexual need. He just wanted to protect her, kiss the freckles on her shoulders and tell her she could stay here as long as she wanted to. If she simply never left, she could read all of his books and recommend more and more. 

With a soft groan, he dragged himself up the stairs once he heard her turn the shower off. He made it to the landing in front of the bathroom door just as she walked out. "You have amazing water pressure," she told him with a little smile. "The shower in my apartment is a tiny stall with terrible water pressure."

Bob wanted to reply, but all he could do was stare at her. She was wearing a tank top and some worn flannel pants, and her damp hair was freshly combed. The sweet smelling steam wafted out, hitting him in the face as he realized that the deep red shade of Anna's wet hair was absolutely, indisputably his favorite color. He never wanted her to go back to her tiny apartment. She didn't even have a real kitchen there. Her bed was on the floor.

Anna cleared her throat and said, "I hope you don't mind, but I made a little spot for some of my stuff on your bathroom counter. You can move it if you want."

"It's fine," he muttered, once again wanting things he shouldn't. But now that he knew exactly how awful Kevin was, it was going to be impossible not to dream that maybe someday Anna would be free. Maybe she'd choose him.

"Okay," she whispered, jerking her thumb toward his extra bedroom. "I'll just get in bed then."

"What?" Bob asked as she took a step away from him. "No, you can sleep in my bed. I'll sleep on the futon." It might kill him to think about her laying on his pillow, tangled up in his sheets, but his bed would be much more comfortable.

"I can't do that," she told him, taking another step. "Not after everything you've done for me."

Before she could make it through the doorway, Bob hooked his arm around her waist and pulled her toward his bedroom. "I insist."

"Bob," she said with a little laugh that melted away into a needier voice as she went along with him. "I'm only going to sleep in your bed if you're there, too."

Fuck. He wanted it so badly, he was automatically nodding in agreement. Anna's lips parted softly, and she sucked in a breath. He steered her toward the bed, and that's when he saw it. He grunted, his steps coming to a halt as he ducked his chin down a little bit so she met his gaze.

"Why is your arm bruised?"

Her lips were pressed in a thin line as she looked up at him wordlessly. Just when he thought she wasn't going to respond, she whispered, "He never did anything like it before, but he grabbed me pretty hard yesterday. I... made him really mad."

"He has no right," Bob growled. "I don't care what you did to him, he should have kept his hands off you."

"But my manuscript is so important to me, and I want it back."

"Anna," he said, cupping her soft cheek in his hand. "Your manuscript isn't worth more than you."

Her eyes fluttered closed, and she nodded. Her long lashes were still resting on her cheeks as she whispered, "I'm ready for bed."

Bob's heart was skipping around in his chest as he kissed her forehead. "Go ahead and climb in. I'll be right there."

He watched as she pulled back the bedding and slipped in between the sheets. After he grabbed some gym shorts and a clean undershirt, he ducked out of the room and into the bathroom. Anna's pink toothbrush and her purple comb were next to the sink. There was some face wash and toothpaste and a bag of makeup. He had to take a minute to pull himself together. He needed to be able to share a bed with her in approximately five minutes.

He brushed his teeth and did all of the necessities before changing into what he was planning on wearing to sleep. He was trying his best to keep his feelings at bay, but it felt like he had I LOVE ANNA written across his forehead when he slipped back into his bedroom. She was clearly emotionally exhausted, but she looked spectacular laying there waiting for him. 

When he paused in the doorway, she lifted up the covers on his side of the bed, and Bob carefully folded up his glasses before climbing in next to her. He flicked off the lamp on his nightstand. Neither of them said a word, but when his hand bumped hers beneath the covers, he felt her lace their fingers together. And a few minutes later, Anna was curled up along his side, sound asleep.

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

This whole week is a whirlwind for Anna, but at least ending up in Bob's bed when it's time to go to sleep is a high point. Kevin must be destroyed. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 15

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[anarcoqueer1994]

Eddie was going to tell them, he promised Steve he would. Its was easy to tell the apocalypse crew, kind of hard to keep things from a group of people you saved the world with. But telling Corroded Coffin about his new boyfriend was different. Not that they would care that he has a boyfriend. They've known he was queer for a while. What he was worried was who he was dating.

They had spent years in high school touting their superiority over the "conformist, arrogant sheep, and their leader King Steve." Except he had been to harsh, he had gotten to know Steve.... love Steve. And he was afraid if he told Corroded Coffin, not only would they rag on him, but they may say something horrible to Steve. But Steve said he didn't care, that he could handle it. He would "kill them with kindness." He just wanted to be open with Eddie with all their friend groups.

So Eddie promised he would tell. There was a little part of him, though, a superficial part of him, that cared a little more about what his friends think than he should. And so, even though he told Steve he would, he has been dragging his feet. Unfortunately, Steve does not know that. Eddie told a little white lie a few weeks ago that he told them, bringing the brightest, prettiest smile to his face. Eddie had planned to tell them soon after.

But he still hasn't, did not realize the mess he was about to make. Tonight they were having Hellfire at the Wheeler house. Dustin, Will, Lucas, Mike, Erica and the rest of Corroded Coffin were there.

Dustin mentions that Steve would be there soon to bring he, Lucas, Erica and Will home. That's when Garreth says "I still don't see why you guys like hanging out with that guy. He always seemed like an asshole to me." Jeff and Caleb nod their heads.

"He kind of is." Mike jokes. "But he's not a bad dude."

"Steve is cool, man." Dustin adds, obvious admiration in his face.

"Yea, Steve has always been really nice to us." Will smiles. "He is like another big brother." The rest of the party, including Erica, nod in agreement.

Erica gets a shit eating grin(not knowing Eddie has not told Corresed Coffin about he and Steve dating) "And he's cute, right Eddie?" The rest of the guys except Lucas and Will groan in response.

Eddie tries to play it off. "Yea, Harrington is hot. Anyone with eyes can see that."

"Well you must think he's extra hot since he's your...' before she can finish Eddie cuts her off. "I think we are at a good place to stop for tonight."

Everyone notices the quick way he cut her off. Everyone looks confused, even if the younger teens are for a different reason. Jeff speaks up. "What's Steve, Eddie?" He pokes.

"Steve is Steve." He shoots back avoiding the question, slight embarrassment creeping to his cheeks. He knows he should say more, tell them about his wonderful, adorable boyfriend. But maybe he ego is too big to admit he fell for the jock.

"What are you talking about?" Dustin speaks up.

"Why are you being weird?" Mike adds.

Suddenly a chorus of voices chime in, all asking questions. "What is Steve?" "Eddie, why are you being like this?" "Is something up with Steve?"

Finally over the loud voices from his old friends and new friends, he defensively says. "Steve is nothing!" His cheeks are red.

Unfortunately, over the chaos, they hadn't heard Steve come down the steps, having heard Eddie's proclamation. He had come a bit early, thinking Correded Coffin knew. He was carrying a plate of cupcakes, wanting to make a good impression during the first time seeing Correded Coffin as Eddie’s boyfriend.

But he was wrong. They didn't know, and Eddie had lied to him. It hurt. It's not like Eddie’s friends are homophobic, so Eddie was...ashamed to be dating him.

"I'm nothing?" Steve's voice causes everyone to look behind them. Steve looks devastated, like Eddie had just took his heart and stomped on it in front of everyone.

"Steve..." Eddie jumps up, trying to will time to rewind, but he can’t. He hadn't meant to say those terrible things.

But Steve is shaking his head, setting the cupcakes down, before bounding back up the steps.

All the "kids" including Mike, practically shoot daggers at Eddie as they leave, following after Steve.

Eddie is left sitting in the basement, with his three confused bandmates, feeling deflated, knowing he just fucked up the best thing in his life.

Part 2? Let me know if you want to be added to a tag list.

Tag list closed, part 2 here :)

[longtallglasses]

saw this post, original post from @jonathanbyersphd :) and wrote a little goodbye ritual. here on ao3

Will sadly plots his feet back down the stairs to the basement, just having received a devastating call home from his Mother.

Mike and Lucas sit beside each other on the rug near the bookshelf. They had all been playing with Mike’s toys for hours at this point, abandoning whatever they had been watching on the TV when they arrived.

He stands at the landing for a minute watching them, not knowing how to bring up this horrible news.

Mike seems to sense his presence and looks up, his brow furrowing at Will’s less-than-happy face, “Will? What’s wrong?”

Looking down at his feet, kicking them nervously, Will mumbles, “My mom just called. She’s coming to get me soon.”

“No!” Lucas begins to yell, but Mike quickly interrupts, overpowering his sentiment.

“What!” Mike exclaims, shooting up to run over to him, “Noo, no, no, you can’t go, we still haven’t fought off the forest warriors. We need you for that, we need our wizard!”

“I know,” Will says sadly, hating to see the despair take over Mike’s face. They were so close, so close to victory.

Mike quickly takes Will’s face in his hands, covering his ears to save him from Mike yelling, “Mom! Mom!”

They hear the telltale signs of Karen’s feet pattering through the kitchen. She opens up the basement door and looks down at them, “Michael, what are you yelling about?”

“Will can’t go! Call his Mom back, we need more time! It’s too early!” He shouts as he keeps his palms over Will’s eardrums.

Mrs. Wheeler sighs, looking down at his son’s astounding anguish over a friend leaving that he will no doubt see the next day. “It’s not too early. The Byers’ have something planned tonight, Will has to go, you’ll see him soon,” She says, trying to placate her distraught son.

“Noo!” Mike cries again.

“Michael. It’s final.” She states seriously and leaves the boys to mourn their loss.

Mike removes his hands from Will’s ears to wrap his arms around him, “You can’t go,” he whines.

From behind them Lucas rolls his eyes, as the third member of the group he’d grown quite accustomed to the antics of the other two when they inevitably had to say goodbye. He didn’t really understand it—the way they clung to each other and professed dramatic words about when they would next see each other. He feels no pull to perform such a show like they did.

Lucas watches on in un-amusement as Mike pulls away from Will, suddenly excited, “Your hat! Quick get your hat!”

Will’s face lights up, no longer looking as if he’s on his way to the gallows. running over to the couch to scrounge between the cushions looking for his wizard’s hat. Mike for his part, darts to their pile of costume pieces laying out, taking hold of his wooden sword and pretends to secure it in its holster under his arm.

“Will the Wise!” Mike calls out dramatically, puffing out his chest as Will finds his purple pointed wizard’s hat and pulls it over his head.

“Mike the Mighty!” Will calls back, standing on the couch and gazing across imaginary miles to his companion.

Lucas on the ground crosses his arms, settling down to begrudgingly watch the show. A show he’s watched almost everyday now this year since he became friends with the two.

“My wizard, I’ve searched for signs of your magic for a hundred miles now, and now we must part again so suddenly!” Mike falls to his knees, lowering his head to his chest.

“My paladin, I’ve been casting calls in the night to reach you, hoping you’d follow them and find me,” Will jumps down from the couch to approach Mike, who looks up at him, eyes sparkling, “But my prowess is needed elsewhere this evening, I must leave you now,”

Mike stands, bringing his sword up, and with a gallant swish bestows the wooden blade on each of Will’s shoulders, “I grant you my protection even in my absence. My dear friend, I will follow you to the ends of the land to keep you safe,”

A faint pink hue blossoms across Will’s cheeks, “And I you. My magic will always follow you,” Will tells him, taking the hold of Mike’s wrist that grips his sword, bringing them slightly closer, “If you are ever in danger I will be standing beside you. You have your shield?”

Sighing loudly, Lucas falls onto his back, picking up the toy dinosaur at his side and idly fiddling with its arms, patiently waiting for his friends to reach the end of this tired, tired, production.

“Yes!” Mike declares—he doesn’t actually—but he bolsters his arm out like it’s sheathed on his forearm.

Will places his hands on his arm, “Remember my magic lives in here too, if you are attacked I will be your shield,”

Nodding seriously, Mike places his hand over Will’s, “I remember. I could never forget.”

Lucas groans, “Are you guys done yet?”

“Silence Sundar!” Mike cries, keeping his eyes on Will, “my wizard is leaving me, I must say goodbye properly,”

Will smiles through a giggle, but composes himself, “Not leaving. This is not a goodbye my paladin,”

“No. You’re right, it’s not,” Mike agrees softly, “we will reunite quite soon,”

“And our adventures will continue,” Will finishes.

Mike smiles, “Please journey safely,”

“Will’s Mom isn’t even here yet,” Lucas complains.

Will’s hands grip Mike’s arm tighter, “I’ll be thinking of you with every step I take, and every spell I cast,”

Mike takes hold of his shoulder, “Every swing of my sword and every battle cry I yell will be for you, my wizard,”

“Oh my god,” Lucas moans, rolling over to bury his face in his arms.

The scene goes on for several minutes. The wizard and the paladin continue to recount the ways in which they will be with each other in their absence, how they will reunite, and how they will continue on stronger together than when they parted. Lucas, their ranger, having to bear witness in agony to the whole drama.

Finally a knock comes to the door of the basement. A ring of reprieve for the ranger, and a sounding of distress for the other two party members.

“Will, Joyce is here!” they hear Mrs. Wheeler call out to them.

The two mothers probably know the boys will not come so easily to those words, opening the door and taking a few steps down to survey the severity of this particular goodbye today.

Joyce stands with an amused grin a few steps up from the bottom landing, watching as the two boys scramble back to the other side of the room in hiding, “No!” They cry.

“Will, it’s time to say goodbye,” Joyce says, trying to sound light and positive.

“Mom, please just a bit longer,” Will begs, standing behind the arm of the couch with Mike, as if the small barrier would protect them.

Joyce sighs, “Will you know Grandma is visiting, we gotta go. You’ll see Mike tomorrow,” she reasons.

“But that’s forever away!” Mike cries, holding Will against him and pulling him behind him.

“Michael,” Karen cuts in, “Let your friend go,”

Mike shakes his head, defiant, grumbling, “Mm-mm,”

Watching on from his place on the floor, Lucas rolls his eyes for a third time in the last fifteen minutes.

“Mike,” Will says softly, “It’s okay, I will see you tomorrow,” giving in to make his friend feel better.

Mike turns to him in betrayal, “No wait, we haven’t finished our goodbye,” he tries desperately.

Will smiles, the finish, his favorite part. The part he imagines in his mind when he rests his head on his pillow at night.

It’s not anything crazy, but it’s the way they do it. Will nods, “Yeah, yeah, let’s finish,” he says.

Mike kneels again, placing a hand over his heart, “Until whence we meet again, Will the Wise, I’ll be preparing for our next adventure,” he looks up at Will, appearing strong in his sorrow.

Will mirrors the action, placing a hand over his own heart, “Until then, Mike the Mighty, my full strength won’t return until I see you,”

Outstretching his arm, Mike offers his hand palm up, which Will slides his into. Mike brings his hand to his lips, leaving the chastest kiss upon his knuckles.

Somewhere in the room the two women giggle at the show, and the ranger rolls his eyes for a fourth time. Yet the wizard and paladin pay them no mind, their gaze locked with their hands clasped.

Mike abruptly breaks the dramatics of the moment, leaping up from his knees, “Okay, bye!” he says jovially, as he engulfs Will in his arms into a tight hug.

“Bye,” Will whispers, squeezing back as hard as he can.

“Okay,” Karen sighs, “You’ve said your goodbye now,”

Mike sways them back and forth, pulling Will off his heels for a moment, “Bye,” he says again, quieter this time, just for Will’s ears.

Eventually Will and his Mother make their exit, leaving Mike and Lucas alone at last in the basement.

“Do you guys seriously have to do that every time?” Lucas asks, exasperated and exhausted from having to have had to live through the Mike and Will show once more.

Mike looks at him like he’s crazy, “Yes,” he answers indignantly.

“Why?”

“Because…” Mike thinks for a minute, “because our bond is just special, you wouldn’t understand,” he finishes with a shrug, but an apparent blush has appeared on his face.

Lucas shakes his head, “We seriously need a new party member,” he decides.

[13uswntimagines]

I'll Take Care of You (Alessia Russo x MMA!fighter R)

Request: Could we maybe see some slightly more stern dom alessia dealing with r (doesn’t have to be smut) in front of the team because reader starts acting bratty with them?

Part of the same universe as the come down.

Warning: Slight touching but not actual smut. Also D/S fic

Author's note: Hey Y'all, i really hope you enjoy this. I want to point out that D/S dynamics are based on trust and communication, so that's what I chose to focus on. Alessia is a soft dom, and chooses a punishment that she knows will be effective. If you want to chat or have any ideas or comments, feel free to hit me up.

Gearing up for a fight was the equivalent of stretching out a rubber band to its limit. It was 8 weeks of nonstop training, 4 weeks of conditioning your body to shed water so you could make weight, 2 weeks of cameras following you around for UFC embedded, and 1 week of media bombardment where you had to listen to grown men act like 5-year-olds talking about who was going to beat who.

It was utterly exhausting. 

The only upside was that at the end of it, you got to step into the octagon and do what you did best. 

You got to put the plan your coaches drilled over and over into your brain into place. You got to release all of the built-up anxiety and frustration from camp. 

You got to fight. 

It was like coming up for oxygen after being trapped underwater. Sometimes the cage felt like the only place you could really breathe on your own. 

It had been your safe haven for almost as long as you could remember, which was kinda strange considering your health was put at immediate risk every time you stepped inside. It had been your escape from your family, and your only coping mechanism for as long as you could remember. 

To go through training camp, and fight week and the weight cut, only to have your fight pulled at the last minute was fucking devastating. 

It was like when Alessia brought you all the way to the precipice of an orgasm and then pulled away just before you could tumble over it, except far far far worse. 

It made your blood boil. It made the monster in your chest roar that your opponent couldn’t do his end of the job to make the fight go on after all of the shit he was talking. And there was nothing anyone could say or do to make it better. 

Dana promised that the fight would be rescheduled. He even threw in that if you won, you would be next in line for a title shot. 

But it didn’t help. 

The fight was set to be at the O2 arena, meaning your girlfriend and all of her teammates had been set to see you, and now they couldn’t. You couldn’t get your 10 training weeks back and you would have to do the weight cut all over again. 

It was a shit sandwich, and it made you feel completely out of control. It made you crave for someone else to put you right again. For Alessia to remind you that she had control always. 

Maybe that’s why you chose your satin button-down shirt to go to dinner with your girlfriend and her teammates and paired it with tight black skinny jeans. 

It wasn’t often that you liked to push Alessia’s control. That you toed the boundaries that she set, but tonight it felt like the prize comparable to stepping into the cage. 

With the little black dress she had worn, you really couldn’t blame yourself either. You could never resist when she showed off her legs. You were obsessed and she knew it. It was probably why she had chosen the outfit, to begin with. 

It was probably designed as a reward of sorts for after your fight, except you weren’t having a fight. So you supposed it was kind of like a consolation prize. 

Except you felt wound too tightly to really enjoy it.

“So that’s it, they just call the whole thing off?” Ella asked leaning forward to rest her chin in her hand.

“Yep,” You popped the p, your finger running a gentle circle on Alessia’s exposed knee. “I can’t even sign a paper that says I’m fine fighting him despite the failed drug test, and it’s too late to find a replacement even if we allow a catchweight,” 

She let the movement continue, the hand wrapped around your shoulder gently squeezing the arm furthest away from her. 

While she was relieved that the rules prevented you from fighting a man on steroids, she knew how gutted you were about the cancellation.

“Probably for the best mate,” Leah said, sipping her wine. 

You shrugged, letting your finger trail a little higher on Alessia’s leg. 

It was slightly too… forward for the steakhouse her teammates had chosen, but with the dimmed lights you figured no one could see your hand under the white tablecloth anyway. Not with how close you were sitting to your girlfriend. 

“I already made weight, so it’s kind of a waste,” You muttered, dragging your nails up the inside of her thigh to just below the hem of her dress. “I’ll have to start camp all over again unless I take something short notice,” 

“Can you do that?” Mary asked, from your other side.

You shrugged again. “I told Dana I was game if he needed someone to fill in, so we’ll have to see,” 

Alessia’s eyebrows pulled tighter together “You didn’t tell me that, love,” 

“Didn’t I?” You asked, feigning dumb, as your fingers finally made it past the hem of her dress. “Must have forgotten. I’m excited to see you all play on Tuesday though,” 

You ran your nail across the sensitive skin on the inside of her thigh, dangerously close to her center. But before you could make it any further, her free hand caught your wrist, and repositioned you so your hand was resting very innocently near her knee again. 

“Ireland is always fun to face,” Ella smiled at you. “Should be a bit chippy,” 

“I’ll definitely be rocking my MacCabe jersey,” You matched her expression, your thumb again beginning to rub circles into Alessia’s skin. 

Leah frowned, dropping her menu. “You will?” 

“Absolutely,” You smirked, wiggling your eyebrows and slyly trailing your thumb back up Alessia’s thigh. “Gotta support my favorite foul-mouthed Gooner,” 

Leah’s eyes went wide, and Alessia squeezed your shoulder. 

“And what about me?” Your girlfriend asked, a pout pulling at her lips. 

You wiggled your eyebrows, a witty remark at the tip of your tongue, knowing it would piss her off, but the tension in your chest made you unable to stop yourself. 

You wanted to push her. To force a reaction, even when you knew all you had to do was ask for what you wanted. 

“Are you ladies ready to order?” A waiter asked, appearing behind Leah before you could let it fly. 

You let your smirk widen, closing your menu with a thud and making eye contact with the waiter. 

“Since she’s not on the menu,” You started, leaning closer to your girlfriend for just a second, edging your hand even further up her thigh until it was again past the hem of her dress. “I think I’ll have the tomahawk, medium rare with a Yorkie and the roasted carrots please,” 

You winked at the waiter for good measure as the table giggled and Alessia’s cheeks turned bright red. 

The waiter cleared his throat, turning his attention to your girlfriend. “And for you ma’am?” 

Alessia opened her mouth, probably to order, but you cut her off instead. 

“She’ll take the sirloin, medium with the Orzo and kale salad,” You said, reciting her normal order with perfect precision. “And she’ll be having me for dessert later,” 

More giggles erupted from your friends, and you dragged your hand impossibly higher, extending your pinky so it brushed against her underwear. 

She inhaled sharply next to you, sending you a warning side eye as the rest of the table continued to order, but she didn’t immediately remove your hand. 

You ignored her warning, letting your pinky slide over the satiny fabric of her underwear. 

It wasn’t what she normally wore, and you couldn’t help the wolfish grin that took over your features. 

She had worn lingerie for you. 

Maybe that should have stopped you. Made you consider that you wouldn’t get anything if you kept pushing, but again you couldn’t seem to help yourself. 

“Will you be in the Ireland friends and family section then?” Leah asked, wiggling her eyebrows at your girlfriend. “Cause I don’t think my family or Less’ will enjoy you wearing the opposing team’s jersey,” 

You made a noise like you were considering it as you finally slid your hand up and cupped your girlfriend’s heat. “I don’t think I’d feel at home though. Surely your family can deal with it right Less?”

Alessia nodded once, very stiffly. “My family loves you no matter what you’re wearing,”

You smiled impishly at her, adding just a little more pressure to her core. 

She shifted in her seat, leaning very close to your ear, as Ella started talking about some movie she and Joe had watched, taking the attention of the rest of Alessia’s teammates. 

“They’d even love you if you had to wear your collar at the game,” She chuckled darkly in your ear, her voice soft enough to get lost in the noise of the restaurant as her free hand yet again caught your wrist and pulled your hand back to a much more innocent position. “Now behave, or I promise you’ll regret it,”

You pulled away, your devilish smirk only getting broader. “No,”

Her eyebrows furrowed her expression something between anger and concern and warning, like she was trying to figure out why you were pushing the boundaries when you never did before. 

You wiggled yours in return, offering her nothing else before joining the conversation of her teammates. 

You weren’t ready to talk yet. 

You were too content digging yourself deeper and deeper. 

*****

You continue to push Alessia all throughout dinner, taking every opportunity to make her blush or to creep your hand further up her thigh. At one point you had even wiggled a finger beneath her underwear before she could stop you. 

And your behavior hadn’t stopped once you left the restaurant. 

You definitely placed your hand far too low on her waist as you and your friends walked back to the hotel the UFC had rented for you, and winked cheekily at the fans as you entered the building, spending far too long signing things and flirting just to annoy your girlfriend. 

You knew from the “come on darling,” and the way she wrapped her arm around you, her fingers closing gently around the back of your neck that you were in serious trouble as she led you into the hotel and to the elevator. 

“Good luck mate,” Leah nodded towards you as she stepped into her hotel room after Mary and Ella. “Think you’re gonna need it after that show,”

She tilted her head toward your girlfriend glaring a hole in Leah’s doorframe. 

“Good night Leah,” Your girlfriend bit out, pressing her thumb into the space at the very center of the back of your neck.

Leah rolled her eyes at the movement, well aware of the dynamic between you and your girlfriend. More aware than most of her teammates for both club and country because of how long you had known her. “Right you two, do have too much fun,” 

You stared at the door for a long moment after it closed, the tension in your chest bleeding down to your stomach.

You knew your time was up. That you would have to pay the piper so to speak, and it had guilt swirling along with the unpleasantness. 

You knew that all you had to do was utter a word and it would all be over. 

You knew that Alessia would stick to your limits, no matter how hard you pushed her, but you couldn’t help the… lingering anxiety that came from your past relationships. 

The ones that took advantage of your submissiveness, and the unhealthy way you had always chosen to deal with stress. The ones that ignored your pain for their own pleasure. 

 “Come on then,” Alessia said, very gently running the nail of her thumb down the length of the back of your neck, and squeezing your shoulder. 

You hummed, allowing her to lead you down the hallway to your own hotel room door, but she paused before she opened it. You looked up at her, realizing suddenly that you were trapped between her and the door. 

She stepped closer so your noses were nearly touching. She dragged her hand from your neck to your chin, using her thumb to tilt your head to where she wanted it. 

“I love you,” She said, her voice soft and sincere. “No matter what,”

She leaned in the last centimeter separating you, connecting your lips in a very sweet kiss. 

You leaned into it, opening your mouth when her tongue poked out, welcoming it and meeting it with your own so they spun in a slow dance. 

It was the reminder that you desperately needed. 

The promise that she would take care of you, even when you acted like a brat. 

She pulled away just enough to disconnect your lips, and your mouths separated with a low pop.

“Remind me of your colors,” Alessia said, her thumb running across your cheek. 

“Green for good, yellow for slow down, and red for stop,” You recited, your voice breathless. 

“Good girl,” She hummed. “Open the door, and take off your shirt and pants once we get inside,” 

You swallowed hard at the change of tone. 

“Yes Miss,” You said, already pulling the key card from the back pocket of your jeans. You didn’t look away from her as you fumbled until you heard the lock on the door beep, and clumsily pushed it open. 

You stumbled backward, unwilling to break eye contact with your girlfriend because you knew you would probably get very little of it tonight. 

She turned away from you as soon as the door slammed shut, busying herself with something you didn’t know. 

“I believe I told you to do something,” She said, not even sparing a look over her shoulder at you, and you realized you had been staring for too long. 

You cleared your throat, your fingers trembling as they unbuttoned your straining shirt. 

You carefully pulled the satin materials from your shoulders, folding it neatly and laying it on the bed before you started on your pants. 

It took you three tries to undo the button, the zipper getting caught in the stretchy material of your boxers. You peeled your tight jeans down your legs, folding them and placing them next to your shirt. 

You felt Alessia’s presence behind you as you pulled off your shoes and socks. 

As soon as they had been placed in their rightful place, her hand found its way to your bare back. 

The touch was soothing and grounding and exactly what you needed to combat the slightly floaty feeling in your brain. 

The hand slid up your back, all the way to your neck. 

“Kneel,”

The soft squeeze on the back of your neck was like magic, as was the soft, but stern order. 

You sank to your knees without question, your butt resting on your heels, your hands facing palm up on your thighs, your back straight and your head bowed, as the tension in your chest slowly ebbed away.

“I think we need to have a chat,” She continued, the hand on your neck sliding up to run through the hair at the base of your skull. Her nails scratched soothingly at your scalp. “Because your behavior in the restaurant is not the behavior of the good girl I trained,”

You grunted, glaring at a spot in the carpet. 

You didn’t want to talk. 

You already had to talk to Dana, to your coaches, and to the media. You had nothing left to say. 

“Do you want to tell me what that was about at dinner?” She asked you, the fingers on your scalp wrapping through your curls. She gave it a sharp tug, forcing you to look up at her. “Because I’d really like to know what the fuck you were playing at,” 

Her blue eyes burned into you, concerned and… something else lingering below the surface. 

“I wasn’t playing at anything,” You grit out. 

She raised a perfect eyebrow at you, as she searched your face.

“Is this because your fight was canceled?”

You didn’t answer her, unwilling to admit how… off balanced it made you feel. 

But that was enough of an answer for her. 

Her eyes softened minutely. “Baby,” 

You shook your head. 

You didn’t want her sympathy or her pity. 

You wanted her to crush you. 

“Alright,” She signed, tilting your head back so far it was painful. “I’m going to give you 2 options. We can call Clarke and Lexa and they can run you through a workout,” 

You shivered at the mention of your respective striking and jujitsu coaches, knowing already that whatever the alternative was, you would be choosing it. 

“Or you can take a punishment of my choosing,” She finished. “It won’t be an easy one,” 

“I’ll take a punishment,” You muttered after a beat. 

You didn't need easy right now. 

She hummed, holding you close for a long second, and you relished in the attention. 

That had been why you acted out at all anyway. 

She dropped her hold on your hair suddenly, and you crashed back on your knees. 

“On the wall,” She said, completely cutting contact with you, and walking towards the little kitchen area of the suite. 

You let out a shaky breath, pushing yourself to your feet, and shuffled over to the wall next to the television across from the couch. 

You turned to face the couch, wincing when Alessia pulled a wine glass out of the cabinet and a jug of water from the counter and returned to you. 

She carefully filled the glass to the halfway mark, before her attention turned to you. 

You knew immediately what punishment she had chosen. 

The rules were simple, you would balance the glass in one of the designated calisthenic positions. If the water spilled, or the glass fell then you would move to the next position. The punishment would be over when you made it through all 15 positions to Alessia’s satisfaction, or if you safeworded. 

It sounded easy, or like it wouldn’t be effective, but that was entirely wrong. It was the punishment that you hated the most. 

Your stomach never failed to drop when Alessia approached you with the wine glass and water. Just the sight of her with it was enough to have your muscles quivering at the impending fatigue. 

“Ready darling?”

You made a low sound, leaning back against the wall, bending your knees, and getting into the first position. 

A wall sits with your knees pressed together to focus the pressure on your quads. 

She used a hand on your shoulder to push you further down the wall until your thighs sat parallel to the floor, and then very carefully balanced the stem of the wine glass between your knees so the base just barely brushed your hamstring. 

You frowned. She usually balanced it on top of your legs further up your thighs so all you had to do was stay level. But where it was now meant that you would have to stay level and squeeze with your adductors so it didn’t slip and spill the water. 

“Tell me your color,” She said, her thumb sweeping under your chin, drawing your eyes away from the glass to meet her blue. 

“Green,” you murmured, leaning into the gentle touch. 

“Good,” She hummed, cupping your cheek for another long second before she pulled away. “I’ll be right there, reading my book,” 

Your gaze trailed after her as she settled herself on the couch directly across from you, picking up the 7 Husbands of Evelyn Hugo. She easily found her page and began to read. 

You glanced back to the balancing glass between your knees. It was already shaking slightly, the liquid vibrating around the bowl of the glass with the effort of your muscles to keep it in place. 

It irritated you that you could already feel your quads and adductors quivering. It was pathetic that they were already fatigued after only 30 seconds. 

You grit your teeth, letting your hips slip down further so you could squeeze with your glutes to take a little bit of the pressure off of your adductors. The glass shifted minutely, and the water inside sloshed dangerously before it settled. 

Your eyes flickered back up to Alessia, wondering if she saw it too, but her eyes stayed planted in her book. 

That irritated you too. 

The only upside to your fight being canceled was that you got to spend more time with her. You wouldn’t have to split your attention between her and not getting your face caved in. 

Now you didn’t even have that. 

You thought of safewording and forcing an early end to your punishment. It would be a violation of the rules though.

But when she found out that you broke her trust (the most severe infraction you could ever commit) she might choose a more… harsh punishment. One of the ones that was listed in the soft limits the two of you had agreed upon. One that would separate you from reality, and leave you feeling floaty and thoroughly controlled. Thoroughly owned. 

A part of you wanted her to forcibly put you in your place. To disregard how bad it would feel tomorrow and the bad memories it would bring up for you, and just demolish you. To crush your will and grind you into dust. To beat you into oblivion. 

It was what your opponent would have done anyway. 

You knew Alessia would never agree to it while you were this upset. She didn’t like to give in to your self-destructive tendencies. 

The glass between your knees shook again, drawing your attention back to the warm fire setting deeply into your quads. They would ache tomorrow you were sure, but then again wasn’t that part of the point?

It would be a reminder that even when she wasn’t with you, you belonged to Alessia. It was an invisible mark that claimed you. That reminded you she would always take control when you felt dangerously unstable. 

And then it clicked.

This punishment was Alessia’s favorite because it was based on your choice to obey her. Your choice to push your body to its limits to please her. Your choice to give her control over you. 

She didn’t need to use a belt or a paddle to bend you to her will. 

She just had to ask. 

You just had to relax and trust that she would take care of you. 

You let out a long breath, counting down from 3 in your head. You let it fall back into the wall with a low thump and your shoulders sagged, as the remaining tension in your chest drained out of you. 

“Good girl,” Alessia said softly, and the page of her book turned. Your eyes darted back to her, hoping that they would be on you, but they weren’t. 

She looked so composed, both legs tucked under her, reading her book. It was diametrically opposed to how you felt, completely out of control. A quivering mess fighting to stay in a simple wall sit. 

It further reminded you of your place, and the weight of it was enough to have your eyes sliding closed. 

You focused on your breathing, 3 seconds and 3 seconds out. Deep and slow. 

You lasted for more breaths before the glass slid from between your legs, landing on the carpeted floor with a light thud. 

Your eyes snapped open, and again you expected to meet Alessia’s eyes, but they remained trained on her book. 

“Next please,” She said softly, flipping another page in her book. 

You slid down the wall to the floor, sucking in another long breath as you nodded, wishing that she would just look at you, but you knew that was part of the punishment too. 

You took another breath as you rolled over to your stomach and sat yourself up on your elbows, squeezing your core. It was a slightly modified plank designed to show off the muscles in your back and arms for the benefit of your girlfriend and to give your legs a break for a bit. 

She waited until you were in a position to stand, slowly padding over to you and grabbing the wine glass off of the floor.

She paused next to you, and you felt the way her eyes dragged across the muscles on your back. 

“Always so pretty for me,” She hummed and you heard the water as she refilled the glass. “Too bad you can’t have the reward I had planned,” 

Her touch lingered as she carefully balanced it between your shoulder blades, and stepped away. 

“Let’s see if you can beat your best time on this one,” She said, talking more at you than to you. “Your record is 22 minutes, which isn’t quite championship timing. I think you need to make it at least 25,” 

You groaned. 

Her competitive streak was legendary and often a part of your punishment when you had been particularly ornery. You switched positions at her pleasure, so you knew you would be planking all night if you couldn’t break 25 minutes. 

It was like when she decided you needed to break your edging record. 

There would be no mercy unless you safeworded. 

You focused on your breathing as she sauntered back to the couch, fighting to keep your core and back muscles locked to prevent the glass from tipping. 

Your abs clenched, and you so badly wanted to roll your shoulders to relieve the tension building in the space between them. The space holding the glass. 

You focused on the sound of Alessia’s breathing. Each rhythmic inhale and exhale like the clicking of a metronome, broken only by the occasional fluttering of a page. 

You wished she had put the timer in front of you so you could see how long you had left. 

But then again that would probably be worse. 

You always found it harder to go the distance in a fight when you could see the clock ticking down. It always made you feel more exhausted at the end of the round, and made standing up off of your stool at the start of the next round that much harder. 

You sucked in another breath, refocusing on the sounds of Alessia’s inhales and exhales. You counted each one, letting them wash over you and lul the fog slowly seeping through the crevices in your brain. 

It let you forget the trembling in your core muscles and the sting between your shoulders. They didn’t matter. All that mattered was each of Alessia’s breaths, and your ability to please her. 

To be honest, you forgot about the water balancing on your back. 

You shifted, lifting your head so you could watch Alessia, and that sent the glass tumbling to the floor with a low thud. 

She looked up at the noise, pushing herself to her feet and grabbing the glass. 

“Good job darling. You made time.” She rewarded you by meeting her eyes for a long second and flashing you a winning smile. “Position 3,” 

You took another deep breath as she filled the glass. 

You pushed yourself up into a pushup position, slowly lifting your right arm and left leg so they extended. 

Your arms shook immediately, and it was then that you recognized just how exhausted you were already. Your core ached in a way that was edging on unpleasant, and your back felt like you had run 5 rounds with your jujitsu coach. 

It was strange that you felt so drained and you had only made it through 2 positions. 

Alessia waited until you were stable before she balanced the glass in the very same area between your shoulder blades. 

The spot that felt so tight.

You knew you weren’t going to last long before she even stepped away. But you tried to breathe through it. You tried to ignore the little beads of sweat collecting at the small of your back, and the cramp setting in just below the glass, radiating up to your neck. 

You deserved the pain. You had done your damndest to make sure Alessia gave it to you. 

“Tell me your color,” Alessia said, her voice dripping dominance, sending a shiver down your spine and causing the glass to tumble off your back. 

You collapsed to the floor. 

You hadn’t even made it a minute. 

“‘M ok,” You murmured into the carpet, each breath rattling as it left your lips.

You hadn’t even lasted long enough for Alessia to make it back to her seat. 

It was pathetic.

“That’s not what I asked you,” She said, crouching next to you, her hand resting on the throbbing space between your shoulders. “Tell me what your color is,” 

Your brain ran into overdrive, taking stock of the burn in your thighs, and the way the muscles in your back were locked up tight, and before you could even think through all the reasons why you shouldn’t safe word, “red,” was falling from your lips. 

You had been red before you even started position 3, you realized. 

“Good girl,” She said, settling fully down beside you, her hand running soothingly up and down your sweat-soaked back. “You did so well for me, and I’m so proud of you for knowing your limits,”

You groaned into the carpet as warmth spread through your chest, chasing away the last of the tightness that had been there since Dana caught you after the weigh-ins. 

“‘M sorry for pushing you,” You mumbled, your words nearly getting lost in the floor. “Didn’t know how to…” 

You trailed off, losing your train of thought. You weren’t even sure what you didn’t know how to do, only that antagonizing your girlfriend. Your miss. Had been the only way that seemed to make sense to achieve it. 

“I know darling,” She hummed, gripping under your arms and shifting so your head was resting in her lap and your upper body was between her legs. “Take some deep breaths for me, and then we’ll get you cleaned up and we can cuddle,” 

You made a low sound of agreement. You felt content with her completely around you, her scent enveloping you, and her hands running gently through your tangled hair. 

She was the stability to your rocky seas, and you trusted that she would take care of you, just like she had already tonight. 

A cuddle sounded perfect because it was perfect. 

It was everything you needed. She was everything you needed. 

[cakesunflower]

lovelorn (and nobody knows) [rafe cameron au fic] chapter 4

Summary: Isla Carrera had planned for the summer before college to be focused on three things: helping out at her family’s restaurant (the helpful daughter), preparing for college (the good student), and having fun with the Pogues (the loyal friend). But one fateful night, where her car breaks down and her rescuer is none other than Rafe Cameron, seems to send her summer down a path she didn’t see coming–one teeming with a secret, illicit romance with the last person she expected. And if her friends and sister found out, Isla isn’t sure they’ll be so understanding, no matter what her feelings are.

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Isla is pushing a grocery cart down the snack aisle of the grocery store when she spots someone she is in no mood to interact with.

Her ex-boyfriend, Carlo, stands at the end of the aisle, peering at the shelf before him as he makes his snack selection. Thankfully, he’s oblivious to Isla’s presence as she slowly backs down to exit the aisle at the other end, hoping to disappear around the corner before he can spot her, her grip on the handlebar of the shopping cart tight as the wheels rattle with every spin.

Luckily, Isla is able to reach the end without bumping into anyone or anything, and pulls and pushes the cart down the side aisles instead, putting distance between herself and Carlo. She can just get the snacks at the end—anything to avoid risking running into him again.

The two of them had broken up a year ago, but Isla had to spend the entire school year seeing him, since they shared a few classes together. The breakup had been messy, to say the least; they’d dated all throughout sophomore year, the summer after, and a few months into their junior year. Except, Carlo had gone to New Jersey for that summer, visiting family, and it wasn’t until the school year had started that Isla found out he had been cheating on her with some girl he met during his vacation. The only way she found out was because the girl had discovered that he had been in a relationship with Isla, and reached out to her through Instagram to tell her of what Carlo did.

It had been devastating for Isla because, truly, she did love him—or, well, as much as a sixteen year old was capable of love. But the second his infidelity came to light, she had ended things—and he had the audacity to tell her that she was the one making a mistake by breaking up with him. As if the mistake hadn’t been made by him when he decided to spend his summer hooking up with a girl down at the Jersey Shore. And then for a long while after, he kept trying to win her back, as if she was some prize that slipped away from his fingers, despite Isla never giving him the time of day.

And although the idea of violence doesn’t exactly thrill Isla, she was relieved that when John B took it upon himself to threaten Carlo with physical harm if he didn’t leave Isla alone, her ex finally backed off. For the most part. Escaping his line of sight at the grocery store is her not wanting to really test those waters again.

She occupies herself by going to the other side of the store, getting her toiletry essentials that she’s running low on and hoping that by the time she goes back to the snack aisle, Carlo is gone. The party Sarah is throwing at her place is tonight, and Isla is in charge of buying snacks for the guests. Sarah’s going to end up ordering pizza at some point for everyone, but enough snacks should hold the rowdy, drunk teenagers for a good bit. 

As if on cue, Isla’s music playing through her headphones gets interrupted by an incoming call, and she pulls her phone out of her pocket to see Sarah’s name and a selfie of them two lighting up the screen. “Hey, are you on your way yet?” Sarah asks by way of greeting.

Isla huffs out a breath, placing her preferred coconut scented body wash into the cart. “In a bit. Hit a snag at the store and I gotta drop off my stuff at home before heading over.”

“A snag?” Sarah repeats. “What does that mean?”

Pursing her lips briefly, she confesses with a sardonic chuckle, “I saw Carlo in the snack aisle and bolted to the other side of the store.”

“Oh, crap,” her friend mutters. “Yeah, okay, take your time. Hope you don’t have to deal with him.”

“Me and you both, sister,” Isla mutters, pushing her way out of the aisle. “Are the others there yet?”

“Yeah, Kie and Cleo have been helping me move my parents’ valuables into the locked rooms,” Sarah snickers. It’s not their first time throwing a party in the Cameron household, so they’ve become experts in taking anything expensive that Ward and Rose Cameron hold dear and putting them away into a locked room so they don’t get destroyed during a party. “The guys just got here with the drinks.”

“Let me guess—JJ got his hands on a keg.”

“Two of them,” Sarah laughs. 

Isla whistles, smile burgeoning as she makes her way through the store, her gaze half sharp to look out for her ex. “Sounds like we’re in for a rager.” 

They hang up soon after that, and Isla braces herself to go back to the snack aisle and breathes out a sigh of relief when she doesn’t spot Carlo anywhere. She makes quick work of grabbing several party sized bags of chips before heading back to the front of the store. She feels a little paranoid, stupidly so, that she’s going to see Carlo, so she works quickly. Having any kind of conversation with him is not on her agenda for today—or ever—because why should she give the guy who cheated on the time of day? 

As much of a stretch as it may be, Isla is kind of hoping she never has to see him again now that school is over. It might not be realistic, since she’s going to college over on the mainland and the Cut isn’t that big, so running into him is totally a possibility. But a girl can dream, right?

Isla makes her escape quickly enough and is pulling up to Sarah’s house thirty minutes later. As she gets out of her car—finally back from the shop—Isla can’t help the way her gaze scans the Cameron’s gravel driveway in search of a certain guy’s motorcycle, heart thudding when she doesn’t spot it amongst Sarah’s own parked car and John B’s van. As she opens the trunk of her car, she’s not quite sure if she feels relief or disappointment when she doesn’t spot Rafe’s motorcycle, that in of itself is complicated as all hell. 

If only her friends heard that thought—they might think she’s gone insane. Maybe she has.

“I’m here!” Isla calls out, a tote bag filled with her outfit and makeup for tonight hanging off her shoulders while her hands grip the grocery bags. “A little help?!”

She hears footsteps as she makes her way to the kitchen in the bag, smiling in relief as Pope turns the corner and comes into view. “Here, I got you,” he says, helpfully taking some of the bags from her. “Jeez, how much did you get?”

“Hopefully enough to feed a houseful of people,” Isla answers with a snort, putting the remaining bags on the marble countertop. She and Pope begin taking out the several bags of chips, along with the packs of red solo cups Isla had also picked up upon Sarah’s request. “Where are JJ and John B?”

“Setting up the Christmas lights in the backyard,” Pope replies and off her arched eyebrow, he chuckles and explains, “Sarah wanted it to look pretty and colorful.” He puts air quotes around the words with a fond roll of his eyes. “Last I checked, they were still trying to untangle the whole thing.”

Isla hums in acknowledgement before asking, “When are people supposed to start coming?”

Pope glances at the digital watch on his wrist. “Like, two hours. Less than, I think.”

Isla grabs her tote. “I need to get ready.”

Her friend shakes his head, scoffing. “It should not take you two hours to get ready for a party.”

She flips her hair over her shoulder, already walking out of the kitchen as she tells him, “Perfection takes time, Pope.”

She takes the steps two at a time as she heads upstairs, hearing the girls’ chatter the closer she gets to Sarah’s room. Upon entering, Isla spots her sister in front of the mirror in the ensuite, leaning close to her reflection and lips parted as she applies mascara; Sarah’s in front of her vanity, blotting blush onto her cheeks, while Cleo sits cross legged in front of the floor length mirror as she slicks her dark hair back into a high ponytail.

“Damn, are there any mirrors left for me?” Isla teases, catching her friends’ attention.

She’s met with laughter while Kie calls from the bathroom, “I’m almost done!”

From her place on the floor on the other side of the room, Cleo asks her, “Whatcha wearin’ tonight?”

“I was thinking these,” Isla answers, gesturing to the distressed denim cut-offs she’s already got on while digging through her tote bag. “With this.”

She holds up the crocheted purple and black bralette top, a cute find she had discovered when she and Kie had gone to the mainland for some thrifting. “Very cute,” Sarah nods approvingly, cheeks a pretty pink glow. “Are you gonna swim?”

Isla shrugs, undecided. “Not sure.”

“Unless the guys throw you in the pool,” Kie says as she walks out of the bathroom, dressed in her own black denim shorts and a red tank top, the strings of her yellow bikini top tied around her neck.

“Only if they have a death wish,” Isla scoffs, grabbing her small makeup bag and heading to the bathroom. She doesn’t mind taking a swim, truthfully, but she’d hope the guys would give her enough time to empty her pockets; one of the last times they so lovingly tossed her in the pool, Isla’s phone was still in her pocket and she ended up needing to buy a new one. A bowl of rice definitely did not help.

Isla takes her time in getting ready, accompanied by conversations with her friends as she does her makeup under the bright lights of Sarah’s bathroom mirror. Truthfully, Isla is only half listening to Cleo’s story of how she chased out a would-be robber from Heywards’—an unsurprising pastime for Cleo—because her thoughts keep drifting to a certain guy with blue eyes and dark blonde hair whose face keeps flashing through her head.

Isla’s jaw clenches, movements slowing in buffing out her foundation as she gazes at her reflection, throat working. It unnerves her how frequently Rafe has been creeping through her thoughts since that night he helped her out when her car broke down. And then again when he let her borrow his shirt, before giving her a ride home to escape from the cops. She has interacted with him more just this last week than she has in an entire month in the past. Whatever their interactions, they shouldn’t have a lasting effect on Isla like they do. She keeps trying to remind herself that none of it is a big deal, and yet…

Shaking her head at herself, Isla continues on with her makeup and then brushes out her hair, her ears already decked out in jewelry. Her neck also adorns matching gold jewelry, necklaces layered together against her smooth brown skin. When she walks out of the bathroom to put her makeup bag back in the tote, Kie lets out a whistle and teasingly says, “You’re gonna drive your favorite touron crazy.”

The others giggle at Kiara’s statement, Isla forcing out a laugh of her own, skin warming at the fact that her stupidly foolish brain has only been focused on one guy—most likely the wrong guy.

When the girls are ready, it’s almost the time for when people will start coming, so they head downstairs and to the back, music already blaring through the speakers that have been set up. Isla is impressed by the set up, the Christmas lights wrapped around the trees and across the gable roof of the porch, also wrapping around the porch pillars. 

Letting out a whistle, Cleo says to Sarah, “Jeez, how many Christmas lights do you have?”

Sarah snickers. “Pretty sure we have some for every room in the house, plus for outside of the house.”

With the sun setting, the Camerons’ backyard is alight with different colors thanks to the lights the boys put up, along with the blue glow of the pool and some of the sconces lit up along the wall that separates the yard from the street they live on. The guys are already helping themselves to drinks, unsurprisingly, while playing beer pong on the opposite side of the yard across the pool. 

As they walk over to the guys, Sarah gasps and grabs Isla’s arm. “Oh, shit, wait, I forgot to ask! Did you manage to leave the store without Carlo seeing you?”

“Whoa, wait, what?” Kiara asks, stopping as she widens her eyes at her sister. “You saw Carlo?”

“Yeah. I guess he’s spending his summer in OBX,” Isla says, face scrunching up in distaste. He seemed to enjoy his summer out of North Carolina, so Isla has no qualms about him leaving again if it meant she could go a summer without running into him.

“Gross,” Kie mutters before throwing an arm around Isla’s shoulders, pulling her close. “Well, he’s irrelevant, so fuck him.”

Cleo snaps her fingers. “Amen.”

Fortunately, it isn’t long until people start arriving, the volume of the music turning up as more and more people come. It’s not long until Isla has a drink in her hand, taking a few shots with her friends before enjoying a High Noon since she’s not quite in the mood for beer tonight. Those shots, though, get the job going right away, and it’s not long until she’s in the backyard, dancing to the music pounding through the speakers with her friends.

She lets loose easily, giggling in between sips as they dance to songs by Sabrina Carpenter to Pitbull. There were loads of people splashing around in the pool, using the diving board to jump in, while others either danced or played games spread around the yard or inside the house. At one point, Isla takes part in an intense game of flip cup, laughing as JJ, standing next to her, yells in her ear to hurry up and flip the cup upright. She ends up laughing so hard, she needs to ditch and go to the bathroom, only to find both bathrooms downstairs occupied, so she ventures up the stairs.

Dodging and weaving past other partygoers, Isla finds the bathroom in the upstairs hallway and breathes a sigh of relief when she finds it empty. Locking the door behind her, she uses the toilet, the party muffled beyond the door as she takes a look at herself in the mirror, washing her hands. Her brown hair falls in messy waves around her shoulders, makeup still intact and a subtle glazed, glassiness to her eyes. She’s not drunk, at that point of tipsiness where she’s still aware of her faculties and surroundings, but it all does make the smile come onto her face easily.

When she exits the bathroom, someone else is waiting to go, practically shoving her out of the way to go inside. Isla stumbles, eyebrows furrowing as she glares at the door and shouts, “Rude!” before turning to head back down the hall.

And maybe she’s drunker than she thought, because surely she can’t have spotted Carlo at the end of the hall, chatting with some people. Isla freezes, blinking a couple of times as the distant sound of a Taylor Swift song plays outside, and praying that she’s only imagining things, because seeing Carlo at the store earlier had been enough.

But, nope, he’s right there, and he’s looking like he’s about to walk away from the people he’s talking to and head in her direction—even though he hasn’t spotted her yet. And Isla panics, knowing that if he sees her, he’s going to want to chat, and so her gaze darts around as she reaches the first door she finds, other than the now occupied bathroom, and shoves it open.

Slamming the door shut, Isla presses her back against it, blowing out a breath as she wills for the slight dizziness, as a result of moving so quickly, to stop. She squints, the room bathed in darkness, and feels along the wall until her fingers come across the lightswitch, flicking it on and pressing her lips together in realization when she sees not only that she’s in a bedroom—but it’s Rafe’s bedroom.

What are the Goddamn odds?

Rolling her lips into her mouth, Isla pushes away from the door and wanders further into the room. She’s never been in here before, never had a reason to, and her eyebrows raise in curiosity as she looks around. There’s a four poster bed to her right, and a set of glass doors that lead to a small balcony that looks over the backyard. A shelf is filled to the brim with all sorts of books, the mantle under the TV opposite of the bed holding some frames with pictures of Rafe with his family. There’s also a desk where his laptop sits, along with notebooks and folders and books, a cup filled with pens and pencils. The dark oak dresser by the closet has plenty of colognes, some watches, deodorant, lotion, and other belongings of Rafe placed neatly on top of it.

Everything is tidy and in its place, and Isla isn’t surprised that Rafe is kind of a neat freak—but she is surprised that she finds that attractive. Isla knows that she should leave instead of venturing further into Rafe’s room, that she shouldn’t be invading his privacy like this. She tries to tell herself she isn’t snooping per se—definitely just observing, maybe, as she takes in a breath and feels her mouth curve up when she inhales his familiar earthy, woody scent.

Isla wanders over towards the dresser, eyebrow ticking up curiously when she spots the bracelets sitting among his watches. She tilts her head, fingers brushing along the beaded bracelets, all in dark colors, that sit with his Rolex, Cartier, and Omega watches. It’s a stark difference, because the bracelets definitely look hand-made, and there’s quite a few of them. Matter of fact, Isla is pretty certain she has seen Rafe wearing them, along with the colorful ones Sarah occasionally wears.

Isla hums in curiosity, practically twirling on her heel to gaze out the window and mumbling a quiet, “oh,” when she gets a little too dizzy. “No spinning,” she mutters to herself, feeling more of the effects of alcohol sink into her blood. With a newfound urge to sit, she squeezes her eyes shut to keep the dizziness at bay while blindly grabbing the back of the desk chair, wheeling it towards her before sitting down. 

She tells herself she’s only going to sit for a few minutes, just enough to be steady on her feet again. She’s not sure, however, when she ends up drifting off to sleep.

*****

“Isla? Hey. Wake up, Isla.”

She’s being shaken gently, slowly being pulled out of her impromptu slumber. Her eyebrows furrow together, inhaling sharply as her body comes to the realization of the mildly uncomfortable position she’s in. Her arms are folded under her head, her cheek resting against them before slowly lifting her head as she blinks her eyes open. “What..?”

There’s a hand gently gripping her shoulder, warm, as Isla straightens in the chair and winces slightly at the subtle heaviness in her muscles. How long had she been asleep for? She remembers not to rub at her eyes, since she’s got on makeup, and resolves to cover her mouth with a hand as she yawns before asking, “What time is it?”

“Nine-forty-two,” comes the reply, a voice way too familiar and it’s possible Isla has sobered up now as she freezes where she’s sitting.

Slowly, Isla lifts her gaze, pulse quickening when her eyes meet a pair of blue ones. Bright and beautiful and tinged with both surprise and concern as Rafe stares down at her, most likely wondering what the hell she’s doing in his bedroom. 

Heat crawls up Isla’s neck and floods her cheeks, wishing she was drunk so she could be numb to any sort of embarrassment, but that, unfortunately, isn’t the case as she becomes keenly aware of his hand still on her shoulder, his skin touching hers thanks to the straps of her top. Looking up at him, Rafe arches an eyebrow and maybe she should consider herself lucky that he doesn’t look pissed that she’s found herself in his room, but it’s embarrassing all the same. The ten minute nap wasn’t worth it, even if it did sober her up a little.

“Um,” she sounds, trying not to cringe as she tries to think of something to say.

“You sure know how to party, huh?” comes Rafe’s response, and when she glances up at him, she sees a smirk dancing on the corners of his lips as he looks down at her, eyebrow arched. There’s no doubt there’s mirth dancing in those eyes, too.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” she defends, embarrassed, as she runs her hand through her hair. “Just needed to make an escape.”

“An escape?” Rafe repeats, stepping back as she gets to her feet. She tries not to miss the warmth of his hand. “From what?” Before she can answer, he scrunches his face in bewilderment and asks, “Why are you always running from something?”

Isla clamps her lips together, suppressing the sudden urge to laugh because, really, he’s not wrong. He’s been playing her rescuer the last few times they interacted, and it’s ironic that it’s his bedroom she found refuge in to keep out of Carlo’s sight. Her lips tremble until the laugh bursts free, hand clamping over her mouth as her shoulders shake. It’s really not that funny, but maybe Isla is still a little tipsy as she watches Rafe’s expression shift from incredulity and melt into amusement of his own, eyes lightening with mirth as he watches her laugh, his own lips tipping upwards.

“What the hell is so funny?” Rafe asks, though the words escape in between his own chuckles.

Isla shakes her head and shrugs. “I don’t know,” she answers, still giggling, cheeks flushed. Either from the alcohol or him, she doesn’t know. And, God, who would’ve thought that Rafe Cameron would be making her blush? Her laughter slowly subsides and, noting that Rafe is watching her, Isla bites the inside of her cheek before saying, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, like, invade your privacy.”

She gestures lamely to the room, lips pressing together. Rafe, in response, smirks as he lifts his chin and gives a one shouldered shrug. “You’re not invading anything,” he says coolly, surprising her. She definitely thought he’d be upset that she was finding refuge in his room. “It’s fine—so long as you tell me why you were hiding out in here,” he adds, arching his eyebrow.

She huffs out a breath, not surprised he isn’t dropping it. She gazes out the window to her right, taking note of the party going on out in the backyard. From where Isla stands, she can see JJ tossing Kie into the pool, just barely hearing her sister’s screech over the music, and Isla is glad she wasn’t down there to be the next victim.

Feeling Rafe’s expectant gaze on her, Isla answers, “My ex is here—don’t know why, since I know none of us invited him—and any sort of conversation with him is going to piss me off.” Not to mention, hurt with the reminder of what he did. “I saw him out in the hall and just ran into the first room I could find.”

Rafe arches a brow as he moves towards his bed, walking to the bedside table and grabbing the box of Marlboros Isla hadn’t noticed before, along with a lighter. “Ex, huh?” he muses, pulling out a cigarette and placing it between his lips as he walks back over to her, his gait casual. He tips the small pack towards her and Isla pulls a cigarette out for herself; not her preferred blunt, but it’d do, as Rafe opens the balcony door but doesn’t step outside. “What’d he do?” he asks, flicking the lighter on in one try and bringing the flame to the end of his cigarette.

Isla places her own between her lips, pulse quickening when Rafe holds the still flaming lighter towards her. Their eyes meet as she leans forward, cigarette between her middle and index fingers, bringing it closer to the flame until it catches. Straightening, Isla takes a drag, letting the nicotine fill her lungs with that familiar subtle burn as Rafe does the same, the end of his cigarette glowing ember.

She exhales, letting the smoke drift out the window, and answers, “Cheated on me.”

Blunt and to the point, and she tries not to flinch at the truth. It’s one she has accepted, but sometimes the sting still accompanies it whenever she thinks or talks about it. And, frankly, it’s a little humiliating to acknowledge that she wasn’t enough for someone, to the point where her boyfriend found someone else. That she was so lacking as a girlfriend, as someone to be wanted, that a guy that she loved gave his attention to another girl. It brought up insecurities Isla didn’t know she had, ones that she’s been fighting off ever since silently. 

But then Rafe stands in front of, watching her with a look in his eyes she can’t quite decipher, exhaling the smoke through his nose as he states, “You’re better off without a dumbass like that.”

His words bring forth a warmth that she should consider dangerous. Even still, Isla keeps her gaze locked with Rafe’s as she responds, “I know.”

He looses a rough chuckle before asking, “Your friends know you’re up here?”

Isla tilts her head slightly, peering up at him. God, he’s tall. A whole head, probably more, than her. “Do they know I’m up here in general, or that I’m up here with you?” she asks, bringing the cigarette back to her mouth.

Rafe smirks and her stomach tumbles. “If you’re asking, then you already know.”

Her skin is warm, but Isla knows it has nothing to do with the smoke in her lungs and everything to do with the man in front of her. “They don’t know where I am,” she admits, reaching her hand out to the side table where an ashtray sits, hovering her cigarette above it as she taps the ashes away. “But they’ll probably start looking for me.”

Rafe hums with an upwards tilt of his chin, and Isla has to force herself not to openly admire the sharp line of his jaw. “Guess you should probably go find them before they find you,” he drawls, and the look in his blue eyes is challenging, almost.

Isla blows a cloud of smoke out of her mouth, and it isn’t lost on her how at ease she feels in this moment with Rafe. If her friends found her here, they for sure would be confused as all hell. Maybe even mad. Betrayed? Seems dramatic, but not impossible. “Tired of having a Pogue in your room?” Isla finds herself taunting with a subtle tilt of her head, eyebrow raised.

To her surprise, Rafe’s expression shifts, a scoff escaping him as he rolls his eyes. “You and our sisters,” he starts with a shake of his head, tapping his cigarette over the ashtray, head ever so slightly ducked as his bangs frame his temples and forehead. “What’s so bad about where you’re from and what you have that the three of you would rather be from that side of the island?”

Instead of hearing any scorn in his tone, Isla mostly picks up bewilderment and incredulity, like he can’t possibly understand why she, Kie, and Sarah would rather be Pogues than Kooks. That’s always been a source of dissent between Sarah and Rafe, too. While her older brother is comfortable with the life they have, Sarah has always felt restless, which is why she found friendship and solace with Isla and her friends. It’s why they welcomed her with open arms, because Isla and Kiara were the same way, too.

They know they’re privileged, lucky enough to have what they have, which is more than what their friends do. It’s not that they’re ungrateful—far from it. But growing up on Figure Eight, within a wealthy society, comes with a set of expectations and pressure that neither Isla nor Kiara were good with handling. Their parents worked hard to give them a good life, which they’re thankful for, but that doesn’t mean giving up their freedom to put on masks and pretend to be someone they’re not. Isla’s parents raised her and Kiara to be themselves, to be independent, and they found a lot of that independence and freedom with their friends, who just so happen to be on the other side of the tax bracket.

Wealth has nothing to do with it. It’s all about living their lives the way they want to, without any sort of judgment and ridicule. For Isla, there is a lot of self-imposed academic pressure that she struggles, sometimes, under the weight of. When it comes to everything else, she would like as much freedom as she can—the kind of freedom and carefree lifestyle that isn’t possible living under the lens of Kooks.

“I don’t think you get it,” Isla says to Rafe, not being pity or scornful, but just wanting him to understand. When he looks at her expectantly, Isla shrugs, her smile small but soft. “It’s not about materialistic things or hating where we’re from. We know we’re lucky to have what we do. It’s honestly really just about our friends and how, at the end of the day, there’s no real divide between us.” She shrugs, cheeks heating under Rafe’s quiet gaze. “There’s no ego, no one’s trying to one-up the other. It’s just a real friendship between all of us and, personally, I never found that here. But with them, it’s easy. It’s right.”

Truthfully, Isla half expects Rafe to scoff in her face, to tell her she’s being a child and that it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. It would track, simply by the way he and her friends have interacted in the past, even if it would be a contrast to how he’s been acting around her recently. Her skin is on fire, feeling like an exposed livewire as she distracts herself by finishing off the rest of her cigarette, the walls of Rafe’s room vibrating slightly with the bass of the music playing outside. The party is louder now, thanks to the open balcony doors, though from where Isla stands, she can’t really see down to the backyard from over the balcony. 

“Well, when you put it like that,” Rafe begins, muttering slightly as he shrugs his broad shoulders, reluctantly meeting her gaze. “Doesn’t sound that unreasonable.” 

Isla blinks at him, surprise no doubt evident on her face upon hearing his words. Her lips part, but no words come out for a brief moment before she blurts, “Seriously?”

Rafe looks at her, raising an eyebrow. “It’s so hard to believe that I’d believe you?”

Is she being punked? Maybe this actually was a blunt. Or maybe she’s still drunk. “Um, a little,” she admits, blinking at him in bewilderment. “Because I’m sure Sarah’s probably told you the same thing, so why’re you taking my word for it and not your sister’s?”

He shoots her a flat look, though there may be a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. “She’s my younger sister. I’ve become an expert in tuning her out most of the time.” When Isla scowls at Sarah’s expense, Rafe chuckles. “Don’t worry. It goes both ways,” he tells her, moving around her and towards the dresser behind her.

Isla turns, following him with her gaze as he unclips the watch he’s wearing and places it on the dresser. Her head tilts in curiosity, gaze dropping to the surface of the table, and finds her gaze drinking in the sight of his tall, lean figure as she asks, “What’re those bracelets?”

Rafe glances at her over his shoulder before looking back down at his collection of bracelets. Her heart does something funny in her chest when Rafe’s fingers brush along the bracelets and a ghost of a smile touches his lips. “Wheezie went through a phase of making a bunch of these things,” he tells her. “These are the ones she made me.”

Isla presses her tongue to the floor of her mouth, his explanation one that makes her heart trip once again—a sensation that is slowly becoming exclusively just Rafe’s, which might be dangerous. But she can’t help it—not when she knows that those beaded bracelets she has seen him wearing in the past, ones she never really given much thought to, are ones his youngest sister made for him. She doesn’t want to admit it, but it begins to paint Rafe in a new light; not just the guy who gets into fights with her friends. Hell, Isla thinks her opinion of him was already slowly changing since that night he helped her when her car broke down, and now is the night she’s willing to admit it.

“That’s. . . Very cute,” Isla says, almost in wonder.

Rafe turns to look at her, mirth dancing in his eyes. “You calling me cute, Isla?”

Her cheeks heat, scoffing so she doesn’t look as flushed as she feels. “No,” she says vehemently, maybe a little too much so as Rafe cocks an eyebrow, that smirk appearing once more. “I meant the bracelets.” His smirk only widens and her pulse is racing to face as she stubs out the cigarette and says hastily, “I’m gonna go,” as she turns and heads towards the bedroom door, face on fire.

Her hand grasps the doorknob when she hears, “Isla.” She freezes at the sound of her name on his tongue again, turning to glance at him over her shoulder. He gives her a tiny smile. “I don’t mind having you in my room.”

Her eyes widen slightly, pulse skipping a beat or two as she makes sense of his words. “Is that—” She resists the urge to clear her throat. “An invite?”

That smile becomes his signature smirk, blue eyes light and so teasing. “Just a statement of fact.”Oh, God. She’s not sure what to say to that, if there is anything to even say. Words certainly don’t come to the tip of her tongue. Especially not when he’s watching her, like he’s expecting some sort of reaction. She doesn’t give it to him. Instead, Isla opens the door and leaves the room, willing her thundering heart to calm down as she goes to find her friends with the weight of Rafe’s gaze still heavy on her back.

[prettywordsyouleft]

Unhappy Trail

Pairing: Lim Jaebeom x female reader

Genre: fluff, suggestive

Tropes: established relationship

Warnings: body touching (not sexual), mild nudity, suggestive chatter at the end

Word count: 711

Author’s Note: I’m still devastated by the lack of happy trail in Jaebs’ showcase photos.

Snuggling in deeper under your blankets, you sighed sleepily. It had been a long day, and you were more than ready to nod off and get as much sleep before the daily grind returned for you in the morning.

You felt the mattress dip on the other side of the bed, and your body, despite how languid it felt, still moved in its usual ministrations. Jaebeom shuffled closer and your closest hand was already sliding over his naked upper body, feeling its way along his shoulder and over his pectorals, slowly descending his torso towards its usual resting place. For the longest time, you have found comfort in placing your hand in the same spot, and tonight was no exception. Your partner held his breath, which was different, as if he were bracing for your reaction. It was as if Jaebeom had forgotten to warn you about something until in the moment, confusing you momentarily. Was there something wrong with his body?

Your hand faltered over the top of his abdominals, and you peeked out of one eye. A dark stare looked back at you, a sheepish smile gracing his mouth.

In response, you dove your hand down further, Jaebeom sucking in a deep breath. Your fingers traced the smooth skin, searching for its usual comfort blanket.

“Y/N!” he gasped, trying not to laugh at your frantic pace over his skin. “Calm down.”

“Why did you shave it off?!” you lamented, sleep all forgotten about. Sitting up, you reached for the lamp beside you and flicked it on before turning your incredulous stare back to your lover’s exposed body.

If you hadn’t been so worked up, you would have laughed at the irony of your man now trying to cover himself up, when he was usually the most comfortable in his own skin when he was showing it off to you. Jaebeom let out an exasperated breath before replying with, “You know my showcase is tomorrow night.”

“And?”

“And I’ve been getting my body ready for my idol comeback,” he explained, and you nodded initially in understanding the logic.

Except, over this, you didn’t truly understand.

Jaebeom had never really cared about his happy trail. He’d been through so many scenarios during his career, both intentionally and not, where his torso had been exposed. In fact, you had an extensive photographic collection of the area on your phone – for scientific reasons, of course. You knew he had his own plethora of parts of your body on his devices too. And the dense bedding your hand usually slumbered within was always there.

Until now.

“It’s apparently more common these days as part of a strict image plan,” he mentioned with a shrug as you frowned. “Noona-Mindi said—”

“At least I now know who to murder,” you seethed, and Jaebeom laughed heartily, pulling you into his embrace and holding you tightly.

“No murder.”

“I’m serious! Your skin is so smooth there. Did you even shave it?” you wondered, and Jaebeom winced. You yanked back enough to look at him. “Did you get it waxed off?!”

“I can assure you that it’s not an experience I want to do again,” he confirmed, reaching under his armpits where you also noticed the lack of hair.

“The idol lifestyle isn’t for the weak,” you murmured, gently stroking his cheek with your hand fondly. Jaebeom leaned into your affectionate touch, rubbing into it as if he were one of your cats.

“It’ll grow back,” he pointed out, and you huffed, your hand pausing in doling out the love. Jaebeom attempted to make it move by rubbing his cheek more energetically into your hand, and you couldn’t help but smile at him, giving in and obeying his need. He grinned. “We all know it won’t take long.”

“How am I meant to sleep without my routine?”

“Seriously? I thought you put your hand there because you…” He trailed off to smirk.

You gave him a filthy look. “Lim Jaebeom!”

“What? Isn’t it there for an early morning greeting?” he teased, and you rolled your eyes.

“For that, I won’t be using my hand down there until it grows back!”

His expression turned to liquid sin. “So… your mouth then?”

“You are seriously not worth all this trouble.”

_________________

All rights reserved © prettywordsyouleft

[GOT7 Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist]

[watchmegetobsessed]

Any chance you could do a famous single mum reader x Harry fic

since he’s a certified MILF lover

CRUSH

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

SUMMARY: Harry has been into you for way too long, but you haven't given him a chance. You run into each other at the Grammy's afterparty and you finally tell him why you're so adamant about keeping your distance.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

Harry will forever remember tonight.

It’s his second time going home as a Grammy winner and nothing can ruin this experience for him, not even how his performance was ruined. He did it again and nothing else matters for now.

Or at least that’s how he should be feeling as he is celebrating with his friends and other winners and artists at the after party, but something keeps bugging him.

Just hours earlier he ran into you again and he hasn’t been able to get you out of his mind since then. It’s no surprise you were at the award show, even though you’re not a singer he could have expected to run into you at one of the most important nights of the year. Yet, he was still surprised to see you walk down the red carpet, but it might have been because you always have that effect on him no matter what.

If someone asked Harry who his celebrity crush was he would say you with no hesitation or remorse. He’s been enamored with you since the first time he met you at some other after party a few years ago. The two of you were introduced by a mutual friend and he stuck to your side for as long as possible, drinking up every word, every laughter and every look you gifted him with. He thought you were way out of his league, he still does, but that doesn’t stop him from yearning after you like a lovesick puppy every time your paths cross. Harry can’t tell how many times he tried to flirt with you before, but his flirty comments were met with soft rejection every time, you never seemed to be returning the gentle feelings and though it was devastating, he knew he could do nothing.

He could at least call you his friend, more or less. He definitely has a tither connection with you than with most people in this room, there’s a bigger circle of friends you both share so you end up meeting every few months without planning it and there are periods when you’re even texting.

He hasn’t talked to you for a while now, so seeing you brought his feelings back he’s been harboring for so long.

Now as he’s sipping on his drink he can’t help but keep looking around, trying to spot you in the crowd to no avail for now. He pulls out his phone and opens the message thread with you, rereading the last few texts he exchanged with you a while back. His thumb hovers over the screen, fighting the urge to hit you up with a message when an elbow meets his side. Looking up he sees Mitch beside him.

“Your crush is here,” he informs Harry with a knowing smirk, nodding towards the bar.

He follows his friend’s gaze and spots you only seconds later. You’ve changed out of your burgundy gown he saw you wearing earlier, sporting a chic pant suit this time, but you’re just as breathtaking as ever.

Mitch just chuckles when Harry gets up without a word and heads over to you. Pushing between guests he ignores everyone who might try to strike a conversation up with him until he finally reaches you.

“Y/N, hi!” he smiles at you warmly. You turn to face him with a cocktail in your hands, a wide smile stretching across your face.

“Harry! What a nice surprise!” you chuckle. “Congrats on your wins!” You don’t hesitate to put an arm around his neck and pull him into a hug that he returns gladly.

“Thank you.”

“Though it was no surprise you won, the album is amazing.”

“You listened to it?”

“Of course,” you chuckle. “I wouldn’t have missed it.”

“Do you have a favorite?” he asks with a cheeky smile.

“Hmm, probably… Satellite.”

“Great choice.”

The conversation keeps flowing and suddenly it feels like it’s just the two of you even though it’s a crowded party that’s happening around you. Harry realizes that no matter how much time passes between each time he sees you, he will always catch himself falling for you over and over again. He tries to flirt with you this time as well and this is the first time he can feel like his rizz is not going straight over your head.

“Y/N, I need you to be very honest with me,” he starts, when you both had a few drinks. Neither of you is drunk, but definitely tipsy.

“About what?” you chuckle.

“Do I have a chance with you? For real, I’m not playing here,” he smirks, placing one hand to his chest, while holding up the other one, his half empty glass rising into the air.

You sigh deeply, looking away from him as you busy yourself with your own drink.

“Ah, it hurts!” he acts as if he was shot in the chest. “Am I that ugly and boring?”

“Of course, you’re not!” you roll your eyes.

“Okay, do you like me?”

“I do,” you admit, avoiding to look him in the eyes.

“Alright, then let’s take this conversation over to my place.”

“I can’t,” you shake your head.

“We can go to yours as well, I’m fine with that too,” Harry half jokes, but he notices that you’re not laughing. “Y/N, what is it then?”

“I need to get some air.” Jumping to your feet you leave your drink behind and head out to the back of the place that’s the smoking area, hoping to be alone for a bit, but Harry rushes after you, determined to get answers this time.

He finds you in a dark corner, your arms wrapped around yourself as you stare out into the void.

“Y/N, I’m sorry if I went too far, I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s… fine.”

“I just… fuck, I really like you. A lot. I can’t stop thinking about you and… I couldn’t just not shoot my shot.”

“You’ve been shooting your shot for a long time.” He finally sees a tiny smile on your lips.

“So you did notice my attempts?” he grins. “Just chose to ignore them, I guess?”

“Harry, I can’t.”

“Can’t ignore them anymore?”

“No. I can’t date you.”

“Can’t as in…?”

Sighing, your head falls back, against the wall as you close your eyes for a few seconds before opening them and finally looking at him.

“I don’t date.”

“Why?”

“Because of Arian.”

The picture is finally crystal clear in Harry’s head. You’re depriving yourself from dating because of your son.

It’s no news to Harry that you’re a mother, he has even met your five year-old son, but he never thought of him as the reason why you keep rejecting him. You keep your private life pretty hush hush, especially since you split from your ex, Arian’s father three years ago. No one knows why you called it quits and there’s actually no photo of the little boy online either, that’s how dedicated you are to protect him from the public. Harry completely understands it, but he doesn’t see why you can’t date because of Arian.

“The little guy doesn’t want to share you with anyone else?” he tries to joke.

“I’m a single mother who is also an actress. My life is complicated enough without dates and boyfriends.”

“Woah, we’re only talking about one boyfriend,” Harry puts his hands to his chest. You crack a smile, but it’s not as genuine as he would want it to be.

“It’s just not the right time for me to start dating again. I’m sorry.”

“I’m a little hurt you’re not even giving me a chance.”

“I’m sure dating a single mother is not exactly your dream either.”

“Y/N, I haven’t even thought about it until you brought it up. Arian is a cool little guy and I have no problem with you being a mother.”

“You will at one point, trust me,” you scoff and Harry tries not to take it personal. You’re just trying to protect yourself and your son, it’s not against him.

“What if I prove that it’s fine? That I’m not just some random guy who will come and go?”

Staring back at him you chew on his words as you tilt your head to the side.

“We’ll see.”

At first the peace and quiet takes over your waking mind. You feel a gentle breeze from the window you left open for the night and you stretch long underneath the silky covers when it finally dawns on you.

It’s peaceful. And quiet. You haven’t had a morning like this in about… well, five years. Arian loves to wake you up whenever you’re home, jumping on the mattress, or just cuddling to you, either way, he never misses a chance to spend a morning with you.

So where is he now?

Slight panic rushes through your veins as you quickly wrap yourself in your silky robe and head out to find your baby. All the worst case scenarios flash through your mind, but they dissolve the moment you reach the stairs and hear his laughter coming from the kitchen. With careful steps you approach the source of his voice that’s mixed with another one, a more mature male voice that you don’t recognize at first but when you round the corner and see what’s happening in your kitchen, recognition washes over you.

Harry Styles is making pancakes in your kitchen with your son. And they are making a big mess, but Arian seems to be enjoying it. Music is playing in the background and there’s a ginormous bouquet of flowers on the kitchen island. Your heart flutters in your chest as you walk closer.

“Mommy!” Arian notices you and climbing off his stool he runs over to you and you gladly pick him up into your arms.

“Hey baby, what’s… what’s happening here?”

“Harry is making us pancakes!” He throws his hands up into the air in excitement as you walk over to the kitchen island and sit him down on top of it.

“Good morning, Y/N,” he smiles at you so charmingly, it’s hard to focus on the fact that he is in your house on a Saturday morning.

“Hi, what do you… Um, what are you doing here?”

“Mommy, I told you, he is making us pancakes!” Arian giggles.

“I know, baby. Hey, you’re still in your pajamas, why don’t you go up and change?” You help him off the counter and gently push him towards the stairs. He runs off singing to himself.

“Before you throw me out,” Harry starts, holding the spatula up, “You told me to prove it.”

“Prove what?”

“That it’s fine that you’re a mom. So, this is our first date, in your house, with your son, so you don’t have to worry about him or get a babysitter.”

“How did you even get into my house?” you chuckle in disbelief. You’re definitely touched by the gesture, you don’t like to spend time away from Arian when you’re not working.

Grinning, he starts flipping the pancakes in the pan.

“Well, I might or might not have contacted your agent who hooked me up with your housekeeper who let me in this morning.”

“Wow, my own staff betrayed me,” you chuckle.

“I wouldn’t say betrayed. They both were happy to help me, because they want what’s best for you.”

“And that would be you?” you ask, arching an eyebrow at his cockiness. He shrugs, but his smirk tells it all.

“Look,” he sighs, turning the stove off. “I really did mean it. I don’t care that you’re a mom. It’s all good, it’s part of you. I don’t want to just come and go in your and Arian’s life. Just give me a chance to prove that it could work.”

He must have some kind of magic power over you, because he really just waltzed in here, made some pancakes and convinced you to change your mind.

“Arian will always come first for me, Harry.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t expect anything else,” he nods.

“That means that even in my limited free time, you’ll most likely have to share me with him. I’m not the type to let nannies and babysitters raise my child.”

“And I love that about you. Arian is lucky to have you as his mother.”

Staring back at him you want to say no, but you simply can’t. It’s impossible.

“Okay,” is all you say.

“Okay as in… You’ll give me a chance?”

“Yes, but don’t fuck it up,” you chuckle as Harry walks closer and his hands find your waist, pulling you closer. It’s the first time he is physically this close to you, but it feels like he’s been doing it since forever, like you belong in his arms.

“Never,” he smirks and as he leans closer you hear a pair of tiny feet running down the stairs, so you step back just in time for Arian’s return.

“Give me the pancakes!” he giggles, climbing up to a stool and you smile at Harry.

“See, he is already cockblocking you,” you whisper to him chuckling.

“Touché,” he sighs with a smirk. “But he is cute, so it’s alright.” Shaking it all off he turns to Arian as he places the pancakes on a plate. “So, what do you want on top?”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[cal-flakes]

╰┈➤ getting caught with rafe - part two

warnings: blood, violence, swearing, underage drinking.

summary: rafe and y/n attend the annual bonfire. y/n puts herself in the middle of jj and some random kook, resulting in her getting hurt. jj and rafe come together to defend her.

dancing along to the music from her phone, y/n finished up her makeup. the annual bonfire was tonight and she wanted to feel confident. it was also the first time her and rafe planned to go out together as a couple, especially since her brother knew now.

speaking of her brother, y/n hadn’t heard from him in a few weeks. she’d taken rafe up on the offer to stay at tannyhill with him for now.

the argument between y/n and jj was a bad one, they’d never argued like that before. she was devasted by it, but she also flat out refused to go to him first, not until he realised she was serious about rafe.

so into the song playing, y/n jumped when rafe’s knocks echoed around the room. “you ready yet angel?” he asked through the door. taking one last look at her outfit, she practically skipped over to him.

“pick your jaw up, mr cameron” she laughed, leaning into his chest as he beamed at her in awe. “you’re so beautiful, miss maybank” he cooed. her cheeks burning up, she pushed him away jokingly.

ushering her out of the house, “come on” he groaned, provoking a squeal from her as he smacked her ass. rushing to the car, she was almost bouncing on her feet. y/n loved the bonfire weekend, it was her favourite tradition in kildare.

“can i drive? please please please!” she begged hurriedly. “no, not after last time” rafe stated, chuckling at the thought. “boo! you’re so boring!” she pouted, pulling her best puppy dog face. “shush, get in the car”

y/n’s anxiety flared slightly as rafe put the care in park, she knew jj would be there, but she had no idea what to expect.

rafe’s hand on her thigh snapped her out of her thoughts. “it’s gonna be fine princess, stop worrying”

y/n followed behind rafe, holding his hand as he pushed through the crowds of teenagers. reaching the rocks, rafe said his hello’s to kelce and topper, taking a beer from the stand. “is that a pogue on your arm i see cameron?” topper joked, a hint of spite in his words.

squeezing his hand subconsciously, y/n moved to stand behind rafe. she felt the anxiety in her chest. “say that again..” rafe spat, his wild temperament getting the better of him.

topper held his hands up, backing away from his friend. “i was joking man, chill out!” as rafe argued with topper, y/n inspected the crowds, searching for familiar faces.

blue eyes widened below her when jj spotted his sister, up on the rocks with rafe. his foot tapped on the floor incessantly, pure rage building up inside of him.

spotting this, john b patted his shoulder, stepping in the way of his deadly stare. it looks could kill, rafe cameron would be absolutely obliterated.

jj threw his empty can on the ground, barging through the groups of people when someone stopped in.

“watch where you’re fucking going pogue!” the boy behind him sneered, squaring up to the blonde. “the fuck did you just say?” jj spat, returning the tone. “you heard me, go back to your deadbeat daddy!”

y/n’s ears perked up at this, eyes meeting the growing circle of people. before rafe had a chance to blink she was running over, pushing people out of her way.

he followed behind her quickly, alongside topper and kelce. “y/n! it’s not your fight!” he shouted over the crowd, hoping to catch her.

their time of arrival was most unfortunate however, just as y/n stepped in between them, the kook threw the first punch. swinging his arm with such force, it knocked her to the ground immediately.

for the first time ever, rafe cameron and jj maybank were on the exact same page. both instantly throwing themselves into the boy, pummelling him to the floor. everyone around them pushed and shoved, hollering in excitement as the fight played out.

holding her jaw, y/n groaned out in pain as crimson liquid dribbled down her neck, the imprint of the boys ring clear as day.

kiara and pope helped her to her feet while john b pushed jj and rafe away from the kook, attempting to prevent the worst outcome.

gathering their senses, both her brother and boyfriend rushed to her side. “fuck!” jj shrieked, to no one in particular. “jj, i’m fine!” she called, rafe scanning her face for more injuries.

“fine? that bastard just punched my little sister in the face? you think that’s fine?” he shouted again, struggling to ground himself.

“he’s right y/n, he’s not getting away with that” rafe stated, glaring at the now unconscious boy. y/n chuckled amongst them, ignoring the murderous undertones of rafe’s words.

sitting beside her, jj threw an arm around her shoulder, eyeing her split jaw. “damn. you took quite a hit y/n/n” he laughed. “yeah, seems to be something we’re both good at huh?” she joked, seemingly making light of two bad situations.

“you need to go get it checked out?” he asked, implying he’d take her. “no jj it’s fine, rafe’s gonna take me home”

sighing, jj nodded, agreeing with the statement. in no way was he happy about his sisters choice of men, but he respected the way he jumped in for her. “yeah okay, you wanna get her home safely” he ordered, shooting rafe a stern look.

after agreeing with her brother, rafe carried y/n to the car, who insisted she did not need to be carried. “shut up for once, just let me help you” he cooed, face still red with exertion.

“i suppose the night could’ve been worse, huh?” she giggled.

y/n replayed the moment the two men shook hands before parting ways, she thought she’d never see the day.