#i love playing with my friends hair and i love it when they play with mine

[teaboot]

Have you had other cats before Ollie? If so, what can you tell us about them?

Thomas was a black cat who slept in my crib when I was a baby. Hated everyone except me and my papa, would attack anyone who came to wake me up. By the time I turned four I was horribly allergic to him and we had to send him to live with family. Never saw him again. Rags was a long-furred bright orange barn cat I only ever saw a handful of times behind my grandma’s house.

Pretty Kitty was half-feral, but by far the most beautiful barn cat we had. A lovely long-haired Siamese type girl with big blue eyes. Shy but gentle.

Monday was a little runty black kitten I gave away at a festival, because I had a box full of kittens who needed homes fast.

Skippy broke his leg as a kitten, and for the rest of his life ran with his back legs together like a jumping bunny. He would play fetch with a ball and bring it back to you after you threw it. My dad hit him with his car one day and never told me.

Arthur was a short-haired orange cat who would meet me at he end of the driveway after school every day and walk me to my bus stop every morning. He had big yellow eyes and would swipe Angel-wing marks onto ground-floor windows with his paws. He went into the fenced backyard when the dogs were out and Penny, the youngest, killed him.

Garfield was another orange-furred cat. I don’t remember much about him, but he got in a fight with a dog and ran away and I never saw him again.

Stumpy was an ancient brick shithouse of a brown tortie with had little tufted ears and á bobbed tail, and half my life she was pregnant or nursing new kittens. She was famously short-tempered and especially protective of her babies, and once swiped one of the sheepdog puppies across the nose for getting too close and spooked him so bad he was terrified of cats the rest of his life. I once saw her catch, kill, and devour an entire rabbit, bones and all.

G*psy was an unfortunately-named sweetheart, white with black spots, who was my absolute best friend for the longest time. Eventually she had two kittens, one I gave to family and one that went to live with my papa. One day I realized she’d disappeared, and spent six months looking for her. Then I found out that an eagle had carried her off, and my grandpa had found half of her left behind in a field and hadn’t had the heart to tell me.

Bobbi and Fritz were two cats whose names I may be misremembering, left behind when an old lady in town had died without assigning them to anyone in her will. My mom wound up giving them to me to take care of. I don’t remember what happened to Fritz, but I went to feed Bobbi one morning and found her dead in her litter box.

Franklin was an emaciated-looking orange bastard who was 17 when I got him. Again, his owner had passed away before he could, so I wound up with him. He was pretty clearly depressed and would sometimes attack me at random, wrapping himself around my leg and biting the shit out of me. He passed away the morning we were about to leave for a road trip so he spent several weeks in a paper bag in our freezer before I could bury him.

Fireside Al was a semi-feral barn cat who would have been an excellent lap cat, if he wasn’t in a perpetual state of mild claustrophobia. The deal was he’d come into the house and STAY in the house for as long as the front door was open, but as soon as you tried to close the door he’d cry and wail and generally pitch á fit before zoning out again at the soonest chance. As per the name, his favourite spot was on the warm bricks in front of the cast-iron wood stove.

Ashley was a black and white cat and a massive bitch who hated everyone and everything except my dad. She never did gain weight, was like a bag of sticks under a rug her whole entire life, was scared of small rodents and hated babies. All she ever wanted was to bite people and be left alone.

Monty survived losing all his teeth, two major ear infections that left both ears tiny and shriveled, dementia, some sort of seizure disorder, cancer, a house fire, and something that made him spontaneously pee blood sometimes. He passed away peacefully in his sleep at 21 years old. Until that point, the joke was that all his various conditions and diseases had neutralized each other in their fight for dominance. My mom once heard him cough, asked him if he was okay, and then watched him hack up a tooth. He drooled when he was happy and smelled like garbage, his skin was crusty and full of cysts, and near the end sometimes he would get confused and end up lost somewhat in the house, or forget who the other cats were and attack them. He was a very good boy and we miss him.

Cookie is 30lbs and silky-soft like a chinchilla. He is also largely blind due to a disease he got as a kitten, and can only see vague shadows and bright lights because he somehow has two optic nerves in each eye. We found out when he first went blind and then seemed to miraculously regain some vision- seems like his tiny spare mutant nerves worked as a backup. I once watched him sit on another cat and eat its food. He’s doing great

Petra is probably 4.5 pounds soaking wet and launches herself from person to person like a flying squirrel. She is a soft blue-grey princess my brother’s boss found in a ditch on the side of the road. Every photo of her looks insanely glamorous.

Otis was my big baby who kept me alive through college. I brought him home and kept him in my room in secret for two weeks before my younger brother narc’d. At one point my dad told me if I didn’t get rid of him he’d kill him, so I took him out into the woods myself and set up camp in the old family home we’d abandoned years back. Then he moved out with me when I was 17 and went to college. He’s a crochety old man now and lives with my mom.

Tyler is my brother’s cat. He stole her by accident. Before then she was kind of shared by his whole neighborhood, until she showed up injured at his house. She is now “the biggest bitch alive, I love her so much”, to quote him. She hates all other forms of life and only really tolerates my brother.

Cleo was also my brother’s, but she passed away recently due to age and health reasons. He used to be solid muscle like Stumpy but developed a thyroid issue of some kind where her body just could not retain weight. She was very spoiled in her golden years though, and once declared terminal was pretty much given Doritos on demand (she fucking loved Doritos)

Not a complete list but these are the ones I think of most. If you can take away anything from this, please don’t let your cats free-roam unsupervised. Even barn cats, with a whole barn for shelter and an actual job to perform, don’t last long outdoors.

Much appreciated.

[yelenasbraid]

TONIGHT, YOU ARE MINE / JB9, TRACK 1

summary / she’s studying. he’s being annoying. in his defense, he hasn’t seen her all day.

warnings / fem!reader, fluff, smut (MDNI), down bad!joey

note / this is kind of an introductory part to their relationship and the vibes they give. this series will follow his second year with LSU and his time in the NFL. it won’t go game to game, but just be aware of that timeline :)

tags / @willowsnook @ebsmind @iosivb9 @hotburreaux @joecoolburrow @hannahjessica113 @irishmanwhore @wickedfun9 @softburrow @kazsbrckkers @starsinthesky5 @joeyburrrow @joeyfranchise @burrowdarling @joeyb1989 @blairsworld22 @sportyphile

THE SUN WAS SETTING. Purple and orange hues cast into the apartment, illuminating the scene. A cream colored couch sits in the living room, blankets strewn across it. The coffee table is somewhat clean; used cups from a couple hours ago sit on coasters. The kitchen lights are off; she said that she was picking up dinner with a friend.

“You will not believe the day I had,” she barged in, words barely held as she stepped over the threshold. Her hair was messy; strands falling pitifully out of the bun she wrapped her hair into. The wafts of her perfume filled the apartment, the sight of her a breath of fresh air.

He hadn’t seen his girlfriend all day. Nor had he texted her. She said it made her smile too much.

“Tell me about it,” he offered, patting the place next to him, “but first, I want a kiss,”

She laughed, an airy sound that made her cheeks red. She locked the door, tossing her keys onto the coffee table. She set her bookbag down on the floor, climbing onto the spot next to him.

“How could I forget?” she smiled. She rested a soft hand on his shoulder, leaning over a planting a soft kiss to his lips. It was electrifying, as it always was. There weren't enough kisses in a day. There weren't enough touches in a day. Joe cupped her cheek, sighing into her lips. He pulled away, keeping his lips inches from hers.

“I missed you today,” He confessed, “it was hard not to kiss you when I saw you in the student union earlier,”

“You probably didn’t want to anyways,” she giggled, reaching down to her bag, “I just finished an entire caramel latte; my breath wouldn’t have been nice,”

No one knew that they were dating. To the outside world, they were strangers. They interacted some when it came to the same classes or sitting at the same table at the student union, but no one could know. The media would lose their minds, invading every crevice of privacy. His mother would find out, and she was as protective over him as anyone.

To his mom, dating someone like her would be a slap in the face. Y/N wasn’t the athletic type. Sure, she played softball in high school, but college was all about academics. She strived to make a name for herself, to keep that precious 4.2 GPA that she’s had since she was a sophomore. Joe was proud of her, immensely so. He wished he could go to her paper presentations or the dinners that were held by the history department. But he couldn’t. They loved each other behind closed doors while the outside world waited with pitchforks.

“I still would have liked to at least sit with you,” he hummed, wrapping his arms around her waist. His weight pushed her back against the arm of the couch, his body laying on top of hers. She knew that it was hard for him, and it was hard for her too. She wanted to be there for milestones, to celebrate wins, but she had to wait for him back at his apartment or hers. She had to love in private, even when that was the last thing she wanted to do.

“I know,” she hummed, running her hand up and down his back, “I would have loved to have you sit next to me,”

For a moment, they just enjoyed each other’s presence. The day brought its own challenges, its own fountain of problems, but together, the worries washed away. Joe felt at home with her, he felt at ease. He didn’t have to put up a front around her, he didn’t have to be the quarterback that everyone relied on. He was just Joe. Her Joey.

“I have to study, bubs,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. A groan rose from the back of his throat, his arms tightening around her waist. She was always studying, his little genius, but he wanted her attention all to himself. He’d missed her, he was tired of having to avoid talking about her. That’s all he wanted to do.

“For how long?” He groaned into her neck. She chuckled, the sound soft and rumbling. Joe didn’t budge; he kept his weight pressed on her, his limbs tangled with hers.

“I don’t know,” she answered softly, “however long it takes me. I haven’t memorized the different ciphers yet,”

“But you know all the names. You recited them to me last night,” Joe argued. He knew that it was deeper than that. Her classes didn’t just ask for her to know the names of each type of cipher, it required that she could provide an example. It required that she knew how to interpret the cipher. It just took her a lot of time, and he wanted all of her time and attention.

“I did,” she agreed, running her fingers through his scalp. Her fingers dug into his scalp, pulling a soft moan from Joe’s throat. He pressed a kiss to her neck, his hands tightening around her body.

“I’ll study for an hour,” she compromised. Her fingers were still tangled in his hair, curling the longer strands around her fingers. He doesn’t move, his nose brushing against the soft skin of her neck. The warmth that spreads through her body is overwhelming. It’s soft, casting gentle rays across her muscles. She missed him, even when she had him all to herself.

“Okay,” he murmured. He slowly pulled himself out of her neck, eyes bleary. He leaned down and kissed her one more time, letting his lips linger on hers.

“It’ll go by faster than you realize,” she promised, a sparkle in her eyes. She sat up, sitting cross-legged on the couch. Joe grabbed a book, What if?: Serious Scientific Answers to Absurd Hypothetical Questions. A gift from her. He’d started it, and he was halfway through it.

Minutes passed. Silence spread between them. The tap of her fingers against the keyboard and the whisper of pages turning broke the silence. Joe kept himself close to her, his shoulder leaning on hers.

Joe was a physical touch guy. He found comfort in it, but that was also how he expressed his affection for her. Many people wouldn’t guess he was a physical touch person because of his reserved personality, but he was, at least around her. So, it didn’t surprise her when he started aimlessly dragging his fingers across her thigh, sending warm shivers down her body.

His fingers danced on her thigh for a few moments, his other hand holding his book. He wasn’t focused on it though, the words on the page blurring together. He was too caught up in how her body felt under his touch. She was a drug to him, something that once he got a taste of he’d never be able to let go of. He didn’t want to let go of her, to ever forget her taste.

“Joe,” she hummed, flicking her eyes over to him. He looked back up at her, blue eyes sparkling.

“Hm?” he hummed back, feigning innocence. She smiled, that bright and award-winning smile. Her fingers intertwined with his, pressing them to her lips.

“Just wait a little longer, okay?” she murmured, placing his hand back on his lap. He wanted the contact, the warmth of her skin through the fabric of her leggings. He found pride, though, in that he was distracting her. He nodded, giving a dramatic sigh as he returned to his book.

But he didn't read the pages.

Time slumped by. He read a couple more pages, but his mind was too occupied with her. Her hair was still messily pulled back, t-shirt clinging to her body, and her leggings sticking to her skin. She looked effortless, like a goddess. She expected him to sit by and not do something?

He set down his book, reaching his hand out. He untangled her legs from being crossed under her and pulled her closer. She nearly yelped at the surprise, but managed to compose herself as he dragged her closer to him. Now, she was sitting right next to him, facing him. Her eyes told him all he needed to know. I need to study. He was treading dangerous waters, he knew that, but at the same time, he’d been neglected of time with her. Of course, if she seriously told him to cut it out, he would, no questions asked, but something told him she didn’t want him to stop.

“Joseph,” she warned. Her laptop was still in her lap, open and glowing against her face.

“Baby,” he answered, a smug look on his face. He gently shut her laptop, his hand grabbing it and setting it on the coffee table. Tension blossomed, and the sounds that filled the room now were just the sounds of their breathing. Though she swore he could hear her heart slamming against her ribcage.

“I’m not done yet,” she reminded him. His hand wandered up her thigh, caressing the inseam of her leggings. She inhaled, holding her breath. Joe knew what he was doing.

“Please,” he whispered, “just wanna spend time with you.

His pout always worked. His blue eyes sparkled, bottom lip jutted out. He was ridiculous, but she loved him.

“You’re ridiculous,” she shifted, her eyes sparkling. Studying could wait, she supposed. She didn’t get to see Joe that often, and when she did, time flew by.

“You love me,” he grinned. Excitement filled his chest as she shifted towards him, the movement of her body slowly leaning him to rest his back against the couch. Her hands slid up his torso, a soft hum rumbling through her chest.

“I do,” her voice was smooth, shifting with her attitude. She studied all the time, always focused on the next document or the next cipher. She wasn’t able to let her mind go, to indulge in the pleasure her boyfriend could offer her.

So every time they had sex it felt like it was the first time all over again.

She kissed him. Slowly. Their lips danced together, joined in an intimate tango. His hands found their way to her waist, his thumbs pushing up the material of her t-shirt. His body shivered, the overwhelming sense of her body and her being filling him to the brim. He was the cup she poured herself into, and he’d let her overflow.

Her lips parted from his, trailing down the warmth of his neck. He tilted his head, soft breaths leaving his lungs. Her kisses were tiny fires, igniting the embers of his desire deep within him. He kept his hands on her waist, swallowing the moans that threatened to spill over.

She sat up, the coolness of her lack of touch making him groan. His eyes took her in, watching her. She removed her shirt, revealing her tits cupped by a beautiful yet simple bra. His hands roamed over her stomach, up to cup her breasts.

“You’re a masterpiece,” he murmured, his eyes taking in every piece of her. The outline of her cleavage, her collarbone shadowing her neck, and the soft skin of her stomach. His hands drank her in, committing every line and every curve to memory.

She slid her hands up his torso, easily peeling the shirt from his body. She leaned back down, her lips meeting the meat of his pec. He inhaled sharply, his eyes fluttering. Her touch was a drug, it powdered his skin and fueled his desire. Her lips kissed his body, taking in every hard-earned muscle.

“This what you wanted?” she murmured, her lips hovering over the bulge of his sweats. His mind was on fire, any rational thought burned down by the image of her staring down his bulge.

“God yes,” he exhaled. Her fingers pried away his sweats, taking the material of his boxers with them. He was left bare and aching, his cock twitching against the skin of his stomach. Her mouth watered, her arousal building with every passing moment.

But she didn’t take him into her mouth. Not like he wanted.

She slid her leggings down her hips, pulling her panties with her. Her panties peeled from her pussy, her arousal sticking to the material. She tossed them aside. Crawling up his body, she let her lips hover over his. Joe was in a daze, his chest heaving with his breaths. He was under her spell, wrapped around her little finger.

“Baby, please,” he whispered, blue eyes blown with nothing but desire. He wanted her, needed her, to fill his system. She was his constant, his girl. Not having her how he wanted killed him, and that meant more than sex.

“I’ve got you, sweet boy,” she promised. Sliding a hand between them, she grabbed the base of his cock, lining him up with her entrance. He was hot, the velvet of his tip easily pushing into her soft walls. It was as if her body was welcoming him home.

She sunk down onto his cock, her hands settling down on his stomach. He filled her up perfectly, stretched her walls, causing her head to tilt back. She shifted on his cock, rocking side to side before she lifted her hips again. Joe released a breath, the feeling of your pussy clenching around him making him dizzy. His hands explored her body, all while feeling himself come closer and closer to his budding orgasm.

“Oh fuck,” he moaned, chest heaving with every breath. Her movements started slow, memorizing every inch, every curve of his cock. She shuddered, her body godly above his. His hands held her hips, grounding himself against her electric pleasure.

“I’ve needed this,” she admitted, her hips flexing against his. She leaned down, her heart hammering in her chest. Her arms rested over his shoulders, nose brushing against his.

Her classes had been torture. Day in and day out she studied books, old documents. She translated secret messages and wrote back in the same code. She analyzed patterns to recognize new ones. As much satisfaction as she got from her grades, nothing compared to Joe.

“I’m right here,” he promised her with a groan. He thrusted up into her, meeting her pace. His eyes never left hers, drinking her in like he was parched. With every thrust, a whine bubbled out of her mouth. Joe buried his face into her neck as he snapped his hips to meet hers, creating more passion and roughness between the two of them. She could barely focus, ecstasy blinding her as his cock slammed into the sweet spot deep within her. Moans rode on her exhales, and she could feel the beginnings of a climax building. Her hips met Joe’s with every thrust, the aching feeling in her pussy building. She needed more.

“Fuck, baby,” she exhaled, her hands digging into his taut shoulders. His teeth scraped her neck, quiet whimpers leaving his parted lips. He kept his pace, snapping his hips and helping her ride him. Joe pants in her ears, his whines and moans were enough to teeter her on the edge of the knife. Her walls clenched around him, aching as they were continuously thrusted against.

Her whole body exploded, a grinding moan leaving her lips as he thrusted into her one, two more times. She shuddered, her hips loosening and coming undone. Her orgasm ripped over her, a tidal wave of pleasure and heat. This wasn’t something her grades or honors college status could give her.

It wasn’t much longer before Joe let go, his arms wrapping around her. Thick, hot ropes of cum coated her walls, painting the grooves of her pussy. He stayed buried inside of her, his whines muffled by her neck. His cock twitched, jumping at every movement. Their bodies stayed connected, riding on the wave of pure ecstasy and wild passion. Their breaths hung in the air, thick and heavy. It’s what they needed.

Slowly, he pulled himself out of her. She hissed, but rested her body against his. Their eyes met, hazy with pleasure and exhaustion. She kissed him, tenderly, resting her forehead against his.

“Now you can study,” he teased with a hoarse tone. She laughed, kissing his cheek. There’d be no studying after that.

“How about a shower?” she suggested, slowly sitting up, “think we could use one, hm?”

“What, you saying I smell?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. She gave him a look, scoffing. Was he serious?

“Round two, goofball,” she ruffled his hair, “unless you aren’t up for it,”

“Don’t gotta tell me twice,” he grinned. He scooped her up, and with shared giggles, he carried her off to his bathroom, where they’d continue in their bliss.

[st0nerlesb0]

girl you louddd

a/n: anon requested this and i lobe it. me personally, if your asking tits or ass, best believe im going for titties😚

• you literally love billies boobs, like it might be an obsession.

• anytime she wore a tank top and i mean anytime, your eyes would be locked with them. you didn't mean too, it was just inevitable. (peep peep the 2nd picture🙏)

billie was talking about a song her and finneas were making for a movie and you were listening but you looked lost in thought. billie thought that was strange until she followed where your eyes wre and started laughing.

"babe are you even listening? hellooo?"

she says snapping in your face, making you blink your eyes, regaining consciousness, focusing back on her.

"uh yeah, i was."

"okay what was i talking about?"

she says looking smug at you, waiting for an answer.

"uhhhh..."

you obviously didn't know, so you didn't say anything. she chuckled, shaking her head, getting back to telling you about the song.

• even in big tshirts you could see them, especially after she showered. she usually didn't wear a bra to bed so you could tell how they sat and where they were.

• anytime youd see them, it looked like you had hearts in your eyes.

• every single time yall would makeout, you would be massaging them like it was your life. or just feeling them. doesn't matter if your top or bottom, youd still do it.

• in probably every. single. picture, you guys have with friends, your behind her with your hands holding her tits. she'd laugh but hold your hands tighter against them. you'd be respectful in front of her parents but with everyone else? ouhhhh they getting the full package. (my fav one)

• when you and billie would have sex, youd suck her tits and play with them, moaning like your the one getting it.

her back arches from you sucking her tits, leaving dark hickeys, fondling them so rough, but she fucking loved it.

when youd get too into it, she'd laugh, playing with your hair.

"you enjoying it baby? you like em?"

she said, eyes low, voice low and literally the most gorgeous face ever. you would look up at her nodding, with big doe eyes, moaning against her tits. she'd arch her back, moaning from the vibrations.

"pretty, your so loud, you love em, don't you?"

she'd ask, teasing, and the tips of your ears would get red but you still nod yes.

• at parties, she'd sit on your lap and you'd find some way, to touch her tits. especially when a girl or a guy tries to flirt with her.

they'd be sitting beside you and they'd be trynna get her number or get her to go upstairs and you'd slide your hands up her stomach to rest your hands on her chest.

"you look pretty, could i get your number?"

"uhhhh.."

billie would be laughing and look at you then the person, hoping they'd see you gripping her chest and take the hint. when they did see, theyd be like

"oh my bad, didn't know."

and walk away, ashamed.

[mrsarnold]

❝ 𝓘 can't get over you all i need is 𝓞ne more chance ❞

pairing ! j. watkins x fem!reader

warnings angst-smut (im ovulating bye), cheating (mentioned), arguing, cussing, juju overly freaked out, slow sex, yall are toxic.., oral (r!recieving), strap (r!recieving), yea oki thats it 🤗

summary you and juju were perfect for eachother according to most. yall never seemed to be the toxic type to yall friends but behind closed doors it was a mess. especially when you caught juju cheating one day and tried leaving her...

note overly freaked and tweaked rn, play players prayer by lloyd while reading this tho

Every night of the week, lookin for some groupie love

"Juju who the fuck is this", you finally snapped as she walked out the bathroom, drying her hair just be met by your angry glaze and holding up her phone.

what you were showing her was a photo of her cuddled up with another you found in her camera roll. when she realized what you were talking about she stopped drying her hair and went into apology mode.

But I did I was wrong and I'm hating it

"wait shit its not what it looks like"

"ma look at me you know i love you"

"ma? shes just a friend."

all the words whirled into your head all trying to brainwash your brain but you refused to listen to anything she said before finally snapping. "Y'all don't look like just 'friends' yall look real cuddled up", you said standing up scowling at her trying to figure out what her next excuse was.

"just tell me the truth!"

Girl I'm missing you

"fine you want the truth? yes i fucking cheated on you but i was drunk as shit. you know your all i want", Juju said trying to sweet talk you as she put her hands on your hips.

"Ma i promise it was a accident", her words ringed in your ears as you shooked your head no and pushed her away.

I'm sorry, I must have been crazy

"No juju you always say this everytime."

"im being deadass ok."

"i don-"

"wan' me to prove it to you hm", Juju said coming closer before looking at you dead in her eyes. that stare ended you top to bottom naked laid out on yall shared bed as 'Players Prayer' by LLoyd played in the background to silent out your moans and gasps as Juju kissed down your neck and chest.

I need your love right here to guide me oh

"Mm- im so sorry Ma your so fucking pretty, soso", Juju said in between each kiss as she reached your stomach closer and closer to where you needed her the most.

your hand continued to be tangled in her freshly washed hair as she placed one last kiss on your cunt before sat up and tied her hair back into a low bun. she never broke eye contact as she tied her hair. her eye contact alone could get you off.

once she finished tying her hair which felt like forever and lifted her sleeves up to her elbows she back onto her knees, placing two kisses on each thigh before digging in. her tongue worked wonders on your cunt like always making you forget why you were mad.

Girl I'm on my knees (Knees)

the moans you were letting out shouldve been illegal each time Juju turned her tongue in a new way making your stomach do backflips as you continued to moan out.

"you taste so fucking good fuck", Juju cursed before plunging two fingers into you making your back arch into her but she used her free hand to hold you down.

I promise I'll be good (Oh) And I will never do it again

"you know im never gonna do what i did again", Juju said clearly already pussy drunk and only saying what you wanted to hear. you moaned out, trying to form any type of snarky reply but failed.

"your the only fucking one i want i don't want you to forget that ok", Juju mumbled against your cunt as her fingers curled into a 'come hers' motion making you go over the edge.

"mm- im cumming Ju mmph fuck", you moaned out practically brained washed and fucked out as you finally came on Juju's fingers and face. you rid out your bigh before you watched Juju get up

I can't get over you (No)

All I need is one more chance (One more chance)

"can you give me one more Mama? i wanna show you how sorry i am", juju asked as she headed over to her backpack and pulled out a all to familiar strap making you nod tiredly.

"words."

"yes please Ju", you said a bit whiny as she slid the harnest around her waist and came between your legs, lining herself up before pushing in the strap in slowly making you cry out.

I was trippin yo' love is where it's at

"you feel so fucking good you know that right", she praised as if fhe strap was apart of her and she could truly feel you as she picked up her pace.

your moans became more and more louder, the neighbors could practically wake up the next morning and know her name. except your moans were getting lazy based off how tired you were but managed to moan words together.

"Mmph- feel s'good Ju don't stop", you moaned out as you looked up at Juju as she placed a kiss on your lips, passionate and a little rough as she continued to pound you.

"mm- im so close fuck- mm im cumming", you babbled out as juju's pounds became slower and sloppier as you let out one more shaky moan before cumming all over her strap

'i cant keep doing this but it feels so right' was all that spinned through your mind

[lucy-literates]

hi i’m not sure if you’re taking requests but if you are you can do this for either charles or arthur but i know july 17th is a pretty hard day for them because of jules but how would if even of them feel if they had a gf whose birthday was on july 17th? again if you’re not taking requests you can ignore this i also do love your fics they’re amazing

A/N: Oh anon, this is so sweet and sore at the same time. I went for the sweeter side of it, we don't need any more angst on an already sad day. I hope you enjoy it! Inbox is open 🫶

Bittersweet

\You never liked making a big deal out of your birthday — not really. But this year, it wasn’t because of modesty or discomfort.

It was because of the date: July 17th.

You hadn’t thought much of it until you started dating Charles. Until you found out what that day meant to him. The kind of scar it left behind.

Jules Bianchi. The friend who was more than family. The one Charles idolized, who he lost far too young. Every interview, every documentary, every quiet moment Charles shared about him — they all painted a picture of someone unforgettable. A light gone too soon.

So when you realized that your birthday fell on the same day Jules passed… your heart sank.

You’d never admit it out loud, but part of you wished you could move the day. Skip it. Fade into the background and let Charles have the space he needed to grieve without the added pressure of trying to celebrate you.

So when he asked, a few days before, what you wanted to do for your birthday, you just smiled softly and said, “Nothing big. I’m happy just spending it with you. We can lay low.”

He had nodded. “Of course, amour. Whatever you want.”

You’d meant it. And yet…

The morning of July 17th

You wake to the smell of coffee. The Monaco sunlight spills through the half-drawn curtains, golden and gentle. You stretch under the covers, still drowsy, expecting to roll over and find Charles lying beside you, half-asleep, maybe curled up in that way he does when the world feels too heavy.

But the bed beside you is empty — still warm, but no Charles.

Before you can call out, the door opens.

He walks in carefully, shirtless, hair messy from sleep, holding a tray with two mugs, a small pastry plate, and a single white tulip laid delicately across a napkin.

Your heart squeezes.

“Happy birthday, mon amour,” he says quietly, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips. “I made you breakfast.”

You sit up slowly, blinking at him. “Charles…”

“I know,” he says, placing the tray on your lap gently. “You were worried. I could see it.”

You look down, a bit ashamed. “It didn’t feel right to celebrate. Not today.”

He sits beside you, reaching out to take your hand in his.

“For a long time, I hated this day,” he says softly. “I would wake up with a weight on my chest. Every July 17th felt like… the world reminding me of what I lost.”

You squeeze his hand. “I don’t want to take any of that space away from you.”

He shakes his head. “You’re not taking anything from me. You’re giving me something.”

You glance up, confused.

“Light,” he says simply. “Hope. A reason to smile on a day that used to only hurt.”

Your throat tightens.

“I still miss him. Every day. I always will.” He reaches for your cheek, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “But I think… I think Jules would have wanted me to feel love on this day. To not let grief take everything.”

Tears prick your eyes.

“He was love,” Charles whispers. “And now, so are you.”

You don’t speak. You just lean forward and kiss him, soft and slow, grateful and aching. He kisses you back like it’s the only thing that matters — like love can hold the weight of memory and joy at the same time.

And maybe it can.

The rest of the day is quiet.

He takes you for a walk through Monaco’s quieter corners, avoiding the usual crowds and flashing cameras. There’s no big party, no extravagant display — just small, sweet moments.

Hand-in-hand on the cobbled streets. Fresh fruit from the market. Laughter as he insists on carrying everything, even your handbag.

You pause at a small garden tucked behind a stone church — one Charles says Jules used to love. He lights a candle there.

You watch him in silence, letting him have that moment.

Then he turns and looks at you, eyes shining, and reaches for your hand again.

And you think: This is what love looks like. This is how grief grows softer.

That evening

He makes dinner. (Okay — he tries. It’s mostly you guiding him through pasta sauce instructions while he pouts over a slightly burnt garlic bread.)

And after dinner, you find a small cake waiting on the kitchen bench.

Not store-bought. Not perfect. But homemade. From scratch.

Your eyes go wide. “Did you—?”

He shrugs. “It’s not beautiful. But I wanted it to be from me.”

It’s perfect.

You blow out the candle. One flame, one wish, and Charles kisses your cheek just as the wax melts into the frosting.

Later, wrapped in blankets on the couch, his head resting on your shoulder, Charles whispers:

“Do you know what I thought when I realized your birthday was today?”

You turn slightly, brushing your fingers through his hair. “What?”

“I thought maybe… it was the universe’s way of giving something back. I lost someone I loved on this day. But then I found you.” His voice cracks. “It’s not a replacement. Nothing ever could be. But… it’s healing. Having you.”

Tears blur your vision.

“I hope it’s not ruined for you,” he adds quickly. “Your birthday.”

You shake your head. “Not ruined. Never. It’s… it’s bittersweet. But beautiful.”

He presses a kiss to your collarbone. “Then I’ll make it beautiful every year.”

And he does. Every July 17th after that holds both light and shadow. A memory, a flame, and a love that never tries to erase what came before — only to soften it.

Tag List

@livelaughleclerc

@alexxavicry

@ariellovelynn

@linnygirl09

@astrlape

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-BLpv0xQYd1bTlaP7l1gAg8AgCyLE_yvrtljpCzlJhY/edit?usp=sharing

[unknownsvoid]

YOU JEALOUS?

✮⋆˙ | asked by: anonymous.

✮⋆˙ | featuring: isagi yoichi, meguru bachira, hyoma chigiri, reo mikage, nagi seishiro, rin itoshi

✮⋆˙ | cw: crack/fluff themes! fem!reader. possible spelling mistakes though i did proof read

Isagi Yoichi!

Definitely veryyyy vocal about it. (Of course he is, it's slursagi we're talking about). Like if he ever catches a guy flirting with you, he's gonna make it obvious the two of you are dating. Like this one time, this random dude was flirting with you in public while Isagi was roaming about in the shop you guys were at. So when he came back, he was caught off guard when he saw some guy trying to shoot his shot with you. His hand clenches harshly around the things he was holding, and he quickly makes his way over to the two of you. A hand snaked around your waist, and he brung you closer to him, making sure your back pressed against his chest, "Hey, babe. Who's this? A friend, perhaps? Hope so, though, kinda seemed like he was hitting on you?" He pulls his gaze away from you to the guy in front of him, "You wouldn't be the typa guy to hit on other people's girls, right?' There was a clear emphasis on the word babe, and he sure wasn't holding back on his words. But of course he wouldn't, he wanted to let the guy know that you're his, and his only. The guy, obviously shaken up, apologized before leaving the two of you alone. Isagi stares disapprovingly at him as he walks away before focusing back on you. He leans down and kisses you, "That guy could never take you away from me, right?" You laugh at his stupidity and shake your head, "He could never."

Meguru Bachira!

Definitely gets super annoyed, and I can see him purposefully interrupting the conversation between you and the guy in like a super rude way. For example: You two were at the park, and he saw an ice-cream truck so he left you on your own at the bench to go buy the two of you some, but when he came back, he was caught by surprise to see a random stranger hitting on you. A frown immediately forms on his face, and without a second thought, he makes it over to you guys. He interrupts the guy to give you a kiss on the lips and handing over your ice-cream, which you quietly thank him for. The guy freezes on the spot, but still makes an attempt to flirt with you ‐ but Bachira wasn't having it. He interrupted him again, "Hey, honey, I love your hair today." You focus on Bachira again, smiling at his compliment, and again, completely ignoring the man in front of you to focus on your sweet boyfriend. The guy grits his teeth, which makes Bachira cheer internally, but the stranger wouldn't give up and makes a few more attempts to flirt with you, which Bachira interrupts each and every time to compliment you. Soon enough, the man gives up with a groan and grumbles under his breath, "Assholes…" You give the guy a dirty look and look over at Bachira in confusion, "Geez, what was his problem?" Bachira shrugs and smiles at you, "No idea. Let's just eat our ice-creams before they melt."

Hyoma Chigiri!

Now, I'm not exactly too sure how he'll react if he saw a guy flirting with you. I'm sure he'll definitely, one, give sarcasm 'n attitude or, two, play it as if he doesn't care. For funsies, I'll pick the first option! The two of you were at the mall date after going out for a date. The two of you were giggling and stuff before a random guy walks up to the two of you with a cocky smirk on his face, "Mind if I borrow you for a moment? Surely your friend won't mind, would she?" You and Chigiri give each other a look before turning to the guy, and just when you were about to defend your feminine-looking boyfriend after he's just been misgendered along with being forced to watch you being hit on, he speaks up for himself, "No the fuck you cannot borrow my girlfriend because we are dating. I'm her boyfriend." The guy chuckles and throws his hands up in the air, "Shitttt, man. Would've never guessed you were a dude. Aight, my bad. I'll leave." Chigiri gives the guy the most DIRTIEST look ever that has you snickering under your breath, and what he says made you laugh out loud, "Yeah, you should. Not like she'll leave my gorgeous face and hair for your bald-headed ass. Buzzcuts don't suit guys with humongous heads by the way." The guy immediately stops smiling and tsk's his teeth before leaving, mumbling something under his breath the two of you can't really make up. "What a dickhead," You try to reply but you were cut off from your own laughter. Chigiri looks at you and snickers, "What?" "Did him so dirty, 'Giri." "The truth hurts. What can I say?" He shrugs before joining you. The both of you giggling like two school girls.

Reo Mikage!

Definitely brags and shows off his money or shows off in the MEANEST way possible to put the person flirting with you to fucking shame. Both of you at the jewellery shop that he forced you to because he wanted to buy you some stuff as a treat. Like he doesn't do that nearly every single time the two of you go out. You were browsing around, and Reo was doing the same thing on the other side of the store. Your attention was grabbed by a guy trying to hit on you. Reo grabbed a piece of jewellery that he thought would look super pretty on you, and just when he turns around to look for you, his smile dropped. A guy was flirting with you, and he couldn't have that. He walks up to the two of you, and your focus goes back to your purple-haired boyfriend. "Hey, Reo!!" "Hey, babe." He looks over at the guy with a glare, "Who's this?" You shrug, and Reo grits his teeth. His eyes go back to you and show you the necklace he picked out for you. Your eye widens at the pretty piece of jewellery, and then the price tag, which makes you wince, "Babe, this is like... super expensive." Reo shrugs nonchalantly, "Nothing I can't afford, honey. Hey, how about you pick something else along with that? Hell, pick a bunch of things. No limits. Go crazy." You were about to object, only for him to gently push you forward to look around the store. You couldn't protest with him – you knew it would be pointless, so you did as he said. He looks back at the guy, "Fuck off. Not like your broke ass could even fend for her anyway. You look like a bum from the streets." The guy didn't even fight back, clearly insulted and hurt, so they just left. Little did Reo know, you heard the whole thing, and boy did it make you laugh at his shocked face when you randomly mentioned the whole situation later on.

Nagi Seishiro!

I can picture him being super lazy and nonchalant about it, but you can tell he's jealous. Like definitely gets super clingy with you to prove a point or wtv. Both of you finished watching a movie, and he was bursting for a piss – so the the two of you headed over to the bathrooms. You waited for him outside while chilling on your phone, when suddenly, a guy attracted your attention. He begins trying to shoot his shot with you, interrupting you whenever you tried to speak to try and reject him. Nagi walks out of the men's bathroom and notices the two of you. A soft, annoyed expression was on his face before it quickly faded into his normal, tired one. He walks up to you and wraps his hands around your waist and buries his face into your neck, yawning into it. You pull your eyes away from the annoying stranger to your boyfriend, "Sleepy, sweetheart?" He nods, "Wanna go home, but you're talking to your friend..." You roll your eyes, "He's not my friend. Just some annoying guy tryna hit on me. Let's go." Nagi groans as you grab his hand and practically drag him on his feet to leave the cinema and the guy standing by himself, dumbstruck.

Rin Itoshi!

Kinda like a mix of Chigiri and Nagi. He would play it off like he wouldn't care and pretend to be all nonchalant about it, but totally fails and gives a tad bit of sass you didn't even know he had in him. The two of you were in a games shop. He was searching for a new horror game that came out recently and was hoping he'd find it in there. He decided to look for it on the other side of the store while you helped look around on the other. You were surprised by a man's voice asking you if you played any games you were looking at, and you replied, and the two of you were beginning to have, of what you thought, was an innocent conversation till he started hitting on you, and that's when Rin sees. He glances at the two of you, anger and jealousy evident in his eyes but it's difficult to tell because of how blank-faced he is. He trails up to the two of you and wraps a hand around your shoulder, "Found the game. Let's go to the checkout." He stops talking to stare at the guy, "Or do you need a couple more minutes to flirt with my girlfriend?" The guy freezes on the spot and smiles sheepishly. He apologies before leaving and Rin's jaw only unclenches as soon as the guy leaves the shop, "Lopsided asshole..." You laugh, "Awwe, you were jealous?" Rin gives you the biggest side eye ever, but the blush on his cheeks gave everything away, "Let's just go buy the game." he mutters under his breath, completely avoiding the question.

[chipstatoest]

✧･ﾟWhere the Track Begins (Part 2)

Oscar Piastri x Reader - 1.2k - childhood friends to lovers

Summary: The first time you met Oscar Piastri, he beat you in a go-kart race and called you slow. The second time, he gave you an orange ice pop and made you believe in impossible things. Years later, he’s in Formula 1—and you’re still in Melbourne. But when an unexpected message arrives, inviting you to Silverstone, you wonder if maybe, just maybe, he never really left.

part one

warning: slow burn, fluff, mutual pining, unresolved feelings, soft tension, oscar being very much in love but not saying it (yet).

═════════🏁═════════

The first thing you noticed was the air.

Silverstone air smelled different.

Not like Melbourne’s salt and sun and eucalyptus, but like engines warming, like rubber heating, like something electric was permanently pulsing under your feet. The sounds were sharper, too— buzzing golf carts, voices in accents from every corner of the world, the steady hum of energy that seemed to coil tighter with every passing minute.

You clutched your paddock pass, fingers unconsciously running over the embossed lettering.

Your name. His invitation.

Your heart hadn’t stopped fluttering since you boarded the plane. And now, standing just outside the McLaren hospitality suite, you wondered if this had all been a mistake. What if too much time had passed? What if he wasn’t the same boy who handed you orange ice pops and made impossible promises on sunburned afternoons?

But then you saw him.

Oscar.

He stood a few meters away, deep in conversation with one of the engineers, headset resting around his neck. His back was to you at first, but even then you recognized him instantly— the way his stance was slightly off-center, weight balanced on his left leg like always, his hair a little longer than you remembered, his posture now touched by the quiet confidence of someone who had learned to carry the weight of his own ambition.

And then he turned.

Your breath caught.

His eyes found yours in an instant— like he’d been scanning for you even before you arrived. For a second, everything around you dimmed: the paddock noise, the photographers, the crew rushing past. It was just you and him, suspended somewhere between who you were and who you had become.

A slow smile spread across his face— not the polished smile you’d seen in interviews, but the familiar one. The one that always reached his eyes. The one that made him look like your Oscar again.

“There you are,” he said, walking toward you, voice softer than the chaos around you.

And before you could fully process it, his arms were around you. Not the brief, careful hug you were expecting — but a real one. Warm. Familiar. Steady. His hand settled at the small of your back like muscle memory.

You hadn’t realized how much you missed him until this exact moment.

“You made it,” he murmured near your ear.

“You invited me.”

He pulled back slightly, enough to see your face, but not far enough to break the closeness. “Didn’t think you’d actually say yes.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you smiled. “You literally bribed me with an all-access pass.”

He chuckled, releasing you but letting his hand linger for just a second longer than necessary. “Well, I had to play my best card.”

For a few seconds, neither of you said anything. It was like standing on the edge of something neither of you were brave enough to name yet. The gap between childhood and now. Between friendship and whatever this was turning into.

“You look different,” you said finally, voice quiet.

“Yeah?” He tilted his head slightly. “Good different or bad different?”

You smiled. “Good different. You look like you belong here.”

His expression softened, but there was a flicker of something unspoken behind his eyes. “I’ve missed having you around.”

You wanted to say it back. You wanted to say so much more. But the words stuck in your throat.

Instead, you fell into the comfort of old patterns. Teasing. Deflecting.

“Careful, Piastri. That almost sounded emotional.”

He laughed, and it was the same laugh you remembered.

The one that always felt like home.

✧･ﾟ

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur.

Oscar gave you a personal tour of the paddock, introducing you to mechanics, engineers, even a few other drivers. The weight of his hand occasionally brushing your lower back as he guided you through tight spaces made your stomach flip every time.

People looked. Whispered. Wondered who you were.

But you barely noticed.

You were too busy stealing glances at him when he wasn’t looking— at the way his brow furrowed during briefings, at the way his fingers tapped his thigh when he was restless, at the way his smile lit up when someone congratulated him on his last race.

And sometimes, when you glanced over, you caught him watching you too— like he couldn’t quite believe you were actually standing there.

The distance between you hadn’t disappeared completely. Not yet. But for the first time in years, it felt like you were both reaching across it.

And that was something.

✧･ﾟ

Later that evening, you found yourself standing near the edge of the paddock as the sun dipped low, casting long, golden shadows across the tarmac. Oscar appeared beside you quietly, hands shoved into his jacket pockets.

“Walk with me?” he asked.

You nodded, and the two of you slipped away from the fading crowds, finding an empty stretch where the buzz of the paddock softened.

The silence between you was different now— heavier, but not uncomfortable.

“I was nervous, you know,” he said after a while.

You looked up at him, surprised. “Nervous? You?”

He smiled faintly. “Yeah. Asking you to come here. After all this time.”

Your chest tightened. “Why?”

He glanced sideways at you, voice lower now. “Because I wasn’t sure if you’d still want to be part of this world… part of my world.”

You stopped walking.

“Oscar.”

He stopped too, turning to face you fully.

“I never left your world,” you said softly. “You just… went ahead.”

He exhaled like he’d been holding that breath for a long time. His gaze dropped to your hand briefly before meeting your eyes again.

“Then maybe it’s time I finally catch you up.”

Your heart was hammering now, and you didn’t trust yourself to speak. So you just smiled, and nodded.

As the sun disappeared entirely, leaving only the glow of paddock lights behind you, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was where everything began to change.

Maybe it already had.

═════════🏎️═════════

✧ Author’s Note: Hey! This is my first time posting something like this on here, so please go easy on me. I’m still figuring things out, especially with this kind of story. Thank you so much for reading, I really appreciate you being here! Maybe more imagines to come— who knows? Possibly part three <3

[firelilyfox]

Flirty Soldier

Pairing: 40s!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Summary: You are a dancer at the Captain America Tour. Bucky admires you from afar until one night the finally invites you to a date.

Wordcount: idk but short :)

Warnings: heavy flirting. dancing with Bucky. kissing. touching. and physical violence (against a third person don’t worry)

Authors note: can we take a quick moment and look at that Bucky Gif?! It’s by far my favourite!Isn’t he just the cutest?! 🥹💙

———————————

Dancing on a stage in front of two hundred roaring men, felt not as fun as it sounds.

Dirty faces, distorted with arrogant smiles and filthy hands making disgusting gestures, were now part of your everyday life.

“Isn’t it glamorous to be one of Cap’s Girls?” a woman your age asked from the side. She wore the same uniform as you did: a short dress in the colours of the U.S flag and elegant dancing shoes with a heel.

You nod half-hearted. “Yeah. I never felt more glamorous in my entire life.”

Her big, naive smile made it clear that she didn’t understood your sarcasm. But you couldn’t judge her for that. This job was a good opportunity for young girls to see other places, earn some money and maybe find a husband.

You on the other hand were only here because you wanted to get away from your abusive home. From a father that hit you and a mother that loved a good whiskey more than her own daughter.

So maybe this was glamorous after all.

“Good evening, ma’am.” It was Steve Rogers alias Captain America who stepped in front of you and the naive girl with a playful salute.

“Oh hello Captain!” The girl did a salute back. “How may we help you?”

“I wanted to thank you personally for you performances this far. It is always a pleasure working with you. And I wanted to invite you two to a drink later.”

The sounded like he had studied this words, but you couldn’t focus on the US Golden Boy any longer because your attention was caught by another soldier standing beside him.

He was drop dead handsome. With his bright, blue eyes and dark, wild hair he looked like a prince people wrote books about. Suddenly your heart made funny things and when he crooked a shy smile, you couldn’t resist but return it.

“Is this like a double date?” The girl asked - you put asking for her name on your mental list.

“Indeed, ma’am. My friend James and I would like to invite you.” Cap pat the shoulder of the handsome soldier.

“James it is?” You reached out your hand and the soldier instantly took it in his, just to print a soft kiss on your knuckles.

“You can call me Bucky, doll.”

Your cheeks turned pink. “Looks like you already have a name for me.”

His eyes widened. “Oh my apologies, ma’am. I didn’t want to …”

“I like it.” You said and turned around to follow the other girl. “See you later, Bucky.”

~A few drinks later~

He was a shameless flirt. Bucky spend the whole evening looking for every opportunity to be close to you, never letting you out of sight. He even pressed a kiss on your cheek because he thought nobody was watching. And you enjoyed every minute of it. He was the perfect gentleman mixed with a mysterious grin.

“Would you like to dance with me, doll?” He reached out for your hand. His warm touch was electrifying.

“I thought you would never ask.”

A slow jazz song was playing and the dance floor filled with couples. You laid one hand on his shoulder, while Bucky pulled you closer with one hand on your back.

“So wich idea was it?” You asked with a lowered voice, so only Bucky would hear you.

His chin brushed over your cheek as he turned his head slightly. “What do you mean?”

You chuckled. “I mean, did Steve over there wanted to invite us or … was it your idea?”

Bucky leaned back without letting you go. His blue eyes reflected the sparkling light of the candles around you. A hint of mischief showed in them as he smiled down to you.

“You are a smart girl. What do you think?”

You squeak when he swirled you around. As a reaction you hold on tighter on his strong arms. “I think I never saw you in the crowd making these … rather offending comments about the girls. But I remember seeing you walk around backstage a lot. You seemed quiet but never creepy.”

Bucky huffed a smile. “I’m glad you think that I’m not creepy.”

“I think”, you continued. “I think it was your idea to invite us. But I would like to know, why?” You gave him a sweet and innocent smile.

Bucky bit down on his bottom lip, watching you teasing him with a heated look on his face. “Can’t you answer that question for yourself?”

“I would like to hear it from you.”

His grip around your waist just got a little tighter and as an answer to that your heart started to flutter.

“You were on my mind for quite a while now. Seeing you on stage, dancing like you don’t care about anyone else. And off stage, being such a beautiful but rarely seen face.” Bucky raised his hand to gently cup your cheek. “I wanted to talk to you for a while now but somehow you managed to disappear as soon as you leave the stage.”

“Lucky for you I don’t want to leave anytime soon tonight.” You mumbled. Your mouth went dry and your throat was all tighten up. It was impossible to play it cool, when Bucky looked at you the way he does now.

He looked like he wanted to kiss you. And your thoughts were just screaming for him to do it.

Then someone grabbed your arm painfully.

“My turn now, Barnes.” A dirty man made an effort to pull you away from Bucky. His smile was suggestive and his eyes were only focused on your breasts. You immediately felt dirty and uncomfortable.

“Back off, Jackson.” Bucky thundered with a warning tone in his voice. “Let the lady go. I won’t ask twice.” He stepped between you and the man to protect you from his greedy fingers. Bucky was tall and had a strong frame to hide away behind.

The man - Jackson, laughed loud. “A lady? Pah, this is not a lady. She is just dancing eye candy. A slut in a nice dress.”

A fist met the face of the man and Bucky grabbed the man by the throat to plant another punch.

“You better apologise to her for that or I will make sure that not even your mother can recognise your face, after I’m done with you.” Bucky was not joking. The low warning in his words traveled right into the man’s bones and made him shiver.

“I-I I want to formerly apologise, Madame. Please f-forgive me and my outrageous assumptions.”

Bucky looked over his shoulder, still holding the shivering man by his throat. He waited for your approval. You nodded once.

After the pig of a man trembled out of the bar, the music started playing again and the other guests minded their own business again.

“Are you alright, doll?” Bucky asked concerned and cupped your face to search for something alarming in your face. But instead of that you started to smile.

“You just defended my honor.”

Bucky crooked a smile. “You made it sound like I was a knight in shining armour and not just a man punching a guy in the face.”

“Just my kind of a knight.” You dig your fingers into his uniform, pulling him down to you.

“At your service, ma’am.”

Bucky kissed you and you melted into his arms. You felt him smile against your lips just before he picked you up and swirled you around again.

————————-

Thank you so much for reading! 💙 All interactions are highly appreciated!! (But please don’t copy my work)

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

[rafessecret]

──── ⋆.˚ ❛ how could I love you after that? but i did, i did. ❜

༉‧₊˚. BSF!RAFE . . . PRECIOUS!READER

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! ꣑୧ a rafe cameron au

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! she paints his knuckles with bandaids like it’s an art. gentle hands, soft frown, quiet “what happened this time, rafe?” he never answers. just watches her face, memorises the tilt of her head. she kisses the bruise on his cheek like it’s a normal thing to do between friends. and maybe it is, for them. he leans into her touch like it’s home. “you’re too good for me.” she shushes him, doesn’t meet his eyes. it’s the only lie she tells him.

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! they cuddle like it’s nothing. her legs over his, his hand in her hair, both pretending this isn’t everything. he plays with her fingers absently, tells her things no one else knows. about his mom, about the dark stuff. she listens like it matters—like he matters. and when she falls asleep like that, curled into his side, he stays awake just to look at her. eyes all glassy. chest aching. how the fuck did he ever live without her?

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! he calls when he’s too drunk to think. voice rough, almost childlike. “where are you, angel?” she never says no. gets out of bed, throws a hoodie on, drives through the dark like she’s running on instinct. when she finds him, he’s a mess. blood on his shirt, fists clenched, shaking. she cups his face and says, “let’s go home.” she never says my place. it’s just home. theirs. whatever the fuck that means.

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! everyone thinks they’ve hooked up. the way he always touches her, the way she melts around him. they haven’t. not really. but rafe knows the sound she makes when she cries. she knows he grinds his teeth when he’s trying not to cry. there’s something worse about loving each other like this. quiet, unsaid. she wears his hoodie, he kisses her wrist when he’s anxious. it’s more than friends. but they never talk about it. maybe because they’re scared it’d ruin everything.

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! rafe swears she’s not his. not like that. but then he sees her with someone else, some guy making her laugh, and his chest goes tight. he drinks too much, picks a fight he shouldn’t, disappears for hours. when she finds him, soaked and scraped, he’s leaning on her before she even says his name. “you’re mine, right?” voice small. she doesn’t answer, just holds him like she’s never letting go. that’s all he needs. she always says it without words.

[einawnimie]

𝗕𝗜𝗥𝗧𝗛𝗗𝗔𝗬 𝗗𝗘𝗝𝗔 𝗩𝗨 - caleb xia oneshot

summary — planning his birthday every year was always so hard, considering the people who’d be there to “celebrate” with you, and their beloved crush. But what if he told you this time he just wants you. No other guests?

pairings — childhoodfriend!caleb x fem!reader

content / tags — afab!reader, slight spoiler from his bday event, general idea was non story-based timeline but ofc it’s inevitable, reader is a people pleaser, and often used :/, mentioned nicknames: pipsqueak & angel, just my own idea of his bday card + more.

warnings — slightly suggestive but no actual smut scene, mdni.

words — 3.5k

———

Caleb has always been the good-looking, heartthrob senior in school—the kind who has hundreds of admirers trailing after him. And you, you noticed it from the sidelines.

Back in middle school, girls would constantly beg you to be the middleperson for their love confessions.

“Can you ask him to meet me at the school garden after the bell rings?” each one of them would say while linking their arms with you, even though you were sure they weren’t exactly close enough to be doing it.

Every time, it ended the same way. Caleb, casually braiding your hair in your room (he insisted), would sigh.

“Pips, what did I tell ya? I like courage. If they can’t confess themselves, they’re out immediately,” he’d flick your forehead. “Ignore them.”

It didn’t stop as you got older—if anything, it got worse in high school.

“Pretty please! I can’t just walk up to him—I’m too embarrassed!” your classmates would plead, and you’d sigh, rejecting their requests yet again.

“Caleb likes girls with courage, if—” You sighed. “Fine, I’ll ask him.”

At home, Caleb would just grin when you burst through the door, grumbling as you pinched his cheek. “Can you stop being so handsome and charming? It’s ruining my social life!”

And as for his friends? Do you think he’d let it slide if someone wanted to ask you out?

“Hmm, sorry man. She doesn’t like guys who play basketball,” he’d say casually, sinking another shot. His friend would gape—because Caleb was currently playing basketball. “I’m an exception,” he’d wink.

Even birthdays weren’t safe. Especially his.

Your classmates would beg, plead, and negotiate just to get invited to Caleb’s party. “Well—it’s not my party, I can’t just—” But they’d cut you off as you made your way to meet Caleb at the gate after school.

“Please! It must be boring if you’re the only girl there. We’ll be your companions! Caleb’s friends will be there too, right?”

This happened every year—starting from the last year of middle school all the way until Caleb’s final year of high school.

Even your birthday wasn’t safe. They’d offer to “help plan it” with Caleb—conveniently during times when he’d be around.

While he could manage the clingy attention, it was obvious: they weren’t there for you. They just wanted time with their beloved crush.

Caleb would make it up to you, spending time with you alone in your bedroom, with a small cake, a different one from the party. At exactly 11 PM, an hour before your birthday ends. A small after-party, just the two of you.

And you really thought.

You really thought it’d be over once you were in college.

The party’s in full swing.

Soft lighting glows amber across the apartment walls. The playlist is on shuffle—low, rhythmic, almost classy—and the room smells like a blend of cologne, spiced cocktails, and expensive desserts someone brought from off-campus. Caleb always attracts a crowd, even when he doesn’t try. Especially then.

You’re sitting on the armrest of the couch, watching from a distance as groups of people flutter around him. Someone hands him a drink. Someone else brushes their hand over his sleeve, laughing at something he probably didn’t even say. He doesn’t seem uncomfortable, but you notice he’s been scanning the room—more than once.

Looking for you.

You haven’t been drinking much. Just a few polite sips. You’re not in the mood to be pulled into conversations that go:

“You’re friends with Caleb, right?”

“Is he seeing anyone?”

“What’s he into?”

“You think I should shoot my shot?”

You’re used to being treated like the gate to him. A bridge. A pawn.

So you quietly excuse yourself to the balcony, where it’s quieter. The cool air stings a little—someone left the door open—but it’s a welcome contrast to the heat inside.

Not two minutes later, you hear footsteps behind you. “Figured I’d find you here,” Caleb says, voice low and even. You glance over your shoulder. He’s holding two cups—yours and his. He offers one without asking.

“Thanks.” You take it, fingers brushing his for a second too long. He leans beside you against the railing, eyes on the sky. “They’re loud tonight.”

You smirk. “It’s your fault.”

He hums. “Maybe, maybe not.”

A pause. The silence between you isn’t uncomfortable—it never is—but tonight it feels heavier. More fragile.

“They asked me again,” you say. He doesn’t ask who. He already knows.

“I told them I don’t know even though—” you add after sipping from the cup, but he cuts you off.

He finally turns toward you, watching with that unreadable calm in his eyes. “You don’t have to explain.”

“I know.” You glance at him, then look away. “But I always feel like I should.” Another beat of silence. Then, softly, like he’s letting you in on a private truth:

“I don’t like when they talk about you like that.”

You look up, startled—not by what he said, but that he said it.

“I know you can handle yourself,” he continues, gaze steady. “But that doesn’t mean I want them thinking they can just… treat you like some shortcut to me.”

Your heartbeat picks up, but your voice stays even. “So what am I then?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “You’re you. And I want to protect you, always.”

He shifts closer—not in a way that demands, but one that offers.

“And that means more than anything they think they’re chasing.” He sighed and continued. “No one matters to me if you’re not happy. You’re the only one I care about.” He rested his head on your shoulder.

You don’t say anything. You just stand there, beside him, as the night folds in around the two of you, the world beyond the balcony growing quieter, softer.

And maybe—for now—that’s enough.

———

As the years passed, neither of you ever brought up that night on the balcony. It wasn’t forgotten—just quietly left untouched. Now, as grown adults with college behind you and careers of your own, the memory lingers like something unfinished, carefully preserved in silence.

Next week is Caleb’s 25th birthday.

Even as busy as the both of you are, you always kept your promise to celebrate your birthdays together. That never changed since you were kids, so why bother changing it up now that you’ve grown?

“Pipsqueak, what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Caleb asked, setting your latte down with a quiet clink.

It was one of those rare days off you both managed to align—so naturally, you’d made plans to check out the new café that had just opened nearby. The air was warm with the scent of roasted beans and fresh pastries, sunlight pooling across the table as Caleb took the seat across from you, his eyes never quite leaving your face.

“Caleb, what do you want for your birthday?” you asked, straightforward.

He chuckled. “What happened to your surprises?” He took a sip of his americano.

“It’s just—I’ve spent almost my whole life planning your birthday, you could say I’m out of ideas.” You pout, propping your chin on your palm.

He softly laughed as he leaned back. “I guess even the Ever-So-Genius (Name) would run out of ideas, huh?”

You glared at him as you huffed. “So, would you be kind enough to drop some hints, please? And give me your guest list. I have to figure out portions and seats,” you grumbled, going through your notes on your phone.

“Sure, I’ll send them to you,” he said with a whistle.

Ah, so there are going to be guests again this year. How lively.

He sent you a file, seems like from his notes.

📎 Caleb’s 25th Birthday Guestlist.

With a soft sigh, you opened the file and tilted your head in confusion.

1. (Name)

2. Pipsqueak

3. (Full Name)

4. Caleb’s sweet girl, (Name)

5. Crybaby and pouty (Name)

You looked at him. “Is this unedited? Perhaps written while you were drunk?”

He laughed and shook his head. “Make sure everyone comes, what I want is to see all of em,” He smiled, taking another sip of his americano as he looked at you with his usual soft, alluring eyes.

———

The home that once felt minimalistic and quiet—clean lines, muted tones, everything in its place—was now barely recognizable. Bright streamers hung from the ceiling, a ridiculous number of apple-themed plushies lined the couch and windowsills, and helium balloons floated near the ceiling, bumping lazily into light fixtures.

A “Happy Birthday, Colonel” banner stretched awkwardly across the living room wall. Even the kitchen counter wasn’t spared—covered in apple-shaped cookies, sparkling cider bottles, and a cake topped with a tiny figure that looked suspiciously like Caleb in his old DAA uniform. A faint scent of cinnamon hung in the air. It was chaotic. Over-the-top. But you knew Caleb wouldn’t mind it. He’d love it, even.

You wore the dress you bought for this very special occasion. A very chic light blue dress with shimmers and detailed embroidery and sequin accents that resembled stars or cosmic patterns.

You also bought Caleb the same themed outfit—another gift you’d prepared for him. He just had to wear it when he finished his work and came home to the party with you.

You made sure to take pictures of the whole party setup before the celebration began, proud of the lively atmosphere you’d created.

You smiled to yourself, realizing this was probably the first time since elementary school that you celebrated his birthday alone, just the two of you. Not an after-party, an actual celebration. You couldn’t help but be excited.

Of course, you decided to wrap another thing for his birthday—the main gift. A brand-new watch you’d been eyeing, imagining how it would look on Caleb’s attractive wrist. You’d imagine how he’d look with it while he’s working, as a pen is fiddled by his long fingers…

You heard a knock on the front door making you step out of your trance, indicating the birthday boy was finally back from work and surely ready for the party. You quickly walked to the door, not forgetting to check yourself in the mirror, smoothing your hair before opening it.

“Welcome home!” You smiled.

You were greeted by a grinning Caleb, standing in the doorway wearing the outfit you bought for him. The sight took your breath away. The soft lighting caught the subtle shimmer of the fabric, accentuating the way it fit perfectly across his shoulders.

His sleeves were rolled just enough to reveal the bracelet you gifted him alongside the outfit, still snug around his wrist. He looked effortlessly handsome, confident—but the way his eyes softened when they met yours made your heart skip.

He gave a playful spin. “Well? Do I pass inspection?”

You tried to speak, but all that came out was a breathless laugh.

“Yeah, you look great.” You smiled, stepping aside to let him in.

Caleb chuckled softly as he walked past, only to pause and glance over his shoulder—his eyes scanning you from head to toe. That familiar, teasing glint sparked in his gaze.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Pips.”

He turned fully and wrapped his arms around your waist, drawing you in effortlessly. “Beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low but warm—like he meant it more than he’d ever admit out loud.

You felt your cheeks grow hotter as you cleared your throat to change the topic. “Well, let’s get the party started!” you announced, taking his hand in yours as you moved to the living room. You looked at his face to see his reaction to your decorations.

“Woah!” he said, amused. “You really outdid yourself again, (Name).”

“Really? I think I overdid it a little.” You sheepishly smiled.

“You did, but it’s never bad to overdo it sometimes! Besides, this just proves you love me just as much!”

You let out a mocking scoff, making a face. You sat beside him as you looked at the cake.

“And this? You made it yourself?” he asked as he nudged your elbow.

You laughed at that, shaking your head. “If I did it, it’d look bad. I ordered this one. I even asked them to make a fondant figure of you! Look!”

You pointed toward it, making him let out a laugh.

“60 points for accuracy, Pips. Though I can say I’m a little less chubbier than this figure.”

He softly pinched your cheek.

You both went on with singing his birthday song.

“Make a wish!”

He intertwined his hands, closing his eyes as he made his wish, then blew out the candles in one try. You clapped your hands.

“What’s your wish?” you asked, looking at him.

“Hey, then it wouldn’t come true, angel.” He smiled.

“Fine, I’ll let you be all secretive,” you dismissed as you cut the cake, handing him a slice.

“Oh, wait!” you said suddenly, springing to your feet.

Caleb raised an eyebrow as you disappeared into the kitchen. Moments later, you returned with a triumphant grin, holding a bottle of wine in one hand and two glasses in the other.

“Wouldn’t be a party without it!” you beamed, setting everything down on the coffee table.

Caleb’s eyes lit up with amusement. “Look at you, prepared and fiesty,” he teased, watching as you uncorked the bottle with surprising ease.

“You better appreciate this,” you said playfully, pouring the wine. “I passed by three aisles just to find this one.”

He took the glass from your hand, his fingers brushing yours just slightly. “Then I guess I owe you a toast.”

“To?” you asked, raising your glass.

He leaned in just a little, eyes locked on yours. “To birthdays, good wine… and the best girl in the room.”

Your heart skipped.

Clink.

You clinked glasses, the soft sound delicate against the hum of low music. After a sip of wine, Caleb leaned back, arm casually draped over the couch.

“So,” he said with a hint of amusement in his tone, “should I be worried about how many apple-themed things you managed to sneak in here?”

You smirked. “Statistically? Probably. But it’s your fault for having such a weirdly specific motif.”

He laughed, eyes crinkling. “Fair.”

A small silence settled in—the kind that felt full, not empty. You reached over to the coffee table and picked up a neatly wrapped box with a deep navy ribbon.

“Oh, right—here,” you said, offering it to him. “Your actual birthday gift.”

Caleb raised a brow. “More than snacks and apple plushies? I’m spoiled.”

“Just open it.”

He undid the ribbon and peeled back the wrapping with the kind of patience that only made you more anxious. When he finally lifted the lid, his expression shifted. His eyes lingered on the watch inside—sleek, matte black with a minimal face, trimmed in muted silver.

Classy. Understated. Timeless.

His thumb brushed over the dial as he picked it up, weighing it in his hand.

“This is…” he paused, then smiled, quieter this time. “Exactly my style.”

You shrugged, suddenly feeling a little shy. “I figured you needed something nice that wasn’t military-issued.”

Caleb looked at you then, really looked—the way he did when he was about to say something meaningful but didn’t want to risk making the air too heavy.

Instead, he slipped the watch onto his wrist and held it out to admire. “Looks good, doesn’t it?”

“It looks great,” you said softly, your smile lingering. Looked just like you imagined—maybe even better. “Happy birthday, Caleb.”

“Thank you, Angel” he replied without missing a beat.

You smiled as you stood up to check the music you prepared—just soft instrumentals.

Caleb turned his wrist slowly, admiring the watch you picked—dark, minimalist, elegant. But his focus wasn’t really on it.

“This,” he murmured, breaking the silence, “might be the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

You glanced at him over your wine glass, eyebrows raised. “Better than the ones with admirers and confetti?”

He chuckled, voice low and warm. “Way better. No crowd. No pressure. No people pretending they know me.”

He looked at you then—really looked—and his tone softened. “Just someone who actually does.”

The room went still. Your heartbeat caught up in your throat. The lights around the room glowed amber, flickering faintly against the quiet hum of music.

Caleb stood and set his glass down, walking toward you with that usual calm confidence—but there was something different in his eyes now. Like gravity. Like you were the only thing in the room pulling him in.

You watched him approach, your breath growing shallow without meaning to. When he stopped in front of you, his hands found your waist, drawing you to your feet with a quiet ease.

“I keep thinking,” he murmured, “about how long I’ve wanted a moment like this.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but his thumb brushed over your cheek and your words faltered.

“I never needed the spotlight,” he continued, gaze flicking from your eyes to your lips. “Just this. You. Like this.”

You barely had time to respond before he kissed you—slow at first, full of emotion, like he was memorizing it. His hands moved to your back, your waist, pulling you closer as his lips deepened the kiss, tasting of red wine and something undeniably him.

Your fingers curled into his shirt. You could feel his heartbeat pressed against yours—fast and steady, like yours.

“Is this okay?” he whispered against your lips.

You nodded, breathless. “Yes.”

Caleb pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours. His voice was lower now, rough around the edges. “I’ve never… not with anyone else.”

Your chest tightened, something tender blooming between the heat. “Me neither.”

He smiled—crooked, honest, vulnerable in a way that made your stomach flip.

“Guess we’ll figure it out together,” he said.

His hands slipped under the hem of your shirt, not rushing, just exploring with reverence. You kissed again, slower now, and the tension threaded itself around your limbs—unspoken permission, matched breath for breath. His lips ghosted down your jaw, to your collarbone, sending sparks that had you gripping his arm tighter.

“Stay with me,” he murmured.

“I already am,” you breathed.

As the lights dimmed around you, and the last sliver of the outside world faded into nothing as you both walked toward his bedroom, his lips still attached to your neck, Caleb held you like the moment would never come again. Not as a colonel. Not as a hunter. Just Caleb and you. And tonight, that was enough.

———

The morning sun crept in gently through the curtains, brushing everything in golden light—the living room still carrying traces of last night’s celebration. An empty wine glass on the floor. Apple-shaped confetti scattered under the coffee table. The faint scent of warm skin and candle wax lingering in the air.

In his bedroom, your clothes were on the floor, all over the room. His new watch was on the nightstand.

You shifted slightly beneath the blanket, Caleb’s arm still heavy around your waist. His chest rose and fell against your back, slow and steady. The moment you moved, he murmured sleepily.

“Mm… don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, turning just enough to see his face.

His eyes were barely open, but the way he looked at you felt grounding—like gravity itself chose you.

“Hi,” you said softly.

He smiled. “Hi.”

Silence fell for a moment. Not awkward—just comfortable. Full. His fingers gently traced lazy circles against your side, while yours absentmindedly played with the blanket’s frayed edge.

Last night felt like a dream. A slow unraveling of restraint. Nervous kisses that deepened into something weightless. Fingers fumbling at fabric. Breathless laughter in between unsure touches. And then stillness. Quiet. Close.

Now, in the morning glow, nothing felt rushed. No embarrassment. Just a different kind of closeness—like you’d crossed some invisible line that had always been waiting for you both.

“You’re warm,” Caleb murmured, voice still rough from sleep.

“You’re heavy,” you teased, shifting under his arm.

He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. “You didn’t mind last night.”

Your cheeks heated, and you swatted his arm lightly. “Caleb.”

He tilted his head to look at you better, one corner of his smile tugging up. “What? I’m just saying, for a first time… it didn’t feel awkward. Or scary. Just… right.”

You nodded, the tenderness in his voice making your heart ache in the best way.

“I’m glad it was you,” you whispered.

His gaze lingered on you, and then—very gently—he leaned in and kissed you again. Not rushed, not hungry like last night. Just soft, and slow, and sure. “Me too.”

His arms snaked around your waist, as he smirked, “I’m now 25 years and one day old. Need to celebrate that too.” He dropped you back into the mattress as you let out a yelp.

“What? Hey! I’m aching all over!” You laughed as he kissed the marks he left last night, a proof of his love for you. “One more round, and we’ll go for a breakfast date.” He gave a peck on your lips before he lined himself on your entrance again.

———

BONUS! High school—

“Caleb!”

He turned, stopping just outside the gym. A girl caught up, breath quick.

“I like you,” she said. “Would you go out with me?”

Caleb blinked, lips parting slightly. He looked… unsure. Not because he hadn’t heard that before—but because this time, the words felt heavier.

“I…” He hesitated. “I don’t think I can.”

She frowned. “Why not?”

His gaze shifted—past her, toward the gate where you stood waiting, headphones on, kicking at the pavement with the toe of your shoe.

A breath. Then, softly—but with weight:

“Because someone already has me.”

And without another word, he walked off—toward you.

fin.

𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

a/n: HAPPY CALEB DAYYY! almost gave up on his bday card LMFAO hope you guys like love one, and if you guys have any requests feel free to drop it in my asks!

pic creds: (@tiramisooooh) on X

[dollyswishingwell]

So I had a thought which is dangerous but I digress. What if MC has like too much rizz and this is pre-relationship with our obsessive lads boys. Like, the boys love her and she's oblivious to their feelings, and whilst that happens, she's literally always catching hearts left and right. Barista that works at Destiny Cafe? She gives MC free coffee all the time. A group of male insects walk by? They're all running into poles or trip over themselves. And she's loving all this attention while the boys are like "IM LITERALLY RIGHT HERE AND READY TO TAKE CARE OF YOU!!!!"

Like these ppl will not leave the gurl alone and the lads boys are this close 🤏 to committing so many crimes and getting sentenced to life in prison. That's all for my speech today 🙌

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ level 10 Rizz

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ fluff, crack, this is so funny to me :D

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ Your rizz is endless but so is your ignorance

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

– Rafayel is literally deranged over you. He watches from a distance as you effortlessly steal hearts without even meaning to. Hair toss? Cute laugh? Eye contact? He’s gripping the nearest surface.

– You think you’re just being friendly. You don’t notice the barista at Destiny Café slipping you an extra espresso shot and scribbling hearts on the cup. Raf sees it. Raf memorizes the name of the barista. Raf is not okay.

– You’re smiling at a random passing group of guys, and they all trip over their own feet like a scene from a rom-com. You giggle and wave. Rafayel is behind you, absolutely vibrating with rage-coded infatuation.

– “Don’t you get tired of entertaining losers?” he’ll mutter, trailing after you like a too-hot shadow.

“Aw, you jealous?”

Raf laughs hollowly “Don’t test me, pretty girl.”

– When you sweetly ask his opinion on what to wear for your “casual night out,” he stares at you like you just asked if you should walk into traffic.

“…No,” he says simply.

“Why not?”

“Because if you walk out in that, I’ll have to break at least three necks tonight, and I’m already tired.”

– He’s constantly softening his voice around you, acting all chill and teasing like, “Go ahead, keep collecting fans, pretty thing.” But inside he’s screaming. Like actually screaming.

– When you say things like “You’re such a good friend, Raffy!” he goes straight to the underworld to take out his frustration on a criminal syndicate.

“I’m not your friend,” he whispers to himself, with a shattered smile.

– But then, when you do give him even a little of that rizz? When you wink at him, or cup his cheek playfully? He glitches. He malfunctions. His brain just, stop.

– “You’re going to ruin me,” he finally says one day, voice low and close to your ear. “And I’m going to let you. But for god’s sake, stop smiling at everyone like that unless it’s going to be me.”

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

– Zayne has spent his whole life controlling his emotions. But you? You make control a myth.

– You walk into the hospital cafeteria, flash that pretty smile at the intern behind the register, and suddenly he’s giving you a “loyalty card” with 10 free meals already stamped.

Zayne sees. Zayne notes it. Zayne adjusts his cufflinks like he isn’t plotting to reassign that intern to the basement archives.

– You’re talking to a male nurse and laughing. The guy’s flirting, blushing, adjusting his scrubs.

“He’s sweet.”

Zayne, stone-faced: “He’s an idiot.”

“You think everyone’s an idiot.”

“No. Just the ones who think they have a chance.”

– He’s walking with you through the hospital lobby and some guy dares to wink at you. Zayne’s hand is suddenly at your lower back. Gentle, guiding, but possessive.

“Oh? Playing bodyguard?”

“Would you prefer they try again?”

– You think Zayne’s just your “grumpy doctor friend” who’s always sighing and adjusting your jacket or handing you water like he’s keeping you alive.

Zayne is, in fact, clinically obsessed with you. You are his favorite case study in restraint.

– “This guy at the gym asked for my number. Isn’t that cute?”

Zayne: blinks slowly

“…You’re not going back to that gym.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. And you’re getting a home gym. I’ll install it myself.”

– You’ll lean on his shoulder all sweet and unaware, going, “You’d tell me if someone liked me, right?”

And this man, this emotionally constipated man, will look at you like you just split open his ribcage.

“…No,” he says eventually.

“…Why not?”

“Because I’m not ready to see what happens if I do.”

– But every time you rizz him up without realizing, when you casually touch his wrist, or hum while standing too close, or look up at him with those eyes?

He has to take a measured breath. Like he’s about to go into surgery. Because he is fighting for his life.

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

– Xavier stands beside you like a statue of serenity. Meanwhile, his brain is short-circuiting every time you unintentionally destroy another person’s will to live with your beauty.

– You giggle, “That vendor gave me this necklace for free. Said it matched my eyes.”

Xavier turns away and mumbles to himself “I should have bought the entire booth.”

– You smile at some poor delivery guy who nearly drops a box of flowers at your feet.

“That was sweet, right?”

Xavier: “…He was sweating.”

“So?”

“I was two seconds from incinerating him.”

– You lean over his arm while scrolling through new outfits, asking, “Would this look good on me?” and he’s frozen in place like a system update failed.

“Yes.”

“You didn’t even look?”

“I’ve already memorized your measurements. It would look perfect.”

– “This guy at the café said I looked like a star.”

Xavier, smiling gently: “He’s not wrong.”

You: “You’re not mad?”

Xavier: smile widens just slightly “No. Stars burn out, after all.”

– People flirt with you constantly. Xavier is always there. Silently appearing at your side. Soft-spoken. Menacingly polite. He will stare someone into evaporating.

Barista: “Here’s your drink, angel~”

Xavier, behind you: “Thank you. I’ll make sure she doesn’t drink it.”

– When you’re sweet and lean into him like, “Xav, you’re the only one who doesn’t flirt with me!” he just stares.

“You think I’m not flirting?” he murmurs, voice low. “I’ve been in love with you for months.”

– And every time you call him “my favorite,” or playfully hold onto his sleeve, or rest your head on his chest?

He stands perfectly still, soaking it in like you’re light and he’s the void that wants to keep you forever.

– He goes home, lies on the couch face-down, and screams into the cushions. Then probably wakes up four hours later under the coffee table. Still in love. Still suffering.

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

– Sylus is the type to stand in the back of a gala, swirling his drink, eyes fixed on you while ten people try to flirt with him. He doesn’t even blink.

You’re across the room, smiling like sin, and he’s already rewriting his will to include your name on everything.

– You: “This guy at the salon offered me a discount today. Said it’s ‘criminal to charge someone so beautiful.’”

Sylus: doesn’t laugh. doesn’t smile.

Sylus: “What’s criminal is how many limbs I’m willing to break for that kind of nonsense.”

– Every time someone hits on you, Sylus isn’t jealous, he’s offended. Like, how dare they breathe your air as if it belongs to them?

– You wear something cute. He stares. You catch him. He smirks.

You: “Too much?”

Sylus: “No. Let them look.”

pause

Sylus, voice lower: “I’ll be the one undressing you, eventually.”

– He watches you lead men on accidentally, smiling, tilting your head, touching arms like you’re just being sweet, and he laughs under his breath.

“You really don’t know what you’re doing to me, do you?”

– You: “Why are you always around when I get hit on?”

Sylus: “Why are you always surprised when I am?”

You: “Coincidence?”

Sylus: “No. Surveillance.”

– He’s smug as hell when you cling to him in public. You wrap your arms around his, looking all pretty and unaware, and he melts internally.

“Careful, darling,” he murmurs, “You’ll make me think you’re mine already.”

– But the second you call him your “partner-in-crime” or “best friend”?

He’s shutting the world down for a moment. Recalculating.

“Friend,” he repeats, smiling like a shark. “That’s cute.”

– You blow him a kiss jokingly once and he genuinely stops mid-step.

“You’re dangerous,” he says softly, almost to himself. “But I want it. I want all of it.”

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

– Caleb does not understand how you do it. You’re out here causing collateral damage with one flirty laugh. One glance. One bat of your lashes. And he’s behind you like:

“Can you not charm the entire civilian population for five minutes?”

– You: “The Skyhaven shuttle pilot gave me a discount! Said I made his day.”

Caleb: already inputting the pilot’s name into a blacklisted personnel database

You: “You okay?”

Caleb: calm, composed “Yeah. Just thinking about airlock safety protocols.”

– You’re always unintentionally inviting chaos. Helping some random guy adjust his tie? Chatting up an ambassador who’s clearly swooning? Caleb is right there.

You: “Oh, I didn’t realize that was flirting…”

Caleb: “Of course you didn’t.”

You: “You sound mad.”

Caleb: “I’m fine. Just making a mental list of every man you’ve ever smiled at.”

– His arms are crossed, jaw tight, eyes tracking your every move like you’re a mission he hasn’t been cleared for yet.

He says nothing, but that death glare he sends across the room?

The man you were talking to suddenly remembers he has a meeting on Mars.

– You: “Caleb, you’re always staring at me.”

Caleb: “You’re always giving me a reason to.”

– He’s terrifying to everyone else, Fleet Colonel, absolute legend. But then you look at him and giggle and he goes completely soft.

You: “You’re blushing!”

Caleb: “I’m not.”

You: “You are!”

Caleb: quietly malfunctioning “…Don’t tease.”

– You’ll loop your arm through his like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He’ll keep walking like normal, but his ears are red and he’s processing that for the next three hours.

– And when you call him something innocent like “my favorite colonel” with a wink?

He just. Stops.

“You can’t say things like that,” he murmurs.

You: “Why not?”

Caleb: voice low, raw “Because I’ll think you mean it. And then I won’t be able to hold back anymore.”

[tobeafangirl]

all this time

Words: 2,115 Rating: P-13 (fluff, language) Type: Harry Styles x Reader A/N: My first request is done! I hope everyone enjoys, it's a cute one. ❀ Masterlist ❀ Requests ❀

It's hard to believe it's been fifteen years since the screaming crowds, since matching outfits and rehearsed dance moves. Fifteen years since she was the "sixth" member of One Direction, the one tucked a bit out of the spotlight but still part of the whirlwind. Her recent divorce was still making headlines, along with the unexpected critical acclaim for her debut solo album. It poured her heartbreak, resilience, and everything in between into song, the visuals made it quite clear too.

Of course, a lot of people asked her all of the time if she missed being in the band. If she missed those boys she used to call family and her answer was always simple, always true. Yes. However, Niall and her, well, they never really stopped. Public eye and all. 

Niall called her daily. He was her anchor through all the turbulence. They'd reminisce about tour bus pranks, late-night songwriting sessions, and the sheer madness of their shared history. He always knew how to make her laugh, even when she felt like crumbling. They even did a collaboration together and joked about how they have done that way too much in the past. She loves that guy, her rock. 

"Heard your album's topping the charts again," Niall said during one of their calls.He always wanted to talk about music. Nothing had changed there. From new guitars to new songs, Heartbreak Weather just had its fifth year anniversary and they had even gone out to celebrate.

"Thanks, Nialler," she replied, a small smile playing on her lips. One thing that is also true about Niall, he was a gossiper. "So, care to tell me who all those love songs are about?" he teased. It’s not that she didn’t want to tell him, because part of her hated hiding things from Niall. 

The truth is though, she had been hiding something from Niall, from the world for years. She laughed nervously, thinking of Harry. Yes, that Harry. 

For the past three years, away from the prying eyes of the world, Harry and her had been quietly, secretly seeing each other. Their connection was undeniable. They had navigated fame together, felt the weight of the world on their shoulders, and understood each other in a way no one else could.

Another thing? 

Rewind to 2015. The air crackled with a different kind of energy then. It was the era of Harry's longer, more bohemian hair, a style that seemed to mirror the free-spirited nature of the time. Amidst the whirlwind of tours, recordings, and public appearances, a private world existed between us. 

For nearly eight months, Harry and she shared something incredibly intimate and personal. It wasn't a casual fling; it was a connection that felt deep and significant. They navigated the complexities of their secret relationship carefully, knowing the scrutiny and speculation that could arise. The constant need for discretion, the stolen moments, the hushed conversations – it all became increasingly challenging. 

Keeping it under wraps from the rest of the band, who were not just colleagues but close friends, began to feel like an immense burden. The weight of the secret, the careful choreography of our interactions, started to take its toll. When they eventually reached the decision to part ways, it wasn't fueled by anger or resentment. It was a mutual understanding, a shared acknowledgment that the situation had become unsustainable. 

It was a bittersweet moment, but there were no hard feelings, no dramatic fallout. The bond they had formed, though now taking a different shape, remained intact. They both respected each other enough to keep the details of their relationship private, a shared secret they carried forward.

So, that was it. No one knew. No one but them. It was hard, not even telling Niall, but Niall sometimes would give her knowing eyes and she had always wondered but never had it in her to ask. 

But now, years have passed. Harry has had failed relationships and she had her failed marriage. When they saw each other again, they never thought it would lead to this. She couldn’t even remember who reached out first. Maybe it was Harry, he had found out about the divorce and texted her to let her know he was there for her.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that Harry was the guy she spoke with the most when she needed someone to talk to while they were on tour. Yes, Niall was her best friend and she talked with him too but Harry got her on a level that was just different. More intimate, maybe. 

So, they agreed to meet for coffee. Harry had just finished his tour, something she was so proud of him for. And her new album was she had been planning was about to take a turn for the better. They laughed, they talked, they kissed. The day just stretched. It turned to night, which turned to her back at his house and old flames rekindled. 

It was so much different this time, so much greater. They had grown, become more mature, it had been seven years since they had been that close and from that moment forward, it never really stopped. She had said she wanted to keep this casual, especially right after the divorce, but within eight months she found herself at his house for weeks at a time, spending months in Italy. She even recorded half her album in Berlin just to be closer to Harry.

Next thing she knew they were drinking wine while cuddling on the couch, discussing their plans of living together, her album had come out and it was doing wonders and Harry was starting to support a mustache that she nearly begged him to grow. Harry argued at first and said the fans wouldn’t like it. She argued back and stated she would like it. That got her a smile and now here he was, letting it grow to its full potential, just for her.

“I don’t see how it doesn’t poke you.” Harry had said as it was growing out. “It does.” She cooed. “I like it.” She had said with a giggle, that always seemed to be a good enough answer for Harry. Always. If she liked it, she got it. He spoiled her. If she asked, he just said it was to  make up for lost years. 

They had talked about that too. Both agreed it was better this way. Soon, they would be coming up on three solid years together. They would’ve never been able to say that ten years ago. They both had a lot of maturing to do back then and they agreed that if they would have tried to make things work then it would’ve ruined them in the end. 

No, it was better this way. So much better. 

They finally told their families and friends around the two year mark. Anne and Gem were first. They were both excited, Anne said she always felt a connection between them and had secretly hoped they’d end up together. Gemma just gave Harry a knowing smile and Harry blushed. It made her wonder if she already knew something. 

Then, it was her family as to which they had the same reaction. It seemed everyone had always wanted this or at least thought about it. It made it feel more genuine. They didn’t just feel it. Other people saw it too. 

Niall was absolutely flabbergasted and he nearly passed out at the news. “What do you bloody fucking mean together?! Years?! The two of ya?! What the fuck?!” And a whole lot of other Irish friendlies were thrown at them, but he was happy for them. He made sure to say it a lot there at the end of the call.

That’s it. That’s all that knew. Close friends and family. The rest of the world believed that Harry stayed tucked away in Italy and Y/N always tried to make an appearance somewhere once a month so that no one could put everything together. 

It also helped that Harry became a recluse as soon as his tour was over. He deserved it. That man put on a show like no other, she was happy to see him put himself first the past few years. He was the happiest she’s ever seen. She just hoped she was a part of the reason. 

They actually had been apart for the past month. Harry was doing some hint dropping PR in Italy while she was doing her own in LA. They both were about to release albums. Both hinting heavily at their relationship all in plans of announcing their relationship a month after releasing. It was something they thought about for a while. But they both agreed that they didn’t want to hide anymore. 

Their lives burned too bright and held too much for it not to be shared. 

So, for their three year anniversary they decided to meet at a quiet, secluded beach house on the coast of Ireland. Just them, miles away from the noise and the cameras. Y/N loved when they did this. Escaped to somewhere a bit out of their normal, it somehow tended to rekindle a fire that never really burned out. 

She arrived, the salty air filling her lungs, and found Harry waiting for her on the porch. He looked at her, that familiar warmth in his eyes, and she felt her heart flutter. It didn’t matter how many times she did it. Every time those eyes met hers, they gave her butterflies. 

"It's good to see you," he said, pulling her into a hug. It was a warm and tight embrace, Harry nearly squeezing the life out of her. She chuckled as they pulled away but was quickly silenced by lips, strong hands cupping her face now. 

Harry started to pull her inside, leaving her bag out on the porch, Y/N giggled as he lifted her slightly off the ground and continued to hold her close. This was also one of her favorite parts after being away from each other for a little while. The way Harry devoured her like a starved man. 

Her bag was left outside until the next morning. 

They spent days walking along the cliffs, talking for hours, and simply enjoying each other's company. It was the things they would do at home but with added scenery. They watched the sunset paint the sky in vibrant hues, and she felt a sense of peace she hadn't felt in a long time.

One evening, as they sat by a bonfire, Harry took her hands. The sky was that pretty purple color that looked like pink had just softly kissed it in a few places. It was truly beautiful, this was definitely one of those picture perfect moments. 

"Remember when we first met?" he asked, his voice soft. "We were just kids, thrown into this extraordinary world. And you," he continued, his eyes sparkling, "you made it bearable. You made it fun. You've always been my safe place."

Harry had made sure to always let her know how important she was to him. That no matter what he had always felt he was able to come talk to her about anything. She cherished that. Cherished the trust he had in her. He truly was the sweetest. She opened her mouth to telling him just how much he meant to her but he had other plans. 

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box. Her breath hitched in her throat. Her eyes darting from the box to him, she knew what it was but it wasn’t connecting, it wasn't clicking in her head. Her mind filled with so many thoughts. 

"These past three years with you have been… everything. You've seen me at my best and my worst, and you've always accepted me for who I am. I love you more than words can say," Harry paused, his eyes meeting hers, "Will you marry me?"

Words were lost on her as she stared down at the most beautiful ring she had ever seen. Her heart was pounding out of her chest but there was only one answer in her mind. “Yes!” She exclaimed, a bit breathless. 

Tears started to stream down her face as she nodded, laughing softly at how she was reacting. He slipped the ring onto her finger, a simple and delicate and so Y/N. 

As the waves crashed against the shore, and the fire crackled softly beside them, she knew she was exactly where she was supposed to be. With her best friend, and the man she loved, under the vast, starlit Irish sky.

[rina-sakai]

INCEPTIO ఌ︎. 𝗶'𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲

❪ 你是我此生唯一所愿 ❫ inceptio. latin. meaning - beginning or start ✉︎ 박성훈 ⌯⌲ 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

⚬ 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 ⨾ for a better read, i recommend listening to the hidden love soundtrack

⚬ 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦 ⨾ finally finished! 🥲 i hope the ending isn't too abrupt but it was getting quite long, so i had to cut it off on a cliffhanger.

⸝⸝ you hadn't meant to fall in love with park sunghoon, your older brother's best friend. but somewhere along the lines of his sweet personality and devastating smile, you did.. and you fell hard.

❝ fluff , angst , skinship ❞ ⨾ my catalogue

that incident was the last time you saw sunghoon.

he tried reaching out to you to explain himself on what happened, but you never returned his calls or messages. eventually, after a week, he had given up, sending you one final message:

"call me when you're ready to talk."

it went unanswered for a year.

he still mailed gifts and notecards attached to them. but they were all unopened, sitting in a box inside your closet.

and now, you stood in front of your mirror in your bedroom. your eyes wandering all over your frame.

it was your graduation day. you were finally done with high-school.

your eye caught something in the corner of the room. a penguin plushie, still in it's clear package and wrapped with that icy blue bow.

sunghoon's graduation gift.

"you remind me of a penguin." you told sunghoon. it was one of the nights last year during the holiday. sunghoon thought it would be a good idea to teach you and jaemin how to figure skate.

you were clumsy, of course. tripping and falling over your feet one too many times to count. but you watched in admiration as sunghoon effortlessly glided across the floor. his movements were sharp, precise, elegant.

it had fascinated you to no end of how he could be so talented at something as hard as figure skating.

he insisted on helping you, leaving jaemin to fend for himself. and every time you fell, sunghoon helped you back up, brushed you off, and made you try again.

your heart ached at the memory. you ran your fingers over your white dress, trying to get rid of it.

a small knock came to the door, then your mom opened it. your eyes locked on hers through the mirror.

she stepped into the room and walked up behind you, you turned to face her, both standing in silence.

you watched her gaze, holding your breath as she looked over you.

you had always craved validation from your parents. you wanted their approval so badly. you wanted them to look at you with the same pride and admiration that they looked at jaemin with.

you had never been a star student, failing a few tests, being late some days, not too athletic. and it felt like a needle in your chest every time your parents looked at you with disappointment.

jaemin, on the other hand, had always excelled in school subjects. he was valedictorian, he played sports, and he could pass an algebra test in his sleep.

her gaze cracked, her mouth tilting up into a smile. "you look so beautiful yn." she said, and then you let out a sigh. this was the first time in years that your parents had praised you.

she adjusted one of the curls in your hair, fixed your necklace, and stepped back. her gaze full of love and joy. "i'm so proud of you."

you bit your lip to stop yourself from crying, already feeling the tears ready to drop. but you had to hold it together, you just did your makeup and you didn't want to ruin it.

she handed you the gown and watched you put it on. you were no longer her little toddler that would paint on the walls, or her rebellious fourteen year old that would blame jaemin for things she did.

you were yn. her beautiful eighteen year old that was graduating, and well on the way to becoming a well-rounded woman.

"should we go now?" you held out your hand to her. she nodded and took your hand, leading both of you out of the bedroom.

jaemin and your father turned their gaze to the stairs as you walked down. their conversation dying. you stepped onto the hard tile and looked at them.

your dad was the first to say something, "you look so beautiful, my love." he took in your appearance, tears welling in his eyes. his baby was all grown up before him.

jaemin, who had been staring the whole time, had finally caught his words. "is that really you little demon?"

you twirled around, "how do i look?"

you waited for him to answer, your eyebrow raising. "i said—" you paused, your eyes widening. "are you crying?"

jaemin shook his head, "no.. no. absolutely not. just got a little something in my eye."

you let out a laugh, "oh my god jae, you are crying."

he rolled his eyes, "so what? yesterday you were just a baby and today you're practically a woman."

your eyes softened, you approached your older brother, wrapping your arms around him.

he hugged you back. "i'm so proud of you, do you know that?"

you nodded, "yeah, i know."

you weren't going to invite sunghoon to your graduation. you knew that from the moment you finished your credits.

but when jaemin questioned why sunghoon didn't get an invite. you lied and told him that it must've gotten lost in the mail.

you didn't have a choice but to invite him now. you were too coward to face sunghoon yourself, so you told jaemin to make sure he comes. leaving it at that.

the car pulled up to the front of the auditorium. you stepped out. the pavement was filled with students, all walking in.

you caught up with your friends, "we finally did it!" you beamed, looping your arm through theirs.

seohyun and eunha had been there for you since the beginning of senior year. they were the first people you met after making a promise to yourself that you would be more social.

you met in a culinary class. seohyun was clumsy and eclectic while eunha was reserved and organized. you fell somewhere right in between their personalities.

the three of you became inseparable quickly. all applying to incheon university and successfully getting in.

eunha turned to look at you, her voice tentative, "did you invite..?" her voice trailed off.

they found out about your crush on sunghoon after another gift he got you was dropped off at your doorstep.

at first, they assumed he was your boyfriend. until one night you confessed everything that happened.

you nodded, "jaemin questioned me about his invite. i lied and said it got lost in the mail." eunha let out a chuckle, that was definitely a you thing.

you panicked under too much pressure.

the three of you parted ways as you entered the auditorium, going to your respective seats in far parts of the room.

the room filled up with people of all ages, you scanned the area, trying to find your family.

your eyes landed on them, and you felt your nerves spike.

sitting next to jaemin, was sunghoon. a sense of déjà vu washed over you. like you were seeing him for the first time again.

he looked more mature than the last time you saw him. his hair was a bit longer, but still styled in a middle part with a few wisps of hair hanging over his forehead like bangs.

his features were sharper, more defined.

and next to him: mae harin.

she sat beside him, her face glowing and pretty. prettier than the last time you saw her. sunghoon smiled at her, reaching his hand out toward—

you turned your gaze quickly, your chest tightening.

the last memory of sunghoon played through your mind.

you clenched the fabric of your gown and forced yourself to breathe. desperate to push the memory back down.

the dean began his speech, but his voice was muffled. distant. your brain had completely tuned it out.

how were you supposed to face sunghoon after completely stonewalling him for a year?

your name was called, snapping you out of a daze. you stood up, breathing in deeply.

you plastered on your best smile and hoped it didn't look like you were about to break down crying at any moment.

you waved at your friends, at your family, and at everyone else who had no idea of the inner turmoil you were facing.

as you stepped off the stage, it finally hit you. you did it, you actually graduated from high school, and with decent enough grades to get into your dream school.

you exited the building, eyes scanning the crowd for your family.

a tap came on your shoulder, you turned just in time to be engulfed into a hug.

"you did it yn. you actually did it." jaemin whispered, his voice muffled into your gown.

you wrapped your arms around him. from over his shoulder you could see your parents approaching.

your shoulders let go of tension when you realized sunghoon and harin weren't with them.

jaemin stepped back and your parents were quick to embrace you next. their words coming out in soft, sweet praises for you, overflowing with pride.

they both let go, looking at you as if you were the center of the world.

and right now? you definitely felt like it.

your mother handed you a bouquet of flowers and a card, it seemed like a tradition she did for every milestone.

your family immediately insisted on taking a bunch of photos and videos of you, because quote, "you only graduate highschool once yn."

caught up in the whirlwind that was your parents and brother making you pose in different poses, you failed to notice the two figures approaching.

"congratulations," a sweet voice chimed behind you.

you turned around, mentally sighing when you realized it was the two people you were dreading.

they looked so in love that it made your stomach twist.

"thank you," you managed, offering both of them a polite smile.

you half expected sunghoon to say something, but he didn't. he only stared at you. quiet, intense, analyzing. just like the first time you met him.

before anything else could be said, a blur of motion launched into you.

"we did it yn! oh my god we graduated!" seohyun squealed, her steps bouncy.

you nearly lost your balance, having to grab into her for support.

you laughed, wrapping your arms around her. "we did! we're graduates!"

seohyun grabbed your hand and turned to your parents. "hello mr. and mrs. lee, i would like to take yn for a moment." she said kindly, giving them a respectful bow.

your parents smiled at her fondly. "go have fun, yn." your father said, waving you both off.

seohyun didn't need to be told twice. she pulled you away, dragging you to a group of celebrating graduates.

sunghoon's gaze never left you.

you looked more grown up than he remembered. your smile was radiant, carefree, less burdened. so different than the yn he used to know.

and for some reason, this hurt him on a deeper level than he cared to admit.

he hadn't even know of your graduation before jaemin had brought it up. sunghoon wasn't going to ask for an invite, he knew you didn't want him there for a reason, whatever it was.

but when jaemin got back to him that his letter was "lost in the mail", he nearly scoffed in your brothers face. you hadn't even bothered to come up with a believable lie.

he had a suspicion that the reason he didn't get an invite had something to do with the last time you saw each other.

he knew it would be tense to bring harin after what transpired, so his original plan was to attend alone.

harin had insisted though, saying that it would be good for all 3 of you to talk it out.

that was a bad idea, sunghoon knew that a conversation would never happen if harin attended. so he kept his stance.

... at first.

but harin continued to insist and it was wearying him down, eventually, he caved.

you laughed and posed with your friends, snapping more photos to fill your camera roll, exchanging promises, and goodbyes.

finally, you waved everyone off, wishing them well on their future endeavors.

your family was waiting for you near the parking lot. you had a dinner reservation—curtesy of your father— that you couldn't be late for.

as always, your footsteps seemed to be slower than everyone else's. a habit you never seemed to break despite growing older.

a familiar presence fell into step next to you. your heart recognizing who it was before your brain could.

sunghoon.

he didn't speak, but your brain was already preparing you for the worst.

he's definitely mad at you. you were stupid to ignore him because of your own foolish crush.

but the scolding never came.

instead, he silently reached into his pocket and held out a small box for you to take.

you looked over at him, expecting an explanation, but his gaze never met yours.

you took the box gently from his hand. "thank you," you said softly, tucking it into the pocket of your gown.

the silence between the two of you lingered for a bit longer. it was uncomfortable, tense, and unfinished. as if the two of you had so much to say, but it never came.

harin caught up to both of you, sliding her hand into sunghoon's with ease.

you took that as your cue to leave. bowing your head, you thanked them for showing up, then excused yourself to catch up with your parents.

your room was a mess.

makeup was scattered across your vanity, clothes laid in piles on the floor, and your closet doors were flung open, revealing the chaos of preparing to move.

this is what getting ready with eunha and seohyun usually looked like.

"which dress should i wear?" you asked, holding up the hangers to the phone.

"the one on the left." "the right one." both of their voices said at the same time.

you let out a sigh.

this is what it felt like to have two best friends who were complete opposites of each other.

eunha and seohyun began bickering with each other about which dress would look better.

you turned to your closet, tuning them out as you looked to find yet another dress.

for the fifth time.

time was running out and you weren't even half way ready.

you grabbed the last dress you owned in your wardrobe. it was still in the packaging, pristine, new.

you don't remember when you got this dress.

if they don't like this, slacks it is.

you slipped on the dress. it was beautiful. white with off the shoulder sleeves and corseted at the waist. it flowed gently over your hips, stopping just at your mid thigh.

you stepped into the camera, and their bickering stopped immediately.

"what about this one?" you asked, giving them a quick spin.

"oh my god, yn." seohyun said, her eyes wide.

"you look so pretty!" eunha beamed, snapping photos of you over the video call.

seohyun smiled, "if sunghoon doesn't want you, i'll date you for sure."

you gave her a look, smoothing the dress down. "is this a yes?"

they both agreed in sync.

you sat down at your vanity, finishing up the final touches on your hair and makeup.

by the time you finished, your parents had already messaged you twice about hurrying up.

you eventually stepped into the living room, your family's eyes drawing towards you.

"go change." jaemin said, waving you back towards the stairs.

your mom hit his shoulder, "you look gorgeous yn."

"her dress is too revealing." jaemin complained.

"she looks fine jaemin, stop complaining and come on." your father said, rolling his eyes.

the car stopped at the valet, and you and your family stepped out.

you were nervous.

sunghoon and harin were going to be in attendance. curtesy of your parents who had personally invited them during the ceremony earlier.

when the two finally arrived, they approached the group.

the tension between them was palpable, something must've transpired before they came.

sunghoon's jaw clenched, and harin looked upset about something.

none of you commented on it as you went inside the restaurant.

sunghoon, as always, lingered near you. harin had already stepped ahead and was talking to your parents.

he held out a bouquet of flowers to you, pink and white lilies, the ones you always had sitting in your bedroom window sill.

you felt the familiar flutter in your stomach when you realized that he had remembered they were you favorite flower.

you only told him this once, in passing, when you were sixteen years old.

you turned to thank him, and for a moment, his eyes lingering on your neck.

something passing through his expression.

your parents had apparently invited their entire social group.

the table was full of business elites. some known to you, some strangers, some they considered their closest friends.

it was a lot.

you never liked big crowds, and this felt more like your parents bragging about your achievement than a family dinner.

but you didn't mind. seeing your parents happy also made you happy.

plus, they all brought you nice gifts.

you slid into your seat, like second nature, sandwiched between jaemin and sunghoon.

sunghoon still hadn't said a word to you, and you were getting anxious due to the silence.

you sat the flowers down behind you, unaware of harin's lingering gaze.

"you already got her an expensive gift! do you really need to buy her flowers too?" harin scoffed at sunghoon.

he ran his fingers through his hair, irritation coursing through his veins.

"i already told you if you didn't like it then you don't have to come." sunghoon replied back, his voice shaky as if he was trying to avoid yelling at her.

harin rolled her eyes, "she clearly has a childish crush on you. how can you not see it."

sunghoon's eyes snapped over to her. "don't talk about her."

he fixed the buttons on his white top harshly. "i'm buying them. end of discussion."

harin sighed frustrated.

they hadn't spoken since that argument. harin silently got ready. sunghoon had left the room completely to catch a break.

from the first time she met you, she could tell from the way you looked at him, that there were some feelings there. you ghosting sunghoon after you caught them kissing solidified it in her mind.

after all, harin had been a teenage girl before. she could easily read your feelings like an open book.

at first, she didn't mind that he would message you to check up on you, or even send you small gifts.

but as they approached their one year anniversary, it started to bother her.

you weren't his little sister, so why did he act like were?

when you first ghosted sunghoon, he had been genuinely worried that something had happened to you.

but after talking to jaemin, and hearing that you were perfectly fine, he knew that you were ignoring him on purpose.

so he let go.

still, harin could tell it affected him, even if he didn't say it out loud.

but you were an adult now, he should've stopped trying so hard.

the older girl never voiced these thoughts to sunghoon, she knew better than that.

last time she brought up your name, sunghoon nearly broke up with her.

dinner continued, but you couldn't shake the feeling of sunghoon's tense presence next to you.

you'd imagined what your first words to sunghoon would be like. how you'd explain yourself, how you'd act. but now that he was actually here, you couldn't come up with anything.

you finally spoke to him, "are you okay?" after one year of completely ghosting him, that's what you ask?

his gaze snapped over to you, it was clear he hadn't expected you to say something.

you were already looking at him, he could tell you were nervous from the way you couldn't make eye contact.

he scoffed, "so now you want to talk?"

you bit your bottom lip, thinking of something to say. probably another excuse, sunghoon knew you too well.

"don't say anything if it's going to be another excuse on why you couldn't return my calls, yn."

he didn't speak to you in that same slightly teasing tone he usually did.

he spoke to you seriously. this was the first time he'd ever been so serious with you.

you looked away, "i was caught off guard."

"so that means ghost me?" he shot back.

your tone stayed low, careful to not make a scene.

"can you blame me? you kept a major part of your life from me." you replied, your brows furrowing.

"you ghosted me yn. i think i can." he responded, his voice slightly raised, causing people to look at you.

your tongue poked the inside of your cheek, "do you really want to argue right now sunghoon?"

that got him quiet.

you both sat in silence for a while before you excused yourself to the bathroom.

sunghoon unclenched his fists and let out a breath.

he didn't want to argue with you. that's not why he came.

he wanted to explain everything to you, but now he was afraid that he fucked it all up.

harin entered the bathroom just as you stepped out. neither of you exchanged words or even a glance at each other.

not that you expected anything from her anyways, she was just sunghoon's girlfriend.

nothing more.

"oh look, there you are!" your mother beamed, waving you over. she was surrounded by all her business friends.

sunghoon watched from a distance as you unwrapped their gifts for you, smiling politely and thanking them.

it stung, knowing you opened everyone else's gift for you except his.

he thought about harin's words.

even though he hated when she spoke about you as if she knew you, to some extent, she was right.

you had been ignoring him for a whole year and he yet, he still didn't stop trying.

but deep down sunghoon knew that he wouldn't stop being there for you, even if you didn't want him to be.

even if it took you fifty years to speak to him again.

you reminded him a lot of yoona in some ways, especially when you were younger.

maybe that's why he held on so tightly.

"come on sunghoon, get in the picture." your dad called, looking at him expectantly.

sunghoon opened his mouth to politely decline, but your father narrowed his eyes.

he had known your family since he was 8, when his parents first moved to seoul. in a way, your family was like his second family.

so he stepped into frame, next to jaemin, with you in the front.

the camera went off a few times, some with your whole family, and some with only jaemin.

your mom scrolled through the pictures on her phone, "how about sunghoon and yn next? they haven't taken a photo together in years."

jaemin agreed, stepped out of the camera, and pulling out his phone to take a picture too.

you mentally cursed jaemin, all the times he complained about you stealing his friend and this one time he agrees?

you shook your head, "i'm not sure—" your voice cut off when your eyes caught your moms icy glare.

her eyebrow arched, as if she was daring you to disobey her in front of her colleagues.

you closed your mouth quickly, stepping back next to sunghoon.

standing next to him was like opening up memories that you wanted to keep in the farthest corner of your mind, untouched.

it reminded you of a simpler time, when you were just a fourteen year old girl with a silly crush.

you're older now yn, let go of your childish fantasies.

an older lady —a businesswoman your mom forced you to meet earlier— stepped towards you, handing you the flower she saw you set down.

you smiled at her, tense but still kind. "thank you."

she stepped back, her lips pulled into a grin, a knowing look passed through her eyes as she looked at the two of you.

you took a few photos, trying to make them look as natural as possible.

your mother hummed satisfied and put her phone down, "you can go now."

you let out a sigh, running your fingers through your curls.

"congratulations on your graduation," someone said on your left.

you turned, smiling politely at the lady, letting out a small thank you for what seemed like the thousandth time today.

god, you really wanted to go home.

"are you two dating?" she asked, looking between you and sunghoon.

harin stepped out of the bathroom, just in time to catch the end of the lady's words.

furrowing her eyebrows, she stepped around the corner to see the woman speaking to you and sunghoon.

your heartbeat sped up, a blush rising to your cheeks. you quickly shook your head, "he has a girlfriend."

harin stepped next to sunghoon, interlacing her hands with his. as if she was trying to mark a claim on him.

the older woman eyed their hands, "shame," she muttered. she gave you small smile and then turned around to speak to someone else.

well, this is awkward.

you excuses yourself from the two, going back to your seat.

harin's gaze flickered to you, and then to sunghoon. his eyes were already on your retreating figure, something unreadable in them.

the dinner wrapped up pretty quickly after that.

you had a very long few weeks ahead of you and all you wanted now was to forget the way his hand looked in hers.

why didn't anyone tell you that moving to a different city was this hard?

you huffed, kicking another box out of the way.

you thought this would have been easier considering the essentials list that you made.

but as you threw more and more things into boxes, you were regretting just how much useless things you wrote down.

you looked around the room, sweat clinging to your forehead. moving 13 boxes was going to be impractical to do by yourself

you were never athletic.. or good at anything to do with being active at all.

jaemin couldn't help due to his conflicting work schedules, and your two best friends were vacationing.

i wish i was on a vacation right now.

the three of you agreed that it would be easier and more convenient if you lived in an off-campus house.

you'd all get your own space, and you wouldn't have to worry about all the regulations that came with living in dorms.

the plan was for all three of you to drive there together. but as fate would have it, both of their families decided to take a last minute vacation before the move.

how convenient.

your father leaned against the door, watching you pack up, a bittersweet feeling washing over him.

your parents were worried about you moving away from them. but knowing that seohyun and eunha were going to be there by your side, easier their hearts a bit.

plus, sunghoon would be there, and that gave them even more peace.

your parents trusted sunghoon with you, maybe even more than jaemin.

your father watched you struggle to pick up a box, letting out a small chuckle.

you turned to him, "this is funny?" you looked at him exasperated.

"watching your poor, helpess, unathletic daughter struggle to pick up a box is funny to you?"

he pushed off the doorframe, approaching you. "you weren't always this bad at heavy lifting."

he picked up the box easily. "i think you could lift more back then."

you rolled your eyes, "thanks for the confidence booster, dad."

your dad reminded you a lot of jaemin. the way they both teased you annoyed you to no end.

but you wouldn't have it any other way.

your heart ached when you realized you wouldn't see them as often.

is this how jaemin felt when he went to university?

your father carried all the boxes to the car for you. a white lexus is350, your eighteenth birthday gift.

"no yn, i told you the turn signals are on the left." your father said.

you huffed, "i told you i got it."

your father had been teaching you how to drive for a while now.

you begged him to teach you, even going as far as to make a powerpoint on why it would be useful.

you flicked on the turn signal, everything was going smoothly. then, you abruptly hit the breaks, causing your dad to nearly fly out of his seat.

"shit yn—"

"sorry, sorry, i didn't mean to do that." you rushed out, your eyes widening.

you pointed to the furry animal sitting in the road, a few feet away, "there's a squirrel."

the car was silent for a moment, your father breathing in a few times.

you silently unbuckled your seatbelt. "same time tomorrow?" you looked at him, biting your lip to stop from laughing.

"you're going to kill me." he muttered.

you smiled at the memory. you eventually did get the hang of it. and as a late birthday gift, your parents got you a car.

you looked around your bedroom as if to say one last goodbye.

you bit your lip to stop yourself from crying.

this is real, i'm really leaving.

you stepped out the room, closing your eyes to steady yourself

it all felt so surreal.

your parents were already waiting for you by the door. your mom looked wrecked, as if one word from you would make her cry.

you stepped in front of them... and the tears began to fall.

one. two. then your cheeks were soaked.

you felt your mom's arms wrap around you tightly. then your dad, caging you into them like a blanket.

they didn't cry this much when jaemin left.

eventually they pulled away, your mom wiping your tears and giving you a soft smile, "i love you."

you nodded. "i love you too."

grabbing your jacket and purse, you turned to go.

your dad wrapped his arm around your mom as they watched you leave.

you turned around, waving at them one last time, then stepped in the car.

and with one final breath, you sped off.

you didn't think much when jaemin asked for the address to your new apartment.

but suspicion started creeping in a few moments later, when he asked for the time you would be arriving.

your suspicions were confirmed when you pulled into the lot and spotted him.

sunghoon. leaning against his car.

of course this is what jaemin was up to.

your breath hitched the moment your eyes landed on him.

he was wearing a black fitted top, muscles taut under the fabric.

he looked good.. too good, unfortunately for you.

you quickly looked away, parking your car into the space next to his.

you mentally prepared yourself, grabbing your purse and stepping out of the car.

sunghoon had his gaze on you, watching as you tied up your hair.

neither of you said anything. you popped the trunk, revealing all the boxes.

"jaemin called you," you said flatly, already aware of your brothers' antics.

"you didn't."

you exhaled sharply. this was going to be a long day.

he grabbed a box watching as you also went to grab one. "leave it," he said. "you'll make the process longer."

your bit the inside of your cheek, stopping yourself from saying something you'd regret later.

drop it yn, he's helping you right now.

you led him to the apartment, leading him to the bedroom you girls agreed would be yours.

sunghoon dropped the box, leaving you to take in the apartment that was now yours.

you sat on the island counter, watching him come in and out the apartment.

his hair began to cling to his forehead due to the heat. his muscles bulging under the weight of the boxes.

you tried not to stare, you really did, but he was a sight for sore eyes.

after a while, you got up and began unpacking some of the boxes.

sunghoon worked pretty fast, and within 30 minutes, all the boxes were inside.

so busy with putting things up, you didn't notice sunghoon's eyes wander across the room before landing on an open box.

he looked at the box for a moment. then he stepped towards it, looking around inside.

your head whipped over to him, your heart dropping.

you saw the flicker of something in his eyes— something raw— just before they hardened.

"you didn't even open them." he said. his voice was low and controlled.

"i was busy." you replied, turning your gaze back to the box in front of you.

"when are you going to stop lying to me yn?" his voice sharpened. "seriously."

"i didn't ask for your help." you snapped.

you watched his eyes widen a bit, but he didn't say anything. so you didn't stop.

"i didn't ask for any of that," you gestured to the box of unopened gifts. "you did that on your own."

silence.

he tsk'd, nodding at your words, "you're right."

you turned back to the box in front of you, your hands shaky.

then, the door slammed shut, leaving you in silence.

you worked quietly for another hour, the argument lingering in your mind.

you're such an idiot. he was just trying to help.

your phone rang, snapping you out of your thoughts.

jaemin.

you answered.

your hands began to tremble again the moment you heard his voice. it wasn't teasing. it wasn't soft.

it was cold. serious. angry.

"what did you say to sunghoon?" he asked, his voice sharp.

"i didn't say anything." your voice came out soft, almost a whisper.

your fingers curled around the denim of your jeans.

jaemin scoffed, "oh really? that's not what he told me."

he didn't give you a chance to speak. "sunghoon chose to help you today, of all days. the day he should be spending at home resting, grieving."

you opened your mouth, but jaemin cut in again.

"do you have any idea what today is?"

you hesitated, your brows furrowing. racking your mind for any event of significance. "why would i know what today is?"

a pause.

then jaemin's voice came, low, almost disgusted.

"today is the seventh anniversary of his parents' death."

END PART 2

taglist - @woahsehun @1ckyw1ckyyyyy @lowaerii @luvksnn @la-choiblog @mypolka @miauumin @eclipsaria @t1iqaa @evxnsbae @aishigrey @evanleeisahoe @prkhoonlvr @gxwesn @whateverhoon @enhajungwonheart @taeminsboogers

(bold couldn't be tagged)

[shosweet]

i feel like akaashi keiji has a genuine, unshakable, unironic love for tangled.

𐙚 he’s most likely dressed up as flynn for halloween and if he wants to switch it up, he’ll be rapunzel!

“why do you look better in that dress than i do?” you ask, smoothing down your navy blue vest.

“i dunno, maybe it’s a sign that it’s who i’m meant to be,” he sighs, looking out the window with longing, wind favoring his pretty black strands. he takes a deep breath, feeling familiar guitar strings play in his head.

“wrap it up, keiji, you’ll never be her.”

“GOD FORBID A GUY HAS A DREAM?!”

𐙚 he’s probably tried to convince you to get a pet chameleon.

he won’t tell you straight up, he’d just softly hint at you — primacy effect!

when you go to the bathroom, he’d sneak on your phone, search up pictures of chameleons, and leave it like that for you to come back to. when you do, he’ll just wait with patient eyes.

when you go to the pet store or just walk by it, he’d linger on a chameleon’s display window, whispering sweet promises to it.

“you’ll come home with me soon,” he giggles, tapping the window gently as he admires the little reptile.

finally caving in, you take him to the store once more and grant his wishes.

“you really want one, kei?” you smile.

he looks at you with wide eyes, literally sparkling as he nods so fast he might become a fan.

now at home, he’s cuddling with his new favorite friend.

“i think i’ll name youuu…. pashcal. you can’t beat the original, but you’re my special little boy,” he whispers to it, stroking its head lovingly with his fingertip.

𐙚 he’s most definitely sang “flower gleam and glow” when brushing your hair.

he has a gentle hold on your strands, weaving the brush through them softly. it’s his favorite pastime with you, especially if he needs to unwind after a long day. sometimes, he’d whisper (what he considers) sweet nothings.

“i promise i won’t cut off your hair and sell it,” he says with a genuine smile. you tense up a bit, fighting the urge to call the police, but you can’t interrupt this man’s happy time. thus, he keeps going, rubbing his toes together in his fuzzy socks happily.

on days when he’s exhausted, he’ll lay his head in his lap, silently asking for you to do the same to him. you give a small peck to his forehead before running your fingers through his hair, scratching and massaging his scalp the way he likes.

sometimes, he’ll look up at you with wide, sleepy eyes, signaling you to do something. getting the hint, you smile and sing his precious little song. after you do, he smiles and closes his eyes, melting into your touch.

𐙚 he love love loveees lanterns!!

for your one year anniversary, you took him to the park at night, candles and a small meal prepared on a soft blanket. there’s fairy lights on the trees surrounding you, illuminating your little spot. grabbing something from your bag, you tell him to close his eyes.

“no peeking, kei!” you giggle.

“i’m not, i’m not,” he chuckles.

“okay, open!”

his eyes see two paper lanterns in your hands, still unlit, but he noticed intricate patterns on the paper. his breath hitches, feeling his heart swell and eyes sting.

“you didn’t…”

“happy anniversary, kei,” you bashfully say, twisting your body left and right out of excitement. he takes one lantern into his hand, cheeks warm with tears. with your free hand, you cup his cheek and wipe them away.

“awh, don’t cry, baby,” you coo. he only feels more tears coming, dipping his head into your shoulder.

“i love you so much,” he sniffles. you smile and rub his back, kissing the side of his head.

“i love you, too.”

after a bit, you light up your lanterns and send them into the sky, hands intertwined. each anniversary, no matter which one it is or where you spend it, you’ll always end off the night with a pair of lanterns.

in bed, as the world grows quiet, you’re cuddled close to him, breathing in his faint, sweet vanilla as he kisses your head. every night, he whispers the same thing with more love in his heart than the day before.

“you’re my dream come true.”

[demothers-empty-blog]

Cold Water Feels Warm When Your Hands Are Freezing

i’m calling this my icky feelings fic - no smut but there are some heavy warnings. this is not a feels good fic.

cw: dead dove my love, hurt/no comfort. kidnapper!könig finally gets what he deserves, but at what cost? main character death, implied suicide.

hey, take care of yourself before reading.

It’s been months since you’ve last seen the sun. Felt the caress of its rays on your skin.

Felt the rain wash the grime from your body, or let the wind play with your hair.

When was the last time you smiled? You don’t remember, you think your lips have taken on a permanent frown.

For someone who proclaims that he loves you so much, he sure has a very, very odd way of showing it.

Who does that?

Who puts someone in a basement. For months. Chained, like an animal. To tame you? Break you?

How broken does an individual have to be to want to bring down the ‘love of their life’ with them?

You’ve lost track of your days. Time is a blur.

You hate him.

You hate that you never got to personally experience the sweet man he is when he was in the presence of others. You despise that you love that man, because it is the same man who comes home and will look at you like you’re a chore.

Just because you won’t shatter easy.

Will he finally treat you the way you deserve once it’s too late and you’re in pieces?

He’s so nice, gentle, like a breeze.

He greets the sellers down at the market, offers to pay for the single mother who’s short on cash, helps the older lady cross the road. Cracks jokes with the retired veteran, now a fisherman.

He tells you all of this, naturally. He doesn’t let you out. You don’t even know if he’s lying.

He could be.

[…]

Kids love him, surprisingly. They treat him like a jungle gym.

He wants kids. You’ll never give him any.

Not when he’s a fucking monster behind closed doors.

You hate him. Hate the man he chooses to be when he’s around you. Why can’t you get the side he has when he’s outside?

The version of him where he acts human.

Is it a façade? Is it fake? Couldn’t be.

There’s no way… no way you want the man who quietly hums to himself in the kitchen, when it’s too early in the morning and the world isn’t up, who keeps to himself, who’s quite literally the gentle giant of the forest.

Fuck this forest.

Fuck the cabin he’s keeping you in.

Fuck this dusty basement.

Fuck you.

Why couldn’t he let you — live?

This wasn’t living.

This isn’t a life, the light is draining from your eyes.

Does he not see it? Does he not care?

Does he care?

Is he aware and simply relishes it? What a terrifying thought.

What a sick fuck.

He’s your sick fuck. Regrettably. There are days where he is kind, where he acts like he actually does love you.

Where you can see the man at the market.

It mellows you out, this tender love. Sometimes, he rocks you to sleep. When he thinks you are no longer awake, he cries.

You always wondered, what was the reason for those tears? Guilt? Regret? Shame? Pity?

All of them? Something at least telling him that plucking you from your friends and family was a bad idea? Immoral, maybe?

[…]

He takes offence if you don’t believe him. That tender gaze in his eyes vanishes. He has that look, like he wants to take back all the kindness he offered you.

He torments you. His presence engulfs you. This constant push and pull is going to tear you.

He can be cruel. He can also be a sweetheart.

The contrast makes your heart ache.

[…]

‘Can I come sleep with you?’ He asks, hopeful.

The question catches you off guard, like it always does. You treasure the time alone in an actual bed, instead of that uncomfortable springy mattress down in the…

‘No,’ you reply softly, ushering him closer to plant a chaste kiss on his cheek.

Willingly, he pleasantly thought.

Just to show that you are not mad, there’s no bad blood between you, you just want to sleep alone.

He can respect that. The door softly closes behind you and in his mind, you are safe and sound, tucked in bed.

Maybe tomorrow he’ll get to hold you in his arms.

It’s a gentle morning when the sun rises, birds are chirping, König thought he’d come wake you.

He’s in a chipper mood, excited to see his love. There you lay in bed, sleeping like an angel

On this rare occasion, there is no frown on your face, your features resting peacefully.

‘Meine liebling…’ he whispers, resting his lips on your forehead. He doesn’t wear the mask, he stopped feeling the need to hide two months ago.

He tries coaxing you awake by peppering the softest of kisses on your cheeks, lips and eyelids. But they remain closed and you stay still.

Too still.

‘Liebling?’ He calls. Panic rises quickly but he tries to shove it down quicker.

He’s trying to reason with himself, chalk it up as being unreasonable and making a mountain out of a molehill. A calloused hand reaches out to gently touch your shoulder. Nothing.

He kisses your cheek again, unsure. The grasp on your shoulder tightens. ‘Baby… it’s morning.’ He tries waking you up again with kisses one more time before shaking you, but something feels off. You’re too unresponsive.

He stops kissing you. Panic comes back in a crashing wave and crushes his throat.

So he does love you. He does care.

‘Baby!?’ He is shaking you with fervour, too caught up in denial to accept reality.

You are gone.

He screams your name, hot tears burn as they slip down the path of his scarred cheeks.

He breaks down in hysterics. ‘No! No! No, no, no!’

He’s stuck cradling your corpse while his mind fogs with confusion, anger and a type of agony that runs so deep, it felt as if his entire chest was collapsing on itself.

A silent scream.

Why did you leave? How did you leave? There were no welts, no gashes, no trauma, your skin was left untouched.

Was it poison, perhaps?

Poison… maybe his love was the poison, so sick and twisted it affected and rotted you from the inside out and robbed you of your light.

He rocks you back and forth as a new wave comes to drown him, holding your limp body impossibly tight.

He should’ve payed better attention to what you planted in that garden.

His mistake. At least, you got to feel the sun in almost a year of being here.

‘Mein Baby…’ he croaks out, nose buried in your hair, pleading to have you back.

‘Please… please, bitte nicht— no…’

But he can’t have you back.

Because a love like that,

was never meant to survive.

At least you’re free.

[decayedsword]

ronin x reader dressed as veronica and jd on halloween? I love your work btw!

A Not-So Hollow Halloween

cw : mentions of blood, murder, gore, slightly suggestive content and (im not sure how to tag this...) but a reference that one scene from heathers where veronica's with kurt and ram in the woods :)

enjoy 1.5k words. i poured my soul into this methinks

October 31st. It's finally that time of the year when people in your neighborhood can display skeletons outside their house like it's a normal occurrence. Halloween doesn't come quick, but once it does, everyone suddenly plays into the scary grotesqueness of the season, acting as if they wouldn't be scared shitless by the sight of Jeff the Killer if it were any other month.

Not you, though. You had plans tonight that did not involve blood splattered all over your clothes.

You tightened the blue blazer across your torso, smoothing out the creases in the fabric. For tonight, your name would be Veronica Sawyer, drowning in your self-proclaimed teenage angst that miserably and unfortunately had a body count.

Your hands ran through your hair, making sure to fluff and frizz it up slightly, giving you that 90's feel. There's nothing a bit of hairspray can't fix...

A notification sounded from your computer and your gaze stayed momentarily on your reflection before you stepped back to check the device.

Ah. The Slaughterhouse Losers. Your favourite serial killers.

announcements

Angelic: @everyone Who's up for a costume contest later today? c:

goreboy: fuck yeah

who better than to Win if not The Devil Himself?

Angelic: Please. Like I'd let you.

goreboy: don't try and Strike Me Down angel

general

hitmeuppp: am i the only one who thinks angel wasnt capitalised for a reason

LUCA_IS_SO_COOL: NO ❌ I 🧍🏼‍♂️ ALSO ✌️ THINK 🧠 THAT ⭕

hitmeuppp: SEE

luca gets me

K9: A costume contest? Do we have any... rules?

Angelic: I don't think so! Feel free to dress up as whatever you'd like <3

goreboy: or

we could do Matching Costumes

adds to the fun, doncha Think?

Eviscerator1990: I Like This Suggestion.

Ai_Hua444: 😊

felicite: I've always wanted to do a couple's costume!

hitmeuppp: luca that's your cue

luca

LUCA???

LUCA_IS_SO_COOL: SORRY IM BACK

was dming a certain someone

felicite: luca.

goreboy: alright Pack It Up lovebirds

anyway

votes are in, Angel

Angelic: Well, that settles it then, I suppose!

Matching costumes it is! Can't wait to see all of you cuties later 🤍

Your hands hover over your keyboard, however your hopes of sending a message are swiftly interrupted when yet another notification rings through your bedroom. It was from your phone, which was elbow-deep in clothing you had strewn around looking for a costume you could put together.

Last week, you and your friends has decided to go as characters from Heathers, specifically the main four of the show. Cute, you had thought at the time, but it wasn't so cute when you got a little too caught-up in your novel that by the time you realized it was Halloween, you had nothing to wear.

Thankfully, with a good wardrobe and god-level plot armor as a main character of a musical and a movie, you were able to throw something together in time.

With a bit of rummaging, you were able to find the source of all the ringing. Pulling out your phone and reading the onslaught of messages, your eyes widen and you rush to head out for the night.

The computer on your desk is left open and alone. You don't look back.

The evening air is cold and almost unforgiving, however when your friends are oh-so warm and huggy, it makes up for it.

There's a weird fondness between three Heathers and only one Veronica tonight, teetering the line between canon and costume, but you four love each other nonetheless. You remember it like it was yesterday, the day you watched the movie with them for the first time. If it hadn't become the group favourite then, it secured the title when you guys attended the live musical.

It's almost funny how your fiction mixed with your reality.

The scene is all-too similar from. You're all at a party, and your friends, whose kindess you will never deny, have gone their separate ways to find someone to flirt with.

Two guys have been talking your ear off for the past 30 minutes. You silently hope your lack of enthusiasm in your replies are enough to send them away, yet they manage to entertain each other even with your "yeahs" and "mhms".

"Sorry ladies. Mind if I take this one from ya?" A tall build looms behind you, the vocal fry in his tone familiar and uncanny all at once. This is the first time you've heard it beyond a screen. The hairs on the back of your neck stick up. Do you dare look back and stare into the abyss? His abyss?

The faux angel boys are no match for the devil of a man that towers over them. You watch them mutter some half-hearted excuse, eyes darting rapidly and refusing to meet his, as they scurry somewhere else. Like live prey hunted by their predator.

You turn around and there he is! Your very own Jason Dean, complete with his dyed red hair and black nail polish, crowned with the name of Ronin Beaufort.

You can hear your heartbeat in your head. How contradictive. You've always had the upper hand in your choices, but with the Devil's Butcher, who makes you read in between the lines for his true messages, you were always six steps behind.

The music drowns out your voice. You look kind of stupid, trying to start a conversation in a crowded area, and you don't fail to notice the smirk growing amidst Ronin's face. He lazily slings his arm over your shoulder and presses up his lips against your ear.

"You better speak up, darlin'. Can't hear ya confess with all this shazam." You instinctively tilt your head, baring your neck for him and his chuckle reverberates against your shoulder, making your cheeks flush red.

You turn to face him, cupping your hands around your mouth as he leans down to help you speak to him. You whisper back.

"Was it just me or did that feel like too much of a Veronica Sawyer moment?" There's an air of giggles between the two of you and there's the slightest hint of devilry reflected in you in Ronin's void black eyes.

There's an unspoken agreement between the two of you. You're not sure when your boyfriend managed to influence your thoughts, but there's something sinister and bloody blooming in the back of your minds, and you know he knows you so well.

"You still owe me. Remember that darlin'." He whispers, a breath against your lips, and you want to chase him. You can't. There's something you must do.

There's something you want to do.

It's a little too easy to convince the boys you were talking to earlier to follow you home. "Oh, he was boring. You guys are more fun to be around." you had said, fake smile strategically weaved across your face.

With every single step you took, two bags of meat behind you, a real, manic grin spread across the apples of your cheeks, reaching your eyes.

You lead them to an alleyway.

"I'm actually really into doing it... publicly." you start, twirling your hair between your fingers and looking up at the two.

You can feel a third pair of eyes burn into you. It's a struggle to hide how fucking amused you are by this sick joke of yours. You turn around, making sure no one can see the smile on your face.

This'll make a great story.

"On the count of three, got it?" You say, not for the boys before you, but for the goreboy you know is just right around the corner.

There's confusion in the air and their complaints muffle themselves in your ears as you count.

"One." The first angel boy steps closer towards you.

"Two." The second angel boy steps farther away from you.

A clang rattles through the junction. There's a loud scream, but it doesn't come from the dead body now on the ground.

"Three!" A different voice echoes. Mirthful. Sinful.

One of the guys is stuck there, frozen on the spot, eyes wide and heavy and oh, you're laughing, insane and batshit and nothing like Veronica. You giggle at the irony. Ronin does too. He's a much better fit for JD, but the joke stays.

The two of you stray from the plot of the movie when Ronin backs the guy into a corner. He gives you his crowbar.

You go for the eyes.

killer_shit

user: i think we won this one!!

[photo]

It's a picture of you and Ronin in your room. Both of you are drenched in blood, and Ronin's holding up an eyeball, but it's romantic nonetheless. Especially considering with how his lips, at the very least, are pressed against your cheek.

You close your computer, giving it its much needed rest.

"Wanna bite?" He smirks, showing off his sharp canines as he holds the eye between the two of you.

You almost consider it. Almost. Instead, you opt to reach for his face instead, pulling the skin at the base of his eyebags down.

"I'd prefer yours, darling." There's a small mocking smile on your face when you say it, before you let go and press a kiss onto his eyelid.

Ronin's cackle manages to fit between your lips when he kisses you.

You wouldn't have him any other way.

here you guys go! not the hanahaki fic i promised but uhhhhhhhh yeah so heh