#i have never been so violently hungover as i was this morning

[sunshinelikerain]

hurricane Lex has made landfall 🌪️

[nadvs]

home before dark (part six)

pairing rafe cameron x kook! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary as children, you and rafe were best friends, but then tragedy suddenly struck his family and he shut everybody out. years later, you need his help when a pushy ex-boyfriend won’t leave you alone. rafe is perfect for the job because everybody’s afraid of him. except for you.

content warnings stalker ex, violence, substance abuse, death and mourning of parent

» masterlist

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Rafe didn’t have a drop of alcohol last night, yet he feels violently hungover this morning.

He stares up at the ceiling of your guest room, running on a few hours of broken sleep. He feels so exposed. Once he started talking to you, he couldn’t stop.

He was fine living an empty life. But then you walked back into it, completely unaware of how painful it is to be around you. But it feels so damn good, too.

Nonetheless, when he looks at you, he sees his doomed childhood, his lost happiness. He’s not sure the good will ever outweigh the bad. Especially because he’ll never be able to tell you the entire story. You’ll never completely understand why he is the way he is.

Maybe he shouldn’t have told you to leave last night. You were just trying to help. After so many instances of telling himself he’d stop brushing you away, he’d stop acting like your asshole of an ex, he did it again.

But telling himself he should do something and actually doing it are two very different things. Everything in this nonsensical world is easier said than done.

You’re making breakfast in your kitchen, your temples aching from the sadness that hasn’t left you.

Rafe wasn’t awake before you for once. You don’t know how you’ll face him. You feel just as powerless as you felt when you were ten, unsure of what to say to him or how to act around him.

He was in the car. It won’t stop clanging around in your head. He was with her the last minute she was alive.

And when you tried to hold him, to be there for him, he told you to go away. You know better than to attempt to get him to talk about it again.

“Hey.” Rafe’s deep voice pulls you out of your haze. You look up to see him standing by the far counter, then return your gaze back down to the pan. For once, you’re the one avoiding eye contact.

“Hey,” you reply. Your shoulders are stiff. You know he wants to leave. “Just a second.”

You pull the pan off the range and cross the kitchen, pacing to the front of the house. When you open the door and re-arm the security system, you step to the side, hand tight on the knob.

You will yourself to look up at him, meeting his blue eyes. He’s standing between you and the front step of your home, unmoving.

“Did you want to stay?” you ask. “Maybe have some breakfast?”

It’s like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff, taking another risk of rejection, expecting to fall but having a shred of hope that he’ll pull you to solid ground.

“I can’t.” He walks past you, a hard push off the edge. You’re disappointed. In him for denying you again. In yourself for thinking he wouldn’t.

You’ve always felt safe with him. But right now, while he’ll protect you physically, your heart isn’t even close to feeling whole. He’ll break it every chance he gets.

You spend your morning in a haze. You wish you could carry at least some of Rafe’s pain for him, but he’ll never fully open up to you. Last night, when he told you about the accident, he pushed you away the second you tried to comfort him.

After lunch, you realize you can’t handle being alone any longer. You text a friend and accept her invitation to hang out at her house.

Talking with your friend about everything but what’s been weighing on you is a welcome distraction for a couple of hours. Rafe is always at the back of your mind, but being with someone else helps ease the pain.

After you say your goodbyes, you walk down to the street where you parked. You notice a white paper rectangle tucked under your windshield wiper.

Your stomach drops. Normally, you’d assume it’s a ticket of some sort. That maybe you parked where you’re not supposed to. But you know that’s not what this is.

You pluck the paper from under the wiper and get into your car, trembling as you lock all the doors. You look around, terrified you’ll meet Ty’s stare.

But you’re alone. Nobody is around.

You rip open the envelope. On the top inner fold, in his messy writing: I always have my eyes on you.

Fear’s razor-sharp claws squeeze your insides when you pull out what’s in the envelope. Photos of you from the past few days. At the gas station. At the mall. At the pool.

Ty’s been following you. Taking pictures.

You lock your doors again, even though you know you already did. You’re at a loss for what to do. Where to go.

Just walking up the driveway back to your friend’s house is daunting. And going home to an empty house is just as scary.

So, you go to the one person you know will take away the fear. You drive, park, and find his name in your phone.

Rafe is sitting on the balcony leading out of his bedroom when his phone starts buzzing. He sees your name on the screen and scrambles to answer as fast as possible.

“You okay?” Rafe says.

“No.” Your voice is shaky. “No. He’s been following me.”

“Where are you?” he asks, standing and rushing to find his keys.

“I’m in front of your house.”

“Good,” he says. He tucks his gun into the band of his jeans. “Good. It’s okay. I’ll be right down.”

Rafe spots your car at the end of his driveway. When his eyes find you, he’s sure he’s never seen someone look so shell-shocked. He tugs at the passenger door handle a few times before you catch on that you need to unlock it.

He settles in the seat next to you, brows furrowed in worry, watching you stare ahead at your steering wheel.

“I don’t even know how I - I drove here,” you stutter with a humorless laugh. You’re in a fog.

“What’d he do?” he asks.

Your eyes dart down to the ripped open envelope in your cup holder. Rafe grabs it and leafs through the photos. Anger climbs up his body in half a second.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters.

“He left it on my car,” you say.

You can’t let Ty do this to you anymore. You’re not above wishing Rafe would beat him within an inch of his life. You want to fight back in every possible way you can. You want him to lose.

“I think this is enough to go to the police,” you breathe. “I need a restraining order or something. I can’t just watch this happen. I mean, I have enough evidence of - of stalking, right?”

Saying the word out loud is what finally breaks you. The tears you’ve been pushing down rush up without any mercy. You start to cry quietly, your chest heaving.

“Listen to me,” Rafe says softly. “He’ll pay for this.”

All he can feel is a burning urge to protect you. To make sure you never feel this way again. He’s not leaving your side for a minute.

You sense Rafe’s hand on your knee. It’s like you’re watching this happen to someone who looks and sounds like you because he can’t possibly be happening to you.

“You want me to drive?” he asks.

You nod, tears rolling down your face, unbuckling your seatbelt.

You watch Rafe’s knuckles turn white as he drives your car down the street. You ask him to stop at your house to grab the letter Ty left for you, glad you didn’t throw it out in haste, and arrive at the police station carrying the proof of your ex’s incessant hounding.

Rafe tucks his gun under the seat before going inside.

The building is dingy. You approach the front desk, locking eyes with the man sitting behind a computer, his uniform dull and washed out.

“Can I help you?” he asks.

“I need to file a restraining order,” you say. The words feel odd coming out of your mouth.

The officer hands you a sheet of paper on a clipboard and a pen, instructing you to come back up to the desk after you fill it out.

It’s vile. You’re scared for your life and in response, a stranger hands you a form.

The waiting room is empty. You and Rafe settle in the worn, ripped up leather seats. You look down at the words in front of you, your hands trembling.

“Here,” he says, taking the clipboard and pen from you. You’re too shaken up to focus.

You watch Rafe write your full name at the top. Your address. Your date of birth. He remembers it all.

Then, he drags the pen over every box that applies to you.

The defendant and I are persons who are in or have been in a romantic relationship. He marks it with an X.

The defendant has inflicted emotional distress on me. X.

I want the Court to order the defendant not to assault, threaten, follow or harass me. X.

I believe I am in danger of serious or immediate injury.

Rafe looks to you.

“Not when you’re around,” you say honestly. “But you can check it.”

When Rafe comes across the blank sections, he sniffs in unease before reading the instructions out loud.

“Give specific dates and describe in detail what happened,” he recites. He doesn’t want to hear this. “Just talk. I’ll write.”

You go through it all from the beginning. The aggressive text messages. The in-person threats. The email. The letter. The photos. Rafe writes it all down. His stomach turns as he listens to you recount it all.

You take the clipboard to record what’s left: Ty’s contact information.

You drop the form off at the front desk and sit back down. Rafe watches you blankly stare ahead, your knees anxiously bouncing.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he mumbles. You nod, unconvinced.

“We can grant you an emergency protective order,” a police officer tells you after taking you and Rafe to a private room. “There’ll be a court hearing within ten days. You need an attorney to represent you and to help prove that the letter and photos are from him.”

“Okay,” you say. The old man across the table is speaking like he’s talking about something boring, like the weather.

“So, wait - are you saying - he can just walk around free until then?” Rafe asks.

The officer looks at Rafe, his face emotionless. Then he looks at you again.

“The defendant will be informed about the temporary order and he’ll be told not to contact you,” he responds. “If he violates the terms, you need to let us know. But a judge will determine if a permanent order should be granted. It’s up to them to decide if this person is a danger to you.”

“Are you kidding?” Rafe shuffles in his seat, shaking his head. “Someone’s gonna tell him to stay away from her and - and that’s it? Until a judge maybe makes it official?”

“That’s the way the law works,” the officer says.

“The law is bullshit.”

“Reconsider your tone, young man,” the cop warns.

Rafe scoffs, like he’s taking it as a challenge. You’re frustrated that the man is being so cold about this, but Rafe’s hostility isn’t helping.

“Rafe,” you say, placing your hand on his forearm. “Can you wait for me outside?”

He meets your eyes. He realizes he’s stressing you out. Times like these, he hates his temper.

Rafe has been standing by the front doors of the building for five minutes when you come out, your arms crossed.

“I didn’t mean to…” he mutters. “He was just so goddamn casual about the whole thing-”

“It’s okay,” you say. “I know.”

You still feel like this is a nightmare you’re waiting to wake up from. Your parents are overseas for work, totally oblivious to what’s happening. You need to call them. How the hell do you even deliver this kind of news?

“Did he say anything else?” Rafe asks as you make your way to your car.

“He just told me I should get a lawyer as soon as I can,” you say. “I found one in the area and I called her office. I have a meeting with her tomorrow.”

You’re still shaky and you’re glad Rafe is heading for the driver’s side without you having to ask him. You settle in your car, locking yourselves in silence.

He’s not starting the engine. He’s just looking at you. You meet his eyes and try not to think about last night.

“You’re scared,” he says. Your eyelids flutter. You are scared. The last twenty-four hours have been a mess.

Rafe wallows in the feelings of failure and self-pity. He’s supposed to make you feel safe and he’s fucking it up. You look terrified.

“I’m not gonna leave your side, alright?” he says. “I’ll make sure you’re never alone until he stops. And he will stop.”

Normally, you’d ask him if he can really take that on. But you have to ask yourself if you can take it on first. Being around someone who’s committed to keeping you at a distance is starting to wear on you. But this all started so he’d keep you safe. Whether you can handle it or not, you will.

Rafe grimaces when you don’t respond. Maybe he’s not enough. Maybe you need to feel like you have the power to keep yourself safe, too.

“I’m teaching you how to use a gun,” he decides.

“What?” you say. You can’t have heard him right.

“You won’t be scared if you know how to protect yourself,” he says. Then he shoves the key into the ignition and drives to his house to swap to his bike.

You cling onto Rafe as he drives his motorcycle along the coast. He approaches a clearing in an overgrown field. You can understand why he changed vehicles when you feel how choppy the terrain is. He navigates over the grass and stops under a tree.

“How do you even know about this place?” you ask once he kills the engine and you take off his helmet.

Rafe doesn’t want to admit that he passes by this barren corner of the island several times a month to pick up coke from his dealer. That he’s been here to shoot at nothing multiple times before.

“Just do,” he says. “Come on.”

You swing your leg off his motorcycle, wishing you didn’t feel the loss of his touch as deeply as you do.

When Rafe leads you deeper into the clearing under the cloudy afternoon sky, the road now out of sight, he pulls his gun out of the back of his jeans. It’s unreal watching him adjust the weapon in his hands, how casually he’s handling something that could kill a person.

You look over your shoulder, wondering if Ty is hiding somewhere. Will you always be on edge like this, worrying his eyes are on you?

You glance back at Rafe.

“Where’d… you learn?” you mumble. “To use it.”

Rafe looks up at you. Your eyes are wide. Maybe this was a bad idea.

He was being impulsive when he suggested this. He forgot how you looked at him when you noticed his gun at the party a few nights ago. He’s supposed to be making you feel safe. But you look freaked out.

“If this is a bad idea, we don’t have to do this,” he says. “I was-”

“No,” you interrupt. “You’re right. I’ll feel better knowing I can defend myself if it… if it comes to that.”

The thought sends a chill through your body. You try to shake away your fear.

“I was just wondering,” you say.

“I taught myself,” Rafe admits.

“How come?”

His jaw clenches.

“I told you, sometimes I get pissed off and…” He tries to bring down the sharpness of his tone. “This helps. It feels good. You’ll see.”

You can tell just how heavy his soul is as you watch him focus, sliding the magazine of the gun in and out. You wonder how many times he’s come out here, running towards a twisted form of solace.

You get it. You don’t know how you’d react if what happened to him happened to you, but you doubt it’d be very different from this. You’d be angry at the world, too. You’d want to take it out any way you can.

Rafe steps closer to you, opening the chamber, every column in it filled.

“It’s loaded,” he tells you. “You can see the bullets here. Safety’s on.”

He closes the chamber and offers the gun to you. It’s heavy in your hand as he rounds to stand behind you.

“You see that tree over there?” he says, his voice low. You follow his finger to see a tall, broken stump in the distance. It looks like it was hit by lightening and torn in half.

“Yeah,” you say.

“Aim at it,” he instructs you. “Use both hands. It’ll have some kick.”

You’re tense as you raise the gun towards the tree. You have one hand wrapped around the grip of the gun and tuck the other underneath the barrel.

“Like this,” he mumbles. His arms encircle you, his chest firm against your back. Your breath catches as he rests his hands over yours. He guides your left hand closer to your right, adjusting your fingers to spread wider.

“Safety’s on,” he reminds you. “Just get used to the feeling, alright?”

“Alright,” you say.

His forefinger settles over yours, pushing down on the blocked trigger.

“This is where you press down,” he says. You nod against him.

Rafe’s trying not to notice how nice your shampoo smells. The way your body feels enclosed in his. The fact that his heart started racing the second he gets close to you like this.

“You ready for me to turn off the safety?” he asks you, zeroing in on the reason he’s here. You nod and in seconds, the loaded gun in your hands is completely unguarded.

“It’ll be loud, okay?” he mumbles. You feel his warm breath against your cheek. “You don’t have to be scared. You have all the power here.”

You feel like you haven’t had any power in a long time. You take a few breaths before you pull the trigger. The bang is ear-splitting and force is hard, jolting your arm, sending the bark on the tree flying within a second. You actually hit your target.

You lose your stability, hands loosening beneath Rafe’s. He quickly pulls the gun back and turns the safety on again.

“Shit,” he says amusedly. “You did it.”

You’re in disbelief that you’re doing this and that it kind of felt good. You turn to look up at Rafe, who’s towering behind you.

Your eyes are locked as you stand together in the desolate patch of unkept greenery. You’re silent now and so is he, your breaths in unison.

“Feel better?” he finally asks.

“Yeah.”

Rafe has spent so long harboring hatred for everyone, including himself. But as he drinks in your features and the way they come together so beautifully, he’s sure he doesn’t hate you and never has. How could he when you look at him like this, like you’re expecting the best from him after all he’s done is disappoint you?

Just like last night, the words come rushing out of Rafe’s mouth. He’s getting worse at keeping them in around you. It’s still uncharted territory, so he’s struggling to find out how to say exactly what he’s thinking.

“I don’t…” he says. He starts over. “You should be… happy. I mean, you shouldn’t have to be dealing with all this.”

You chew on your lip. He’s right. Nobody should have to suffer like this, scared of a maniac who won’t leave them alone, who seems to find pleasure in inflicting fear.

Rafe hates that you’re fighting for your own comfort. You deserve to live in ease.

“Thanks,” you say. You gaze into his eyes, wishing they didn’t see what they saw when he was ten years old. “I want you to be happy, too.”

Rafe’s lids drop, his sharp jaw tightening as he grinds his teeth. He can’t cry in front of you. Not again.

“Give it another try,” he says, handing the gun back to you after turning off the safety. You take it in steady hands, aiming at the tree. He doesn’t hold you this time.

After a few seconds of concentration, you pull the trigger and miss. Then you try once more. You hit your target. You can’t imagine ever using this on a person. But if it comes down to it, to your life or Ty’s, you’re picking yours every time.

You lower the gun, realizing your breaths are faster now.

“I think that’s enough,” you say, your stare still fixed ahead. You feel Rafe slowly take the weapon out of your hands again, his fingers brushing yours.

“You wanna go home?” he asks.

“Yes.”

Without another word, you head back to your house, feeling Rafe’s heart thudding against your palm as you cling onto him on his bike.

Rafe waits in the front room while you try to call your parents. Neither of them answer, likely asleep in their timezone.

You put your phone away, looking defeated. He said he wouldn’t leave your side and you couldn’t be more grateful.

“I’ll try again in the morning,” you tell him. “You can just make yourself at home. There’s food in the fridge. I’m gonna go lie down.”

Rafe nods, his elbows on his knees as he sits forward on the couch, as if he’s ready to strike any threat that might come your way.

You stand and cross the space, then breathe out a slow exhale when you reach the end of the room, your hand on the edge of the wall.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, glancing back at him. “I know it’s hard for you to be around me. My parents will fly back after I talk to them and you won’t have to do this anymore.”

You round the corner, leaving him with his thoughts.

It’s not until after sunset that you come back downstairs, feeling trapped in your own home. Rafe is where you left him, scrolling on his phone, surely bored.

“Hey,” you say. You got a text from a friend a few minutes ago about a party at a house down the street. “You wanna get out of here?”

More people are drunk than sober when you arrive at the party, the music and chatter almost deafening. Rafe is brushing through the crowds in front of you.

You spot your friends on the other side of the room and find some relief in seeing people you know actually want to be in your company.

You tug at his shirt to get his attention. Rafe turns and leans down to hear you over the music.

“I’ll be with my friends,” you tell him. He pulls back, confusion in his stare.

“You sure you should go on your own?” he asks.

“You’ll be close, right?” you say.

Rafe shuffles in place, looking tense before he leans over to speak again.

“I’m fine being around you, okay?” he says, thinking about what you said back at your house. “If that’s what this is about.”

He’s fine. You don’t miss the coldness of his words. He’s simply fine being around you, while you ache for him when he’s gone.

“I don’t want to just be… tolerated,” you confess. “I’ll stand over there and I won’t move.”

“Aren’t we supposed to pretend we’re together?” he asks, suddenly desperate to feel you. He offers his hand. You look down at it.

For the first time, you don’t want to touch him. Because you’re so painfully aware that this is all a farce. Because you went through so much today that keeping up appearances feels ridiculous.

When you don’t take Rafe’s hand, the sting of rejection pools through him.

“I don’t care about fooling him anymore,” you say. “We don’t have to keep lying to everyone.”

You offer him a sad smile and brush past him. Your friends’ faces fall when they see you. That’s when you know you’re wearing your anguish for everyone to see.

You stand against the wall, alert and sharp-eyed in case Ty shows up. Maybe he won’t. Maybe the police scared him from even risking being in the same room as you.

He doesn’t seem to be here. But you’re drained of all hope a mere half-hour later when you suddenly see your ex in the crowd. When his gaze meets yours, his lips thin in anger.

Like an animal charging towards its prey, he rushes towards you, shoving past people. You look around and feel overwhelming relief when you see Rafe’s profile locked on Ty as he scrambles to get to him.

“You went to the fucking police?” Ty shouts, rushing towards you.

Even over the music, you can hear the sound of Rafe’s fist making contact with Ty’s jaw. The crowd quickly scatters, shouts erupting as they clear out the space.

Everyone runs away but you. You step forward, watching in disbelief as Rafe leans over, one hand on Ty’s collar, the other delivering blow after blow.

Rafe’s knuckles ache with every punch as Ty lies on the ground, absorbing every strike, slack-jawed. He sees red. Every punch is harder than the last.

“Don’t follow her, don’t talk to her, don’t even fucking look at her!” Rafe yells. “Do you hear me?”

Pure rage fills his veins as he takes everything out with his fist. Every reason he’s so painfully angry. The misery you’re going through. The loss he feels every single day. The fact that people like this get to live when his mother doesn’t.

“Rafe, that’s enough, man!” you hear. You watch two of Rafe’s friends pull him off. He scrambles to get out of their grip.

You can see Ty clearer now. His face is covered in blood, his head rocking side to side.

You turn to see Rafe is pinned against the wall, a third friend now holding him back. His jerks to get free are violent and frantic. Until he sees you.

You look shattered. He stills. You close the distance.

“Let’s go,” you say, unable to recognize your own voice. “Please.”

Rafe’s friends look at each other, never having seen him settle down so quickly. They loosen their grip off of him and he hurries to you, his body curving over yours in an effort to shield you from everything that just happened.

As you rush out of the party, Rafe’s hand is pressed at the small of your back. You’re glad it is, because you’re not sure you’d be able to handle anything without him keeping you steady right now.

When you make it home, your heart is still pounding in your ears. In the moonlight, you noticed how bloody Rafe’s knuckles were as he drove, so you impulsively lead him to the closest bathroom on the first floor of your home.

He doesn’t realize what you’re doing until you turn on the faucet, checking the temperature of the water before you take his hand in yours and wash off the evidence of the fight.

Blood starts to pool down into the sink in a spiral. It wasn’t that long ago you watched Rafe cleaning himself up like this at his house the night he agreed to pretend to date you.

You turn off the tap and take a hand towel, gently dabbing his swollen knuckles. Rafe watches you, the way your face twists in concentration, his lips parted as he breathes heavily.

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” you ask.

“No,” he says.

You’re not thinking straight. You’re doing this because you feel like you owe him for making Ty pay for what he’s been doing to you, but it’s better not to be touching like this. Not when you know it’s a matter of time before he goes back to being a stranger.

“I guess you can do this yourself,” you say nervously. You hold out the towel for him to take with his good hand.

Ever since Rafe fell into this destructive pattern of fighting, he did this part on his own. Cleaning himself up, dealing with the ache, breathing through the residual adrenaline. Nobody ever took care of him like this. He never let them.

Really, he never let you. Because you were the only one holding out a hand while everyone else watched him drown.

“Can you?” he mumbles. You look up at him, puzzled. He always rejects your offers to help. But not now.

“You want me to?” you say. Your voice is brittle, echoing in your small bathroom.

His eyes are soft, as soft as they were when he was a boy, and he nods.

You continue to press the towel against his knuckles. You look at his hand, thinking about the way you watched it write for you earlier today, recording every detail of the torment you’ve lived through over the past few weeks.

What would’ve Ty done if he got his hands on you tonight? And how could Rafe think so low of himself, call himself a psycho, say he fucks everything up, when he could be the only reason you’re alive right now?

“You okay?” he mumbles. You look up, realizing he’s watching you and can see the anxiety etched into your expression.

“The court order didn’t work,” you respond. “It didn’t scare him. It’s a good thing you were there. Thank you.”

Rafe has never felt sure about his place in the world. Not after his loss. But the sense of purpose that taking care of you has given him, the feeling of being told it was good he was somewhere, is unlike anything else.

He flexes his throbbing hand, your words from earlier tonight rattling in his mind. The insinuation that he tolerates you. It’s wrong. It may bring back bad memories to be around you, but it’s not like he’s merely putting up with you, like he’s eager to get rid of you.

“Should I get you ice?” you offer.

Rafe doesn’t answer. He only stares at you.

“I don’t just tolerate you,” he says after a moment, his voice rough.

Your heart aches. Tears prick your eyes. You inhale slowly, your face crumpling with sorrow.

“What is it?” he says.

“I can’t… You told me not to talk about it.”

Rafe chews on the inside of his cheek. He can tell how much it’s been hurting you, how much you’ve been yearning to have this conversation.

“Say it.”

You look down, so overwhelmed that it hurts, accepting his invitation.

“What happened to you was… I don’t have the words. I never did,” you whisper. “It changed you but I can still see parts of who you were before. You’re a good person. Maybe you don’t think so, but you never stopped being good. You asked me why I care about you. That’s why.”

Rafe is speechless. Everything in him is urging him to walk away from you again. The closer he gets to you, the more it hurts. The more it reminds him.

He ignores the impulse to leave. He lets you keep talking.

“And I understand why you shut me out. You were grieving. I’m just so… so, so sorry.” You know it’s a risk to say, but this might be your only chance to tell him. You take a breath. “She’d be so proud of you, Rafe. I know it.”

You stare up at him through your lashes. Finally, you’ve said everything you’ve been wanting to say to him for years.

To hear someone he trusts telling him his mother would be proud of the man he’s become, even when he always feels so angry and rotten and broken, gives Rafe an overpowering sense of relief.

Then, it creeps up on him, the way he can’t bear that he survived and she didn’t. She should have stayed alive. Why did he deserve it? Why didn’t she?

You watch Rafe’s face fall, brows pinching, eyes starting to gleam with tears. Seeing him cry because of what you just said is a punch in the gut.

You should give him space. It’s what he always wants. But just in case he needs any of the comfort you can offer him, you give into your impulse to touch him. At this point, it’s senseless to fight it.

You drape your arms over his shoulders, bringing him close to you, squeezing him into a hug. When he doesn’t return your embrace, you start to retreat, but then you feel big hands drag up your waist, pulling you back in.

Rafe digs his head into the crook of your neck. His body starts to tremble with his cries. And finally, he surrenders himself to you completely.

(part seven)

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[chuusheartattck]

THAT’S THAT ME ESPRESSO (TTME)

Chapter 6- Apologies ☕️

You’ve woken up to the sounds of the birds chirping and the morning sun peaking in through the windows. You would’ve loved waking up in the giant room provided by Ayaka, if only you weren’t so violently hung over.

The feeling of being incredibly nauseous while remembering some of the memories from last night, started hitting you like a semi truck.

Why did you have to drink so much? You’re never drinking again.

You always say this but never actually stick through with your word.

You loved being drunk but hated the consequences that come the next morning. Your phone was buzzing with new messages. Have you always hated the sounds of notifications? Or was it the headache talking? Annoyed, you checked your phone.

Bergrudgingly, you got up. As soon as you stood up however, you felt like you needed to throw up.

Quickly, you rushed to the toilet. Expecting for something to come out. Nothing did.

“I hate being hungover.” You quickly muttered before making your way to the dining room.

You noticed everyone had arrived before you. They all looked like shit. Including you. Mona was in deep explanation of how she read Yae’s birthchart. Apparently the woman has a lot of baggage.

You sat down in between Hu Tao and Mona.

Ayaka handed you a bowl of miso soup, “It’s for your hangover. You look rough.” She smiles.

You quietly thank her. The miso soup looks good but were you able to eat this without throwing it back up? You took your chances and fed yourself.

Luckily you didn’t.

Before you could finish the soup, Hu Tao turned towards you.

“So are you going to explain what happened last night?” She questioned.

You cleared your throat and explained your experience at the party. From start to finish. Everyone had listened intently to your story. Someone would occasionally gasp.

.

.

.

“Well he sure does know how to act like he cares about someone.” Mona mentioned. Scaramouche is actually a good actor.

It seems like he practiced on you the most.

As you were showing the group the texts you sent to Scaramouche and Childe, your phone buzzed. It was a text from Childe. Everyone began freaking out.

“Shit what do I say??” You were panicking because you didn’t really expect him to answer.

“Maybe an apology?” Lynette suggested.

So fucking annoying.

He’s so fucking annoying.

How can he be like this? Why was he being like this? You heavily sighed. The audacity of this man.

Lynette looked up at you, “Is everything alright?”

You put your phone in the middle of the table and stood up.

“Yes. Everything is so perfect.” You replied sarcastically, “Ayaka thank you for the breakfast and sleepover. Have fun everyone reading those stupid ass texts. I’ll be getting ready to leave.”

When the words left your mouth, you walked away and towards the room you were sleeping in.

As you were packing up you heard a knock at the door.

It was Hu Tao. She was returning your phone.

“I’m so sorry Y/n. He’s such a big dick. You don’t deserve this. She pulled you into a hug.

“It’s ok, don’t worry about it. It’s how he is.” You reassured her.

She helped you pack the rest of your stuff.

You then said goodbye to everyone and got inside your car.

Masterlist II Previous II Next

A/N: Hi I’m back! Ik its been a few days but I haven’t been feeling the best so I took a while to update. I’m still sick but I feel better enough to update even if this chapter was a bit short. Another written chapter I hope you guys like it!! Also pls ignore the typo in furina’s text I meant to put ‘parties’ 😭

ALSOOO lmk if you guys want your users to be added to this au and i’ll make you a twitter user :)

Synopsis: You’re a new idol that just debuted under ‘Fontaine Entertainment’ with your new single ‘Espresso.’ You just graduated high school which means all your classmates are shocked to see you into stardom. Including your old situationship, who happens to be an actor.

Taglist: @skyoverkill1 @quacking-simp @lolmeowing @astro-stars @kaitfae @sl-vega @veekoko @scarawiki @yuminako @samyayaya @kur0kki @practicoi @kukikoooo @scaraenthusiast1 @shutingstar @lloovvv @moonjellyfishie @miy-svz @xionri @lalalaloveallmydays @hearts4lizzzz @kathiwis @state-of-grac3 @morgyyyyyyy

[leafsbabe]

Aleksander Barkov - drunk in love (SMUT)

Barky celebrating the Cup with fem!Tkachuk!reader, age gap (reader is in her early 20s), off screen drunk sex 2.4k

You woke up reluctantly —somewhere in that unpleasant gap between being utterly wasted and violently hungover— because you must have forgotten to close the blinds of Matthew’s guest room when you stumbled into bed this morning. At least you thought so since the time between the final buzzer and now was kind of a blur.

Groaning you burrowed your head back into the pillow, hoping for another few hours of sleep to prepare for the next few days of drunken celebration. Last night was only the beginning.

You blamed the alcohol still rushing through your system for only enticing that maybe your stupid warm pillow wasn’t a pillow at all when said not-pillow let out a vague dying sound and rose up, nearly dislodging you in the process. Thankfully the guy stayed somewhat horizontal but the quick movement still gave you a dangerous flutter in your stomach. Then he spoke and that flutter turned into absolute dread. It took you exactly one and a half Finnish curses to figure out who you were snuggled up to.

“What time?” Your brother’s captain asked, not turning around to face the random girl in his bed —you. Great.

For a moment you debated making a break for it or pretending like you were still asleep but in the end you decided to deal with your drunken actions head on. Reaching for your phone, not plugged in and with a brand new crack across the screen, looking at it before letting it fall back onto the nightstand with a clack. 

“It’s noon.” You started, feeling him tense under you. “On thursday.”

Somewhere along the way you had lost a day, your clothes, and gained a hockey player. Sitting up hurt your head but somehow it made you feel less like you were about to throw up. The blanket that had been covering you until that point fell to lie around your hip as the cool air hit your exposed skin. Maybe you should feel more than indifference about the fact that you sat beside your brother’s teammate with your tits out, nipples hard. Well, nothing he hadn’t seen before apparently. 

“Fuck.” The Finn buried his face into the pillow, a real pillow, and you patted his back in lieu of anything better to do. “Chucky will kill me.”

That just made you laugh, gaze catching on a bottle of water on the floor. Your savior. 

“He won’t.”

Aleksander sat up next to you as you took a swig and then patted your back in return when the clear liquid in the bottle turned out to be tequila.

“Not water?” He asked, and you croaked out a no in return. He hummed before taking the bottle from you and taking a swig himself.

It was silent between you two as you tried to gather your thoughts. You were definitely in one of your brother’s many guest bedrooms which meant the chances of nobody knowing about your little drunken dalliance were exactly zero.

“Listen Barky-” You said after an uncomfortable amount of time had passed only for him to interrupt you.

“Sasha.”

“What?”

“We slept together, you call me Sasha.” He shrugged his shoulders as if it was obvious. His broad shoulders. With more than one bite mark on them. Jesus.

“Okay. Sasha.” It didn’t sound the same coming from your lips instead of his but he didn’t react so you kept going. “You wanna do this again sometime?”

This time he reacted, eyes going wide as he looked at you. It wasn’t like your brothers’ teammates usually looked at you. Like you were a kid. Like it wasn’t worth the risk. No. Sasha looked like he was actually considering it.

“You’re baby Chucky.” Was all he said.

“No. That’s Taryn. I’m a grown adult. I have a degree. I’m probably the only one in my family that pays her damn taxes. And I like to go out and drink and sleep with men I want to sleep with.” You answered. “Without asking my family for permission.”

He looked at you, eyes never straying from your face to look at your body. “Why?”

There were a lot of things you could have said had you known exactly why you wanted to sleep with him again. Maybe it was spite. Maybe it was because for the first time since your brother got traded you truly saw the Panther’s captain. Maybe you just didn’t want to have a notch in your bedpost that you couldn’t remember. You didn’t say any of that though. Instead what left your lips was: “I never fucked a Stanley Cup Champion.”

He looked at you. Then down at your state of undress. Then back up at you.

“Ugh. You know what I mean.”

It took more effort than you’d like to stand up, unashamed of your nudity. Nothing he hadn’t seen before, even if neither of you remembered.

Your body ached, both pleasantly and decidedly not. Looking down you could see bruises starting to form where you must have bumped into things. Others starting to manifest that were created with purpose. The feeling of your skin pulling made you check over your shoulder and sure enough the remnants of last night were there, dried to your lower back.

“Well at least you pulled out.” You joked.

Behind you Sasha darkened from rosy sunburn into a deep blush before falling back onto the bed and pulling a pillow over his face.

“Calm down.” You told him, picking a big shirt up from the ground and taking a sniff to make sure it wasn’t dirty before pulling it over your head. “I’m on birth control and unless you have something you need to confess we’re good.”

He looked like he’d rather be anywhere else as he spoke. “No I- we’re good.”

The bathroom was just across the hall but surely there would be random guests around Matthew’s house so you put on some shorts too. One Panther seeing your pussy seemed like enough. 

“Alright. I’m gonna go shower if you want to take that time to sneak out.”

He hadn’t moved from his spot on the bed, only sat up again, looking at you.

Men. Always worrying too little or too much. You walked over to him and bent down to press a single kiss to his lips, smiling to yourself when he reciprocated, hands coming up to hold your hips.

“See ya later, Sasha.” Was  all you said as you walked away.

-

It didn’t take long before he caved. To be completely honest you didn’t even know if either of you sobered up in the two days since you woke up together. But while you had supported your brother and the Panthers the best you could during that time you had also done it for selfish reasons. You didn’t want the man that hadn’t left your head to get distracted by another pretty girl while you weren’t around. Still it took you by surprise when he pulled you aside, trying to find a quiet minute away from the crowd.

“How are you?”

The mundane question made you laugh. That was not what you had expected to hear. “I’m good. Great. Have you decided yet?” A mean little flutter made itself home in your stomach, reminding you that you didn’t feel as casual about the whole thing as you tried to portray.

“We can’t.” He said, but at least he had the decency to look sad about it. “My parents are at my house and Chucky has twenty people staying with him. There is no space.”

While you didn’t necessarily wanted to get fucked in a random hotel room that seemed like the easiest option. You kept looking between Sasha and your cracked phone screen as you searched for a room. The sight of his shirt sticking to his body from a mixture of sweat and alcohol that shouldn’t be remotely hot but yet managed to make you understand why wet t-shirt contests were so popular.

The playoffs drew a big crowd, especially final games, but the fact that everything even remotely close seemed to be booked out completely.

Well there went that plan. 

Throwing all caution to the wind you approached him again, pulling him away from whoever he was talking to and not letting go of his hand until you were further away from everybody. The crowd didn’t care too much about you kidnapping their captain but you didn’t want anybody to overhear you.

“Make up an excuse. Say you got alcohol poisoning or something.”

You didn’t hear the excuse he makes up. If he even made one up at all or if he simply slipped out of the masses without telling a single soul. All you knew when you pulled him through the front door of Matthew’s Florida home was that everybody else was out and would hopefully stay out for a few more hours at least.

Sasha was gentle with his movements. He didn’t spin you around to press you against the door like you had imagined but he did kiss you. Softly. Cupping your face in one hand and smoothing his thumb over your skin after you pulled away.

His playoff beard tickled, not that you let that deter you. Navigating your brother’s house wasn’t easy with his captain attached to your face but you managed to find the guest room you had declared yours eventually.

For somebody that had seemed so unsure about sleeping with you again Sasha wasted no time getting you undressed. He let you deal with your bra yourself, thick fingers pulling off his own clothes rather than fumbling with the clasp. You were bare before he was, draping yourself across the bed just watching as he stripped down before you. The playoffs had demanded a lot from the team but even though Sasha had fought hard there was still a certain solidness to him.

Watching his body move, perfunctory, simply taking off his clothes, shouldn’t make you feel the way it did. Yet you still pressed your legs together in anticipation. It was Sasha that opened them again, gently prying them apart as he worked his way up the bed and between them. His lips ghosted along the bend of your knee, his beard tickling the sensitive skin.

It seemed like Sasha wanted to take his time with you, build up the tension with rough fingers and a soft tongue, but you burned for him in a way you could hardly explain. You needed him now.

His hair tangled between your fingers as you tried to pull him up. Hot breath making you squirm as he lapped at your clit, undeterred by your attempt of hurrying him along. 

“You can eat me out next time. Need you in me. Please.”

“No next time.” He said against the seam of your leg.

It only hurt your heart a little but at least he told you that he only wanted a one (well, two) time fling and didn’t keep you guessing, stringing you along like some other people did.

Your thoughts were interrupted by him nipping at your thigh again, close enough to where you needed him the most that you could feel your arousal cling to that beard of his.

“Fine.” You gave in before following it with a gasp as his lips sealed around your clit, sucking gently before wandering lower to eat you out. He was good at what he was doing —very good, in fact— but you wanted him to hurry anyway. There was no telling how much time you had before your family would return and you desperately needed him to fill you up before they did.

Sasha’s lap had been covered by your blanket the day that you woke up together but seeing him strip down in front of you had only confirmed what you had already known in your heart. Sasha Barkov had a massive dick. And he knew how to use it. You didn’t need to remember your night to know that. 

When you came it was with a shout, thighs wrapped around his head and shaking. So much for the stubborn idea of holding out and urging him on through that.

“Thank you.” He pressed a kiss to the soft chub below your naval. Another to your sternum, between your boobs. Part of you wished he would kiss you —because kissing him felt nice, especially when he kissed you sweetly and sometimes a girl just wanted to be kissed sweetly after an orgasm— but Sasha didn’t kiss you. No. His mouth attached himself to your neck, lips sticky and rough. There was no telling how marked up you would be come morning but the simple fact that he was marking you up at all was enough to drive you half mad. You weren’t his yet he made sure to let everybody know you were owned.

The first nudge of him, light and teasing, was enough to have you reaching down. Sasha let you, playfully biting down as you took him in your hand only to have the bite turn into a muffled moan against your skin as you guided him inside you.

Even with one orgasm already making you feel relaxed the stretch of him was significant, He gave you little time to adjust but that suited your needs all the better. No matter how sweetly he would treat you, you would definitely feel him tomorrow.

Sasha didn’t hold back and put all his strength into it. The headboard hit the wall again and again, loud thumps accompanying breathy curses and cried encouragements. Every tiny action was rewarded by a bigger, even more pleasant reaction.

When you came it was with your sweaty body pressed into the bed by his, filled to the hilt and with your nails clawing at his back. Sasha fucked you through it, keeping his pace even with your shaking legs wrapped around his middle. And then, just as the feeling became too overwhelming, he came too.

The two of you laid together as you both calmed down, heavy breathing evening out, your bodies silent and twisted together on top of the blanket. The moment seemed calm, Sasha almost purring when your hand found its way into his hair, gently tugging on the strands and scratching his scalp. His cum started to slowly leak out of you but you couldn’t stand the thought of having to go get cleaned up. The afterglow of your orgasms just felt too good not to bask in it.

At least it did before you heard the front food to Matthew’s house slam shit and your family yell your name.

[prythianpages]

👀

End of the Year WIP ask game

I have so many WIPs lol but it's been a long time since I shared anything for Cas so here's a snippet of a draft from my Cas x love witch series <3:

Cassian leaned casually against the counter of your shop, his eyes tracking your movements as you approached the shelves lined with colorful potions. The last potion you had given him had left him feeling all warm and giddy and giggly. “Glee brew,” you had called it. “A feel good potion.” 

The potion worked in a similar way to alcohol. It held the power to make you feel light and release your inhibitions without the consequences of losing your balance or feeling hungover the following day. You even claimed it brought good luck.

Tapping one finger against your lips in deep contemplation, your eyes scanned the array of vibrant elixirs. Cassian watched as your eyes brightened, lingering on a vial filled with a shimmering blush-colored liquid.

“This one’s called ‘Butterfly’s Kiss,’” you said as you reached for it and made your way back to him. “It’s said to awaken the butterflies in your stomach, guiding you toward love. It’s one of my most popular—and potent—potions. I just brewed this batch this morning!”

Cassian glanced down at the potion you held out to him. The cork was fashioned into a dainty butterfly, its wings spread as if caught in mid-flight. He examined it for a moment before uncapping it with a crisp pop that startled Honey from his nap. The little feline’s white tail twitched as he blinked open his sleepy eyes and Cassian eyed the cat in a wary manner, remembering the last time he had piqued Honey’s interest.

“The nice thing about this potion,” you continued, drawing his attention back to you,  “is that it smells different to everyone, according to what they find most attractive. The stronger the scent, the more potent the potion.”

Cassian brought the vial to his nose, his brows furrowing slightly in a curious manner.. He frowned slightly and looked back at you. “All I can smell is you,” he said, though the scent of rose and vanilla seemed to have wrapped itself around him since he entered your shop.

“What?” You exclaimed, a look of disbelief crossing your face. You took the vial from him, leaning in to sniff it yourself. “I’m getting the same thing—just you,” you murmured, puzzled. A small frown tugged at your lips as you set the vial down on the counter. “Why didn’t I–Cauldron above, my magic has never failed my potions…”

“I can still try it,” Cassian offered. You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could utter a word, Cassian had already lifted the potion to his lips. 

“Cas…” you gasped, your hand freezing mid air, your eyes widening.

Time seemed to stretch into an eternity as you watched him take a tentative sip and then a large gulp. The atmosphere in the room thickened with anticipation. Honey’s tail had gone still, and even Moxie, who had been restocking candles, peered around the corner.

Cassian felt hot. 

His face flushed and he felt short of breath as a violent flutter tore through his stomach. It quickly escalated into a nauseating churn that spread through his insides. He set the vial down with a trembling hand, his knuckles white against the counter as he leaned heavily on it for support.

“Oh, Cas,” he heard you murmur.

You disappeared from his side with a sense of urgency and returned quickly. Moxie had brought a chair for him to sit and you placed a trash bin in front of him just in time. Cassian barely had a moment to react before he was doubled over, the effects of the potion manifesting violently.

[wizisbored]

wip wednesday sentences for 11/12/24

blood red @twyrewolf @spindoctor3875 @thevagabondexpress @whimsicalmeerkat @eriquin @friend-shaped-but @stonemaskedtaliesin @kallisto-k

As he watches, her tail wags once, thumping against the ground.

“Sorry kid,” he mumbles as he worms his hand under her chin to lift her huge head. Her eyes open slightly as he pulls his feet out from under her and sets her head back down.

“Morning.”

“Hmph.”

“How’s that flask of whiskey treating you now?”

“Better than you’d think.” She hauls herself up onto her paws, stretching. “What’s for breakfast, Boss?”

“Not so worried about our supplies now, huh?”

“Shuttup.”

Ballister has never seen a creature that genuinely enjoys hardtack as much as this dog seems to. Perhaps her intense jaw strength has something to do with it. They split a tin of stew, and then the dog bounds over to the saddle, ducks under it, and stands up a saddled and ready horse.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?”

“Have I made it look like I’m not?”

“You ran like hell yesterday and then downed that whole flask of whiskey.”

“And?”

He sighs. “Alright, but we’re keeping it to a walk for a while.”

“Ugh, you’re no fun. What’s the point of the whole ‘rocky terrain’ plan if you’re not gonna take advantage of how well I can run over it?”

“We don’t need you breaking a leg ‘cause you’re hungover, kid.”

“It’s really not that big a deal.”

“Either you’re keeping it to a walk or I’m not getting on your back.”

She groans dramatically, flicking her tail. “Fine. But if I gotta walk then you’ve gotta practice shooting.”

“Fine.” He struggles his way up onto her back - she insists he practice his attempts to get up by himself before she kneels, which he responds to by nudging her closer to a rock he can step onto.

its not me @zyrafowe-sny @kalira @asha10100101010 @somefishycat @auburnlaughter

Her throat hurts, but it would hurt more to drink. She knows that. She knows how much it would hurt but the fact remains that she’s incredibly thirsty. It should be impossible to be this thirsty with her mouth so far from dry, but it’s like all the water in her body is going into the drool dripping onto the kitchen floor. She shifts again, a rabbit now. She creeps a little closer to the bowl. Pauses. Creeps forward again. And lowers her head to drink.

Nimona was ready for her throat to hurt. She was not ready for it to spasm violently in response to her trying to swallow. Her vision blurs for a moment as she gags on the pain. Things don’t hurt her this much. They just don’t. This is wrong. This is bad.

dorm 4 @inevitablyuncertain @oriharaizayadividesintoslytherin

“I guess a week’s long enough for you to think of something to say to me, then.”

“Lydia-”

“You wanna talk about me not saying enough to Delia? Well where do you think I got that from, Dad?”

“She’s the professional in this. I’m not qualified for that sort of thing.”

But you're my DAD, she wants to yell back.

be right back @post-and-out @sourb0i

“Hmph?”

Nimona blearily opens her eyes, having to take a moment to wake up even fractionally before she can process Ballister standing over the sofa.

“I got you some breakfast. Ambrosius will be here soon, and then I’ll be leaving.”

“Mm.”

She sticks out an arm, which by now Ballister understands to mean help me up. He gets her sat against the sofa arm and sets a tray on her lap - Dragon Kwisps and one of the high-calorie shakes they’ve been employing to try to curb the hunger. She’s on her fourth bowl of cereal but the time there’s a knock on the door.

ten paces @shelfthe-reader @tamsinswriting

The rope goes taught, she turns again, and this time sees that she’s gotten just about close enough to the not-tree for the demon to be able to clamp her rope onto one of the branches. She feels her heartbeat pick up.

“I don’t like this,” she says quietly. As if he’d care, even if he did understand her. He isn’t even looking at her. He’s staring intently at the central trunk of the contraption, holding two fists out in front of him.

[winterline13-art]

Pictober - Call

Tfw ur violently hungover and ur wife lives 12 hrs away so all u can do is call her until it all feels better Have some Wiles angst for Call <3

+Infodump abt Wiles under the cut !

So this is Wiles ! Winter and Miles, my favorite couple of all my ocs <3 I love them dearly so therefore I hurt them so so so bad <3 As u do <33

TW for mentions of alcoholism and parental abuse!

These two lovebirds have been dating since they were in high school. Right out of getting their bachelors degrees, they had their daughter Justice. Both had plans to move on to getting their Masters and PhDs, and suddenly with Justice things had to be shifted.

Luckily, Winter's program was available online. So she could stay home in District 20 with Miles' dad Mortimer and take care of Justice that way. Miles however had to go into the inner Districts to get his degree, and suddenly they were 12 hours apart and really could only call to see each other. Miles didn't get to hold his daughter all that much for nearly 7 years while he got his PhD.

During his first few years of his Masters program though Miles developed some really bad habits with alcohol in an attempt to not feel how depressing it was to be so far away from his family. Plus the general stress of his program. (not helped that his mother was also an alcoholic, and miles grew up with her before she died, so the only way he knows how to deal with stress is by following her lead, despite how abusive she was) So there were definitely times when Miles drank himself into a horrendous hangover that would last a whole day and often there would be nothing he could do but camp out in the bathroom and call Winter just to hear her voice. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.

He did eventually kick the habit after a close call with hitting his head really bad and ending up with a pretty nasty concussion. Something about that moment and realizing that his actions almost cost him his life, and therefore meaning he would never hold his daughter or wife again, kicked him into shape pretty quick. But it took him almost the entirety of his Masters program to get himself figured out.

It wasn't exactly roses and sunshine for Winter either, raising a toddler mostly on her own while getting her own Masters and PhD was a huge challenge. She was definitely lucky that she had her father in law and best friend to help out. And whenever her mom was in town, Wysteria was able to help out as well.

But eventually Winter got her PhD in political science (or some Ziennian equivalent) and Miles got his PhD in Cloud Networking and Security. They got a house in District 10 to live in together, as its right between where Miles' family lives, and where they both work. Perfect middle ground. :]

And now they both focus on their jobs and raising Justice together! They all love each other so so much and they're all in love! It's so so good I love them sm <333

Misc fun facts

Winter's morning sickness with Justice was sooo bad she pretty much had to camp out in the bathroom for days on end. This was primarily because she's a Changeling and Miles is a Ziennian, making Justice a Changeling-Ziennian hybrid!

Miles is trans! While it was the primary reason that his mom abused him it's also something he's extremely proud of. As soon as Miles and his dad Mortimer reconnected, the first thing Mortimer did was take Miles out to get a haircut and a new wardrobe <3

Winter was raised by a single mom who adopted her! Wysteria isn't perfect, she's a bit absent all things considered, but she does do her best and she's gotten better as time goes on. If Winter asked Wysteria for anything now, Wystie would move mountains for her baby girl.

Winter and Miles both known Ziennian Sign Language and French! Miles grew up speaking French, and they both learned sign after Mortimer came into the picture again. Mortimer is deaf and primarily uses sign to communicate.

Miles has five older brothers who all love him very much! They're just all over the world for their jobs so they don't get to see each other very often anymore. But Miles' oldest brother Mark was the one to find him after he'd hit his head real bad while drunk and Mark like. Gave him a good long talking to that kicked things into gear. We love Mark thank u Mark

Winter! Canonically! Cannot read!! This is primarily due to Changeling shenanigans where if they come across a written language it gets all garbled up and they can't read it. So Changelings have no written language because of this. But also even if she COULD hypothetically read she wouldn't be able to anyway this girlie's got dyslexia so bad she has to do the hand trick to know right from left all the time. She Cannot Read. She has a PhD and Cannot Read.

Miles can read. Just for the record.

[flygutz]

going to go sober for a month, some personal stuff about substance abuse below the cut

i've been drinking heavily for the past year, with the exception of a few weeks or days when i would try to cut back. i think i realize how bad it was getting in the summer when i would be hungover every morning but still couldn't get myself to stop after the second or third drink at night despite knowing how awful i would feel in the morning.

but for some reason, i thought i could quit any time that i wanted, it was just that i was choosing to get drunk every night. i told myself i'd quit for 3 days, just to prove that i could do it & to take a short break. and i couldn't do it, i couldn't even go 3 days.

so then i tried cutting back from 3/4 drinks (straight vodka) to 1/2 which i was able to do. but my health has still been on the decline & i feel fog-brained, tired, out of shape, and perpetually hung over.

i started drinking so heavily in the first place because my ex-fiance had been cheating on me & i didn't know how to handle the breakup. i never learned how to calm myself down from the betrayal of that without the help of alcohol. and now that it's the anniversary of our breakup, i realize that i still am not over it & am still using alcohol to cope, and it's bringing me so much shame.

i went to work a couple days ago violently hungover & also still drunk. i work in a kitchen & was gagging at every whiff of food, was so dizzy that even when i sat down i almost slid off the stool, and could barely catch my breath. it felt even worse knowing that i felt this way because i couldn't control myself the night before. as the day went on, i felt a little better & went out with some friends at night. i told myself i wouldn't drink; i was still hungover, why would i even want to drink? but i did. i had two beer & nothing to eat so that i could feel the effects more potently. and i cried on my drive home because i can't believe that this is who i've become.

for the past year, i've been drinking daily because being drunk was easier than spending my nights crying & lonely. but i was still crying & lonely, i was just drunk on top it as a cushion to my pain.

i've done a lot of good the past year since my breakup to set up a life i want. i've started my own business, my own podcast, i graduated with my associates degree, i put myself out there & went on dates, i made new friends, i started pole dancing, i started writing again.

but i'm an alcoholic. and i hate that.

when i look back at 2024, i want to see all these positive changes, & i don't want there to be a 'but'. so im going completely sober for november. and i'll make a plan to deal with whatever comes healthily.

anyway, thanks for reading if you have<3 lol, just wanted to put this in writing i suppose

[bobbieisthebest]

Joel, holding a baseball bat: There’s no need to be afraid of me. I don’t bite.

Mort, standing a safe distance away: Yeah, but do you wack?

Joel:

Joel: I don’t bite.

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Charles: I don’t know about this, Jake.

Jake: The last time you said that Hoffer you ended up loving it.

Charles: The last time I said that you were holding a bag of durian flavored chips; now you’re holding a roman candle. They are two very different things.

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Nate: You remind me of a Russian doll.

Alicia: Aw, thank yo—

Nate: Full of yourself.

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Kato: If anyone has any questions, ask me.

Bobbie: If a bear and a shark had a fight, who would win?

Kato: ... If anyone has any RELEVANT questions, ask me.

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Wendy (a warlock): Do we not have a plan?

Sam, playing barbarian: Who needs a plan? I’ve got an axe.

Sam: *starts running ahead*

Kato, the very tired DM: An axe is not a plan!!!

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Flick: One time Jake and Juniper were having a heated argument in the car and Juniper took Jake's Queen tape out of the player and threw it out the window with rage and Jake looked her dead in the eyes and pulled out a second copy of that same tape and put it back in the player.

Buddy:...And Jake’s still alive?

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Dad: Tell your mother everything is fine.

Joel: Hey, Mom! We haven't eaten for days, your plants are dead, and I'm dropping out of school. Love ya, bye!

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Kato: What? Didn't I specifically tell you not to do specifically, exactly just that?

Alex: Actually, specifically, you said not to *humiliate* you by doing that. So, we won't!

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Richard: 99% of the time, whenever random violent crap happens, it seems you're somehow involved!

Joel: Can't you have a little faith in that last 1%?

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

Buddy: *screams*

Joel: *screams louder to establish dominance*

Flick, concerned: Um, shouldn’t we do something?

Patty: No, I want to see who wins this time.

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

Jake: Fun fact of the day: pen ink tastes like almonds..... don't try to suck the ink out of your pens kids it's disgusting and makes your mouth feel funny.

Patty: Why would you even do that?

Jake *shrugs*: I was bored.

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Bobbie at Alicia’s house: I love jacuzzis!

Bobbie: Sometimes I pretend that I'm getting captured by witches and they're using me to make soup!

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

Juniper: I know this is going to sound sarcastic, but this is a great plan and I’m really impressed with you guys.

Buddy:

Nate:

Sam: Don’t listen to her, this is a great plan.

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Wendy: Kato, are you sure you don't wanna use my graduation speech? It goes like this: Later, losers.

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Alicia: Due to enormous personal flaws I refuse to work on, I will be arriving extremely late with an iced coffee. Please respect that.

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Juniper: I am so hungover. I have never been this hungover. Are we dead?

Alex: I feel great, I ran 5k this morning.

Flick: Really?

Alex: No I threw up in the shower.

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Joel: My life is a cautionary tale, but like a cool, flashy one that instead of inspiring people to do better it inspires them to be more chaotic

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Juniper: can we go to a haunted house?

Mom: what’s wrong with the one we live in?

Joel: wh- wait what?!

Mom: goodnight Children.

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Humphrey: Mr. Jake, what’s your favorite food?

Jake, deadpan: Children.

Flick: JACOB!

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Nate: Are you crazy?

Joel: Legally no, there's not a word for my condition.

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Charles: [casually taking four stairs at a time]

Wendy, falling behind: Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fu-

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Kato: Dear people who won’t stop asking- Yes, I am actually feeling fine, and yes, I really have been getting a decent amount of sleep at night!

Kato *bites into an onion*

Kato: Hey, this apple tastes like shi-

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Richard: *puts a cup down over a spider*

Joel: *appears; smiles; puts 2 more cups down beside Jay’s*

Richard: Come on, Joel, please no, don’t… DON’T—

Joel: *starts shuffling the cups*

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Jake: Hoffer, in your professional opinion, how would I die?

Charles: Murder. Gangland style execution. We never find your head.

Nate: That’s a shame.

Patty: *slightly raises finger in question*

Charles: You slip in a tub.

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Buddy about Jake: I'd follow him to hell and back, but I wish he'd stop going there.

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Bobbie: I love to dismiss my horrible decisions by saying "yeah that was a weird time in my life" as if the rest of my existence hasn't been absolute clown shoes.

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

Alicia: I have met some of the most insufferable people. But they also met me.

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Juniper: When I was small-

Kato: *chuckles* Was?

[summerlovingbaby]

death of the living

“ I have to kill him,” she said. It seemed like something so simple at the time, something that would be of little to no consequence. He took everything from her, he had to die. She saw no other soulution besides lead in his brain.

Guns were messy and violent, but that was what he deserved. Maybe it was because she was American, and the use of guns was nothing but second nature, but magic seemed to simply a death for a man like Peter. Though Peter was never really a man, he never got over his pathetic cowardly boyish habits.

Habits that were cute and accepatble when he was younder, but the more he aged, and the longer he refused to change, those habits made him weak. Y/N had a few bad habits herself, she picked up a pack a day habit, and could drink with the best of them. She could out drink Remus on a good day, and long trapped in the cave that was Grimmaud Place, she could drink all morning, spend the afternoon stumbling along the hallways like an uncordinated child and spend the evening sad and pathetic at her situation. The next moring she would do it all again, so she never experienced being hungover.

“ Peter has to die,” she said again, “ he has to die tonight, he’ll kill Harry, he’ll kill you,” she looked at Sirus, who sat pathetically in the corner, chewing hoplessly at his cutcules. Azkaban aged him beyond mesaure, and made him fragile and brittle like an old man. “ He tried to kill you,” she pointed to him.

Remus sat at the dinner table watching her decompensate. There was so much to say, none of which would be helpful or needed, when she made up her mind on something, she would do it, and if she wanted Peter dead, he would be dead even if it killed her, which it probably would. Peter was surrounded by death eaters, a whole army of them, not to mention he was the Voldemorts right hand, something that was at first shocking to Remus, but the more he thought about it, the more it made sense.

Peter was nothing if not parasytic, clinging to power and using it for all it was worth. Remus had to give it to him, he didn’t think he had it in him. Peter was always patheticlly simple, but not stupid like everyone assumed, and Remus understood exactly how smart he was and forgot almost every time. He wasn’t street emotionall intellignet like James, or booksmart like Remus, he wasn’t charasmatic enough to not bother with either like Sirus, he was clever. More clevar than anyone gave him credit for, which was prehaps the greatest rouse of all. To come across no more than a bumbling idiot, and be the death of them all.

“ He has to die, he’s taking to much from me, I won’t let him take anymore,” she said again.

Remus blinked at her, and she sat back down. Sirus sniffled loudly and ajusted his position, he chewed harder on his nail ripping it from the cuticle.

“ How do you plan to kill him, walk right up to him in a army of 100 death eaters and whip one out,” he parsed.

“ Something along those lines,” she said. In all honesty she hadn’t thought very much in ways of a plan, just something that started with her buying a gun and ended with Peter bleeding out in a shallow lonely grave that would be forgotten in 8 years.

Sirus sniffed loudly and cleared his throat, he croaked out something initelligable and breathed loudly. Remus looked at him and lifted a brow, so Sirus spoke again.  “ I want him dead,” he said plainly.

This statemnet seemed to solidify somthing in her, because she stood again.

“ Sit down,” Remus demanded, she was a bit taken back by his authority, but slowly sat back down in his chair.

“ Lou I know your opinion about murder, but frankly I don’t care. You don’t get to call yourself a pacifist were in war. I’m not asking for you to do anything-”

“ We don’t kill the living,” Remus said.

She concidered this. Remus wasn’t a man to speak in platitudes or vague useless setements or sonnets. Peter was dead, he had been dead for years. He died the day he stood on that porch, called for James and watched as his body fell limp and lifeless in the floor. He didn’t even have the diginity to fix his glasses, as fell when he collapsed to the ground. Peter signed his death certificate the moment he left Harry alone and crying in his crib while the lifeless body of his mother turned stiff in the corner.

“ Peter is dead already,” Sirus spoke quietly.

Remus considered this, Peter always seemed like nothing more than a vague memory. 

“ I’m talking about you,” Remus said. “ Pete is a cockroach he won’t die easily or quickly. You know that. He’s surrounded by an army, you can’t just go up to him and point a gun at his head. It’s not that simple.”

“ It is that simple-” she started.

“ We’re not kids anymore. You are alive, and that’s more than I can say for the rest of us. There’s just three of us now, and if you die, it will just be the two of us,” he motioned to Sirus, who had a vaguely unsatisifed expression. “ And it just can’t be the two of us, I’m not letting anyone else die that I love. I won’t. Peter has to die, he will die, but he’s not taking you with him. I won’t let him take anything else,” Remus said.

Peter took a lot from Remus, and took his whole life before he even got to live it. Remus wanted to get married, but now that idea seemed like nothing but a vague childish wish.

She considered this, chewed on her inner lip and nodded, she placed her arms on the table, folded, and placed her neck on her forearms. 

“ Fine,” Y/N said. “ Fine, but I want him in pieces.”

[sparrowandbee]

Chapter 7 | Chapter 9

The Sparrow: Chapter 8: Goodbye

Synopsis: Marian and Haymitch share their final goodbye before the Games.

Warnings: Mention of alcohol and mention of dying/death.

Author’s Note: Might want to get some tissues out for this one…

Word Count: 1048

Vanilla opted to ride to the arena with Alder, which gave Haymitch and I the chance to bend the rules slightly and have him be my escort into the arena.

The Hovercraft was silent, we were both too caught up in our internal monologues to make conversation. We silently ate breakfast- neither of us were able to stomach much, though, and he didn’t even insist.

Actually we hadn’t spoken since after the interview. I was just glad that he showed up that morning, and seemingly sober (but hungover, nonetheless).

The world was silent as I followed him off the Hovercraft and down a sterile grey hallway, my eyes fixed on his tangled dark hair.

I made sure my black bodysuit was zipped all the way up as my heavy, black-booted steps echoed. It was sleeveless but had plenty of pockets.

It was going to be warm, probably.

I could do warm, I reassured myself despite the knot in my throat.

Haymitch held the door open for me and I was greeted by the sight of a transparent tube at the centre of the small room. It all suddenly felt so real.

This was it. The end.

I turned around to see him standing there, also looking up at the contraption that I'm sure brought back memories he'd rather forget.

All the tears I held in for the last week seemed to spill out like a burst damn- I couldn’t help the violent sobs which escaped me.

I launched myself at him, burying my face in his neck. He held me suffocatingly tight, stroking my braided hair.

Haymitch, who somehow made me laugh in the most despicable place on earth.

Haymitch, who proved to me that goodness exists in this uncaring world.

Haymitch, who made me feel seen and heard for the first time in my life.

He, who armed me with the most dangerous weapon I’d ever held- hope.

I had fought against this vulnerability my entire life, but as I clung to him, I whispered through my tears: “I don’t want to die.”

And despite his hardened exterior, the gruff lines on his face and lingering smell of whiskey, despite the years of training himself not to feel anything or to get attached, he squeezed me harder.

“Hey,” he says, his voice weak from his own tears, “you are smarter than any one of them. You only have to do this once, okay?”

He pulled away, holding my shoulder in one arm and brushing away a small piece of hair that had come undone. His worn hand lingered on my cheek.

“Okay?” He asked again, our bloodshot eyes looking into each other.

I nodded and wiped my tears.

-

It broke my heart because I knew she couldn’t win.

I had deluded myself and I had done everything I swore I wouldn’t.

I had forgotten that this isn’t a game you win- that regardless of how much resolve or ambition, we always end up dead on the ground.

The headstrong woman I had come to know that past week melted away into a scared girl in my arms.

The girl who got a three in training.

The girl who had too much kindness in her heart to slit a throat.

It shattered me completely to see her like this.

No one deserved to be in that position, but Marian’s was the last name that should have been pulled.

-

I smiled now, my eyes still wet. I wanted to show Haymitch that I would try. That I would keep my promise.

He smiled back, sniffling.

“There she is,” he was still holding my cheek. “Now you go in there and run. Forget about supplies, you can steal those later. Just fly under the radar and lay low, just like you do back home. And avoid fighting.”

“Thirty Seconds” the automated voice overhead announced and the elevated pedestal pod opened up as the countdown continued.

“Wait!” I had almost forgotten. From one of the many zippered pockets of my suit I pulled out the handkerchief I had embroidered.

I never knew my hands could create something so beautiful.

The pond where he and Evander played just happened to be my favourite place in the entire district.

Blue flowers bloomed in huge bushes right by the water. The individual flowers were so tiny, but they grew in bunches of five or six all around the pond, thousands to a bush. Together they created a lush ocean of blue and green, shaded by the big trees which housed the sparrows overhead.

I went there often, to listen to the water idle around, pulled by the lazy breeze as the sparrows vocalised with the soft rustling of the bushes.

There was never anyone there but I could imagine Haymitch and Evander splashing around, disturbing the peace with their boyish laughter.

I stitched little blue flowers all around the edge of the white cloth. On one end they met to surround a gold cursive ‘H’. On the other, I wove countless shades of brown and white to create a delicate sparrow. Her wings curving upwards, as if in mid flight.

If I died I hoped to become a sparrow by the pond.

To sing a beautiful song and watch over the man I’d come to love when he wept surrounded by little blue flowers. I’d hoped I’d be able to comfort him somehow.

On the left of the sparrow I embroidered my initial in the same gold thread and on the other side, E.E. - Ephra and Evander. So he would remember all the people that loved him. That despite the distance, we would always be by his side.

I smiled and turned away from him as I stepped onto the pedestal.

I couldn’t cry anymore, now was the time to fight.

I straightened my back and began my ascent.

-

“Your M” read the tag, in her neat cursive. Tied onto a handkerchief by a pink silk ribbon I recognized.

I watched her leave and held back my tears. I had felt too much, I couldn’t cry anymore.

I indelicately shoved the gift into my pocket, unable to face it now.

Unable to face that bright soul, full of humanity and love who was just taken from me.

Instead I pulled out my flask and took a deep swig, inviting the sting down my throat. I didn’t stop until it was empty.

I couldn’t believe that it was all happening all over again.

—

Next Chapter

Masterlist

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

One Night Stand Masterlist

(Baby Pull Me) Closer (ao3) - friendstothis Michael/Luke N/R, 4k

Summary: He was stunned for a moment by the sheer beauty of the boy standing beside him. With fire engine red hair and skin the color of porcelain, the boy was the most beautiful thing Luke had ever set eyes on. The blond let his eyes trace over the mystery boy’s features, from his light green eyes to his bright pink lips—lips that were now forming words that Luke had not heard.

or,

luke is finally done with finals, so he decides to celebrate like everyone else: by going to a frat party. that's where he meets michael, the porcelain god with bright red hair who he just has to have.

Complication In Your Heart (ao3) - DracosPubicHair Michael/Luke E, 29k

Summary: Michael has killed over 10 people and has never been caught, and maybe Luke is just as crazy.

Daisy (ao3) - boomerluke Luke/Ashton M, 121k

Summary: The last thing Luke expects when he wakes up hungover in the bed of his latest one-night stand is to come face to face with a freaking kid. But there she is all wild curls, thumb-sucking, and nonstop questions. Luke can't get out of there fast enough.

Ashton isn't the type to have one-night stands. He's a parent, after all. It was a mistake, and it won't happen again. At least that's what he tells himself when he comes back from his shower to find the naked college kid still in his bed, arguing with Daisy.

They couldn't be more opposites. At 25, Ashton has the responsibilities of two parents, raising his daughter and trying to pretend like he has everything figured out. At 21, Luke is a self-proclaimed Grindr god who doesn't care about anyone or anything but himself. So why is the universe (with the help of Michael and Crystal) so hell-bent on seeing them together?

extra credit (ao3) - galacticsugar Luke/Calum E, 7k

Summary: Calum smiles at the last person in line at the bar as he hands them their glass of wine, then turns to Luke and sighs heavily, crossing his arms over his chest. The material of his shirt wrinkles and folds and stretches in all the right ways. “From the first day of school after I moved here, I knew you were going to be a problem.”

“A problem?” Luke feigns offense, scoffing and sucking violently at his tiny straw, trying to get to the dredges of his drink. Calum rolls his eyes and starts making another. By the end of the night, Luke’s going to have the process of Calum assembling a California Dream emblazoned in his mind for eternity. “I wasn’t the one who showed up and immediately acted like I owned the place.”

i didn't know that i was starving till i tasted you (ao3) - irwah Michael/Ashton E, 3k

Summary: 'we just had sex and it's the morning after and i woke up to an empty bed and how could i be so stupid of course you left me alone but wait you're in my kitchen cooking me breakfast and i'm so relieved' au

if i could say the things i want to say (i’d find a way to make you stay) (ao3) - nothingliketherain (39_killer_queen) Michael/Luke, Calum/Ashton M, 23k

Summary: “What about you? What’s keeping you here?”

“My roommate has been telling me to come see his band for weeks, but I didn’t have the time until today,” the guy explains, frowning a bit. “I can’t find him though, maybe he’s also in the bathroom with someone.”

“Our roommates suck, pun absolutely intended,” Michael snorts. “You could leave though, assuming you have your keys and you drove here.”

“I did, I do, but,” he shrugs, giving Michael a slow once over, lips tugging up into a shy smile. “I think I’m gonna stick around.”

“And keep me company?” Michael asks, perking up slightly at the prospect.

“If you want.”

He smiles in delight. Suddenly, he doesn’t need Calum to hurry up. “I could use the company actually.” He holds his hand out, goosebumps breaking across his skin when the guy takes it. “I’m Michael.”

“I’m Luke.”

If it was just a one time thing, why are you still here with me? (I don't want you to leave) (ao3) - BrokenTailLights Michael/Luke T, 1k

Summary: Malum have a one night stand, but Michael isn't really that keen on leaving in the morning (and Calum isn't sure he wants to let him go)

or

ever heard of a one-night stand fic of pure fluff? here you go.

In The Dark (Like Meteorites) (ao3) - dafeedil Michael/Calum/Ashton E, 26k

Summary: Ashton falls for Calum at a nightclub, and then for Calum's boyfriend, too.

Of Kindergarten and Coffee Shops (ao3) - onceuponatime Michael/Luke, Calum/Ashton M, 19k

Summary: Michael has a one night stand with Luke and can't get him out of his head.

running on the music and night highs (ao3) - thisismydesignn Luke/Ashton/Troye E, 4k

Summary: Set the night of the 2018 ARIA Awards. Ashton and Luke invite Troye back to Ashton's hotel room. It's possible they have ulterior motives. It's more than possible Troye doesn't mind.

tracing constellations (ao3) - galacticsugar Luke/Calum E, 15k

Summary: Luke’s eyes seem to be spinning when he arches an eyebrow at Calum and playfully says, “Really? You asking me to come home with you?” against Calum’s ear.

"Yes, really,” Calum says, blinking in confusion. “The fuck have we been doing tonight if it doesn’t end with you in my bed?”

we're dancing in my living room, and up come my fists (ao3) - hideforalifetime Luke/Calum M, 12k

Summary: "Ash, I had another email left to send-" Luke tries to reason, but Ashton won't let him.

"Nuh-uh," he wags his finger in Luke's face. "That's enough workaholic-ness for one day. Come on, let's go stare at fit shirtless guys."

Luke chokes on his latte. Sixth coffee of the day. "When you put it like that-"

Ashton fixes him with a knowing look. "Well, am I wrong?" He asks, arching an eyebrow. *** Luke is wound up way too tight, and he's been hurt way too many times. Is it wrong for him to be scared? Then, again, who wouldn't be scared of a super fit guy who is super hot, and just happens to be a fighter in Pro MMA? Luke doesn't know what he's in for, but he hopes it won't end like the other times.

Wherever I Lay My Hat (ao3) - merlypops Ashton/Everyone, Ashton/Liam, Luke/Liam E, 209k

Summary: Ashton learns that home can mean people and not places, and that fitting in is not the same as belonging, but it takes a broken heart, double-crossing a gang, and almost losing everyone he cares about before he realises this.

White Noise (ao3) - merlypops Luke/Ashton E, 7k

Summary: Luke and Ashton have massive crushes on each other, Ashton throws a party, and all of Luke's dreams come true. (Maybe they're a tiny bit in love too. Maybe.)

will we talk? (ao3) - strxngersagain Michael/Luke E, 4k

Summary: Michael tries not to make a habit out of having one night stands.

Sure, he’s had his share of a few no-strings-attached hookups in his otherwise relatively uneventful dating history. But he’s found over the years that it usually just tends to make him feel worse, waking up in the morning to an empty bed at worst, or an awkward conversation and a hasty exit at best. So, Michael has set his sights on not sleeping with anyone until he’s known them for at least 48 hours, at minimum.

So far, it’s gone pretty well.

Until he meets Luke, that is.

[loudenver]

Louis was running late.

The cold air bit at him as he elbowed his way through the New York crowds, tugging his shitty, unsubstantial denim jacket tighter around him in an attempt to ward off the cold weather. He would blame Ava, that was it. She was the one who'd suggested drinks. Worse, suggested shots to celebrate his first week sales. He'd woken up late afternoon with a pounding head and a particular distaste for the sunny brunette he'd come to love like an annoying, chirpy, but devastatingly loyal little sister. This would have all been fine, had he not promised to meet Max today.

The morning had culminated in Louis performing a goddamn miracle in that he'd managed to drag his sorry ass out of bed, under the warm, unforgiving spray of his shower and out the door with just enough time to grab coffee and haul ass to the hockey rink. Sure, his hair had dried in a manner that Louis could only describe as 'fluffy and wayward', and upon second notice, the hoodie he had tugged on over his head definitely belonged to Max. No time like the present to return it, he guessed.

Nursing his coffee like a lifeline, Louis caught a glimpse of his reflection in a passing window. He looked like hammered shit. God fuckin' damn, he thought, those hockey boys better not be cute.

It wasn't even like Louis knew anything about hockey, never mind ice hockey. It was one of those violent, contact sports that unlike football, could result in you splitting your head open on a bed of frozen ice. Despite being dubbed the honourary 'sports gay' of his San Fran friend group, Louis had been forced to unwillingly hand that trophy over to Max the minute the other man started waxing lyrical about pucks and shit. Louis tried really hard to listen, because he loved Max, and by extension, Tommy. Which was why he was here today, showing up merely so he could bother his friend at work.

Rounding a corner, Louis searched for the door where Max had told him to dutifully wait. Firing off a quick text to let him know he'd arrived, Louis went back to sipping his sugary, dopamine-hit of a coffee.

Just as he was pondering whether or not his head was going to explode, the sound of a kid raising his voice both made him wince and caught his attention. He whipped his head round with a velocity that made him feel queasy. He was fully prepared to be ruder than not-hungover Louis would've and tell the guy to shut his kid up, only to find he was being pointed at by a lanky teen, who, if he had to guess, was around his nephew's age.

Attached to the kid, of course, because Louis' luck wasn't worth shit, was Wardo Martinelli. Who of course, considered Louis public enemy number one.

Louis' reflexes kicked in, automatically giving the man a half-wave, his hand lost in the too-long sleeves of Max's hoodie. He could've fuckin' kicked his own ass, he really could've.

It hit him a moment too late just what the kid had said, but the knowledge that Wardo still had his photo up did nothing to quell the queasy mix of alcohol and nerves, so he decided to save that tidbit for therapy.

"I'm meetin' my friend." Louis blurted out, the words involuntary. It wouldn't do for the other man to think he was merely tailing him around the city. "Plus, I love ice hockey."

Forcing himself not to wince, Louis ran a hand through his hair, merely for something to do with his now-shaking hands. It was then he remembered this was probably the least put together he'd ever looked, and therefore, God had deemed it the perfect day for him to run into his ex boyfriend. And, uh, his ex boyfriend's kid? Great, Louis had driven Wardo to sleeping with women.

"Can he breathe under there?"

“Can’t we just go to McDonald’s?”

Wardo turned, eye twitching, to bestow a glare on the teenager he found himself lumbered with. Bryce simply scowled back, hood up, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his leather jacket, looking every bit the petulant fifteen-year-old he was. His scuffed sneakers kicked at the sidewalk as he sauntered along behind Wardo, dragging his feet in such a deliberate manner, Wardo would have been impressed by the insolence if it wasn’t being directly weaponised against him.

“Uh, no, we can’t just go to McDonald’s,” he argued. “It’s Burger King, or bust. Have I taught you nothing?”

“You literally never teach me a thing,” came Bryce’s bored reply.

Wardo couldn’t help but roll his eyes like that. There were many things that he could have taught Bryce, like how to pick a lock or, better yet, a pocket, but he was trying to make sure the kid didn’t wander down the same path that he had all those years ago. And even the morally upstanding things he could have imparted his knowledge about like literature held absolutely no interest to Bryce. Despite their shared love for ratty leather jackets and distaste for anything resembling a hairbrush, Wardo and Bryce couldn’t be more different when it came to what they liked. Wardo pored over his paperbacks and old records; Bryce preferred to plug in his airpods and deafen himself with shitty electronica, all the while bemoaning the fact that Wardo had never shown a lick of interest in sports. 

That anomaly - Bryce’s affinity for throwing a ball whilst Wardo had only been interested in handling a very specific type - was the only reason Wardo figured Bryce had even accompanied him outside today. He wasn’t a fan of the cold weather, huffing every time Wardo told him to shut the damn thermostat off and grab a blanket instead so he didn’t run up the heating bill, but he had ventured outside anyway to pick Ivy up from work.

They’d heard almost too much about Ivy’s job recently. Particularly about her hot yet Satanic co-worker. Bryce didn’t really care about that - again, another striking contrast to Wardo who wanted to know everything - but he did want to know about the hockey team, rattling off statistics about the New York Rangers that had both Wardo and Ivy boggling at him like he’d grown another head.

When Madison Square Garden came into view, Wardo realised Bryce wasn’t following him. He glanced over his shoulder, huffing out a laugh at the awestruck expression on the kid’s face as he tipped his head back to stare up at it. He would never get the sports thing, but it was always fun to see Bryce’s cool and impassive persona crumble right in front of him. Try as he might, that boy couldn’t hide his passion about anything, no matter how much he wanted to seem disinterested and uncaring.

“Come on, shitbrain,” he said, fisting a hand in the collar of his jacket and dragging him across the road.

Laughing all the while at Bryce’s protestations, he led them over the door Ivy had told them to meet her at. Where there was, of course, another man standing. And that man was, of course, Louis Denver. Because why the absolute fuck wouldn’t it be?

It didn’t long for the shock to wear off. In fact, it was almost instantaneous. Because Wardo had actually already come to terms with the fact that the universe hated him and would do whatever it could to throw him in his ex together in close proximity, including outside a fucking hockey stadium. It just made sense.

No matter how much he could reason with the facts in front of him though, that didn’t stop the shaking of Wardo’s hands as he let Bryce go and stared at Louis.

Would New York ever love him enough again to keep that man away from him? He knew he couldn’t trust the universe to keep his heart safe, but New York had always been on his side, or so he’d thought.

Before he could say anything, Bryce had already clocked Louis and his eyes narrowed in a way that spelled danger for Wardo. Without giving Wardo a choice to do anything that would stop the inevitability of drawing Louis’ attention, Bryce, the absolute little shit that he was, pointed at him.

“That’s the guy from the photo on your shelf,” he said, loud enough to break the goddamn sound barrier. Immediately, Wardo moved, with reflexes that even years of domesticity and a full-time job in a library could not dull, and yanked at Bryce’s hood, pulling it down over the other boy’s eyes and, with a little more effort, his big fucking mouth.

[polkadotsocks1993]

Family Matters

Modern Aemond x Reader, Modern Aegon (platonic) x Reader

Summary: You have a predicament. In desperation, you turn to your brother-in-law, Aegon. Hilarity ensues.

Going back to King's Landing for Christmas was always an event.

Your mother in law, Alicent, and your sister in law, Rhaenyra, went all out with Christmas; there was always tons of food, lots of games, and, thanks to Aegon, usually a lot of alcohol.

You and Aemond had eloped six months ago, much to the family's chagrin, but you had never been one for big weddings, and because you didn't have a good relationship with your family, you had never wanted a big wedding in the first place. You and Aemond had decided to go to Colorado and elope in the Rockies, and despite his families protests (for some reason, all of them love weddings), they welcomed you with open arms.

The first few days of your trip, however, something was just off. You woke up with a pounding headache, completely nauseous. That first morning, sleeping in Aemond's childhood bedroom, you gasped in pain as he tried to grab your breast from behind you. Then, the most damning suspicion of all came when the two of you went down for breakfast, and the smell of Alicent and Helaena's cinnamon rolls (your favorite thing in the world), made you sick enough that you ran to the powder room and violently got sick.

Then, you mentally calculated the last period you had.

No. Oh, no.

You had to be discreet about this. Aemond was a fantastic husband, but neither of you had talked about pregnancy much. Sure, you knew you wanted kids eventually, but you two were newlyweds.

You slipped out of the bathroom, thinking you'd managed to compose yourself, until Aegon came up behind you.

"How much egg nog did you drink? You can't possibly be hungover are you?"

You froze. He'd heard you. He'd heard that undignified display. You mentally cursed.

"Aegon, I need you to do something for me, but you have to promise me, like really promise, that you won't tell anyone." You pleaded.

He grinned before looking at you more seriously. "Wait, you aren't kidding."

"No, Aegon, I'm not. Keep your voice down." You whispered. You grabbed Aegon and drug him into Viserys' office.

You sighed. "I need you to take me to the store."

"Why? Why can't I tell anyone?" Aegon asked.

"Because, I don't need anyone to know... Even though I'm pretty sure I know the answer." You replied.

"The answer to what?" Aegon was curious now, you could see it.

"I think I'm pregnant." You said, pinching the bridge of your nose.

Aegon's eyes widened, his mouth agape in surprise.

"And you thought I would be the best person to come to?" Aegon asked.

"No, but you heard that whole display and I don't need too many people asking questions unless I'm sure." You replied.

"Fair enough, that tracks. Go get your coat, I'll come up with some weird excuse." Aegon said.

You managed to get your coat and sneak out the front door, since everyone was in the kitchen. You sent a quick text to Aemond telling him that Aegon had wanted to go get more alcohol to play a drinking game that night, and he needed an extra hand. You hoped that he'd buy it, since it wasn't out of the ordinary for you to be drug along on whatever weird side quest Aegon had. The ride to the store was mostly silent, until Aegon turned and asked.

"So, you know you can't prevent this kind of thing, right?"

"Yes, Aegon! I know!" You huffed.

"Well, how did it happen?" He asked.

"I don't know. If I can guess, probably that vacation Aemond and I took to New Orleans. The time frame fits, and I forgot my birth control, and we both got so drunk..." You trailed off.

Aegon burst out laughing. "Aemond got drunk? Like, actually drunk?"

"We both did." You said.

"And you forgot to take your birth control?" Aegon asked.

"I thought I'd be fine!" You exclaimed.

"And he didn't bother to pull out?" You hated when Aegon made sense.

"WE WERE DRUNK!" You said, throwing your hands in the air.

Aegon was laughing hysterically. "I don't know whether to laugh hysterically at this whole blunder, or be excited."

"We messed up." You said.

"Or, counterpoint, you have a cool vacation souvenir." Aegon replied.

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

Upon going to the store, you grabbed three different pregnancy test boxes. You had to be sure, and Aegon could not stifle his laugh as you demanded he sneak you around to the guest house in the back of the main house when you arrived back to your in-laws' home. You went into the bathroom, following the directions, and laid four tests out on the counter, pacing back and forth.

"The pacing isn't going to change your result." Aegon said, leaning against the door frame.

"I know, but I'm nervous. What if Aemond isn't happy about it?" You asked.

Aegon sighed, and in a rare moment of seriousness, grabbed your shoulders.

"Y/N, whatever happens, my brother loves you. And you love him. And this crazy family you married into... We're going to support you. Aemond has wanted a family since he was a little kid. He's gonna be thrilled." He said.

You hugged him, taking a deep breath.

"I'm too nervous. Please read them for me." You said, shaking hands.

Aegon nodded, taking the first test, flipping it over. Then the other three.

You closed your eyes. "Well?"

"Those are the most positive pregnancy tests I've ever seen." Aegon said, "You're definitely pregnant."

You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding, until a voice stopped you in your tracks.

"You're pregnant?"

You and Aegon both turned to see Luke standing there, mouth agape.

"What are you doing here?" You asked.

"Mom sent me in here to go grab her sweater." Luke said.

"Luke, you cannot tell anyone yet." You said grabbing him by the arms.

"Are you kidding me? I can't keep a secret like that! You know one look from Aemond and I'm done. I can't lie!" He exclaimed.

"Luke, as your uncle, I'm telling you right now, if you tell Aemond, I will hang you upside down from the balcony." Aegon said.

"I'll try. I can't promise, but I'll try, okay?" Luke said.

You sighed. "At least, until tonight. Can you make it till then?"

You looked at the boy's face and knew he probably couldn't. Luke was nearly incapable of lying and it was actually quite funny in most circumstances.

Except, right now.

You threw the pregnancy tests in the trash, hoping to hide them. The three of you walked out, hoping you could keep the secret.

-----------

Turns out, keeping the secret was way, way harder than you thought.

Every time you walked into the kitchen, you felt bile rise in your throat. The charcuterie board that Rhaenyra laid out every year made you nearly turn green. The smell of the refrigerator was almost too much.

And every single moment you got alone with Aemond, you had to pretend like it didn't hurt when he stuck a hand under your shirt.

"Are you alright?" Aemond asked, "you seem really preoccupied."

"I'm fine, I promise." You lied.

You had to pretend like the movements Aemond made during the afternoon quickie in his childhood bathroom didn't make you sick, like the smell of his cologne (one you loved) didn't turn your stomach.

Poor Luke had scrambled to the basement with Joffrey and the younger kids, hoping that he could keep a lid on the secret until you gave the okay. The poor kid was avoiding Aemond at every turn.

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

At dinner, all hell broke loose.

Everyone was there: Rhaenyra and her husband, Harwin, Daemon and his wife, Laena, and their two girls. Alicent, Viserys, Otto, Helaena, Aegon, and all the other cousins.

To top it off, just looking at the food in front of you sent you running to the bathroom. Aegon stood outside the bathroom, offering you a cool drink of water to quell the nausea seeping into your bones.

You went back to your seat on the table, feeling Aemond's glance on you.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"I had a gas station hot dog while I was out with Aegon and it didn't agree with me." You lied. You hated lying, but then you noticed Aemond notice Luke's constant fidgeting, and his eye narrowed.

"Luke? What's the matter with you?"

Luke looked white as a ghost, blinking heavily. "Nothing at all."

You knew Aemond's expression. He knew something was up, but he wasn't sure what. Aemond turned to you, then to Luke, and then, to Aegon. He was connecting pieces, but he didn't have the full picture yet.

"Now that everyone is here." Daemon interrupts the conversation, "I feel like I need to ask a question. I was in the guest house earlier, and I found something interesting in the garbage."

Oh, no. You looked to Aegon, who was chugging his wine, and to Luke who looked about as nauseous as you did.

"I'm gonna come out with it: Laena, are you pregnant?"

Laena choked on her water, looking at her husband. "No, no I am not, Daemon."

Daemon looked around, "Rhaenyra?"

"That's oddly invasive, Daemon, but no I am not."

Daemon turns to Helaena, who cannot hold back laughter.

"Uncle do you really think I'd be able to hide that?"

"Alright, then who the hell is pregnant?" Daemon asked.

You turned to Luke, then to Aegon, and then to Aemond, who had gotten the final piece in the puzzle and the realization dawned on him.

"It's mine!" You exclaimed.

Everyone looked at you, mouths agape.

"It's mine. Aemond, I was going to tell you, but I wanted it to be a little more quiet when I did." You said sheepishly, "I hope you're not upset."

"Why would I be upset?" Aemond asked. You could see panic on his features, but he stayed remarkably calm.

"We've just never talked about it, and I just wasn't sure..."

"Y/N, this is the best news. Really. You didn't have to hide it from me." Aemond says, but then he looks to Luke and Aegon.

"You two knew, didn't you?"

"Yes." Luke says, without hesitation, "she said she wanted to tell you first, so I avoided you."

"You know, Aemond, you can pull out, it's an option." Aegon says.

"Oh, Aegon, really? Now?" Alicent huffs, "But, this is great news. I am so excited for you two!"

"This is wonderful!" Viserys exclaims.

You nervously sat back, but then got a whiff of the Christmas roast on the table. You took a swallow, nausea creeping up again.

"Would you like to sit somewhere else, love?" Aemond asks.

"Yes. Yes I would." You said.

-------

Christmas with Aemond's family was always a little wild, and a little bit crazy, but you knew that with Aemond, your child would be loved.

As you went to bed that night, Aemond's arm wrapped around you, you felt your nerves dissipate and you couldn't help but smile.

You had a wonderful family now. It was going to be wonderful.

--------

Eight months later, as everyone crowded in your hospital room, to meet the newest family member.

"This, is Aela." Aemond said, "She's named after her uncle, the first person to know about her."

Aegon's eyes grew wide. He came close, studying the newborn, a genuine smile across his features.

"We are going to have so much fun when you're older." Aegon said, "Just you wait."

He took the new baby in his arms, smiling widely at you and Aemond. And you knew.

Aemond's family might be big, and they might be a little crazy, but there was a lot of love there. And little Aela would never be alone.

[lillywillow]

Left Unsupervised

Summary: After a night of heavy drinking, Bucky tries to piece together everything that happened. He vows never to get that drunk again

 Written for: @buckybarnesbingo

 Words: 978

 Square Filled: U5- Never Again

 Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader  

 Warnings: Alcohol consumption, mentions of pain/ discomfort

 From the moment Bucky woke, he felt like he had been hit by Thor’s hammer. Everything ached, his stomach was ready to be violently ill if he moved and someone was playing the drum solo to Wipeout on the inside of his skull. Judging by the groans around him, there were other victims from last night’s festivities or zombies had invaded the tower. Bucky didn’t really care if it were the latter as long as they made his death a quick one and put him out of his misery. He tried to ask if anyone else felt like melted death but it only came out as a garbled sound. It clearly must have been enough to illicit a response.

 “Shh,” Clint hissed, clutching his head.

 “Shut up, you’re practically screaming,” Tony groaned.

 “What… what happened last night?” Bucky asked, swallowing the bile that had risen in the back of his throat.

 “Don’t you remember?”

 Bucky tried hard but there was a huge chunk of last night that was missing. Maybe if he followed the breadcrumbs backwards, they might lead a trail back to the beginning but that would have to wait until the pain behind his eyes subsided. There would also be a level of panic once he realised his metal arm was no longer attached to his body.

…

 By the time Bucky’s hangover had turned bearable, he was finally starting to remember what had led to him drinking so much. Tony had a little party for all you Avengers which Thor had brought Asgardian ale to. It was fun for a little while but then someone had suggested a drinking game and that was the last part he could remember. You and Bruce had wisely turned in early for the night but with the group’s last two braincells leaving them, they got rather… stupid.

 “Morning everyone,” you greeted.

 The hungover Avengers greeted you like a vampire to garlic.

 “I see we haven’t fully recovered from all the fun of last night,” you commented, making your coffee.

 “Yeah, about that… What… what exactly happened?” Bucky asked.

 “You don’t remember? No, that doesn’t surprise me. You would be horrified if you did that sober,” you giggled.

 Bucky went white. What exactly had he done? As if reading his mind, you decided to start filling in some of the blanks.

 “Let’s start with the voicemails, shall we?”

 “H-how many did I leave?”

 “It’s hard to say… between the voicemails, the text messages, and the videos, I lost count…”

 “V-videos?”

 “I’ll show you them after this,” you replied, playing the first message from earlier in the night.

 Bucky: Hi, Y/N. I just want to say that I think you’re really smart for going to bed early and you’re also really pretty and…

 Sam *in the background*: Dude just ask her out already!

 Bucky: I can’t just ask her over the phone

 Sam *in the background*: Ask her!

 Bucky: No!

 *Sound of thudding*

 Bucky remembered Sam tackling him, trying to get him to confess his feelings for you. He wanted to confess, really he did but he didn’t think it’d be appropriate when he completely plastered. Bucky looked over at you to see you giving him a sly grin.

 “What?”

 “Nothing. Let’s move onto my favourite video…”

 Bucky wasn’t sure he liked the way you said that. He could watch in horror as you played the video.

 It started off with a little bad camera work before it came into focus on Bucky who was standing up on the bar.

 “This one’s for you, Y/N,” he slurred, pointing to the camera.

 The song The Stripper came on and Bucky started taking off his shirt. The others all cheered and catcalled and Nat cackled from behind the camera. Bucky took his shirt off and twirled it above his head before flinging it off to some unknown corner. He next tried to undo his pants and managed to get them open but then fell off the bar.

 “You okay, Barnes?” Nat called.

 Bucky gave a thumb’s up before falling back down.

 The video ended there. Bucky felt absolutely mortified.

 “Wait, so when did I lose my arm?”

 “Hold on, I think I have the video where you were showing off…”

 Bucky placed his hand on yours to stop you scrolling. Suddenly, all the stupid things he did last night in an attempt to win you over came back to him. Nobody stopped him, instead, they only encouraged it.

 “I… I feel like I should explain…” he began but you placed a finger on his lips.

 “No need. Often when we’re drunk, our most honest selves are on display…”

 “Well, I am never drinking Asgardian ale and getting that drunk again,” Bucky sighed.

 You kissed his cheek, making him look at you in surprise.

 “I thought it was cute. A little misguided maybe but I guess you needed a little liquid courage to confess your true feelings,” you baited, hoping now that everything was out in the open he would tell you what was on his mind.

 “Y/N, I would really like to take you out sometime…” he softly smiled.

 “I’d like that too, Bucky,” you smiled back. “I’d kiss you but you smell like a dumpster fire…”

 “No, no, I get it. We’ll go when I’m not feeling like death warmed over…”

 “It’s a date,” you smiled, heading off to check on the damages left by the carnage that was last night.

 Bucky was glad he could finally confess his feelings for you but he promised himself he would never get that stupid drunk again.

[perpetuelledaydreaming]

Cruel intentions| chapter seventeenth

summary: honestly, you don't recall the last two days and you're too hangover to deal with Tony and Harry's weird shit.

warnings: angsty, maybe a slight insinuation of smut.

listen to: Coolest Place in the World - Suki Waterhouse | Mirrorball - Taylor Swift |(playlist here)

word count: 3.7 k

series masterlist + read the next chapter early on my ko-fi!!

“I don’t get why you won’t tell me what happened?” 

Harry asked, once again, as he sat crossed-legged against the tub on your bath while you were sitting on your tub, nursing a bit of wine that you’d saved from last night. You weren’t violently hungover per se but you weren’t going to lie, it had been a while since you’d been as drunk as you currently were. Harry had been with you all of the time for the last few days, you hadn’t even been home until that moment. After you left Peter Spiderman Parker behind on that rooftop you’d called with tears streaming down your eyes. It was a bad idea, you knew it was because when Harry saw you sad and in serious need of a pick-me-up he usually wasn’t the best influence to be around. 

“Because it’s none of your business,” you grumbled before sipping on the white wine bottle. 

“It became my problem when you dragged me through the city at every party you could get invited to or crash for two days,” 

“Don’t act like it was a punishment,” you sniffled a bit while peeking from the bathtub at Harry. You squinted slightly. 

“I never said it was,” he insisted as he turned towards you and took the bottle of white wine, and sipped. “It had been a while since you’d let loose, it was nice having you back,” 

“Yeah, it’s always nice until the paps come with the evidence,” you grumbled as you sighed while smiling at Harry. 

On the last few days, you’d been in and out of clubs, the penthouses of unknown rich people, and Harry’s place. In all honesty, you were avoiding returning to Stark Tower at all. After calling Harry crying, you’d gone to your room and packed whatever thing you felt like you needed some clothes, bottles of wine, make-up, and your wallet. That was basically it. Harry, who’d always know you had a kick for trouble when you were upset, was waiting for you downstairs in an uber. 

Neither of you wasted time, you changed in the car into one of the sluttiest dresses you could’ve found in the clothes that you packed, smudge some makeup on as you tried to hide the redness of your eyes from crying, and then headed to a club. And then another club, and another one later on. It was messy, to say the least when you woke up the next morning in someone’s bed with Harry you weren’t sure about what you’d done, unfortunately, Harry had documented the night for you. 

And you were sure other pictures would come out too. But at the moment, you didn’t care instead you tried to manage your hangover with smoothies and coffee before you were good enough to go to Oscorp’s industry to Harry’s lab. The thing with Harry was that he could be as messy as he wanted to and he didn’t need any hungover cure, his hungover cure was spending time on his projects. 

And so, when you felt bored with staying there, you pulled him into another club, then a house party, then another club, and then another one that had ended up with you kissing Harry for truth or dare, while Harry insisted that you needed force proximity to help you forget Peter Parker. It wasn’t the first time that you and Harry had kissed because of a dare, but it was the first time that you felt truly awful about it because all you could think about was Peter. Then, it ended with you barely throwing up at 8:00 when you were finally kicked out from another club you’d gone to and then you decided that you needed to go home if you wanted to puke. 

Harry had followed you and now it was 9:00 am and you hoped that neither Tony nor Pepper had listened to you sneaking in. 

“Fuck the evidence,” Harry replied while you raised your brow. 

“You don’t care about the paps because you don’t have a father that can judge you,”

“No, but I have a whole board that can,” Harry muttered as he raised his eyebrows at you. “Either way, I didn’t do shit, I was picking up after you.”

“Shut up,” You snapped at him. 

“I could find a few ways if you want to,” Harry said as he leaned into the bathtub, his breath smelled like rum and you turned away.

“Not in the mood,” you grumbled before placing your hand on his chest. “Plus, don’t you have a plane to catch tonight with Kamala?”

“We are just messing around as friends do,” he said as he tried to lean further. “And with your fight with Parker, maybe the wager has been completed,”

“Harry, not in the mood,” you muttered again before pushing him away, allowing you to have the space to walk out of the bathroom. 

You walked out of the while still sipping on the glass of wine, you were too focused on tasting the wide as it slipped down your throat to focus on whoever was sitting at your desk. It wasn’t until you raised your head that you saw him, Tony. A gasp slipped past your lips, causing you to almost drop the bottle altogether on the floor. 

“Want to explain this to me?” Tony asked as he pressed a button on his watch, a holographic video appeared in front of you and you felt sick. 

Your eyes widened as you made out the picture. It was you and Peter, pressed up on the street. He was holding you so tightly, that your black dress was scrunched up on your waist. Your hands were on his chocolate curls, tugging at them. You were so close, so fucking close that you weren’t sure where Peter ended and you began. It didn’t seem like you were breathing but you could tell that he was smiling into the kiss as you loop your arm around his neck, he stumbled but he continued to kiss you. 

And then it stopped. 

“It has gone viral on Twitter,” Tony muttered while you swallowed hard as you felt how you were blushing. “Not that you know since I found your phone here two days ago,” Tony said as he threw your phone on the bed. 

You stared down at the phone, at the screen that lit up the moment it hit the bed. There were thousands of messages and calls, from many people but a name called your attention. Peter Parker. 

Then, you heard Harry stepping out of the bathroom behind you as Tony raised his eyebrow. “Mr. Stark, it’s lovely too,” 

“Not now Harry,” both Tony and you grumbled at the same time, Harry simply nodded

“Dad,”

“No, y/n,” Tony interrupted, his face was red with frustration while you glared at him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He had no idea. At least you already knew that Peter hadn’t saved face, that he hadn’t even tried to tell your father that you already knew. If Peter was Tony’s protege, as you’d figured out, it was surprising that they hadn’t spoken. It had been days. 

“Oh, you should ask Peter,” you breathed. “He’s the one telling lies left and right,” you said, Tony’s frown faltered for a second. 

“What?”

“Yeah,” you replied. “Keeping secrets if you know what I mean,” you sassed before you took another sip of your wine. 

Now you had the upper hand. 

“I…”

“I know, dad,” you replied while raising your eyebrows. 

Harry frowned as he tried to get closer. “You know what?” he asked. 

“Shut up Harry,” both of you breathed out at the same time. Tony 

“I’m just saying that I was blindsided,” you stated. “Now, if you don’t mind. I really don’t want to listen to you screaming at me,” you muttered before you took Harry’s hand and walked out of the room. 

“Young lady,” Tony chided but you ignored him while rolling your eyes. 

Harry followed suit as you took a cab, knowing that neither of you could even attempt to drive under your conditions. You hadn’t even attempted to sober up, there was no way that you would take your car even if Harry protested. After that, you spent the day together, helping Harry pack until the wine was done and then both of you took showers, separately, much to Harry’s discontent. The shower helped you cool out a bit and also feel a little less drunk, but it didn’t help to keep Peter Parker out of your mind. It was too early when you were done, so you chased Harry down to his lab where he decided he would continue working until he had to go to the airport. 

It’d been a few hours of you reading a book while Harry worked on some things that until now hadn’t truly caught your attention or interest. 

“What secret were you talking about?” he asked suddenly after he announced he was taking a break, snapping you out of the pages of the book.

“It’s none of your business,” you muttered while looking back at the book, Harry smirked as he continue to look at his phone uninterested. 

“Do you remember making out with Jake Gyllenhall?” 

You sighed at the memory. “Not really,” you lied. 

“Me neither, but it seems like he enjoyed it,” Harry replied. 

“Ugh” you muttered as you recalled that apparently, you were trending with the events that had unfolded. “What’s the hashtag?”

“#howbadcanastarkgirlget” Harry winked with an amused smile while you blushed deeply. 

“God,” you groaned as you placed your hands over your face. 

It was worse than you’d thought. It’d been a while since you’d been a really big trending topic, you’d tried to erase your footprint on the internet, just having an Instagram where you had stopped posting on it when the Civil War, as people liked to call it happened. 

“I like it,” Harry murmured as he got closer to you, grabbing your wrist and pulling your hands away from your face. “The way that I liked doing this,”

He leaned forward and you didn’t stop him. You wondered if it made you a bad person to kiss Harry after what had happened to Peter, you wondered if Peter had kissed other people as Harry’s hands dropped your wrist and his hands came to cup your face. His lips touched yours with urgency, it might not be what you wanted but you kissed Harry back. Harry’s tongue swiped across your bottom lip, his fingers sliding up into your hair and curling into your roots while you parted your lips and he slide his tongue against yours.

It was slow and hot, Harry moved you so he could be between your thighs and pressed against yours. He moved his tongue against yours, taking your top lip between his as you grabbed him by the neck kissing him harder. Thinking that if you kissed Harry hard enough, the image of Peter Parker smiling at you after your kiss might disappear. 

It didn’t. 

You pulled away suddenly, breathing hard. “Yeah,” you breathed out. “Just confirmed not in the mood,” you shrugged. 

Harry smirked. “Was worth a shot,” he muttered before he pulled away with a smile and went back to his things. 

“Right,” you said as you eyed Harry curiously as he typed some things so the robots in front of him would start with a certain process. 

You hadn’t put any attention to him during that time in the lab, focusing on reading a book that you had nearby to spend time with him in the meanwhile. Harry liked robotics and tech, for sure but he also had inherited the passion of his father: genetics. 

You honestly didn’t like to fuck with that.  

 “What’s this?” you asked as you hopped off the counter you were sitting at and walked towards him.

“Might increase your strength about 800% percent, the military loves it,” Harry replied with a smirk on his face while he annotated some things in his notebook. 

“Of course they do,” you scoffed while you passed a hand through your hair and started to read his screen and then his notes. “They wouldn’t be needed any armor or guns, just themselves.”

“Exactly,”

As you continued to read something stopped you dead in your tracks. Your breath hitched as your eyes passed through the words 

Side effects: Violence, aggression, and insanity. 

“This is dangerous you know that, right?” you asked him seriously, you frowned as you saw how Harry shrugged. 

“Sorry, mom.” he mocked you. “I would really like your opinion on this though,”

“You know I don’t do genetics,” you muttered. 

As long as you could remember, Harry wanted you to check out things within Oscorp and often you helped with anything that had to do with tech and robotics, just not genetics. Your dad had warned you against it since you were very young, he often said that you should mess with everything that you want except that. 

“Don’t be a pussy,” Harry scoffed. 

You rolled your eyes, taking it as your cue to leave him. “Nice one, Harry” you grumbled as you took your book. “I’m out, have fun in Ibiza”

“I will!” Harry called as you walked out of the lab. 

When you arrived it was already dark, people were already commuting back home except for something that you truly disliked the paparazzi. They were waiting for you, you could tell. Either if you were going out again or entering, they wanted to see you. Especially now that you were sure that anything that had your face printed on it would sell fast. 

But you knew that you also had to reap what you sowed. You thank the driver with your eyes barely open as the flashes of the cameras blinded you for a second as you tried to steady yourself as you walked towards the main entrance. People were screaming your name and cornering you, it made you want to cry as you recalled how you’d gotten lost that one time with Tony. 

But then, you felt a hand grabbing you and you snapped your eyes wide open and there he was. 

Peter Parker, holding you. Your heart felt as if it was on your throat as you stare at him but he quickly tugged you, pushing the paps away as their roar got louder, questions being shouted as Peter pulled you away from the crowd and allowed you to get into the building without any more hiccups. It was until you entered and the doorman had closed the door that you realized that he was there. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Peter asked as he got closer to you, he still smelled like cinnamon and honey. He still ran hot, his voice still made you tremble. 

You wondered for a second how long he’d been waiting for you or if you’d just crossed paths and he came to work. He looked pretty with a hoodie on and his jeans, his curls in disarray and you froze in place as you stare at him.

You considered kissing him, telling him that you’d missed him even though you weren’t together. Nonetheless, you go with your second option: kicking him to the curb. 

“Go away, Peter” you complain as you walked towards the elevator, pushing past him.

“Y/n, don’t,” He pleaded as he walked behind you. 

“Go home,” you snap at him, as the elevator door opened but he still followed you to the elevator. 

You curse as you watch him staring at you. 

“Just, let me explain to you,” he says gently as he stares at you, reaching out again. “Please,” he pleaded as the elevator opens to the house. 

You walk away but Peter rushed to your side, grabbing your wrist and that’s when you snap. “Get the fuck away!”

Snapping it’s the only way that you can describe it, you look at him as he drops his hands back to his sides and stares at you. A look of hurt flashes through his features before he frowns, as he stares up at the second floor of the place. 

“Keep your voice down, Morgan’s already asleep,” he whispered as he checked around to confirm that no one had woken up. 

Your eyes met his. You study the concern on his features, and at least, you conclude he has the nerve to show up here; even if he’s extremely late. Part of you, you recall, wanted him to chase you through the clubs and find you. Maybe, that’s why you’d been so wild these last few days, maybe your drunk self thought that you could call his attention as you trashed around New York City. 

It was pathetic. 

And yet, you knew that you were happy he was there. 

“Come,” you muttered as you walk to your room. 

Peter didn’t say anything, he simply followed suit. Even, when you close your door and you stare at him, waiting for him to say something. You rolled your eyes and is until then that Peter realizes that he’s a bit of an asshole. He’d been waiting for you all day, waiting for you to come in, he’d tasked Karen to help him if she detected that you arrived. Even, when Tony was chewing him off, he wasn’t thinking about anything else but you. 

“What are you doing here?” you hissed as you stumble to your bed, still on a dress that you’d been wearing for a while. 

Peter stayed there for a second, nodding as if to give himself the courage to say it. 

“I didn’t want to lie to you,” Peter answered truthfully. “I just want to explain to you what happened. I want you to know the truth, I don’t expect you to forgive me, I truly don’t but…” I want you to forgive me, he thought. 

“Then, why did you do it?” you asked, with furrowed eyebrows as you watch him walk towards the bed with you.

“Tony told me not to and when I met you and I also knew I shouldn’t,” Peter whispered as you wait for him, studying his features. “I don’t tell people about what happened to me,” he then breathed out truthfully. 

You figured he was talking about how he’d gotten his powers. You’d been also thinking about it non-stop since you realized who Peter was, you’d thought about it throughout the days when the music wasn’t too loud to think or you weren’t too drunk to forget. 

“The people that know simply find out, I… my uncle,” Peter struggled to find his words, you see how he fiddled with his hands in his lap, not looking at you but you feel the heaviness of his words. “It was my fault and a lot of other people have been hurt because of me, because of what I am now and,” his voice gave out as he looked at you, tears pooling in his eyes.

It suddenly broke your heart. 

“Peter,” you whispered as you, maybe too fast, grabbed his hand softly. Leaning towards Peter, you wondered if you were too weak but you honestly also knew that you didn’t care as soon as Peter looped his arms around your hip bringing you closer to him. 

“I didn’t want you to get into that,” he whispered as you hid your face in the crook of his neck, still holding his hand. “Even if you already were, it’s bad.”

“If anyone should know about what it’s like it’s me,” you huffed and Peter simply nodded. 

“I just don’t want anything to happen to you, you’re just too important for me,” Peter replied honestly as he cupped your face. 

You stared at him for a second, you wondered how on earth could your heart beat so erratically for this boy, how on earth how you could’ve fallen so hard but it didn’t matter. You knew you shouldn’t overthink it, part of you knows that this was something that shouldn’t be so hard for you, to restrict yourself but those pretty caramel eyes were looking at you as if you were an angel. 

It was as if gravity was pulling you against him. 

He leaned quickly forward and captured your mouth in a kiss and you didn't pull back. Instead, you melted against him as you pressed your lips against him. Peter cupped your face as you linger your arm around his neck before you pushed yourself up and swung one leg over his hip, straddling him without breaking the kiss. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, holding you against him with his hand on the back of your neck. 

The kiss wasn’t as feverishly and hungry as the ones you’d shared before, it was soft but passionate. You ground yourself ever so slightly against him, feeling Peter already as you let out a soft breath. His lips were already on your throat as you feel drunk on him. Peter’s gentle as he squeezes your legs and pushed you against him and you gasped at his lips.

That was what hit you like a ton of bricks. 

If you didn’t stop right now, you knew what would come next. You knew that you wouldn’t be able to stop and even if you won a wager with Harry, you also knew that you wouldn’t be able to come back from your feelings for Peter Parker. 

And you weren’t ready for that. 

“Wait,” you muttered as you pushed him away, climbing down off him. “I’m not,” you struggled to get your words out as you stumbled on your bed.

“What?” Peter breathed out as he tried to hide how his pants were growing uncomfortable. 

“I’m not ready,” 

Peter’s eyes widened and you saw the terror in his eyes.“I didn’t want to pressure you,” he assured you as he got closer to you, gently. “I’m sorry,”

You nodded softly, though it made your heart break a bit as you realized that he might’ve taken it personally. 

“You’re not but I need you to leave, please.” you pleaded. 

Peter made no reply. He didn’t think he’d be able to speak for a second, he felt as if he’d just fucked everything up horribly, worse than ever before. Maybe the people at the party were right, maybe he didn’t belong with you. 

Peter nodded softly as he walked from your room and closed your door. You watched him leave as tears pooled around your eyes. 

You didn’t sleep that night, not with everything going on.

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author's note: omg I've wanted to post this for so long but I wanted to finish chapter 18 first, I'm dying for chapter 20 and I can't wait for your opinion. as always thank you so much if you decide to support me on my ko-fi and leaving any comments or a like or a reblog truly makes me the happiest.

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