#i want you to know this made me laugh more than anything

[that-sarcastic-writer]

You’ve got my body, flesh and bone

Obsessed!Rafe x nerdy!girl!reader

Summary: something was different about you, and rafe can’t stop thinking about you ever since you came home from college. He knows you want him, too, even if you don’t show it

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, penetrative sex, p in v, unprotected sex, cream pie, oral (fem receiving), fingering, obsessed behaviors, pervy behaviors (I think?), Rafe is down bad, reader is secretly naughty, dom!rafe, spitting, choking, bit of degradation, Rafe is rough and she likes it.

Wrote this with s2 Rafe in mind but he’s not as psychotic🥰 reader also wears glasses, hope you like being blind

WC: 5.5k I’m so sorry

A/N: NOBODY LOOK AT MEEEEE. Anyway I couldn’t help myself. Rafe and Drew are in my mind all day and I need them so bad so I wrote it! I dedicate this to the reason of my insanity @bloodibambiidoll love you doll for feeding me into crash out Rafe😩. This was heavily inspired by her own Rafe fics so def check her out!

Also tagging my other rafe baby @babygorewhore🩷

There weren't a lot of things in this world that Rafe didn’t have. His whole life, anything he wanted, he had, at the palm of his hand. Whatever he wanted, he could do. And he fucking loved it. He didn’t know what it was like to crave something to the point of madness. Until you came around. 

He didn’t know what it was, that feeling deep inside his gut. He didn’t know if it was lust, or desire, or if he truly felt something for you. Perhaps he felt all three. But one thing he knew for certain. If he didn’t have you soon, he was going to cave someone’s face in. It didn’t help that you shot him down every time. The more you ignored him, the more he craved you. Albeit he knew he had a chance in high school and he didn’t take it then. But even he knew he was a prick then. More than he was now, anyway. Deep down he couldn’t blame you for not giving him a chance now, he didn’t want you when you were all quiet and had those ugly glasses, so why should he get you now that you were more confident and stopped giving a fuck what people thought about you? He had to admit, college made you hot as fuck. 

Rafe didn’t know it at first, but the first time he saw you at a party, your hair all pretty, your laugh so contagious he heard it across the room, your clothes hugging every curve of your body perfectly. His jaw fucking dropped. He almost didn’t believe it was you at first. Until he heard whispers about just how fucking hot you had gotten after college. He didn’t know it then, but his sanity was going to go downhill from there. 

That was a month ago, and he still couldn’t get you to give him the light of day. It was almost like you were running away from him, every time. And it pissed him off, really, it did. He craved your attention like he never before. Maybe he was getting soft. Or he was going insane. Either one.

The worst part? 

You were doing it on purpose. 

You caught on pretty quickly. After the first couple of times of catching Rafe blatantly staring at you whenever he saw you, you were curious. It wasn’t entirely outlandish, you were like an exotic animal, having come back to the island after graduating early from university. You didn’t change much, you just learned to manage your social anxiety and started putting more effort into your appearance. You didn’t understand why everyone made such a big deal out of you. But you ignored it for the most part. 

But you couldn’t ignore Rafe. His presence was intoxicating. Even if he didn’t approach you directly. You knew he was there. But you never made an effort to talk to him. You only ever talked to Sarah when you saw her. She was the one that pointed out Rafe in a corner, Topper talking his ear off but Rafe wasn’t paying listening to a word being said, he was looking at you. You, of course, brushed her off with the excuse you gave everyone. 

“He'll get over it, just give it a week.”

He did not, in fact, get over it. 

He thought you didn’t notice, but he followed you on instagram. Of course you noticed. How could you not? Your account was public, but you occasionally looked at who followed you. And the second you saw Rafe fucking Cameron followed you, you almost fainted. Suddenly, the stupid crush you had on Rafe at sixteen came flooding right back. You refused to get your hopes up, but the thought of Rafe quietly stalking your social media never left your mind.

You had no proof, but over the course of a month, you posted on your stories way more than you ever did in college, because you knew Rafe would see them. If you went to a party on Figure 8? Insta story. If you went to the beach? Swimsuit selfies. Felt pretty and did your makeup? Insta story. And what did you notice? Rafe always coincidentally seemed to end up at the exact place you were at. He never came alone, obviously. But he always hung out nearby, always within your line of sight. 

You were driving him mad, certainly. There's no way it was legal for you to wear a swimsuit like that. It actually made his blood boil knowing there were other guys blatantly eye fucking you. Only he should be allowed to do that. He angrily sipped into his cup, silently fuming as he had to stand and simply watch you laugh and run around with your friends, walking past him every time you got drinks for the bar. 

He swore he saw you grin at him one time, a devious and flirty look in your eyes when you made eye contact with him. And he was ready to grab you by the arm and drag you to his car and fuck you right then and there. But he decided against it. Somehow he had enough self control. But it was wearing thin the longer his torture dragged on. 

“Girl, what did you do to Rafe?” Your high school best friend asked you when you came back with your drinks. You frowned, tilting your head innocently. 

“To Rafe? Nothing. I haven’t even talked to him since I came back.” You answered with the truth. Though you purposely ignored what she probably meant. 

“He’s been like glaring at you the whole night. He hasn’t moved from there all night and he’s just looking at you.” She pointed out, more quietly now. And you couldn’t help but subtly shift your eyes in his direction. And indeed, your eyes met with his piercing blue ones. You’d be lying if you said your heart didn’t race the slightest bit when you caught him looking at you like that. He was looking at you exactly how you desperately wanted him to look at you in high school. 

“No idea what you mean. He’s probably just annoyed I’m hanging out with Sarah and her boyfriend. He probably thinks I’m encouraging her hanging out with the pogues.” You mumbled into your cup, shrugging as you quickly averted your gaze from Rafe. You weren’t sure if you wanted to convince her, or yourself.

“You’re better than me, because if Rafe Cameron looked at me like that I’d be dragging him to my car so fast.” She snorted and you almost choked on your drink. “I think you’re the only girl on this island he hasn’t fucked.” 

“Thank God for that.” You responded a bit too quickly, hoping to hide the slight bit of hurt her words brought to you. You always knew you weren’t good enough for Rafe. You always pretended not to care, but you’d be lying.

You left alone that night. And Rafe couldn’t hold back the urge to follow close behind you. He didn’t know when he got in his car after you. Or when he started driving to your house. Or when he got out of his car. He wasn’t sure why, it wasn’t like he was going to knock on your door. Or maybe he would. He ran a hand over his face, squeezing his eyes shut as he swept his hair away from his face, exasperated. The very small, but still present, rational side of his mind told him to get the fuck out. And he was going to, until he saw you emerge from your room on the second floor, and you stood right in front of the large window cell. He panicked, running to hide from sight, behind a large tree, but he didn’t leave, he didn’t want to. 

His jaw dropped, his eyes blowing wide open at the sight of you, untying your bikini top and just letting it fall, right then and there. The sight shot straight to his cock. What the fuck were you thinking? What if someone saw you? The thought of you exposing yourself like that made his jaw lock, but his now hard cock in his shorts was much more evident. He couldn’t look away. He was pissed he couldn’t see below your stomach, especially when he saw you crouch as you presumably took off your bottoms, too. 

Rafe almost moaned at the thought. 

And just like that you were gone. And you didn’t come back to the window. It almost felt like the universe was playing a cruel fucking prank on him. Now he had to drive home with an uncomfortable hard on in his shorts. That pissed him off even more.

~~~~~~

This became a habit for Rafe. He would aggressively scroll through your instagram page multiple times a day, hoping that he’d find out where you were for the night. But not in a weird way. He just wanted to see you. But he still hadn’t found the way to get you to talk to him first. He was starting to see the flaw in that plan. But alas, he couldn’t talk to you himself if he didn’t know where to find you. And sometimes, he’d find himself just standing outside your window, hiding behind that same tree. Sometimes you’d sit by the window cell, play around with your hair, sometimes you would read. And sometimes, you’d walk around completely naked, in full view of Rafe. How many times he all but sped home to rub one out was actually embarrassing. 

Rafe was tired of this little game. Though he didn’t quite realize it was a game at all. You had no proof, but you knew. That one time you caught him nearly running back to his car was proof enough for you. So you kept going, until he snapped. You didn’t anticipate just how fast he would break. 

“Guess who showed up.” Your friend whispered in your ear. You casually glanced over your shoulder to find none other than Rafe, with Topper and Kelce right behind him like lost puppies. It had to be criminal how hot this man looked. The polo shirt he wore was hanging on by a thread under his biceps and you had to force yourself to tear your eyes away. 

“Yeah, so? He shows up to every party.” You shrugged, pretending not to catch on to the blatant connection. She rolled her eyes at you. 

“Oh, so he casually shows up to the one party you’ve come to all week? Don’t you think it’s a little odd?”

You shrugged again. You were sure it was a coincidence. Sure it wasn’t because you posted a selfie of your pretty makeup and your pretty dress with the location of the party you got invited to. And surely the way Rafe was staring at you right now had nothing to do with the way your dress accentuated your chest perfectly, showing enough but still leaving some to the imagination. But it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen them before. 

“Nope. Anyway, want a drink?” You smiled at her innocently, completely ignoring her Rafe interrogation. She shot you a pointed look, surely she would grill you about it later, but she relented nonetheless. 

With a smile you skipped over to the bar, your dress riding up ever so slightly as you leaned over the wooden bar to speak over the loud music. Rafe nearly dropped his beer, his eyes going from your hair down to your ass. He couldn’t take this anymore. 

“Yeah, whatever bro. I’ll be right back.” He cut off Topper as he went on about one thing or another, he didn’t wait for a response and he approached you in long strides. He sniffed softly, running a hand through his hair before opening his mouth. 

You heard your name spoken in a deep voice, with a drink in each hand, you whipped around, not expecting to run straight into a solid, muscled chest. 

“Hey—oh fuck,” Rafe cursed when the drinks you were holding spilled all over his shirt, and over the front of your dress. You gasped loudly, nearly squealing when the ice cubes slipped down your chest. 

“Rafe! What the actual fuck.” You almost screamed at him, desperately attempting to wipe off the alcohol soaking your dress, the front now sticking to your tits. Rafe wanted to say something, maybe apologize, but he was mouth agape at the sight of your soaked chest, it took him a minute to process. 

“Shit, my bad. I didn’t mean to,” he swallowed, his own shirt starting to stick to his chest. Which didn’t slip past  you, even in your anger. But you couldn’t think about that right now. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Yeah, alright. I’m sure you totally didn’t want to embarrass me by spilling drinks all over me. Grow the fuck up, Rafe.” You huffed, feeling everyone’s eyes on you. You could feel your face fluster with embarrassment and you had to force yourself not to cry. You had tried so hard to remove yourself from the old you, the one everyone made fun of, the one that got asked out to prom as a prank, the one everyone stared at in disgust. And you felt like that girl all over again. 

Rafe didn’t even have time to argue, you were running off before he could get a word in. He groaned, discomfort settling in from his shirt sticking to his skin. 

“Way to go bro. You didn’t have to embarrass the freakshow like that though.” Rafe sneered in disgust at your high school nickname and he rolled his eyes, shrugging off the casual hand on his shoulder. 

“Shut the fuck up before I shove broken glass down your throat.” 

If there was something in this world that Rafe could never have, it would be patience. And this little game had his sanity wearing very thin. 

He didn’t know exactly when he ended up at your front door, fist pounding loudly as he called your name. His bike was somewhere on the lawn, he didn’t bother to hide it this time. He swore if you didn’t open this door right now he would kick it open. He stepped back, his jaw tight as he waited a few seconds before doing something more drastic. Then, the door swung open. And there you were. 

“I swear to God Rafe.” You sighed loudly, crossing your arms over your now slightly damp chest, having somewhat dried off the front of your dress. Rafe was taken aback by the appearance of your glasses, however. He hadn’t seen you wear them since you came back. Were you always this cute in them? 

No, focus. 

“You didn’t even let me talk back there! I didn’t mean to run into you like that, I swear.” He took a step closer, slightly leaning down to talk close to your face. You couldn’t help but stare at him, eyebrows furrowed with mistrust. 

“Oh right, so was it just a coincidence that you were standing right behind me like a wall?” You shot back, shooting him a suspicious look. He rolled his eyes at you, sighing heavily. “If you wanted to look at them better you could’ve just asked! You didn’t have to knock drinks all over my dress.” 

The words left your mouth in a haze. Fast and angrily as you motioned your hands around. You didn’t realize what you said until the look in Rafe’s eyes shifted. Going from confused to downright sinful. He tilted his head at you, crowding your personal space with his big fucking body. You realized then that you really fucked up. 

“What’d you say?” He asked, his voice low as he made you step back into your house. He followed you, his face close to yours and you swallowed. 

“Huh?” Play dumb, sure. 

“Uh-uh, don’t try to be all innocent now. What the fuck did you say?” He repeated, one of his large hands coming up to grip your jaw. You swallowed, your lips pulled into a pout. 

“You really weren’t that sneaky.” You finally admitted, throwing all logic out of the window knowing you both got caught red-handed by the other. Though Rafe didn’t look embarrassed or even remorseful, if anything he looked pleasantly amused. Impressed even. 

“Well, shit.” A grin pulled at his lips as he laughed, a rush of adrenaline flowing through his already amped up body. “You little whore. You were striping in front of your fuckin’ window on purpose, weren’t you?”

“I didn’t know for sure but, I heard your bike a couple of times.” You shrugged, trying to hide the devious smile on your lips. Rafe scoffed humorously, in utter disbelief. “You following me on insta was kind of a given, too.” 

“You are..” He leaned down, his soft lips mere inches away from yours as he blew out a chuckle, “A dirty little slut. You have any fuckin’ idea what you’ve been doin’ to me? Hm?” He squeezed your jaw between his fingers, forcing your head back to make sure your eyes were on him. 

The words that left his mouth made you rub your thighs together, heat forming between them at the thought of being this close to Rafe, knowing he was on the brink of madness, all because of you. You could see it in his eyes, that utter need to fuck you, take you over and over, or else he would go insane. 

“Thought I wasn’t your type.” You shot back, pettiness lacing your tongue. A groan of annoyance rumbled in his chest. 

“I didn’t know I was your type.” 

“You’re everyone’s type, since when are you humble?” You mocked him with a small laugh, but it quickly died in your chest when his fingers fell to your throat, and he dug his fingers with the faintest pressure. You nearly moaned. 

“Well you’re my type right now. Your tits sure fuckin’ are.” He bit his lip softly, making sure his eyes were on yours when he spoke again, “bet your pussy is my type too. Lemme find out, hm?” 

If you weren’t wet before, you sure were now. You nearly moaned out loud, his words alone bending you to his will. Not that it would take much work. 

Rafe didn’t get to say another word, you were pulling him down by the back of his neck and you kissed him, and you kissed him really fucking hard. He liked your intensity. He craved to find out just what else you were hiding behind your innocent and sweet girl facade. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, his fingers lacing into your hair to force your head back for him. And you happily let him. His other hand shamelessly grabbed at your ass, squeezing it as he kissed you. You couldn’t help but moan into his mouth.

“My bedroom is—“ you were breathless as you muttered against his lips. Rafe chuckled, cutting you off as he effortlessly hoisted you around his waist. 

“I know where your fuckin’ room is.” Of course he did. 

You giggled as Rafe tossed you on your bed, biting your bottom lip as you watched him pull his polo over his head and your jaw fell wide open at the sight. 

“Dude why are you like, so hot? Fuck.” Your eyes were big as you nearly drooled at the sight of his muscled torso. He was so ripped it was unbelievable. Rafe smirked at you, happy to hear that you were stroking his ego. He quickly joined you in your bed, straddling you as he hovered over you. 

“Yeah?” He leaned down, lips curved up into a grin as he pressed an open mouth kiss to your lips. You nodded as his tongue laced with yours, a string of spit connecting your lips when he pulled back. “You should've just talked to me then. Could’ve had me much sooner. You got any fuckin’ idea how long I’ve been wanting to fuck you stupid?” 

“How was I supposed to know? You didn’t want me before. I didn’t know.” You pouted, a bit of hurt laced in your voice. He rolled his eyes at you, long fingers coming to squeeze your face. You held your breath as his blue eyes pinned you.

“No, you just wanted to punish me. You wanted to parade yourself around Figure 8 with your pretty little dresses and your innocent little smile. But then at night you’d strip yourself naked in front of your window.” He huffed out the words, frustration coating his tongue. You shrugged. “You wanted to act like a slut, so I’ll fuck you like one. But first, I wanna taste your pussy.” 

The way your body shuddered when Rafe moved down the bed to settle between your legs was embarrassing. You were already shaking and he hadn’t even touched you. You held your breath in anticipation as he reached underneath your dress, tugging your panties down your legs. Rafe grinned at the blue lacy panties that matched your white and navy blue flowy dress. You pretended not to notice him casually shove the lace into his back pocket. 

“Take off your dress. I wanna look at your tits.”  You totally would punch any other man for speaking to you like this, but Rafe? He could speak to you in any way he wanted, especially when he was in between your legs, nearly drooling at the sight of your already soaked cunt. 

You complied, unzipping the side of your dress before pulling it over your head, to reveal that you were indeed not wearing a bra today. Rafe nearly groaned at the sight. 

“Fuck baby. You’re such a slut, did you plan this?” He laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words were replaced by a gasp when he dipped his head and licked a stripe between your folds without a single warning. 

It was actually embarrassing how quickly you were falling apart. You were a sobbing shaking mess as soon as he started to circle his tongue around your clit, sloppy sounds leaving his mouth as he moved his head up and down. Rafe was enjoying this as much as you were, how many times he fantasized about shoving his tongue into your cunt, what you would taste like, how you would sound like for him. It was driving him insane. He was groaning and moaning as he lapped at your soaking cunt. 

“You taste so fuckin’ good baby. You got any idea how many times I went home to rub one out thinkin’ about your pussy?” He groaned, spitting on your clit as he looked up at you, catching the way your back arched off the bed as your eyes rolled back into your head. “Should’ve just taken you. You would’ve let me, right doll? If I slipped in through your window and fucked this sweet little pussy in the middle of the night, wouldn’t even care as long as you got some dick, right?” 

His words slipped past you, only the feeling of his tongue back on your clit. You couldn’t think straight, your pussy was pulsing, it just felt so good, you didn’t remember the last time a man ate you like this, with such intensity and fervor. Rafe looked up at you again, amused by the way you squirmed and writhed on the bed. With a grin, he wrapped both arms under your knees and folded them damn near against your chest, spreading you open for him. And you couldn’t run away either. 

“I asked you a question.” He spat into your clit again, this time watching as the string of saliva ran down your clit before licking it. 

“Ah! Rafe! Fuck—y-yes! You can do whatever you want to me!” You sputtered, your voice breaking into a cry when he slipped his tongue into your hole. His nose bumped your clit as he fucked you with his tongue and you were nearly digging your nails into his scalp as you clutched his hair. You wanted to come so bad. “Please Rafe. I’m gonna come.” 

Rafe groaned into your pussy at your words. His tongue was replaced by two thick fingers and he curled them perfectly, enough to have you thanking the Gods for having your own house separate from your parents' main house. 

“Oh, fuck yeah. You look so pretty begging me to let you come. Say it again, say it again just like that f’me.” His eyes never left you as his tongue was back on your clit, his fingers slipping and curling inside your throbbing cunt in the most delicious way possible. You couldn’t even form a thought, let alone a sentence. You sobbed, your pussy pulsing around his thick fingers. 

“Please Rafe! Wanna come!” You didn’t have to say it twice, the second Rafe hummed at you, his tongue lapping at your swollen clit as his fingers fucked you raw, you were over. You were a shaking mess as you came, all you could do was gasp and cry as his fingers fucked you through your orgasm, and he happily continued to basically make out with your cunt.

“That was so fuckin’ good baby. You were so good f’me.” He grunted into your thigh as he lazily wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 

Your eyes were screwed shut, heaving as you were still jolting from the aftershock. When you opened your eyes again you found Rafe already hovering above you, his blue eyes staring down at you with devious intentions. 

“You totally look so fuckin’ hot with those glasses. You should like suck my dick with them on.” You blinked at him, mouth slightly open which made him grin at you. “Not right now, I wanna be inside you now.” 

Rafe didn’t waste any fucking time in pressing your knees to your chest, your glistening pussy on full display and ready for his cock.

“I’m gonna fuck this pussy like I fuckin’ own it.” He spat, his jaw slightly falling open as he slipped into you. Your eyes rolled back almost instantly, the feeling of his cock stretching you was better than you could have ever imagined. He was so fucking big, too. “All these fuckin’ assholes lookin’ at you and I’m the only one that gets to fill this pussy, you got that?” 

You nodded harshly as he bottomed out, and without a warning he pulled out only to slam back into you, his cock damn near splitting you open. You threw your arms around his neck, your fingers lacing around his hair as he slammed into you, filling you deeper than anyone ever has before. 

“Just you Rafe! It’s always been you!” You grabbed his face, pulling him into a messy kiss. Your words made his cock twitch and all he wanted right then and there was to keep you here, beneath him, stuffed with his cock and never let you leave. 

“Why didn’t you come back sooner, huh? This pussy is so perfect, so tight. Just f’me. Want you all the fuckin’ time baby.” He grunted into your mouth, both arms caging you in as he drilled into you, his cock so deep you could almost feel him in your fucking guts. 

A string of pathetic sounds, a string of uh-uh-uh’s left your lips as he damn near folded you in half, your cute nails dragging down his back, surely to leave red angry marks. Rafe grunted in delight, his large hand coming to grab your throat. He definitely didn’t miss the way you pussy clenched around him then. 

“Shit, you’re so fucking hot, yknow that? Such a pretty little slut f’me. You’re gonna let me use you, hm? Do whatever I want with you?” He squeezed your throat, forcing your head up and down in a ‘yes’ gesture and you moaned, eyes screwed shut. “Mhmm, exactly. Open your fuckin’ mouth.” 

The sound that left your throat was so pathetic Rafe laughed. You did as you were told, opening your eyes as you opened your mouth, you watched him with glazed eyes as he leaned down and spat straight into your mouth. He watched you jaw slacked as you happily swallowed, feeling the bump under his fingers. 

“You’re so fuckin’ nasty, I love it.” He leaned down again, his fingers tightening around your throat as he spat into your mouth again, but this time he kissed you, it was so messy and sloppy and you fucking loved it. “Act like a slut, I’ll treat you like a slut.” 

“Mhmm yes! I’m such a slut, just for you.” You choked out, your throat raw and sore from the grip he had on it. He shuddered at your words, his cock twitching as he dropped his free hand to rub harsh circles around your clit. Your eyes rolled so far back you actually looked like you were spasming. “O-oh god. I’m gonna come—! Please Rafe—!” 

“Ohh, feels so good, doesn’t it baby? You wanna gush all over my dick huh?” He spoke right into your cheek, his sweaty cheek pressed right against yours as he held you by your throat, your glasses getting squished by him and you were praying to the Gods that he didn’t end up breaking them. 

“Please, please, please Rafe!” You sobbed, your soaked cunt pulsing around his cock, your thighs sore and shaking as you hanged on by a thread, so close to reaching your limit. 

“That’s it doll, squeeze the fuck out of me, come all over my cock, just like that.” He rubbed your clit and drilled into your already abused hole until you were gushing, you whole body shaking as you fell into a fit of sobs. Rafe wasn’t one to come just like that, but the sight of you so utterly fucked out and sobbing almost made him spill right then and there. 

“Ah! Rafe!” You whined as he kept fucking you, his rough hips and harsh pace not once slowing down, driving you to the point of overstimulation. You squirmed, almost as if you wanted to run away from him. He tisked at you, releasing your throat to grab your arm, holding you down as he gripped the headboard with the other, damn near crushing you with his big fucking body. 

“Oh, where the fuck are you going, huh? Who said you could run away? Nah, you wanted it, so now you take it like a good girl.” He reveled in the way you took his cock, jaw agape, eyes screwed shut and forehead screwed into a frown of pleasure. 

You were practically done for when he carelessly shoved your face to the side, damn near knocking your glasses off your face. His lips sucked marks on your neck as your pussy convulsed around his cock for the second time. Your head was spinning so hard and your vision was so blurry, you didn’t even know what planet you were on.

“Hmph! Rafe!” You yelped but he cut you off, a particularly sharp thrust making you slide up the mattress. 

“Shut up. I’m gonna fill you. Gonna ruin every other man for you.” He spat, his voice raspy and his hair falling in front of his eyes as he chased his high. 

“Please Rafe, give it to me. Want it so bad!” Well that fucking did it. A moan rumbled in Rafe’s throat as he spilled himself inside you. His eyes were screwed shut and his mouth hung wide open. He snapped his hips, one, two more times before he sat still with a long breath. 

You laid speechless, blinking softly as you tried to slow your racing heart, and process that this actually happened. Sixteen year-old you would totally freak out. Rafe Cameron just fucked the life out of you. Rafe was looking down at you with a pussy-drunk look, his eyes slightly closed and his lips were parted. Not that you could see him that well. Your glasses were so smudged and foggy all you could see was blurry shapes. 

“I just fucked you dumb and you’re making that face?” Rafe narrowed his eyes at you as leaned on his forearms, holding up his weight as your legs fell to either side of him. You frowned at him, confused. 

“What face?”

“You’re pouting and shit.” He smirked, squeezing your face between his fingers and you shot him a pointed look, groaning. 

“I forgot to take off my glasses. They’re all dirty now. Can’t see shit.” You rolled your eyes, pulling your face away from his grip as you took your glasses off and tossed them on your nightstand. 

“Well you looked cute and shit so. You’re fine.” He pressed a kiss to your pouty lips before laying down beside you, the feeling of your mixed release making you hiss softly. 

Rafe lied with an arm behind his head and he couldn’t help but grin when he caught you looking at him with your lip pulled between your teeth. He nudged you over with his head and you happily settled underneath his arm with your head resting on his chest. You didn’t take him for a cuddling type but you’d happily take this.

You sighed heavily, just wanting to rest your sore muscles for a bit when you heard him speak again. 

“So are you gonna follow me back on insta now or what?” 

[1989worshipper]

if ur like me and loved this so much you wanted a second part, i got chatgpt to write one!!!

@marinalor @capricp @imagineme2you @onlyangle1 @lokalblackie @imjustsomesoup @obsessedftshit @jupiter-rebel @seasonswinter @lovingyeet @gabsssssblog @doodlebug0105 @I-wonder-I

——————————————————————

Later that night, Five finds himself pacing in Elliot's dimly lit living room. The gnawing feeling in his chest has been building ever since he saw you. It’s not just the fact that you’ve been living here with Elliot, looking so at ease, or that you brushed him off without a second thought—it’s the way you didn’t even try to fix his tie.

It’s stupid, he knows it. But that one gesture was always yours. It was how you calmed him, how you managed to worm your way into his walls back at the Commission, and he hated how much he missed it.

Elliot is tinkering with his equipment at the kitchen counter, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in Five’s head. You’re perched on the arm of the couch, idly flipping through an old magazine. Five’s eyes keep darting toward you, and it’s driving him mad.

Finally, he breaks the silence. “So, that’s it? You’re just going to sit there and do nothing while the world falls apart?”

You don’t even glance up from the magazine. “You’re a big boy, Five. You’ve got this.”

The sarcasm in your tone sends a spike of irritation through him. “I thought you cared about the fate of humanity.”

“Oh, I do.” You close the magazine and set it on the table with a calmness that only stokes Five’s frustration. “But you made it pretty clear how you felt about me. So why would I waste my time tagging along just to annoy you?”

His mouth opens, but no words come out. He hadn’t expected you to throw his own words back at him, and it stings more than he wants to admit.

Before he can respond, Elliot pipes up. “So, uh, what’s the deal with you two? Exes? Rivals? Star-crossed lovers?”

You snort, and Five glares at Elliot. “None of your business,” he snaps.

Elliot raises his hands in surrender, muttering, “Touchy subject.”

You stand, brushing off your pants. “I’m heading to bed. Good luck with the apocalypse, Five.”

Five blinks as you retreat down the hall. He wants to follow, to say something—anything—but his pride keeps him rooted to the spot.

The next day, Five finds himself once again trying to rally everyone together. After a frustrating series of events involving his siblings, he returns to Elliot’s place to regroup. When he walks in, the sight of you laughing with Elliot feels like a punch to the gut. You’re leaning over the table, pointing out something on the Scrabble board, and Elliot is smiling like an idiot.

It’s ridiculous. He shouldn’t care. But he does.

“Am I interrupting?” he says flatly.

You glance up, your expression neutral. “Not at all. Did you manage to save the world yet?”

“Working on it,” he mutters, shrugging off his jacket. His eyes land on your hand, which is casually resting on Elliot’s shoulder. The frothy feeling in his stomach is back with a vengeance.

He walks over, standing directly in front of you. “Can I talk to you? Alone.”

You raise an eyebrow but follow him into the next room. He closes the door behind you and turns to face you, his tie once again deliberately crooked.

“What is it, Five?” you ask, crossing your arms and leaning against the wall.

“I need you to come with me,” he says, his voice quieter than usual.

You tilt your head, clearly unimpressed. “Why? So you can yell at me again? Remind me how I’m just a nuisance?”

He flinches at your words, guilt flickering in his expression. For a moment, he just stares at you, jaw tight. Then he exhales sharply, his shoulders sagging slightly. “No. That’s not why. I… I need to fix things. With you.”

Your brows furrow. “Fix things? What does that even mean?”

“It means I’m sorry,” he blurts, the words rushing out before he can stop them. His voice is uncharacteristically unsteady, but he presses on. “I was an ass to you back at the bowling alley. And every moment after. I was stressed, angry, and… I pushed you away because I thought that was easier than letting you in. Easier than admitting I needed you.”

You blink, clearly taken aback, but he doesn’t stop.

“I told myself I didn’t care,” he continues, pacing a little. “That your ridiculous nicknames and constant tie-fixing were just distractions. But I was wrong. Because when you stopped—when you weren’t there anymore—” He looks up at you, his green eyes sharp yet vulnerable. “I realized how much I relied on you. How much I… missed you.”

Your lips part slightly, but no words come out. Five takes a cautious step closer.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me. I don’t even deserve it,” he admits, his voice dropping lower. “But I can’t do this without you. I don’t want to do this without you. So please… come back. Not for the mission or the apocalypse—just for me.”

For a moment, the room is silent, the weight of his words settling between you like something fragile. Your heart twists at the vulnerability he rarely, if ever, shows.

“Five…” you say softly, searching his face. “Do you really mean that? Or is this just another way to get me to follow orders?”

His lips press into a thin line, and he shakes his head. “This isn’t about orders. It’s about me being an idiot and finally realizing what I had before it was gone.”

You sigh, stepping forward until you’re inches away from him. His tie is crooked—deliberately so, you suspect. You raise an eyebrow at him, and his lips quirk into a faint smirk, as if daring you.

Your hands rise to fix it, the familiar gesture grounding you both. His breath hitches slightly, but he doesn’t move, watching you intently.

“There,” you say quietly, fingers lingering on the fabric. “Back to normal.”

“Not quite,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s a start.”

You hesitate, then take a step back, crossing your arms again. “I’ll come with you. But you’ve got to prove you actually care, Five. Actions, not just words.”

A flicker of relief flashes across his face, and he nods. “Fair enough.”

As he turns to leave the room, you call after him. “One more thing.”

He glances over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised.

“Don’t screw this up,” you warn, though there’s a hint of a smile tugging at your lips.

His smirk returns, more genuine this time. “I don’t plan to.”

For the first time in what feels like forever, there’s a glimmer of hope between you. And for Five, that’s more than enough to fight for.

I've got a sinking feeling - {Five Hargreeves x GN!Reader}

Synopsis: You are very flirty with Five, and he's tricked himself into believing he hates it. He tells you to stop. Then he learns the hard way how much he took you for granted when you meet someone else.

Note: Five requests would be very appreciated! Thank you to those who sent requests on my last one shot.

(Not Edited)

Warnings: Swearing

Word count: 1.5k

Extra Information: Viisi means Five in Finnish. Five and Y/n were partners in the commission. They look seventeen or eighteen instead of thirteen. This one-shot takes place on the last episode of season one, and the entirety of season two.

----

The Academy, Five's home, has just collapsed--courtesy of Vanya's new powers--and Five ordered his family to meet at Super Star Lanes bowling alley to come up with a new plan of action.

He grabs your wrist, blinking you with him. You're both in front of the bowling alley in a flash of blue.

Five takes a moment to pace around, not entering the building. The crisp, spring air bites at your earlobes as you hug your sides for warmth

"Hey, Viisi, can we go inside?" You look at him with a grimace and a pleading smile. He whips his head in your direction to glare at you, then strolls inside with a roll of his eyes. You follow in his stead.

The interior is heated, thankfully. Five informs the underpaid worker that his "parents" will be arriving shortly to pay for his bowling shoes. He takes a seat adjacent to Lane 6 and you sit next to him.

"So, how was the farewell with Delores? I know you two were close." You lean back in your seat, getting more comfortable while waiting for Five's siblings to arrive.

He does not look at you. His jaw ticks in annoyance, mistaking your genuine curiosity for mockery.

"Come onnn, I know you're stressed, but this is your sister. I'm sure she's reasonable enough not to end the world." You turn towards him, leaning your elbows on your thighs and admiring his pretty face.

"No, it's not that." He scoffs, looking at you with a sneer.

You notice that his tie is crooked so you reach out to fix it, like you often do. It's sort of your thing.

He smacks your hand away and you raise an eyebrow.

"You okay Viisi?" You rub your hand a little, surprised. Normally, he lets you fix his tie with no problem. Although, he would grumble about it a little.

"God- No. I'm not okay." He puts his hands in his hair, gripping it slightly with an exasperated expression. "And stop calling me that."

"What?" You breathe with a smile of disbelief. "What's going on? Did something happen- Did I do something?" You lean away from him a little to give him more space.

"Stop, just stop it with the touching and the nicknames. I'm sick of it!" He looks at you with cold eyes. This is very unusual of him.

You cock your head to the side, trying to understand. "Five, I thought- I thought that was our thing! Y'know, the friendly banter and-"

"I know you're desperate for some sort of relationship with me, but I'm here to tell you that it's not going to happen. We were only ever co-workers." He says through gritted teeth, avoiding your eyes. "I'm telling you to stop pursuing me." 'Pursuing' him?

Usually you would brush this sort of behavior off, ignore it. Tell yourself that it's only because he's stressed. He's always stressed! Thinking back, he was never all that nice to you. Even in your Commission days.

You'd tricked yourself into thinking that maybe he thought you were special, or that you were at least his friend. His confidant.

You look at him with eyes full of hurt, which Five has never seen from you. He almost feels something bubbling up his throat, but the feeling dissipates quickly. "Have I made myself clear?" He says evenly.

You only nod, turning away so he doesn't see the tears prick at your eyes.

Five's siblings come inside and you two don't speak to each other again.

A year and seven months later (for you, at least.)

1963, Dallas Texas:

Five anxiously pulls at his tie after narrowly escaping three armed Swedish men. He had just watched his siblings, along with you, blow up in yet another nuclear explosion. It's left him oddly shaken up about how he treated you back in 2019.

He's pacing down the alley-way between the Commerse and Knox when he notices a flash atop the roof. A large camera of some sort.

A brown haired man closes his window briskly. That's strange.

Five teleports inside, scaling up a flight of stairs with cat-like agility. When he knocks on a door, the one beside him answers, revealing a mouse-y looking man in his early thirties. He looks at him with big, expectant eyes.

"What do you want." His tone is dripping with suspicion.

"Hi, I'm selling encyclopedias for my youth group. I was curious if-" Five gets a door to the face. He huffs, blinking inside after him.

The man, Elliot, jumps, yelping in fear and pulling out a butter-knife from his drawer of kitchen utensils. "H-how did you do that?" He hesitates, astonished.

Five looks at him with amusement. "Don't really have time to explain."

Elliot runs a hand through his unkempt brown hair, gripping the butter-knife in a feeble attempt to protect himself. "You from the Pentagon? Huh?"

"Definitely not."

"CIA? FBI? KGB?"

Five eyes up the kitchen, noticing a coffee pot on the other side of the room. "Is that fresh?" He uses his powers again, blinking himself right in front of the coffee pot.

Elliot screams, whipping his head back and forth between the place Five just was and the place he appeared. "What..." He pants, eyes wide.

"Elliot? You okay?" Five hears a faraway voice from another room. A familiar voice. "Who's with you?" It asks.

You appear from around the corner, presumably from Elliot's bedroom, looking almost two years older.

Five furrows his eyebrows and so do you. He breathes out your name is what you almost register as relief. But, you know better then to think that.

"Oh, Five. You're back." You say casually, nodding and crossing your arms. Five sets the coffee down, unwillingly noticing how you didn't call him by his nickname.

"How long have you been here?" He walks towards you, looking at your slightly different features. You changed your hair, he observes. He says nothing about it.

"A year and a half, I believe." You tap your chin in thought. Elliot glances between you two with interest or surprise.

"You two know each-other?" He puts the butter-knife back onto the counter with a small clatter.

You nod, shrugging. "We were co-workers." You send Elliot a reassuring, genuine smile.

Co-workers. Five doesn't like how the word rolled off your tongue.

He licks his lips, looking away. "You live here?" He asks you, although it was a silly question considering its obvious answer.

You nod with tight lipped smile, approaching Elliot. You fix his hair with your fingers and flip the collar of his flannel back down. "Did he scare you? I told you he could be a bit much."

Elliot exhales a shaky laugh at your words and actions as Five begins to feel a hot, frothy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He changes the subject. "Are my siblings here too?"

Elliot answers for you, looking back towards the teen again. "The other six anomalys- The power surges." He begins to look excited at this new discovery. "They're your siblings?"

Five ticks his jaw, ignoring him. "So they're alive..." He begins to pace around. "I think I stranded them here. Now listen to me..."

"Elliot." You tell him his name.

"Whatever, alright? I got ten days to find them and save the world." He points to you and Elliot. "Now, I need your help to do that."

Elliot is just so happy to be involved, his three year long project finally achieving some major development. He scrambles to find a certain newspaper scrap from his desk drawer. "You know what? I, uh..." He fumbles with it, handing it to Five.

"I always thought that this, uh, mugshot looked like arrival number four."

"Diego." Five reads softly, then he twists around to face you. "You're coming with me." He states.

You hiss awkwardly through your teeth, avoiding his eyes. "Ohh, about that... Actually, Elliot and I were about to play Scrabble. It's Scrabble night."

Five narrows his eyes at you, barking your name. "The world is ending and you're just gonna play Scrabble with this homebody?"

Elliot looks at his dusty wooden floors with a look of dejection.

"Uh, yeah. That's exactly what I'm gonna do." You lean against the door-frame with a bored expression. "I thought you wanted me to stop following you around like a lost puppy."

Five feels strange. "You know what? I don't need this." He blinks away to search for Diego.

When Five returns from the strip club, after a failed attempt of recruiting both Luther and Diego, he decides to test something. His fingers reach for his tie, pulling at it and skewing it. Perfectly crooked.

You couldn't resist fixing his tie, he knew this.

So why didn't you? He finds himself uncharacteristically frustrated about your unresponsiveness.

As he demands that Elliot develop his Frankel Footage, his eyes trail to you occasionally, silently tempting you to straighten his tie.

Your eyes flicked to it once. However, you made no move to adjust it.

Five heaves a dramatic sigh, angrily fixes it, and leaves to look for Vanya.

He messed up before, he realizes. He feels like shit.

[v6quewrlds]

LOVE TALK, JOE BURROW.

pairing⠀⁎⠀joe burrow x wife!reader. word count⠀⁎⠀1.9k.

summary⠀⁎⠀with your toddler off with the cousins at her grandparents' house, it's a quiet night in the burrow household. you take advantage of the quiet to spend some one-on-one time soaking in your warm tub.

author's note⠀⁎⠀requested by an anon, i hope you like it bae <3 changed up the layout a little bit, we'll see if i stick to it lmao warnings⠀⁎⠀suggestive at worst. hubby!joe, dad!joe, frosted tips!joe, warnings about joe being a softie in general.

"Thank you, baby. That feels so good," you moaned, your eyes drifting closed as Joe's strong hands gently kneaded your tense shoulder muscles. You leaned back into him, feeling the warmth of the water and his body enveloping you. His touch was magic, easing the constant ache that seemed to follow you around lately.

"You're welcome," Joe murmured, his voice a low rumble that resonated through you. He kissed the top of your head, his breath tickling your scalp. "How's that?"

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "Perfect."

The conversation lulled for a moment, the only sound the soft splashing of the water. Joe's fingers danced over your skin, tracing the curve of your stomach down to your thighs before returning to massage the tension out of your neck. You felt a rush of warmth spread through your body, the stress of the week dissipating into the steamy air.

"So, have you thought more about the birth plan?" Joe asked, his voice careful, as if tiptoeing around a minefield. You two have had this conversation before, but you had never really put a bow on the details.

You exhaled deeply, your body sinking deeper into his warmth. "You know me, I'm flexible. But I do want an epidural this time. I was a champ with Amara, but I don't need to prove my strength twice."

Joe's grip tightened around your shoulders in an anxious squeeze. "Well, that's my only concern. No more natural births for you. I don't want to see you in that much pain again."

You leaned your head back, peering at him with a smirk. "Were you worried? You were about 10 seconds away from passing out when Amara was born."

Joe rolled his eyes, a faint blush rising to his cheeks. "I was not! I'm just saying, if modern medicine has a solution to that kind of pain, I want you to take it."

You chuckled, the sound echoing off the tiles. "Alright, alright. Point taken." You paused, brushing your fingers against your bump. "But other than that, let's just keep it low-key. Just you, me, and the midwife. I love our moms but I don't need an audience this time around."

Joe nodded, his eyes flickering with relief. "Deal. Just as long as you're comfortable." His thumbs dug into the knots in your shoulders, and you couldn't help but let out a contented sigh. "We're still doing a water birth at home? I have the pool in our Amazon cart but haven't pulled the trigger yet."

"Yes, Joe. At home, with the pool," you said, your voice a mix of exasperation and amusement. "I feel like you're more excited about the water birth than I am."

"What? It's just... I don't know. It seems like a cool experience," Joe replied, trying to sound nonchalant, but failing miserably.

You couldn't help but laugh, the sound rich and warm in the stillness of your bathroom sanctuary. "Cool? Having a baby is cool?"

Joe shrugged, his hands pausing in their ministrations. "Well, it's not like we're throwing a party, but it's definitely an experience. And I'd rather you be comfortable than anything else."

Your eyes popped open as a sudden jolt of movement from within your belly made you jump. "Whoa, baby girl's definitely got her daddy's athleticism," you said, placing a hand over the spot where you had felt the kick.

Joe leaned forward to peer at your stomach, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "Was that a kick?" His hand hovered over your belly, waiting for another sign of life.

"Yeah," you said, your eyes shining with affection. "Keep talking, she's a fan of your voice."

Joe grinned, leaning in closer so his cheek was against yours. "Hey, angel," he whispered, his voice tender and filled with wonder. "You're gonna be here so soon, and we can't wait to see you. You have the best big sister in the whole world, she's so excited to play with you." You felt the baby give another kick, and Joe's smile grew even wider as his hand finally felt your little baby Burrow's response.

"My boobs are killing me," you said with a grimace, breaking the momentary silence. The baby's kicks had subsided, but the pressure in your breasts remained. Joe laughed wholeheartedly, his hands moving from your shoulders to cup your breasts gently.

"You're telling me," he teased, his thumbs circling your soft nipples. "They're like two basketballs about to pop." You shot him a glare, but the sensation felt heavenly. You leaned into his touch, letting out a contented sigh.

"Asshole. You did this to me, remember?" you murmured, your voice thick with both pleasure and frustration.

"What can I say? I missed seeing them all heavy like this," Joe said, his voice a playful purr in your ear. He pinched them gently, rolling the sensitive peaks between his fingers. You couldn't help but let out a low whine, the sensation shooting straight to your core. "But seriously, baby, you're so sexy right now." He kissed your neck, his teeth grazing your skin.

"Sexy but swollen," you corrected, though you couldn't help but feel a flutter of pride at his compliment. You reached up to stroke his cheek with your thumb, feeling the two-day-old stubble against your palm. "How do you feel about doing something with Amara before the due date? I read that it's good to spend some one-on-one time with the older sibling before the new baby arrives."

Joe nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, your mom mentioned that to me, too. Maybe we could take her to the zoo closer to the date?" He kissed your neck, his teeth grazing the soft skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

You considered it. "That's a good idea. She loves animals." You leaned into his touch, enjoying the way his fingers danced over your swollen breasts. The intimacy of the moment made you feel cherished, despite the weight of your pregnancy.

"It's not like she'll remember the zoo trip in a few years," Joe pointed out, his voice a whisper against your skin. "But she'll remember the attention she got from us before her world gets flipped upside down."

"True," you said, your breath hitching as Joe's touch grew more insistent. "Do you think she fully understands what's happening?"

"Probably not," Joe replied, his breath hot against your ear. "But she'll get it when she sees her little sister for the first time." His hands slid down to your bump, his palms cupping the underside of your belly. He gently lifted the bump up, shifting the weight of your baby girl from your spine for just a brief moment. You sighed in relief as your head fell back against Joe's shoulder again.

"I hope she's as excited as we are," you murmured, your hand joining his on your stomach. You watched in awe as your daughter began to kick in response to your touch. "Look at her go."

Joe's eyes never left the sight of your baby moving beneath your skin. "I can't believe we made this happen," he whispered, his voice filled with awe. "Two little miracles."

Your hand squeezed his. "We make a good team," you said softly, your gaze meeting his. Joe's eyes met yours, finding the love and certainty that had carried you two through so much already.

"Of course we do, babe," he agreed, his voice soft with emotion. "And we're gonna rock this whole two kids thing, just like we do everything else."

You felt a sudden surge of love for him, your heart swelling in your chest. You turned your head fully, your lips finding his in a soft, lingering kiss. "Thank you for this weekend, Joey. I really needed it."

He reciprocated the kiss eagerly, his eyes smiling when you pulled away. "Anything for you, babe." His hands drifted down to your thighs, his touch light and exploratory. "With how this season is going, these moments with you are the only thing keeping me sane. If you need anything else, just let me know."

You couldn't argue with him. You felt like a new woman, the tension of the disappointing season and the weight of your pregnancy anxiety both lifted away in the blissful weekend. "Mm, I definitely needed this more than I thought," you admitted, a shy smile curving your lips.

Joe's grin widened, and he leaned in to kiss you, his hands still resting lightly on top of your thighs. "Good," he murmured. "Because I'm gonna take you to bed and make sure you sleep for the rest of the night."

Your eyes widened, and you turned to look at him over your shoulder. "Now, that's a plan I can get behind," you said, your voice a purr.

Joe stood, water sluicing off his muscular form, and offered you a hand. You took it, letting him help you out of the tub, the water running off your curves like a waterfall. He wrapped a towel around you, his eyes raking over your body with a softness that had only grown since you had conceived your first child.

"Alright, let's go," Joe said, taking your hand and leading you out of the bathroom and into your bedroom. The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the flickering candles on the nightstand. He gently laid you down on the soft, plush bed and began to dry you off with the towel, his touch lingering on your damp skin.

You watched him, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the warm towel. "You're too good to me," you murmured, your voice sleepy with satisfaction.

Joe kissed the top of your head, his eyes glittering with love. "Not nearly enough, babe," he said, his voice soft. He finished drying you off, his touch lingering on your swollen belly as he worked your lotion into your skin. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me."

Your heart swelled with love, and you reached out to trace the line of his jaw with your fingertips. "And you're the best thing that ever happened to me."

Joe leaned down to kiss your stomach, his lips pressing softly against the firm mound of your growing baby. You felt the baby kick in response and you couldn't help but laugh. "I think you're already her favorite," you said, watching Joe with a warmth in your eyes.

He grinned up at you, his own eyes alight with love and excitement. "Well, I've got to start early. Can't have you stealing all the love, now can I?"

You chuckled, your hand sliding over your belly to rest on top of Joe's. "You're going to spoil the two of them rotten, I just know it."

Joe looked up at you, his smile turning mischievous. "Is that a challenge?"

You rolled your eyes playfully, but your heart was full. "No, it's a fact," you said, your voice filled with affection. "But I wouldn't have it any other way."

Joe leaned over you, his hands framing your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks as he kissed you deeply. The kiss was slow and gentle, a promise of the passion you would share again once your baby girl was born. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, the warmth of the water still clinging to your bodies.

As the two of you broke apart, Joe whispered, "I can't wait to see your beautiful face when you hold her for the first time." Your eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Me too," you said, your voice soft with emotion.

[postracehair]

gold rush

max verstappen x reader | 2.4k

max verstappen stands across the room from you at someone else's party. he's not yours, but he could be.

cw: cursing, perhaps overly introspective, allusions to sex, kissing, semi-established relationship without commitment, confessions, being desperately in love with max

a/n: this is a little different from my usual style. i...wrote it in two parts while wine drunk and yearny and listening to gold rush by taylor swift on repeat. it's a lethal combo for a girl, let me tell you. posting in honor of today's qatar win. i really like this one. please be nice to me. <3

--

It's torture.

Standing here across the room, glass in hand, watching.

He just looks so fucking good.

"Fuck me," you mutter. Some deep, animalistic urge tells you to bite clean through the rim of your wine glass. Chew on the shards until they're sand and swallow them easy as anything. It would probably be less painful than what you're currently doing.

Watching.

The object of your scrutiny straightens almost imperceptibly. A minuscule lengthening of his spine invisible to anyone who isn't examining his every move. For someone who is watched more often than not, you're surprised he feels your eyes on him.

But he does.

Max Verstappen turns away from his conversation partner slightly, a barely there shift of his chin to glance around the room. Blue eyes like the fucking ocean or some other cliche you can't think of right now. His focus face, you've called it. That got him to laugh, once, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes driving your heart into a frenzy.

Evaluating, cataloging. Looking for the racing line and finding -- you.

Leaning back on the wall not ten yards from him, wine glass in hand.

You're going to heat it up with your palm holding it like that, he'd told you once. You have to hold the stem.

They teach you that in Monaco? you'd teased.

Flirtations. One of a hundred, a thousand. Nothing memorable for him, you tell yourself. Each conversation an axis-shifting event for you.

It's embarrassing, actually. To want someone this much. To be one of millions.

But you know. You know how he looks in an empty room, how he mutters to himself when he folds his laundry, how he straightens his shoes against the wall of every hotel room.

You know him.

Maybe that's why this is dangerous. You've got ammo, you've got evidence. You know that Max Verstappen is like the rest of the world. A boy who wanted desperately turned into a man who has everything. And still wants.

Is that what binds us all together? The depth of our longing?

Max finds your gaze and holds it. The girl he's talking to -- pretty, smart. You know her peripherally -- keeps speaking, hand not holding her drink waving in the air, eyes focusing somewhere above his hairline.

Lots of people make this mistake. It's all in his eyes, if you can stand to look at them. Everything he's feeling. A challange that, once met, melts into an open door. He'll show you everything if you just step over the threshold, invited or not. Sometimes all we want is someone to bang on the door when we're already in bed. Make us get up, come downstairs. There you are. I was waiting for you.

The eyes tell you everything. You take a long sip of your wine and he watches, jaw ticking. He didn't shave today. The light stubble makes him look older, though you know his heart. Fluttering like a boy's, yearning like a child's. He wants just like you do. If only you knew what and just how much.

I don't know what comes next, he said. His head in your lap, hair soft and golden between your fingers. What else is there?

So much, you said. You traced the line of his nose with the pad of your thumb. That's the best thing about it.

About what?

Life.

There is a world in which you came to this party together. Distant, fuzzy. You mussed his hair with your hands after begging him to leave the gel on the shelf. He kissed off your lipstick before you made it out the door. The steady beat of his heart under your palm in the doorway, a sure reminder of the dip he makes in the universe. Your center, always orbiting around him.

Reality is louder. More crowded, smells like champagne and burnt pastry. It's a room full of people where you can only look at one. Where he's looking back.

You jerk your chin towards the back hallway, the one the leads to the bathroom only the girls go to in pairs. To debrief, to prepare. A secret from the hostess meant for moments of reprieve. At the very least, you'll need one of those.

It you're lucky, one of those will come to you on two legs and stormy eyes.

Could you be imagining it? Wouldn't be the first time you lived in your head a little too long. But -- fuck. The dreams you've had. The way you've looked at your life and slotted him into it. It's almost too easy, a game with no stakes. But the buy in is steep, nonrefundable. How you got here is irrelevant. You have to pay up.

You wind your way through laughing people, velvet dresses and barely buttoned shirts. Sparkly eye shadow and satin bows, well-wishes and chaste kisses. 'Tis the damn season, indeed. 

The hallway is quiet. No one in the bathroom, the door hanging open, light off. You lean back on the wall, glass loose in your fingers. Eyes closed, wondering if you'll wake up somewhere else. Somewhere you want less, somewhere your blood isn't singing, isn't begging you to get closer to him.

"You look nice," Max says. Your lips curve into a smile, a smirk, a grimace. Are they not all the same around him? Teeth showing, muscles out of control. He bypasses all of your sense, worms his way into your bloodstream with just a word.

"Thanks," you manage. Eyes open, now, and fuck, you feel it. Right in the chest, like a punch that digs beneath your ribs and takes its pound of flesh.

Max looks good. You saw it from across the room but here, in front of you, you can see it more clearly.

There's something about him. A boyishness that remains around the eyes, the mouth. Hopeful mischief, maybe. Eternal youth, promise, faith.

God. This would all be so much easier if you weren't in love with him.

He studies you. Takes his time, gaze tracing the lines of your face. Your brows, your lashes. Nose, lips. Lips. His eyes stop there.

"You were staring," he says. Never one to back down from a challenge. Never one to let you off easy. It's a compliment, the way he drags you to the ring. Keep up with me, he's saying. Make it interesting.

"Yeah," you say, slowly. It drips out of your mouth, lingers in the air between you. "You look good."

His eyes flash. You're meeting his expectations. Always hard to live up to those, when the standard he holds himself to is so damn high. He expects you to climb up that mountain, too. If only to show that you're wiling to. That he's worth it. That you want to.

And he does look good. Max values honesty above most things, but his cheeks flush all the same. It's pretty, not that you'd tell him that. Maybe one more glass of wine and you would. It's not an original thought, far from it, but you reach for him all the same, liquid courage loading the barrel and cocking the gun.

You cup his cheek, thumb pressing to the corner of his mouth. Like a marionette with his strings cut, he sighs. You breath with him, leaning in. Everything else fades away, the world turning around the place where his skin touches yours. Palm on his stubbled cheek, eyes locked like you're moored to each other.

This is why you haven't let him go. Because it's like this. It's insane.

And Max knows it.

"What are we doing?" he whispers. His throat bobs and he looks unsure. Not an expression you've seen on him very often, but maybe that's the punchline.

This matters to him. Maybe as much as it matters to you. He leans into your palm and the fingers of one hand curl around your hips, pressing hard enough to bruise. He carefully tugs your wine glass from your grip and sets it on the thin table in the hall before crowding you agains the wall.

"I don't know," you whisper back. You're close enough that he must feel your breath on this lips. It's inexplicable, this feeling -- you should know. You've tried.

He reorients everything, you've said over and over again. It's like I'm seeing the world for the first time, but with him in it.

His breath is hot on your lips. "I need you," he says. "I --" He swallows. Pupils swelling, mouth set. You half expect him to pull on a racing suit and get in the car.

"Max," you manage. It's not a surprise, not really, but it stings the way that only the things you want can. "I--

"Nothing else is like this," he says, sounding more sure than you've ever heard. "No matter what, or who, it's not like this. I'm always thinking of you."

Something inside you crumples. Your very bones, maybe. Your heart, surely. He can't just say these things.

"Don't say if it you don't mean it," you manage. Your throat is thick, tears resting just behind your eyes. It makes sense to no one else, this love. This passion, this soul tie.

"I mean it," he says, voice steady. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't ask this of you, but I am. I'm asking."

Love me. Stick by me. Tell me you feel it, too.

You close your eyes again, but what appears behind your lids is no less than what's actually happening to you. This is the stuff of dreams, the deepest part of your heart that beats his name.

"I don't know how to do this," you whisper. His lips drag from your pulse point to your ear.

"Me neither," he replies. "But we have to try."

"I've wanted you for so long," you gasp. His fingers have snuck under the hem of your shirt, nails scratching up and down your back. "Max--"

Your name is a prayer on his tongue, a blessing, a benediction. A plea. You've never felt so safe as when he is at your altar.

"Let's go," he says. "Let's get out of here."

The where doesn't matter. The how, the why, the when. It doesn't matter.

Sometimes, things just happen the way they are supposed to. Lovers unite, reunite, and love. Is that not enough?

"Bet you say that to all the girls."

Your voice is hoarse, ragged. The opposite of his well-honed determination, his tunnel vision. You wanted this, didn't you? But you're stalling. Having and wanting are different.

"No," Max says. "Hey, look at me."

For all your talk, you keep doing anything he asks. It's so easy. You are so safe in his hands, even if they burn.

He presses his lips to the corner of your mouth and you open your eyes. Despite the drinks you watched him down they're clear. Ablaze with certainty.

"Max," you whisper. His nostrils flare.

"Just you," he says. "You have me. Just you."

He does this thing, when he's away. You bought him a keychain -- a lion, of course -- on a whim. Figured he'd throw it in a drawer somewhere and forget about it. But then he sent you a photo from a country you've never been to, holding up his keys, the lion dangling in the sunlight.

You get photos from all around the world, now.

Maybe...maybe, you can believe him. Maybe you can take. Maybe dreams can bleed into waking.

What else is there to do? His jaw ticks, lips parted as he exhales. You feel it, warm and shaky. That won't do.

The kiss doesn't surprise him. It's inevitable, a corner he's driven in his sleep, the finish line that always waits for him. Max always knows where he is going and maybe he knew you were on the way here, too.

And god, does he know how to kiss you. You're the one who leans in but he takes the wheel quickly, one hand pressing into your lower back under your shirt and the other dragging up your ribs to settle on your jaw. He licks into your mouth like there's a secret to find, like he can peel back your layers and find your heart in his palms, beating in time with his.

Nights in his bed, slow mornings watching him wake. Phone calls just to hear you breathe, texts and gifts and hints that, if you'd just say so, this could be more. This could be it.

But he's waited. You realize he's waited for you.

"You have me," you say, pulling away with a gasp. His lips chase yours, hovering so close that every word makes them brush. Your hands are woven in his hair, noses pressed together. Almost one person. "Max," you breathe. "You have me."

There are a thousand ways this could go wrong. Even if your world orbits around him, even if his heart is magnetized to yours, a star in the sky always pointing north -- reality is not so kind. It will be hard. No one will understand. People will want what you have, what you will hold dear for the rest of your life.

But it doesn't matter. Because Max -- a world champion, a boy who wanted who became a man who had everything -- is holding you. He smiles so wide it spreads to you, two smiles pressed together in the dim light of someone else's party.

"Okay," you whisper. "Okay, let's go."

He kisses you once more, sloppy, teeth clacking, and grabs your hand. Out of the hall, through the party, barely a word for anyone else. Everybody wants you, you told him once. Hm, he'd said. I don't know about that.

But he gleams. He shines, flushed cheeks and bright eyes as he looks back to check that you're still there. Squeezing your hand in his, a man on a mission. Following that racing line all the way home, all eyes on him. But he knows where he's going.

Out of the party and onto the quiet street, breath floating up and away in excited puffs. Under the streetlight Max looks ethereal. Beautiful, boyish, in love. He's a dream come to life.

Your dream. Looking back at you like he's thinking the same.

He says your name like he's been looking everywhere and finally found you. Reaching the end of the road, throwing the door open and falling to his knees. An answer. The answer.

He kisses you on the empty street. You fall, and fall, and fall.

Together.

[wildwestdean]

wish list

summary: dean shares his christmas wish with you

pairing: dean winchester x female reader

word count: 845

warnings: fluff, mutual pining, confessions, idiots in love

a/n: a short and sweet piece for day one of the Promt-Mas 2024 event in our lovely supernatural writers community; prompt 1 'all i want for christmas'

“What do you want for Christmas?” you asked, phone cradled to your ear. 

It was a simple question, one that had been asked many times before, yet it still made Dean stop in his tracks as he hesitated over his answer. 

“And don’t say pie,” you added playfully, pulling a chuckle from his lips. 

“Well, I can’t answer your question then, sweetheart,” he teased. 

“Oh, c’mon!” you groaned. “There has to be something you want.” 

Dean sighed, kicking his feet up on the table in the war room as he leaned back in his chair. He’s starting to feel like he never leaves this spot, sitting here like a sad puppy waiting for you to walk through the bunker door ever since you left two weeks ago, eager to help Jody and Donna work a case; a case that ended in the three of you taking a girls trip to some retreat in the mountains. 

He wanted you to come home. 

“Dean?” you called softly, pulling him from his thoughts when he took longer than usual to answer. 

“I don’t want anything,” he lied, shrugging his shoulders despite the fact you couldn’t see him. 

“Liar,” you laughed, easily picking up on his fib.

He couldn’t help but smile, the fuzzy feeling settling in his stomach once more at the realization of how well you know him. 

“What do you want?” he asked, hoping to flip the spotlight onto you. 

“Nuh-uh,” you tsked. “You’re not getting out of this so easily, Winchester.” 

“You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?” he joked, voice laced with laughter. 

“I can be even worse!” you threatened with a laugh. “What if I guess? Will you tell me if I guess it?” 

“Sure, why not?” he agreed, mainly because he knew you’d never get it right. 

He listened with a grin as you rambled on, listing every possible thing that came to your mind for what he may want. Some were things that he himself didn’t even know he wanted, and while he did admit to them being good ideas, he remained adamant they weren’t his main wish; yet still refused to give an inch as to what that may be. 

“Would you stop being so stubborn?” you huffed in exasperation, knowing you should admit defeat but not wanting to; you were just as stubborn as him when it came down to it. 

“Why is it so important to you?” he asked with a laugh, finding your irritation over the situation rather endearing. 

“Because you’re important to me,” you told him. “I don’t want to get you just anything and call it a day. Yeah, I have some things for you already, but I want you to have something that’ll make you truly happy. Something special, y’know?” 

Dean fell silent after your explanation, your words bouncing around in his head as he tried to think of what to say, as he wondered how best to tell you. 

“Are you embarrassed to tell me or something? Because you should know by now that I’d never-” 

“Come home,” he said quietly, cutting off your speech. 

“Stop trying to change the subject,” you chuckled, not understanding what he was telling you. 

“No, I-” he started, taking a shaky breath. “That- that’s what I want.” 

“You… want me to come home?” you questioned, clearly confused. 

“I want you,” he admitted, his heart hammering against his ribcage so fiercely he wondered if you could hear it.

You fell so silent on the other end that he actually had to pull the phone away to make sure the call was still connected.

“Me?” you finally asked, voice barely above a whisper. 

“You,” he confirmed, chuckling nervously. “You’re what makes me happy, sweet girl. Hell, there was a point that I thought I’d never be truly happy again… and then one day, you showed up. There’s nothing that’ll be more special to me than you, sweetheart."

“So… what you’re saying is that I don’t need to spend money on you this year?” you asked playfully, trying to cover up your nerves with a joke. 

He let out a laugh, feeling some of his nerves starting to settle. “I’m saying all I want for Christmas is you.” 

“Only for Christmas, though, right?” you wondered, and Dean could just about hear the grin you wore. 

“Well,” Dean said contemplatively. “I was thinking I might keep you for, say… rest of our lives?” 

“Are you seriously confessing your love with a phone call?” you asked with a giggle, feeling giddy beyond belief. 

“No,” he said casually. “I’ll wait until you’re finally home to really say those words.” 

“Oh, okay,” you replied in understanding. “Well, guess it’s a good thing I’m home, then.”

Before he could respond, the bunker door screeched open as you finally stepped inside, and he quickly met your gaze as you grinned down at him from the railing. He matched your grin, standing from the chair as he ended the call. 

“Well,” you called down to him, laughing with glee. “Don’t you have a confession to make?” 

taglist: @roseblue373, @redmaro86, @snowayumi, @iluvdeanwinchester, @winharry, @star-yawnznn, @jc-winchester

if you'd like to be added or removed from this list, please let me know!

[rosemariiaa]

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 02, 𝘽𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙨

“Some things are better left unsaid.”

rosie’s note: hi :), sooo don’t yell at me y’all know i’m sensitive, but yes apologies this was supposed to come out wayyy sooner but i’ve had a lot going on with my personal life i barely had time to write but luckily i finished this up! ik almost people were confused on the cliffhanger so i hope i explained it well in this chapter :) happy reading lovelies 💌

pairing: Paige x Azzi

themes: hurt/comfort, guilt, angst

enjoy!!!

march 21, 2014

The cursor blinked at me, expectant. Judging.

Her name sat on the tip of my tongue. Not the one she introduced herself with, not the nickname she had tossed at me under the swing set like it was armor. Her real name. The one she’d trusted me with just days before everything shattered.

I hovered over the keyboard. How many times had I visited this account in the past two months? More than I could count. The anonymity she clung to should have been enough to keep me from connecting the dots. But the username—UnicornPuppy35—was a clue I couldn’t ignore, not after that rainy night, not after the slippers and the shirt that practically screamed it.

Azzi.

The realization should have made me stop, made me put down my phone and walk away. She didn’t know it was me. She didn’t know I was the one lurking, soaking up every word she wrote, piecing together her sadness, her anger, her loneliness. And she couldn’t find out—not like this.

If she did… God, if she ever found out, I wasn’t sure what would happen. She’d hate me more than she already did, and I couldn’t stand to see that look on her face again.

I leaned back in my chair, running a hand over my face. The memory of her tears still burned, sharp as glass.

flashback ⤑ february 13, 2013

The rain came down hard that night, the kind of downpour that soaked through your skin and left you raw.

I didn’t know why I left the house. Maybe it was the yelling, or maybe it was the silence that followed. Either way, I ended up at the park. The swings creaked under the weight of the wind, and the only other person there was huddled on one, head bowed as rain dripped from her curls and onto her bright pink unicorn shirt.

I almost walked away. She looked like she wanted to be alone, and honestly, so did I. But something stopped me—a tilt of her head, maybe, or the way her shoulders shuddered even as she sat still.

“Hey,” I said, stepping closer. The ground squelched under my shoes.

She looked up, startled. Her eyes, wide and brown, met my baby blues for half a second before darting away. “What do you want?”

I hesitated, shrugging. “Nothing. Just… didn’t think anyone else would be out here.”

Her laugh was bitter, like she didn’t believe me. She didn’t say anything else, just looked back down at her feet, the tips of her sneakers brushing the muddy ground.

I should’ve walked away. Instead, I sat on the swing next to her.

Over the next two weeks, those nights at the park became a ritual. When the lights in our houses went out, we met under the cover of darkness, sharing pieces of ourselves with kind of fully unraveling almost everything.

She told me about the girl at school—the one who dunked her head in the toilet and called her the f-slur. Her voice cracked when she said it, and my chest ached with something I didn’t quite understand.

“She’s just a bitch,” I said, reaching out without thinking. My hand landed on her shoulder, the fabric of her hoodie rough and wet under my palm. “You didn’t deserve that.”

She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t look at me either. “It’s not just her,” she muttered. “It’s… everyone.”

The night Azzi told me about the girl at school, something in her broke. Her voice cracked, a sharp edge slicing through the usual monotone she used when talking about her day.

“I didn’t even do anything,” she said, hugging her knees to her chest. Her breath came out in shivers, her curls dripping rainwater down her back. “She just—she said I was looking at her skirt, and the next thing I know, I’m—”

Her voice wavered, and she stopped. She didn’t have to finish. I could picture it: the cold porcelain, the laughter, the humiliation.

“She has to be insecure or something,” I said quickly, fumbling for the right words. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Azzi. She’s just taking her misery out on you.”

Azzi didn’t look convinced. Her lip trembled, and she pressed her face into her knees, hiding the tears I knew were falling.

I sat there, helpless. I wasn’t good at this—comforting people, saying the right thing. But I didn’t want her to feel alone.

“You wanna egg her house?” I joked, my voice soft. “Or, I don’t know, slash her parents tires?”

She huffed a wet laugh, the sound muffled by her hoodie. “She’d probably call the cops.”

“She’s a snitch, too?” I gasped dramatically, hoping to coax another laugh out of her. “That’s it. We’re definitely egging her house.”

Azzi peeked up at me, her eyes red and puffy but lighter somehow. “You’re stupid,” she said, but there was a ghost of a smile on her face.

——-

A few nights later, that’s when things fell apart.

I was at the park first, waiting for Azzi, when a group of girls from my neighborhood showed up. I didn’t know them well, but they were loud and funny in that kind of way that made you want to laugh along just to fit in.

We were sitting on the picnic table, their chatter filling the silence, when one of them asked, “Hey, Paige, why do you always hang out with that girl?”

I blinked, caught off guard. “Who?”

“You know, that Azzi girl,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Nobody hangs out with her.”

My stomach twisted. “Why not?”

The girl snorted. “Her mom’s, like, weird. Always with a new boyfriend or whatever. It’s embarrassing. She’s just a weirdo and looks weird.”

My jaw tightened. Before I could respond, another girl chimed in, laughing. “And her hair! It’s like, doesn’t she know what a brush is?”

The table erupted in laughter, but I couldn’t bring myself to join in. I glanced at the path leading to the swings, my heart sinking.

“Paige,” a voice said behind me.

I froze.

Azzi stood there, her face pale and her eyes glassy with unshed tears. Her mouth opened, then closed, and she shook her head, stepping back as if I’d physically struck her.

“Azzi, wait—” I started, scrambling off the table, but she was already turning away.

“Don’t,” she said quietly, her voice trembling. “Just… don’t.”

I ran after her, catching her arm as she reached the edge of the park. “Azzi, I wasn’t—”

“Wasn’t what?” she snapped, whirling around. Her eyes were brimming with tears, her voice rising in anger. “Wasn’t laughing at me? Wasn’t sitting there while they trashed me?”

“I didn’t say anything!” I protested, my chest tight.

“That’s the problem!” she shouted, her voice breaking. “You just sat there, Paige. You didn’t even try to stop them, you let them say those things.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but the words stuck in my throat.

“Forget it,” she muttered, yanking her arm free. She wiped at her face angrily, her curls sticking to her cheeks. “I should’ve known better.”

“Azzi, come on,” I pleaded, my voice softer now. “It’s not like that—”

“What’s it like, then?” she asked, her eyes narrowing. “Because from where I’m standing, it’s pretty clear. I just don’t understand after all those nights I cried to you P.. how could you?”

She didn’t wait for an answer. By the time I found the words, she was already gone.

present day 2014

It’s been weeks since Azzi and I started talking online, just the two of us, anonymously. We’ve gotten comfortable—well, as comfortable as we can with the fake names and hidden identities. I try not to think about the lies I’m keeping from her, but I know deep down it’s the only way I can stay connected to her. She has to trust me, or she’ll leave. And I can’t handle that. Not again.

It’s the last day of school, and I’m practically buzzing with excitement as I head to the bus. I can’t wait to get home, and send Azzi a message—anything really. I don’t care if it’s about her puppy or the weather or something ridiculous. I just want to talk to her.

I find a seat on the bus and pull out my phone. As the bus rumbles on, I open up Blogspot. I scroll through the messages Azzi and I exchanged earlier, just before school started. I can’t help but laugh at the part where she told me her dog, Stewie, peed in her shoe. That image—her tiny, brown wiener dog peeing in her brand new sneakers—was so perfectly her. Her humor, her frustration, her charm.

I giggle, but then it hits me. The guilt. It crashes over me, sudden and sharp, like a wave I didn’t see coming. My thumb freezes over the screen, hovering over the keyboard. I look at the conversation, at the funny banter we shared this morning, and my chest tightens. I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve her.

If she knew who I really was, if she knew the truth about why I was pretending to be someone else… she would never look at me the same way again. She’d leave me. She would never trust me again.

I feel the tightness in my chest grow, and I look out the window, trying to distract myself. But it’s no use. The guilt is like a weight on my shoulders, pressing down harder the longer I sit with it. Every word I’ve typed to Azzi, every moment I’ve shared with her—it’s all a lie. And I hate myself for it.

But I can’t stop. I can’t let her go again. It pained me the first time…it won’t happen again.

I stare at the phone in my hand, biting my lip. What if she finds out? What if she figures it out before I can come clean?

What if? What if? What if?

The thought is too much. I set the phone down on my lap, staring out the window, hoping the weight in my chest will ease.

A few minutes later, my phone vibrates in my lap. A new message.

unicornpuppy35: p, i just got home and stewie’s tryna eat my shoelace again. i swear this dog’s scheming.

I smile, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. My thumb hovers over the screen again. I want to reply, want to send something funny, something comforting, but all I can think about is how this isn’t real. None of it is real.

boogers_p: obviously. stewie’s prolly like, “shoelaces are phase one. world domination’s next.”

unicornpuppy35: no fr, this little dude really thinks he runs the place.

boogers_p: i mean… does he not? u literally pay rent in shoelaces and snacks.

unicornpuppy35: and socks. don’t forget the socks. he got one of mine this morning smh.

I bit my lip, trying not to laugh too loud as I typed back.

boogers_p: rip to the sock. gone but not forgotten.

The typing bubble popped up and disappeared a few times before finally settling on:

unicornpuppy35: ur so ridiculous, p. u know that?

boogers_p: i’ve heard rumors.

I paused, smirking at the screen. Then, a thought hit me, and her fingers flew over the keyboard.

boogers_p: ok, real question. what’s stewie short for? or did u just look at him and go, “yup, that’s a stewie”?

There was a pause before Azzi’s response came through.

unicornpuppy35: named him after breanna stewart.

I blinked at the screen, my smile softening. Of course she did.

boogers_p: oh damn, respect. stewie’s a legend fr but no surprise you chose her.

unicornpuppy35: p, language. and duhh, hence the name.

boogers_p: my bad my bad, but u really said, “lemme name my dog after greatness.” iconic move, puppy.

I knew the nickname would get to her. It always did. The reply came fast.

unicornpuppy35: stop calling me that!!!

boogers_p: nah. it fits too good. also, it’s cute. like u.

Shit. There was a long pause before I saw the typing bubble flicker again.

unicornpuppy35: u really know how to get on my nerves, huh?

boogers_p: talent, tbh.

Azzi’s response came slower this time:

unicornpuppy35: sometimes i wonder why i even talk to u.

Paige snorted, her thumbs moving fast.

boogers_p: cuz i’m funny. and charming. and u lowkey love me. just admit it.

The reply took a moment.

unicornpuppy35: …maybe stewie loves u. that’s as close as ur getting.

I barked out a laugh, the sound drawing a curious glance from the kid across the aisle.

boogers_p: i’ll take it. tell stewie i’m his #1 fan.

unicornpuppy35: he’ll probably steal another shoelace to celebrate.

boogers_p: a king. truly.

I stared at the screen for a second longer, my chest feeling warm and tight in a way I couldn’t even describe.

unicornpuppy35: u good, peanut? u seem kinda off lately.

My fingers hesitated over the keyboard, my mouth forming into a small smile at my nickname. Azzi always asked. I didn’t know how she managed to carry so much and still notice the little things about me. God.

boogers_p: yeah, i’m straight. just tired, you know?

unicornpuppy35: don’t let it get to u p. me and stewie got ur back.

Paige swallowed the lump in her throat, her reply coming slower this time.

boogers_p: thanks, puppy. u and stewie the real mvps fr.

Pup- I mean Azzi’s reply was just a string of eye-roll emojis, but I could picture the grin on her face. I wish I could just see it for myself.

boogers_p: love u too.

So much.

I send the message, knowing I can’t keep lying forever. But for now, I’ll hold on.

——-

Paige walked into her room, shutting the door with a quiet click, as if any louder might let her thoughts escape into the world. Tossing her bag into the corner, she kicked off her shoes and peeled off her clothes, leaving a trail toward the bathroom. The hot water scalded her pale skin, but she barely noticed, the familiar ache in her chest louder than the pounding spray.

When she came out, dressed in an oversized T-shirt, her damp hair sticking to her neck, she flopped onto her bed. She should sleep. She needed sleep. But instead, her hand reached for the scrapbook tucked under her nightstand.

Opening it, her heart clenched as she stared at the first photo—Azzi on the swing set, caught mid-laugh, her curls bouncing wildly as she leaned over, her dimple deepening with every giggle. Paige could still hear the sound of it, bright and free, almost as if Azzi were right there in the room with her.

The second photo wasn’t much better. Her and Azzi at the diner for her 15th birthday, Azzi’s arm slung around hers like it belonged there. Paige could almost feel the ghost of Azzi’s touch, the warmth of her hand on her arm, the way Azzi’s voice would soften when she scolded her for cussing too much.

She flipped the page closed before she started crying again. It didn’t help.

Her fingers brush over the closed scrapbook, tracing its edges. She knows it’s pathetic to feel this way, to let herself get so tangled up in someone who probably doesn’t even think about her anymore. It’s dumb, she knows that. But it doesn’t change the way her heart clenches at the thought of Azzi laughing somewhere else, with someone else, as if Paige never mattered.

Because the truth is, she’s never felt this way about anyone before. Not like this. Not about their friendship, or whatever it used to be. Friendship doesn’t even seem like the right word anymore. It feels too small, too simple for something that made her feel whole in a way nothing else ever has.

Will you miss me, Azzi? Paige swallows hard, her jaw tightening as tears blur her vision again. Will you miss what we had? Because I do. I miss you so much it hurts. It fucking hurts.

Her voice dropped to a whisper, her eyes closing as the words spilled from her heart. God I think I’d miss you even if we never met.

Paige dragged a hand over her face, trying to will the tears back, but they came anyway, hot and relentless. She clutched the scrapbook tighter to her chest. I miss you. Every day. Every second of every day. I miss you so much it’s pathetic.

She let out a shaky laugh that turned into a sob halfway through. “It’s so dumb,” she muttered, shaking her head. But no matter how many times she said it, it didn’t make it any less true. It’s the realest thing she’s ever felt.

Because no one had ever made her feel like Azzi did. Not before, not since. She wasn’t sure anyone ever would.

She wipes at her face, but the tears won’t stop. Because no matter how much she misses Azzi, Paige knows it’s her fault she’s gone. She clings to the scrapbook, the pictures inside the only pieces of Azzi she has left. And as much as it hurts, she knows she deserves this. Every ache, every tear, every lonely second.

Because she let her go. And that’s something she can never take back.

——-

Azzi sat quietly in the backseat, her hands clammy as she rubbed them over her shorts, trying to calm the nerves that had been with her all morning. Her brothers had hyped her up about making the team, calling her the coach’s “princess,” but it didn’t help. She was still terrified. What if she didn’t make it? What if she wasn’t good enough?

She whispered to Stewie, who was in her lap, his small body a source of comfort. “What if I don’t make the team, huh? I know it’s stupid, but it keeps running through my mind… what if I mess up?”

Her mom glanced back at her from the front seat, a soft smile on her face. “You’ll do fine, Azzi. You always do.”

But Azzi couldn’t shake the unease, the thoughts spinning in her head as the car pulled into the gym parking lot. Her stomach twisted into knots, and her heart raced in anticipation. They arrived early, her mom wanting to meet the coaches first, so Azzi was the first one there.

She stepped out of the car, still trying to calm her breathing. As her mom led her inside, Azzi forced herself to smile and greet the coaches, though her mind was a hundred miles away. She excused herself once the introductions were made, eager to find the locker room and settle in before tryouts started.

The gym was empty when she walked in, the silence amplifying her every step. She meandered down the hall, her fingers grazing the walls as she took in the pictures of past players, their smiles frozen in time. She felt her nerves rise again, the pressure of what was to come weighing on her.

But as she rounded a corner, her body collided with something—or rather, someone.

“Sorry!” Azzi blurted, quickly stepping back. But when she looked up, her breath caught. There, standing in front of her, was Paige. She froze, heart pounding in her chest. Her mind screamed for her to move, to say something, anything, but her body just wouldn’t cooperate.

Paige stood there too, her mouth slightly open in disbelief, her eyes wide. The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Then, almost as if the world had shifted, Paige finally spoke her name.

“Azzi?” she whispered.

Azzi’s stomach churned, but she couldn’t stop staring at her. How? How could she be here? How had she found her, of all places? This wasn’t supposed to happen, not here, not now. Not ever.

But Paige was looking at her like she hadn’t missed a beat, like the time apart hadn’t meant anything. Azzi could see the recognition in her eyes, the same as she felt in her chest.

It was instant. Her face was older now, sharper, but it was still her. Those blue eyes. The way she stood. Even the slight tilt of her head when she was unsure of herself. Azzi hadn’t expected it to hit her this hard.

A year ago, she swore she’d move on. Swore that she’d forget what Paige meant to her. But now, standing here, all she felt was the sharp twist of memory and the burn of anger.

How could she not recognize her? Paige had been the first person to make her feel seen, to make her feel like she mattered. But she had also been the first person to hurt her more than anyone else had. Azzi couldn’t forget that. Not the way she laughed with her, not the way she’d come after her with apologies she could never quite believe.

Azzi had convinced herself she was past it. Past Paige. But now, here she was, staring at her as if nothing had changed. It was too much, too fast. Does she really think I’ve forgotten?

Paige stepped forward, her movements tentative, unsure. Azzi almost wanted to take a step back, to run, but she couldn’t move. She stood there, feeling the weight of everything that had happened between them pressing in on her.

“Azzi,” Paige said softly, her voice almost hesitant.

Azzi blinked, her heart racing. She forced herself to act like she didn’t know her, even though everything inside her screamed that she did. “Sorry,” Azzi said, her voice steady despite the tightness in her chest. “Do I know you?”

——-

rosie’s note: well..yeah!

taglist ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

@thaatdigitaldiary @sierrale8ne @ohbueckers @imaginespazzi @pazzilover101 @makethemhoesmad @pboogerswbb @kmoneymartini @mrsarnold @absolutelydreadful @authentic-girl03 @melpthatsme @ashortyluvsports

[enigmatist17]

Continuation/just ideas I have of the Mecha Pilot Jazz Au by @keferon

First part can be found here :)

A03 version -> https://archiveofourown.org/works/60978709

---

No one is really sure what to think when Jazz finally returns to the general populace, the crowded common room he steps into with Prowl at his side going silent at the mech's arrival.

No, not a mech, a frame piloted by an organic Wheeljack swore to the Pit and back was smaller than most of their servos.

"Soooo, what's up?" Jazz leaned against the closest table as Prowl got himself some energon, no longer keeping up the pretense he needed such liquid.

"That's what you have to say?" Starscream gawked from his seat, the seeker looking like he wanted to start dissecting Jazz's mecha as much as pry the pilot out. "Are all organics from your planet this...this flippant?"

"Not really?" Jazz shrugged, glad no one could see the grin on his face when Prowl rejoined him, placing himself between Jazz and everyone else in the room with a minute flick of his doorwings. "Hell, you sound like one of my commanders, he'd be having a fit right about now."

"Rightfully so, I should say." Mirage commented from behind Jazz, the pilot grinning to himself when he turned, only to see what was supposedly a blank wall. "Then again, you seem to be the type of bo - organic to cause mayhem on the regular."

"Human." Jazz could hear more than a few processors whir at the strange term, and after a moment, grabs a seat at the table next to him. "Organic sounds weird to me, so you can call me human or just my name, I'm not picky."

"Human...weird." Jazz isn't sure who spoke as his visor offlined, ensuring his mecha was supported before fully breaking the connection. The entire room went silent when Jazz's chassis made a soft click before opening, noises of alarm escaping vocalizers as they expected to see a spark, wondering what in Primus' name the org - human was thinking when something moved. What should have been a spark chamber was something else entirely, the central interior some sort of piloting seat that housed the human they'd all come to trust and fight alongside, who waved as he undid a harness. Prowl was the only thing stopping the Cybertronians around Jazz from moving any closer, his doorwings up in a sharp V when he carefully placed one of his servos just below Jazz, Mirage shimmering into view on the other side of Jazz's mecha when the human hopped onto the limb.

"Hey, fellas." Prowl kept his hold on Jazz as he stepped back from the temporarily deactivated suit, setting him on the table's surface as carefully as possible. "Aw, thanks Prowler!"

"You look strange for an organic." Thundercracker tilted his helm slightly, wanting a closer look but not stupid enough to test how close he could actually get.

"I guess?" Jazz reached up to unlatch his helmet, biting back a laugh when there were a few surprised vents at the reveal of his hair. "Back home, I'd say I'm about the best we humans can look."

"With an ego to match." Mirage cycled his optics with a smirk, eyeing his friend curiously while keeping himself between any bot stupid enough to try and sneak up on Prowl's blindside. "Your frame suits you."

"And don't I know it." Jazz winked, setting his helmet on the table by his feet. "Man, you guys are just...so much bigger in person. I mean I know you are, it's just weird ta see it with my own eyes, er optics."

"Trust me, it's weird for us too." Sideswipe commented from his spot among the crowd, amused more than anything when the inevitable questions started pouring in. To his credit, Jazz tries to answer some of them, but he steps back when Prowl draws himself to his full height and silences almost everyone when he crosses his arms, smiling to himself when the bot speaks.

"If you have any further questions, you can ask them another time, most of you are late for your assigned duty shifts, Jazz included."

"Ya wound me Prowler!" The human let out a whine at the supposed betrayal, but the grin never left his face as he turned to his mecha. "I guess I could get movin', don't want to keep Brawn too late."

"Indeed." Prowl offered his servo once more, aware of the many prying optics watching as Jazz hopped onto his palm, slipping his strange helm covering back on as he was safely delivered back to his larger frame. They watched Jazz buckle himself back into the harness within the spa - piloting chamber, the chassis closing up when something connected with the back of his helm covering, the visor on the frame they were all accustomed to lighting up with a slight hum.

"Fun time's over." Jazz waved his servo, everyone murmuring to each other while they slowly dispersed. "Man that was fun."

"You find most activities fun, dangerous or otherwise." Prowl shook his helm in exasperation as Jazz laughed, the human leaning over to gently bonk his helm against Prowl's.

"I'll see you later, gorgeous." With that Jazz sweeps out of the room, Prowl watching him go with a look that made Mirage do a double take.

"You definitely chose someone...interesting." The saboteur chuckled, saving the image of a soft smile on Prowl's face for some future use.

"So I have..."

---

Jazz had wondered what Prowl's face felt like from the moment the met, in awe at how the metal creased and smoothed out much like his own skin did. Would it be cold and stiff, or warm and pliable? Ah the thought plagued him from time to time, becoming worse when he fell for said mech.

So, when he comes across Prowl asleep (no recharge) at his desk, a data pad clutched in his clawed hands, Jazz grins. Locking the door to Prowl's office, more for the tactician's peace of mind than his own, Jazz quietly grabs the only other chair in the room and sets it down on the other side of Prowl's desk, resting one arm on top of the table. Prowl is still asleep when Jazz powers down the link with his mecha, shivering at the sensation of becoming so small before slowly unbuckling himself, setting his helmet aside before starting the (admittedly) long journey across the room. Thankfully his magnetic lock boots made his journey down the arm of his faithful mecha relatively safe, staring up at his boyfriend (boybot? Ugh no, no way in hell) with an amused smile.

"Always gonna be the smallest huh?"

Now, here comes the hard part, one that could end up getting him flung across the room or smashed into paste if he triggered the wrong response from his sleeping partner. Okay, deep breath, and with a quick crossing of his fingers, Jazz activated the magnetics in his gloves before placing them on Prowl's arm as a test run. One doorwing twitched at the initial contact, but Prowl remained still, and with a deep breath Jazz started climbing, climbing up his mech's arm nice and slow. It was a little tricky when he reached Prowl's shoulder, but with a little awkward shuffling and a twist of his upper body, Jazz was within reach of his partner's face.

Now here comes the Hard Part Two: Electric Boogaloo.

It took a few tries to unwrap the base of his glove with his teeth, heart racing when he was only attached to Prowl via his shoes and magnetized knee pads in order to free his hand, but soon he was ready to do the biggest thing he's wanted to since he first laid eyes on Prowl. His hand is shaking slightly, but that doesn't matter when it makes contact with Prowl's cheek, brain short circuiting at how...soft and warm the metal was to his touch. While it didn't exactly move with his touch, Jazz could feel the nanites that were on the outer surface of every Cybertronian react, twitching when he felt a buzzing under his finger tips. He becomes used to the buzz as he takes his time mapping out the dips and curves of Prowl's face, missing the cycling of optics before a loud chirp breaks the silence, Jazz yelping as he jerked back in surprise far enough to detach from Prowl's shoulder. He doesn't fall very far when he lands on a hand (servo dude) with a grunt, Prowl looking worried as Jazz propped himself up on one arm.

"Are you alright?"

"Yep! Next time I need ta clip a harness on you or somethin', don't want to fall again." Jazz waved with his uncovered hand, sitting cross-legged on Prowl's palm. "Saw you asleep, an' I couldn't resist."

"Resist what?" A quick look at his chronometer showed he'd not been asleep too long, optics flickering down to his partner when he felt something strange touch one of his digits.

"This might sound kinda weird, but I've wanted ta touch your face since we met." Jazz had uncovered his second hand and was touching the closest digit, a look he couldn't classify crossing Jazz's face when he gave it a squeeze. "Weird, these are warm, but not as warm as your face."

"Did you enjoy your...examination?" Something fluttered in his spark at the smile Jazz gave him, and once again gave thanks to Primus that he'd been given a chance.

"Mhm! I'd love to again some time, see those pretty lil' optics of yours." Jazz winked, watching doorwings give a full on flutter. "Glad we both agree."

"You shall be the end of me, Jazz." Embarrassment colors Prowl's words as he sits back in his chair, watching Jazz lay back on his palm, hands underneath his head as he sighs happily.

"Your hand is pretty comfy...not a sentence I ever expected to say to my boyfriend, but it is what it is."

"I suppose you shall have to make yourself comfortable then, I still have some reports to finish." Prowl clicked, grabbing the pad he'd been reading before he fell asleep.

"Gives me an excuse to nap then." Jazz moved to remove the outer layer that supported his pedes, his processor supplying the word shoe as Jazz resumed his position with a yawn. "Have fun Prowler."

"Have a pleasant recharge, Jazz."

Jazz doesn't need to know he had already completed his work before his "nap", merely settling in for a novel he'd wanted to get through as his partner slept in his grasp.

[with-my-calamitous-love]

pieces of us both under every city light

katsuki bakugou x reader

katsuki follows all-might’s footsteps and studies abroad in america, leaving you in the winter night alone. long distance angst/comfort, for the yail series 🫧

have a warm winter 5sos nation ❄️ inspired by beside you

within a minute, he was all packed up, his ticket to another world tucked in his pockets, your scarf around his neck.

he doesn't wanna go.

but lord knows how much this trip has costed him. 8 months ago, he would have left without question. he'd have trusted his apartment to eijirou, taken a taxi to the airport and left. but now, things are different. someone is different.

"do you have everything?" your voice cuts through the silence. katsuki turns around, committing all your details to memory as if its the last time. it'll be the last time for a few months, after all.

"yeah, yeah, mom." he huffs, showing you all his suitcases. he's being a dick because he's sad- you know him well enough to read between his lines.

he walks up to you, hands on your waist and forehead against yours. his cologne wafts to your face, while his eyes land on the black fabric of your t-shirt. well, its his t-shirt, but what's his is yours, too.

"text me as soon as you land." you say, hands on his chest. "and don't be such an asshole. people there have your attitude, as well."

he laughs, a small smile curving on his lips while his arms rub your sides up and down. "yeah? everyone's like me? maybe i'll like it then."

"i highly doubt that." you smile.

theres a moment of silence that washes over both of you. silent words are hard to speak, especially when you're all he sees. you make him weak. you're the one thing that can shut him up. and he loves you for it.

"you gonna be okay here?" he asks for maybe the 30th time. your name hasn't been added to the lease, but in his mind, you've moved in. your laundry mixes with his. your beg him for cats that can share the bed with you, even when he religiously says no. he cooks and you wash the dishes. all the things that count are there.

"i'll be fine, kats." you say. i'll miss you. i'll wear your hoodies every night.

you hold back.

"i know, i know you'll be" he says. i miss you more than i want to admit. i don't ever wanna leave you, not even for some trip.

words he doesn't say.

"don't burn my apartment down." he adds. "and don't order in every night just cause i'm not here to cook."

"my cooking isn't that bad, katsuki." you say. "i burned your coffee like, once."

"how the hell do you burn coffee?" he scoffs. "only you could manage that, dumbass."

"yeah yeah, i love you."

"i love you, too."

you're both delaying the inevitable. the banter keeps up, even on the drive to the airport. for a moment, things seem normal, like just some trip to the groceries or to pick up your medication. normal, mundane things that katsuki made feel like 5-star dates. anything can be romantic if its with the right person.

finally, its time to say goodbye. you help him with his luggage, taking in the ambience of the airport. love is felt most when its leaving. even if its for a moment.

"its 2 months." you sigh, more for you than for him.

"i'll miss you, smartass." he says, with zero traces of anything superficial. he prays you don't see his red eyes. he's holding back tears.

you don't notice the tears, because you're too focused on holding back your own. "i'll miss you more."

so with one final kiss and hug, he leaves. so close, yet so far away.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚

1 month in.

winter hits hard, snow blazing down, blanketing the streets in cold, ivory petals. winter takes everything down with it, frosting over and obscuring any traces of fall, spring, or autumn. but for all its coldness, there's an undeniable tenderness. everyone stayed in during winter, so you wouldn't look out of place for staying in your bed, wrapped up in clothes that smell like katsuki.

the apartment just didn't feel right without him. there's the obvious things- hanging only your clothes to dry, cooking dinner for one and washing one plate, letting the apartment fall silent. katsuki never liked silence. and though you never minded it before him, you keep the radio on- its what he would want.

you sleep alone. and more than anything, you want your heart to come home. but that can't happen so long as he's miles away from you.

you've told yourself not to call. at first, you two spent everyday on the phone. then maybe once or twice a week. now, katsuki's missed just one of your calls, and now you can't bring yourself to answer his. you don't want to hear his voice and know he's somewhere you can't see him.

the cold seeps in from your fingertips and into your bones. all your stimulus, dreams, and love, frosted over by the winter chill. maybe it froze your tears- you were tired of crying, anyway.

your homesick for arms that won't be home for another month. he never leaves your mind, not even when theres a million things to be done. you have to take out the trash. theres dishes in the sink you haven't touched in a few days. you need to shovel, but thats something katsuki would usually do.

either the heater's broken or katsuki's presence decided to really, really make itself known tonight. either way, you curl up in bed, debating on whether or not to call him. texts work, too. though its hard to type with your fingertips shaking.

you miss him dearly. you wish the winter wind would finally give in, bringing him back to you. you're underneath the same sky, finding solace underneath the same sun. this isn't forever. he will be home. yet, you still wish you could rewind. you wonder if he can hear you, hear your longing.

shaky, cold fingers type out a single message, first. then another. then another.

y/n: i miss you

y/n: ik i've said it like a million times i sound like a broken record

y/n: and i've told u im doing okay but i'm not

y/n: i really fucking miss you kats

y/n: im so tired of sleeping alone, i just wish u could come home right now. and i feel bad for saying that cuz ik you're having fun and i love that for you. i just miss you and i can't help it.

y/n: i'm tryna find the words to say but i dont know

y/n: i just wish i was beside you.

that familiar, blurry feeling takes over your eyes. a few minutes pass before he sees your messages. he doesn't respond as the tears finally fill your eyes.

you turn off your phone, place it on the bedside, and close your eyes.

exactly 5 seconds later, your phone rings.

its almost pathetic how fast you pick up, pressing it to your ear, not caring how cold it feels due to the air around you.

you don't say anything at first. you can't.

"...you don't think i miss you too?"

you almost scoff. "yes, i mean, no, i mean.. sorry." you stutter.

you hear him sigh, that shake in his throat you know all too well. even when you can't see him, he's trying not to cry.

like your hearts beat at the same time, he knows how you feel. because he's feeling the same, sinking down onto the couch of his air-bnb. he's had a shitty day, running into american fans whose obsession with japan is almost a little funny. he's worked hard, training and being better, but its not the same when you're not waiting for him at home.

his heart wants to come home.

"i wish i was beside you." his voice cracks. "god, more than anything, y/n. its like i see you everywhere, but you aren't actually here. its pissing me off."

"oh yeah?" you laugh. god, what he would give to hear that in person.

"yeah, idiot. i saw some stray cats chasing around a damn rat and thought of you." he recalls.

"yeah, i don't know if i miss you as much if you think i'm comparable to stray cats." you disagree, shaking your head. he may say stupid things, but you're just happy its his voice.

"not what i meant, smartass." he scoffs. "i meant... it made me think how you always wanted cats. we should get some, when i get back."

its that promise you linger on. when he gets back.

"yeah... we should." you smile, sniffling back some tears.

the fact that you're crying doesn't go unnoticed by him, mostly 'cause he's crying, too.

theres pieces of you both, under every city light, whether thats in the states or in japan. either way, he feels you, and you feel him. for now, he can survive on the wishing- on the photos of you on his phone, on your scarf around his neck, on the fingerprints left on his heart. all until he can be beside you again.

"its late there." he says, though he can't bring himself to end the call. you bite your lip, hoping he doesn't.

he sighs, closing his eyes after looking at the photo of you in his wallet. "do you want me to stay on the li-"

"yes." you cut him off. you can hear him smile.

it'll work until he can hold you again, until he's beside you again.

[loverafey]

first time on his bike ! bf!rafe x reader.

          ꕀ warnings - reader's afraid of bikes, soft rafe ugh he's so :(, fluff! wc - 629.

“you’re what?”

“scared of bikes…” the way you spoke so meekly just added onto rafe’s initial shock. he didn’t know why something as simple as you having never ridden a bike before was so surprising for him. perhaps his own bike had become such a norm, a permanent mark on his life that he’d genuinely forgotten some preferred cards or just walking around.

“baby… why didn’t you tell me earlier?” his tone took a more softer tone, hands gently cupping your face as he felt you lean into him, avoiding his eyes. he’d planned on taking you for a late night drive on his bike, all the way to the beach so you both could sit down on wooden dock and stare up at the stars. talk about anything, everything. of course he was not aware of this fact before, that you were scared of bikes.

“didn’t wanna disappoint you… i know how much you love your bike.” you tried to reason, earning a scoff from him that held no sort of malice whatsoever.

“fuck this bike. you’re more important.” he grumbled, his fingers absent-mindedly playing with a loose strand. “would you like to spend the night at home instead? or take the truck?”

“no!” you blurted out louder than you’d intended to, ears heating up as you stared up at him insistently. “i still want to go on your bike.”

rafe stayed silent for a moment, contemplating. he didn’t want you doing anything you disliked, but seeing you being so sweetly stubborn made him smile. his baby. he nodded after a while, holding onto your hand as he led you to his sleek bike. “fine, i’ll help ya, ‘kay?” his hands carefully held onto your hips as you clumsily climbed up the bike, scared that it’d wobble and collapse, causing you to fall down.

“relax, it’s locked.” he reassured you, making sure that you were nicely seated before grabbing a spare helmet and putting it onto your head, chuckling as your eyes peered at him through the glass. “gonna buy you a special helmet of your own tomorrow, alright? this one’s boring.”

“alright!” the excitement in your voice was undeniable, your eyes following his moves as he sat in front of you on the bike and put his own helmet, unable to help but bite your bottom lip at the sight of his arms bulging slightly beneath his shirt as he held onto the handles, the engine of the bike roaring once he started it.

“hold onto me, alright? i promise you’ll be alright.” your arms cautiously wrapped around his waist at his words, head resting against his shoulder as he started driving out of tannyhill, the cool air whipping around you both calming you down. your arms stayed tight around him, your body getting more relaxed as you both drove on the road.

his hand twisted the handle, causing the bike to go a bit faster, earning a startled squeak from you. “rafe!” you gasped at the sudden rush of adrenaline, rafe laughing in front of you, wild and carefree. this was his speciality after all.

“it’s fun, isn’t it?” he spoke loudly over the loud wind.

“yes!” you yelled back happily, fingers bunched up into the front of his shirt as he continued to drive over to the nearby dock, stopping by it. pulling off his helmet, he hopped off and gently took off your helmet, watching the way you were panting softly.

“was it too much?” he pressed a kiss onto the back of your hand as you shook your head, unable to hold back a big smile. he helped you off, holding you securely in his arms as you hugged onto him.

“it wasn’t so bad.” you mumbled into his chest, sighing in contentment.

[revehae]

girls goon too

pairing ↠ jeno x (f) reader x haechan

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, stepcest, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving) / face fucking, virgin!reader, dubcon

summary ↠ jeno can’t take it anymore. you just won’t stop gooning in your bedroom for all the world to hear, and he’s tired of it. he’s pretty sure all you do with your spare time is watch porn. haechan suggests that he just jerks off, but his morals won’t let him; until he decides that he can’t hold back anymore. he has to shut you up.

wc ↠ 5.3k

a/n ↠ um… i know i said No to Nohyuck but i saw these pics of jeno and started hearing The Voices. i hope you guys appreciate me losing sleep over this. as always, feedback is appreciated!

don’t like it, don’t read.

“she’s doing it again,” jeno grumbled, walking into haechan’s bedroom. only because the door was ajar, though. he knew the sight he’d walk in on if it was completely closed would be worse than what you were surely doing.

haechan snickered, eyes fixed on his computer. “what’s the occasion? sixth-month gooning anniversary?”

jeno scoffed. he didn’t know why you did it. he thought jisung was bad, but you were next level. “i thought surely she would give us a break for november.”

“and she did,” haechan quipped, moving his mouse. “for all of three days.”

that was true. for the very first three days of november, the house had been relatively quiet apart from haechan’s shouting when he was losing. then, on the fourth day, it was back to hearing your annoyingly perfect fucking moans in the afternoon.

and god forbid your parents would be coming home late. you were relentless on those days, touching yourself to no end. jeno couldn’t stand it. he hated minding his business, trying to rest or work or do anything that didn’t require thinking about the sounds you were making as you persistently edged yourself.

but he couldn’t help himself. sometimes, he could hear your moans even when you weren’t there, and that was when he knew he was finally losing what little bit was left of his goddamn mind. 

haechan, on the other hand, didn’t seem as miffed. jeno was certain his brother could hear the noises you were making down the hall, but he was sitting here without a care in the world, typing an email to his professor of all things. which made no sense to jeno, considering he knew how much haechan liked noisy sex.

“okay, i’ll bite,” jeno said, crossing his arms. “how in the hell are you okay with this?”

haechan shrugged, trying and failing to suppress a smirk. he was well aware of the fact that jeno always got worked up when it came to you, which was fair. you were the biggest minx this world had ever known. “well, first of all,” haechan started, snickering again. “there’s a thing called jerking off. i’m sure you’ve heard of it. it’s really popular amongst guys we know.”

jeno looked almost scandalized. “i’m not jerking off to my stepsister.”

“then, you’re an idiot,” haechan retorted. “she’s given us enough material until new years. of the year after next.”

“it’s wrong.”

haechan rolled his eyes. “you’ve got such a stick up your ass, like a proper princess or something.”

“i’ll beat your ass, hyuck,” jeno warned. 

haechan threw his hands up. “i’m just saying. i’m not telling you to stick her in a washing machine, bro. but the answer’s obvious. just jerk off. you know you want to.”

jeno sighed. had he thought about it? obviously. but he couldn’t shake how wrong it felt, even if you made him perpetually horny. “i want to smack the shit out of you right now, but i haven’t done it yet.”

rather than recoil, haechan laughed. that asswipe finds humor in everything, jeno thought to himself, irritated. “and i commend your patience, man,” haechan replied. “but it’s only making you more frustrated when you could just bust a nut and be happy.”

jeno was thinking about it now. well, he had thought about it countless times, but he had never allowed himself to stoop that low. you were his younger stepsister and it was his responsibility to take care of you. not picture your face as you moaned and imagine how you would feel, tight and sticky and creamy as you wrapped around his…

haechan broke the silence, musing more so to himself, “maybe we should put her in the washing machine.”

jeno’s eyes flickered. “what the hell, man?”

“my bad,” haechan replied, although he didn’t look very apologetic. “i was just thinking out loud.”

fuck, now jeno was picturing that too. your house had one of those washing machines that opened from the top, not the front. too many times had jeno seen you struggle to take your clothes out, dangling over the washing machine and nearly falling inside. he would offer to help, every now and then, but he liked watching you climb the washing machine just to get your clothes from the very bottom.

it was much more realistic for you to get stuck in that than the kinds of washing machines in porn. 

haechan broke the silence again, still thinking. it was his greatest skill and simultaneously his worst habit. “if you’re so against it, why haven’t you just asked her to shut the fuck up then?”

that was a good question. jeno wasn’t the kind of guy to shy away from an altercation, not with friends and not with family. he had certainly never shown haechan any mercy. he loved his brother, but he was annoying as all fuck.

“i see,” haechan said, smirking. see, annoying. “it’s because you don’t really want her to stop.”

jeno sighed. “yeah, fine. i don’t want her to stop. happy?”

haechan burst out laughing. always laughing, always scheming. he was going to get a stocking full of coal for christmas. “i have an idea.”

“oh, god,” jeno groaned.

haechan finally pressed send on his email and turned around in his desk chair. “hear me out. we should fuck her.”

jeno gawked in disbelief. then again, none of haechan’s ideas were ever truly brilliant. “you’re insane,” he murmured.

“thanks,” haechan chirped, the insult rolling off his shoulders. “just sleep on it.”

“you know what? sure,” jeno replied, walking out of his brother’s room and shutting the door. he didn’t want to hear another word.

he went about his day like everything was normal, going on a walk so that he didn’t have to hear you, eating dinner and watching netflix in the living room to ignore the fact that you existed altogether. and then he went to bed.

jeno couldn’t fucking sleep. on it, over it, under it. he couldn’t sleep whatsoever. 

it wasn’t like you were just loudly moaning all day long, that would be absurd. but every now and then, there would be a whimper you’d let slip. jeno could tell that you were actually trying to be quiet. but this was one of those nights where your parents wouldn’t be back and you were taking advantage of that. again.

jeno decided that he was at his breaking point. the need for you was too goddamn strong and he was tired of pretending that he was better. he couldn’t ignore it anymore. he couldn’t fight it, suppress it.

he threw the blankets off his bed and went to haechan’s room, the door closed this time. he knocked on the door and called out, “stop jerking off and get your ass out here.”

jeno heard a groan, one of the disgruntled sort. a few seconds later, haechan opened the door, a scowl on his face. “what the hell, man? your voice ruined my nut.”

it was jeno’s turn to laugh. he clasped a hand on haechan’s shoulder. “don’t worry. you’ll be in the mood again in no time.”

haechan lifted a brow. “are you saying what i think you’re saying?”

jeno nodded. 

“we’re gonna teach her a lesson.”

“we’re gonna put her in the washing machine?”

jeno’s smile instantly dropped and his hand fell from haechan’s shoulder. “why the fuck are you both so addicted to porn?” he asked.

the excited shimmer in haechan’s eyes died a little. “no, i was… i was just kidding. let’s go.”

jeno sighed and started down the hall to your bedroom, deciding not to argue haechan on that. it would be a waste of valuable time.

jeno knocked on the door and called out your name. “can we come in?”

there was audible shuffling as you called back, “just a moment!”

haechan glanced over at jeno. “so, how we doing this?”

jeno looked calm, collected. as if fucking his stepsister was something he did on the regular. “just follow my lead.”

you opened the door, a towel thrown around you. but your skin looked damp with sweat, not water. your face was a little flushed. it was obvious that you were naked. “um, can i help you guys?” you asked, somewhat breathless. 

jeno looked you up and down subtly. haechan, on the other hand, was damn near ogling you. the former repeated, “can we come in?”

“um, i guess,” you murmured, stepping out of the way so that they could enter your bedroom.

haechan closed the door behind himself, not that there was anyone to worry about. it was only the three of you in the house at the moment. 

jeno glanced away, looking for traces of what you had been doing. he found them very quickly; your laptop shut on your bed, the blankets messily thrown on top to conceal the damp spots in your sheets, and your shirt and shorts on the floor by your bed, implying you were only in your underwear.

“is there something you guys need?” you asked, a bit annoyed at having been interrupted. 

jeno walked towards your desk where your laptop probably should have been, though he saw something fearful flash in your eyes. his brows furrowed, but he didn’t inquire about it. he would figure it out on his own. “do we have to need something to want to visit you?” jeno asked, a small smile on his face. “i haven’t seen you all day long. we just wanted to make sure you’re still alive.”

“oh, that’s… very sweet of you,” you murmured. “as you can see, i’m perfectly alive and breathing.”

“yeah, you’re breathing a lot,” haechan commented. 

jeno chuckled. he moved away from your desk and instead towards your nightstand, noticing your eyes still watching him like a hawk. “relax. what’s got you so worked up?”

“i’m not worked up,” you lied, eyes darting between him and your bed. 

that was when it clicked in jeno’s brain. the bed. you didn’t want him to see the bed. he chuckled again, sitting down on top of it. “are you okay? you look a little… flushed.”

“yeah,” haechan chimed in, moving your hair out of your face. you jolted. you had been paying so much attention to jeno that you failed to notice haechan had creeped up behind you. “and sweaty.”

you released a shaky breath. you were nervous, but you couldn’t tell them that. because then they would start asking questions. “i’m okay, guys. you can go.”

“why are you trying to get rid of us?” haechan asked, leaning in a little too close. “it’s almost like you’re hiding something.”

“what are you watching?” jeno asked, grabbing your laptop. 

your eyes widened in horror. “no, wait!” you exclaimed. you tried to stop him, but haechan was quick to pull you back against his chest. 

jeno opened your laptop, being met with a twitter porn browser. he feigned surprise. “oh, wow,” he said, merely blinking. “wow.”

“what is it?” haechan called from the other side of the room. 

jeno turned the laptop to face you and haechan. “guess she’s really into… creampies, sucking dick, and doggy style.”

your face was hot with embarrassment and you thrashed in haechan’s arms. “this is an invasion of privacy! you guys jerk off, don’t you?”

“jerk off? sure. watch porn for hours on end? no, i don’t,” jeno answered, setting your laptop down. he moved your blankets out of the way, revealing a few damp spots on your bed. “how long did you have to sit here for this to happen?”

you felt very exposed at the moment. like your deepest, darkest secret was steadily reaching its way around the whole world. “i’m not that bad,” you murmured, shy. 

haechan laughed. he tugged at the towel and brought his hand to your chest, pinching your nipple. “not that bad? you almost gave poor jeno over there an aneurysm with how enticing you’ve been.”

your whined when haechan squeezed your chest, tearing your gaze away from jeno to look up at him with wide eyes. “what are you doing?”

“fuck. yeah, that’s what i’m talking about, princess,” haechan groaned, pressing himself against your ass. “those sweet sounds have been driving him mad.”

any other moment, jeno would have narrowed his eyes at haechan and called him disgusting. but this was different. jeno didn’t care about what was right or wrong anymore. maybe he never truly had. what was certain right now was that any desire to behave in a morally acceptable manner was outweighed by the desire to fuck you brainless.

“bring her over here,” jeno said, shoving your laptop of the way to make room. 

haechan grabbed your waist and led you towards the bed, pushing you towards his brother. jeno grabbed your chin, smoothing his thumb over your cheek. “gooning isn’t healthy,” he told you straightforwardly. “you know what you need?”

you glanced at him, fretful. the towel had completely fallen at this point, leaving you solely in your water, just as jeno had pieced together. “what?” you whispered.

“a fuck,” jeno replied unabashedly. “you’re so damn touch-starved. always complaining about how you want a boyfriend, but you never go out, because you’re too busy playing with your clit.”

your face was hot. honestly, they hadn’t given you the opportunity to cool down. but you had to admit that he was right. compared to how much you touched yourself, you didn’t go out enough.

“have you ever even had sex?” haechan asked, running his hands up your thighs. 

you wanted to hide so fucking bad, but that clearly wasn’t an option. “no,” you replied, ashamed.

jeno snickered, because apparently that was funny. “obviously,” he said, moving his thumb to your bottom lip. “this pretty body has gone untouched for too many years, that’s all. once you get fucked, you’ll be as good as new. worked for jisung. didn’t it, hyuck?”

“yep,” haechan chirped, nodding. “he was the biggest gooner i’ve ever seen. jaemin had so many roommate horror stories. then, we got him some pussy, and he’s all better now. actually goes outside and gets light that isn’t from his laptop.”

“so, what do you say?” jeno asked, turning your head back to him. “want something other than your fingers inside you?”

your heart racing. were you really about to agree to getting fucked by your stepbrothers? when it was over, you could blame it on the fact that you genuinely were touch-starved and desperate for a release for all this pent-up frustration.

and because you really, really needed to come after having avoided it for hours, you nodded your head.

“words, princess,” haechan said, his hands still gripping your thighs as he thought about how soft they were. “say it. say, ‘i want you to fuck me, haechan.’”

you swallowed, but you weren’t going to disobey. “i… i want you to fuck me, haechan.”

“jeez, you don’t have to beg. i’ll do it,” haechan replied, playful as ever. “and because it’s your first time, i think we should do missionary. is that okay, princess?”

“that’s… fine,” you murmured timidly. it didn’t really matter to you how he fucked you. you just wanted someone inside you. 

haechan was beaming, like he had prayed for this day and it was finally happening. “good. and if you ever want me to fuck you on all fours, you know the way to my room.”

the way haechan was looking at you was entirely overwhelming, so you glanced over at jeno instead, though he was also watching you intently. “what about… you?” you asked. 

jeno chuckled, thumb sweeping over your lips. “i don’t need to fuck your pussy. i’ll leave that to haechan. i just want to fuck this pretty little mouth that’s been keeping me up at night.”

haechan, growing impatient, tugged at your panties. you lifted your hips, watching him drag them down your legs. “jesus,” he murmured. “they’re fucking drenched.”

“they better be,” jeno replied with a chuckle, stepping out of his pants. “long as she’s probably been wearing them.”

haechan spread your legs, wanting to get a good look at the treasure hidden between them. he moaned at the mere sight of your pussy, dripping with arousal. “fuck, you don’t even need prep,” he mused.

as if you couldn’t get any more embarrassed than you already were. they knew exactly what to say to make you want to hide your face beneath a pillow and hopefully suffocate to death.

despite his declaration about you not needing prep, haechan couldn’t help but drag his tongue along your folds, which made you gasp in surprise. it wasn’t a tentative lick, either; he was confident and unreluctant. you were clearly sensitive, but he didn’t seem to care, eager to suck and lick at you.

“haechan,” you whimpered, involuntarily trying to close your legs. he swore his dick twitched when you said his name like that. 

all the while, jeno was stroking himself beside you, half hard. for the first time thinking about you at the same time that he touched his dick, and god, he really should have done it sooner. just the thought of you made his blood pump harder. 

haechan pulled back after a moment or two when he was finally sated. “sorry,” he apologized, completely inauthentic. “just wanted a taste.”

jeno tapped your cheek. “open up, baby.”

you slowly opened your mouth, wide enough for him to push inside. which jeno seized the opportunity to do as soon as it presented itself. he was impatient now, tired of waiting. you had tortured him long enough with those pretty noises; it was time you paid him back for tolerating your horniness.

“fuck,” jeno cursed upon feeling the warmth of your mouth around his cock.

haechan snickered. it was amusing to him that only a few hours ago, jeno said he was insane for suggesting that they fuck you. and now here he was with his cock down your throat. a few hours could truly change a man, for worse and for better. “how’s it going?” haechan asked.

jeno closed his eyes, trying to go slow before he started fucking your throat with a purpose. he didn’t necessarily want to hurt you, but damn, he was getting pretty damn close. “how do you think?” he retorted.

you watched jeno as he slowly moved inside your mouth, though his patience was obviously dwindling by the second. part of you wanted to see what it would look like when he lost it all, but the other dreaded it, uncertain whether or not you could handle it.

you were still a virgin, after all. in the important and unimportant ways. you had never been fucked. you had most certainly never had your throat fucked until this very moment. the furthest you’d ever gone with a boy was a little bit of groping while kissing and even that was awkward.

haechan licked his lips, appreciating that they were coated in your arousal. “taste so good, princess,” he said, dropping his hands down to his shorts.

you would have gawked when you glanced down and noticed the dent in them, even if it weren’t for the fact that your mouth was preoccupied. when did he get so hard? 

haechan started to undress himself, pleased now that he had gotten a taste of you and eager to be inside you. he was quick to shed his shorts and the layer underneath, unafraid to show just how desperate he was. for him, it was easy to accept his attraction to you and even easier to act on it now that he had your consent.

he climbed onto the bed, grabbing your thighs again and spreading them apart. he gave them a few affectionate, departing kisses and sat up to grab his cock, bringing it between them. “say ‘goofer gooner’ if you’re ready,” haechan joked, knowing you couldn’t speak.

you furrowed your brows, but you couldn’t even focus on his nonsense because jeno was noticeably forgoing all restraint. could you blame him? your mouth was warm, alive, and everything about you seemed to drive him straight through the brink of insanity. 

“you know, jeno,” haechan started, gazing down at the little distance between your bodies. “you were right. i’m already in the mood again.”

you had that effect on him, on them. haechan knew he probably should have fought it better, but he truly saw no point. it was easier to fold and surrender to the fact that he found you infuriatingly sexy, despite your tendencies. and with nothing more to say, he slowly but surely pressed himself inside you.

haechan tipped his head back, already moaning like a bitch and he wasn’t even fully sheathed inside you yet. “holy fuck,” he said, his grip on your thighs tightening.

you whimpered, the sound muffled by jeno’s cock as his balls slapped against your chin. you immediately pulsed around haechan’s cock, clinging to him like now that he was there, you would never let him go.

“holy fuck,” haechan moaned again, stopping for a moment as if the breath had been completely sucked out of him. “so fucking wet, my dick just slides in.”

he was damn near flabbergasted. maybe there was benefit to you gooning for hours on end, a benefit that he got to reap. he had never seen anyone this wet before, much less felt anything this wet, and it was taking a toll on him. his head was already reeling.

“okay,” haechan said, more so to himself. he was adjusting. “okay. fuck. i’m gonna move.”

and he did, growing more and more mesmerized with every thrust of his hips. his mouth hung open, moans of your name and explicit curses dangling from his lips with a shrill touch to them that only made you even more aroused.

to say nothing of the sounds jeno was making, almost directly in your ear. he was so close to your face that you could explode. he was finally moving comfortably, fucking your throat with a rhythm that almost made it hard to breathe. 

though you had no intention of making him stop. you had fantasized about making yourself available for this purpose many, many times. not necessarily to your stepbrother, but well, it wasn’t like you were discriminating. especially not when he sounded so goddamn sexy and his face was tensing the way it was in pleasure.

it was strange, but you found yourself going from solely craving the experience to wanting to pleasure them. and it would appear that you were doing a fantastic job without hardly even trying, all things considered.

haechan was gripping on your thighs for dear life as if without the support, he would get blown away into the eighth dimension. or maybe drown in how wet you were, gushing around his cock, if not for him using your soft thighs as an anchor to keep him afloat.

“this sweet fucking pussy,” he sighed, losing himself in the vice of you. he had set a pace too, fucking you without intention of stopping. with every fiber of his being, deep and hard. “i could fuck you forever.”

you could sit here and take it forever. you had never felt so full in your life. your fingers hardly did the job, always reaching just shy of where you needed them instead of completely offering you the satisfaction you’d long craved. and here haechan was handing it to you on a silver platter.

the only problem was that you felt slightly overwhelmed with so much happening at one time in two different holes. you didn’t know who to pay attention to; jeno fucking your throat with a vengeance, eager to gain something out of your mouth for once, or haechan railing you to kingdom come, making you feel hot everywhere.

you found yourself trying to juggle both, eyes flitting between them, moaning around jeno’s dick at haechan’s angled thrusts and throbbing around haechan at every guttural groan that slipped from jeno’s mouth. you couldn’t help yourself; it was too goddamn arousing.

jeno noticed how fucked out you looked, eyes rolling back to another timeline, and it was doing unimaginable things to his cock. you looked better than he could have ever imagined and he knew that he wouldn’t be satisfied until he left you hoarse and rasping.

with that thought, he grabbed your hair to push you down and started to fuck your head against the mattress rather roughly, which caught you by surprise. you tried to take it, you really did, but it was overwhelming. you could barely breathe.

“take it,” he hissed, holding your head in place. you looked pretty like this, struggling to keep up with his hectic movements.

your eyes were watering as his cock went too deep for you to handle, and you started gagging. jeno moaned, but pulled your head off him to let you relax for a second, a string of saliva connecting your mouth and the head of his cock.

“breathe,” he said, letting one hand run through your hair almost tenderly.

you nodded, willing yourself to relax. all the while, jeno marveled at how pretty you looked with saliva on your face and tears strolling down your cheeks.

“you guys okay up there?” haechan asked from between your legs, having noticed the action. 

“we’re fine,” jeno answered on your behalf. he moved his hand from your hair to your cheek. “you ready?”

you nodded your head. you couldn’t shake the urge to really make him proud, to satisfy all his inappropriate cravings. it was the least you could do when you had been tantalizing him for months on end.

“good girl,” jeno whispered, guiding his cock back to your mouth and this time using your hair to push your head onto his cock as he fucked your throat.

you moaned at the pet name, because something about the way it sounded coming from him made your head spin. maybe you were just horny and in dire need of a fuck like he’d said. maybe after you came, all of these feelings would wear off, and you would feel somewhat sane again. 

but you couldn’t deny that you were somewhat indulging in your fantasies here. you didn’t necessarily hate the the way jeno was treating you, even if it was a little beyond your limits and more than a little rough. but limits were just boundaries you’d yet explored.

haechan was a different situation altogether. your pussy was still sensitive from the hours of playing with it and you were already about to come much before him. there was a familiar heat in your stomach and festering throb of energy in your core, only more intense than you had ever experienced.

but haechan recognized it, even without being able to hear your sweet moans of his name. he could see it in your body language and it flattered him in a way; he always felt proud when he lasted longer than the person he was fucking, especially without necessarily even trying to finish them quicker.

“she’s gonna come,” haechan pointed out, grinning. “come for me, princess. come on this dick. you know you want to.”

it was like he your voodoo doll or something, because merely seconds after those words parted from his mouth, you were shuddering and tightening around his cock with climax, your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your toes clenching.

haechan let out the pitchiest moan ever when you throbbed around him repeatedly. words could not describe how good it felt, but sounds could. and the sounds he was making were sensational, only contributing to the mind-numbing pleasure wrecking you from within.

“goddamn,” haechan said, mesmerized by how hard you came. it was probably warranted after hours of resisting.

but the other thing on haechan’s mind was how much wetter your pussy sounded, sticky with your release. he whined, literally going mad. he knew that his own orgasm wasn’t far out and just the squelch of your cunt could easily finish him off.

jeno was facing a similar predicament, fucking your mouth without restraint and not letting you escape his thrusts. “fuck, i’m gonna come,” he groaned. “swallow it. or don’t. it’s your sheets.”

the last thing you of all people cared about was having your sheets ruined. at the moment, you were more burdened with how sore your throat felt and how overstimulated your pussy was being fucked despite having already orgasmed. it literally felt like you’d had the soul fucked out of you.

you didn’t even know it was possible at this point, but jeno’s hips went faster. it was a brutal but steady pace, which was somewhat admirable. he was trying to get himself there, right over the edge, knowing release was only seconds away.

with a few more smacks, jeno released down your throat with the sexiest groan you’d heard, one that claimed every award. when you’d milked him of every drop, his hands tight on the sides of your face, his grip on your head slacked and he slowly pulled your mouth off him.

you swallowed what you could, but he had came so goddamn much at once, it was borderline ridiculous. what you couldn’t take dripped down your chin, blending with the saliva from the messy fucking.

haechan glanced up at you and the sight of your cum-stained face triggered something so primal in him that he knew he wasn’t going to last another minute. “princess, where do you want me to come?” he asked breathlessly.

“inside,” you replied with maybe half your voice, if even. it hurt to speak. the sound pleased jeno.

the thought of coming inside your pussy had haechan levitating and was the last push he needed to bring himself past the cusp of ecstasy. his hips stuttered as he came inside you, crying out half of your name, leaning on top of you as he buried his load inside your warm, wet, gushing, sticky hole.

a satisfied hum escaped you when you felt his cum seeping inside your pussy. why did it feel so good?

“d-don’t move yet,” you whispered, because it was all you could muster.

haechan glanced up at you, recognizing the look of pleasure on your face. if he had the energy, he would tease you about how you wanted to feel him cum inside you, but he needed to catch his breath. so he answered with a nod.

jeno whistled. this had gone better than he’d hoped. “well goddamn. you’re just a virgin slut aren’t you?”

haechan chuckled breathlessly. “she took that shit like a champ. i’m impressed.”

jeno kissed your forehead. “you did so good,” he whispered, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “i’ll get you some water in a second.”

you nodded, appreciating the tender side after all that had just happened. your heart felt a little lighter than usual, despite its racing. you had so many questions, but you didn’t want to strain your voice. was it normal to feel like a different person after having sex for the first time?

haechan was going to pull out, but seeing the look on your face, he decided to stay nestled inside you for a little longer. “you okay?”

you bobbed your head. “i’m good.”

haechan snickered and teased, “whoa there, batman. what have you done with my sister?”

you rolled your eyes, but giggled. jeno joined in on the laughter, but he added, “don’t speak. you’ll make it worse.”

haechan sighed contentedly. knowing that you wouldn’t say anything in response, he decided to tease, “our little gooner.”

you glared at haechan wordlessly, conveying a lot of different things with your eyes. 

jeno translated playfully, “i think that means ‘fuck you.’”

“again?” haechan joked. “what can i expect from a gooner. but hey, i guess girls can goon too.”

[its-avalon-08]

Could you write a story with Franco Colapinto where maybe the reader is in a bit of a “toxic” relationship with an older boyfriend who takes advantage of her like he wants to control her and everything, and even wants to marry her—a bit of a strange situation. Franco helps her get out of it because he’s madly in love with her.

all mine always (fc43)

✦ pairing - franco colapinto x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, tears, break up, insecurity, fluff

Franco Colapinto had always been Y/N’s favorite person. From the moment their mothers introduced them as toddlers in their small Argentinian neighborhood, they’d been inseparable. Where Franco went, Y/N followed, and vice versa. He was her rock, her safe place, the one person she could count on for anything.

As Franco’s racing career took off, Y/N was his biggest cheerleader, whether screaming at the TV during live broadcasts or waiting for hours at the airport to welcome him home. And for Franco, no matter how loud the crowds were or how far he traveled, he always came back to Y/N. She grounded him, reminded him of who he was when the world made him doubt.

But lately, things had changed. Y/N wasn’t the bubbly, carefree girl he’d always known. Her laughter was more strained, her smiles less frequent. And Franco knew why.

It was because of him.

“You’re quieter than usual. What’s going on?” Franco asked, nudging Y/N’s shoulder as they sat on the hood of his car, overlooking their favorite cliffside view.

Y/N tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, avoiding his gaze. “Nothing. I’m just tired.”

“Tired of what? Life? Me?” He grinned, trying to lighten the mood.

“Of course not you,” she mumbled, and he caught the slight tremor in her voice.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” Franco’s voice softened, and he leaned closer. “It’s me, Y/N. I’ve seen you bawling over rom-coms, eating half a tub of ice cream in one sitting. There’s nothing you can say that’ll scare me off.”

She let out a weak laugh but didn’t meet his eyes. “It’s complicated.”

“What is? Him?” The edge in Franco’s voice was unmistakable.

Y/N’s boyfriend, a man ten years her senior named Marcus, was everything Franco wasn’t. Wealthy, powerful, and utterly controlling. Marcus didn’t like Franco. He didn’t like how close they were, didn’t like how Y/N lit up when she talked about her best friend.

At first, Franco thought Marcus was just jealous. But the more he saw, the more he realized it was something darker. Marcus dictated what Y/N wore, where she went, who she spoke to. He even made her quit her part-time job, claiming he’d “take care of her.”

“Why do you stay with him, Y/N?” Franco finally asked, unable to hold back any longer.

Y/N’s face fell. “He loves me, Franco. He wants to marry me.”

“Marry you?” Franco’s voice rose, and Y/N flinched. “Y/N, he doesn’t love you. He wants to own you.”

“Don’t say that!” she snapped, tears welling in her eyes. “You don’t understand, Franco. He’s been good to me.”

“Good to you?” Franco stood, pacing in frustration. “Y/N, when was the last time you smiled? When was the last time you did something just because it made you happy?”

She was silent, and that silence broke his heart.

Later that night, Franco lay awake, staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t get the image of Y/N’s tear-filled eyes out of his mind.

He couldn’t lose her to someone like Marcus.

He wouldn’t.

---

It started with the small things. Y/N had always been the loudest laugher in the room, her giggles contagious and uncontainable. But one evening, during a rare dinner at their favorite burger joint, Franco noticed her laughter was muted.

“Remember when you tried to convince me ketchup was a vegetable in second grade?” Franco joked, hoping to coax a smile.

Y/N chuckled lightly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Instead, she glanced at her phone lying face down on the table, as though it held some unspoken threat.

“Y/N, you okay?” Franco pressed.

“Yeah, just… Marcus doesn’t really like when I eat stuff like this,” she murmured, picking at her fries.

Franco frowned. “It’s one burger, Y/N. You’re not signing a lifetime commitment to unhealthy eating.”

She smiled faintly but didn’t touch her food after that.

---

Y/N’s wardrobe had always been a mix of quirky prints, bold colors, and comfortable outfits. She loved experimenting with fashion, her style as vibrant as her personality.

But during one of Franco’s rare visits home, he noticed her wearing muted tones: a beige sweater, black trousers, and flat shoes that looked nothing like the chunky boots she adored.

“Wow, did someone steal all your colors?” Franco teased, eyeing her outfit.

She tugged at the hem of her sweater nervously. “Marcus says these look more… sophisticated. He says I should dress like the woman I’m becoming.”

Franco’s stomach churned. “Since when do you need his approval to dress the way you want?”

“It’s not like that,” she said quickly. “He just wants what’s best for me.”

But Franco couldn’t shake the way she avoided his gaze.

---

Y/N had always been the type to show up unannounced at Franco’s house, snacks in hand, ready to rant about anything and everything. But those visits became less frequent.

One evening, Franco called her after weeks of barely hearing from her.

“Hey, stranger! Do I need to make an appointment to see my best friend now?” he joked.

“Sorry, I’ve just been busy,” she said, her voice hesitant.

“Too busy for me? C’mon, Y/N, that’s not you. What’s really going on?”

“Marcus doesn’t like me hanging out too much. He says it’s distracting me from our future.”

“Our future?” Franco repeated, his voice laced with disbelief. “Y/N, he’s not your entire life.”

“He’s important to me, Franco,” she snapped, but her voice cracked at the end.

Franco sighed, the weight of her words sinking in.

---

Y/N had always been fiercely independent, never afraid to voice her opinions or stand her ground. But that spark seemed dimmed.

One day, Franco overheard her on a call with Marcus while she waited for him at the karting track.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’ll be home soon, okay? Please don’t be mad.”

When she hung up, Franco approached her.

“Why were you apologizing?” he asked.

“It’s nothing,” she said quickly. “Just a small misunderstanding.”

“Y/N,” Franco said firmly, his tone demanding honesty. “When did you start apologizing for existing?”

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, it looked like she might break down. But then she shook her head. “You don’t get it, Franco. Marcus just expects a lot from me. It’s not a bad thing.”

But Franco could see it—how she shrank in on herself, a shadow of the person she used to be.

---

The final straw came when Y/N showed up at Franco’s house one evening, tears streaking her face. She was holding a gift Marcus had given her—a diamond bracelet—though it felt more like a shackle to Franco.

“He said I’m too friendly with other people,” she confessed, her voice trembling. “He thinks I’m not committed enough to him.”

Franco’s jaw tightened. “So what? He bought you this to guilt you into proving it?”

She didn’t respond, just stared at the bracelet with hollow eyes.

“Y/N,” Franco said gently, stepping closer. “This isn’t love. Love doesn’t make you afraid to be yourself.”

She looked up at him, and for the first time, he saw it—the fear, the doubt, the realization that she was trapped.

And that’s when Franco vowed to get her out, no matter what it took.

---

Franco sat across from Y/N in his dimly lit living room. The cozy space that had always been filled with their laughter now felt stifling under the weight of her silence. Her eyes were glued to the floor, fingers fidgeting with the bracelet Marcus had gifted her.

“Y/N, enough.” Franco’s voice was sharp, his frustration barely contained. “Tell me what’s going on. All of it. No more ‘I’m fine,’ no more ‘It’s nothing.’ Because I can’t keep watching you like this.”

Y/N’s hands stilled, and she finally looked up at him. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and her lips trembled as she tried to find the words.

“I—” she began, but her voice broke.

“Just say it,” Franco urged, leaning forward, his hands gripping his knees. “Whatever it is, I’m here. Always. You know that.”

And then, like a dam bursting, the words spilled out.

“I feel like I’m losing myself, Franco,” Y/N whispered, her voice shaky. “It’s like… it’s like nothing I do is ever enough for him.”

Franco’s fists clenched, his jaw tightening. “What do you mean?”

She took a deep, shuddering breath. “He controls everything. What I wear, what I eat, who I talk to. If I laugh too loud, he tells me I’m embarrassing him. If I spend too much time out, he says I don’t care about our relationship. And when I try to stand up for myself…”

Her voice cracked, and a tear slid down her cheek.

Franco’s heart shattered. “What happens when you stand up for yourself, Y/N?”

She hesitated, then finally whispered, “He gets angry. Really angry. He doesn’t hit me, but… he’ll yell, or give me the silent treatment for days. And then he’ll apologize, say he just wants the best for me, and I… I believe him. Every time.”

“That bastard,” Franco muttered under his breath, his eyes blazing with fury. “That manipulative, controlling piece of—”

“Stop!” Y/N cried, her voice rising as more tears streamed down her face. “You don’t understand, Franco. He says he loves me. He says he wants to marry me because he can’t live without me. What if he’s right? What if no one else could ever love me like he does?”

Franco shot out of his chair so fast it scraped against the floor. He stood towering over her, his hands trembling with anger.

“No one else could love you? Are you hearing yourself, Y/N? That’s not love—that’s control. That’s manipulation. He doesn’t love you, he loves the idea of owning you.”

Y/N flinched at his harsh tone, and he immediately softened, crouching down in front of her.

“Y/N,” he said gently, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re brilliant, funny, kind—you’ve got this light that draws people in. Don’t let him dim that light. Don’t let him make you think you’re less than you are.”

“But he’ll never let me go, Franco,” she sobbed, burying her face in her hands. “He’ll find a way to keep me under his thumb. And I… I don’t know how to fight him.”

Franco’s protective instincts kicked into overdrive. He placed his hands firmly on her knees, looking her directly in the eyes.

“You don’t have to fight him alone,” he said fiercely. “You’ve got me. And I’ll fight him, Y/N. I’ll fight anyone who tries to hurt you, who tries to take you away from the person you’re meant to be.”

“But how?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Franco’s eyes darkened with determination. “We’ll figure it out. Whatever it takes, we’ll get you out of this. You’re not marrying him, you’re not staying with him—you’re not going to lose yourself because of some controlling prick who doesn’t deserve you.”

Y/N broke down completely, sobs wracking her body as Franco pulled her into his arms. She clung to him like a lifeline, her tears soaking his shirt.

“I’m scared,” she admitted through her tears.

“I know,” Franco murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he held her tighter. “But I’m here. You’re not alone, Y/N. You’ll never be alone as long as I’m around.”

And in that moment, Franco vowed to do whatever it took to protect her—even if it meant going toe-to-toe with Marcus himself.

---

Franco sat in the back corner of a quiet café, nursing a cup of coffee he didn’t care to drink. Across the table sat Fernando Alonso, Carlos Sainz, and Max Verstappen—three of Y/N’s closest confidants, all equally concerned about the situation she was trapped in.

“This guy sounds like a parasite,” Carlos muttered, leaning back in his chair with a scowl. “He’s feeding off her, controlling her life. It makes me sick.”

“Controlling isn’t even the right word,” Franco added, his voice sharp. “He’s obsessed with her. She’s terrified to even think about leaving him because of what he might do.”

Fernando leaned forward, his expression dark and calculated. “If he’s that obsessed, just walking away won’t work. He’ll follow her, pressure her, maybe even blackmail her. We have to remove him from the equation completely.”

Max raised an eyebrow, swirling his coffee absentmindedly. “What are you suggesting? Breaking his legs?”

“I wish,” Franco growled. “But we need something smarter. Something that gets rid of him without putting her in the middle of it.”

Carlos sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Does he have any weaknesses? Anything we can use against him?”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Franco said, pulling out his phone. “Y/N mentioned that Marcus has been pushing for marriage because he thinks it’ll lock her down. If we can prove he’s not as perfect as he pretends to be, maybe we can destroy his image. The guy’s got to have skeletons in his closet.”

“Everyone does,” Fernando said, his voice cool and composed. “We just have to dig deep enough to find them.”

Max smirked. “Lucky for you, I know a guy who’s great at digging. He’s done some work for me before—discreet and efficient.”

Fernando raised an eyebrow. “You’ve had people investigated before?”

“Sometimes it’s useful,” Max said with a shrug. “Let me make a call. If Marcus has anything to hide, we’ll know soon enough.”

While Max stepped away to make the call, Carlos leaned toward Franco. “What about Y/N? Does she know we’re planning this?”

Franco shook his head. “She’s already scared out of her mind. I don’t want her worrying about this too. I’ll tell her once we have a solid plan.”

Carlos nodded, his jaw tightening. “Good. She doesn’t need any more stress right now. But Franco… if this guy doesn’t back off, I won’t sit back and play nice.”

“Neither will I,” Fernando added, his voice like steel. “But we’ll try it the clean way first. For Y/N’s sake.”

Max returned, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “My guy’s on it. Give him a couple of days, and we’ll have everything we need on Marcus.”

A heavy silence fell over the table, the weight of their plan sinking in.

“You think this will work?” Franco asked, his voice quieter now.

“It has to,” Fernando said firmly. “If it doesn’t, we’ll come up with something else. But we won’t let her stay trapped. Not while we’re here.”

Max smirked, though his tone was serious. “Don’t worry, mate. He’ll wish he’d never met Y/N by the time we’re done with him.”

Franco leaned back, exhaling slowly. “Thank you, guys. Seriously. I couldn’t do this alone.”

Carlos clapped him on the shoulder. “We’re all in this for her. And when she’s free of him, she’ll finally see what an idiot she’s been for not choosing you sooner.”

Franco blinked at Carlos, heat rising to his cheeks. “This isn’t about me.”

“No,” Fernando said, smirking faintly for the first time. “But it’s obvious how much you love her. She’s lucky to have you, Franco.”

Franco swallowed hard, determination flashing in his eyes. “She’s the one who deserves better. And I’ll make sure she gets it.”

The four of them exchanged grim nods, their shared goal uniting them. Marcus had no idea what was coming for him.

---

It was late in the evening when Franco received the call from Max’s contact. Standing in his apartment, he listened intently, his knuckles white as he gripped his phone.

“Are you sure about this?” Franco asked, pacing the floor.

“Positive,” the voice on the other end said. “Marcus has a history. Fraud, manipulation, even harassment complaints from two previous partners. It’s all there, buried deep, but enough to destroy him if it gets out.”

Franco’s jaw clenched. “Send me everything. Now.”

As soon as the call ended, Franco stared at the incoming files on his laptop. Each piece of evidence felt like a punch to the gut—not for Marcus’s sins, but for the fact that Y/N had been stuck with him, blind to the extent of his darkness.

He called Fernando, Carlos, and Max to his apartment. Within an hour, they were all seated around his laptop, reviewing the damning evidence.

“This guy is a predator,” Carlos said, his voice seething. “How did Y/N get caught up with him?”

“She didn’t know,” Franco said, running a hand through his hair. “She’s too kind, too trusting. He preyed on that.”

Fernando leaned back in his chair, his expression cold. “This is enough to get him out of her life. Publicly exposing him would ruin him. He’d be too busy cleaning up his mess to focus on her.”

Max tapped a finger on the table. “But we need to be smart about this. If Marcus suspects Y/N’s involved, he might retaliate. We have to keep her out of it entirely.”

Franco nodded. “Agreed. So, we leak this anonymously. Make sure it hits hard, fast, and far enough that he can’t trace it back to her.”

Carlos glanced at Franco. “How’s she holding up?”

“Barely,” Franco admitted, his voice low. “She’s trying to put on a brave face, but I can tell she’s breaking inside. She doesn’t even know about this yet.”

Max crossed his arms. “She won’t have to. We handle this, she stays safe, and Marcus is gone. End of story.”

Fernando, ever the strategist, stood. “I’ll make a few calls. I know someone who can ensure this hits the right places—media outlets, law enforcement, even his employers if he has any. Marcus won’t have time to even think about Y/N once this explodes.”

“Do it,” Franco said firmly. “I don’t care what it takes, just make sure it’s over.”

The plan was in motion, but Franco couldn’t shake the tightness in his chest. He’d seen Y/N earlier that day, and the haunted look in her eyes was etched into his memory. She didn’t deserve any of this.

When the others left to put the plan into action, Franco sat alone, staring at his phone. His thumb hovered over Y/N’s contact. He wanted to call her, to tell her it would all be okay soon. But he knew she wouldn’t believe him—not yet.

Instead, he texted her:

Franco: I’m here if you need me. Always.

Her response came almost immediately:

Y/N: I know. Thank you.

Franco set his phone down, his determination solidifying. By this time tomorrow, Marcus would be nothing more than a bad memory. And Y/N would finally be free.

---

Y/N sat in Franco’s apartment, curled up on his couch with a mug of tea clutched in her hands. She hadn’t said much since arriving that morning, her anxiety bubbling over as Marcus’s world began to collapse. The plan was in motion, but the waiting was unbearable.

The knock on the door made her flinch, and Franco immediately went to answer it. Carlos stepped inside, his face grim, but the small glint in his eyes told Franco what he needed to know.

“It’s done,” Carlos said simply.

“What?” Y/N’s voice wavered, her head snapping up.

Carlos crossed the room, sitting on the edge of the coffee table in front of her. “Marcus has been arrested. They found enough evidence to charge him with fraud and harassment, and with the media leak, his reputation is in shreds. He’s not getting near you again.”

Y/N’s mug slipped from her hands onto the table, her hands flying to her mouth. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over as the weight of his words settled in. “He’s… he’s really gone?”

Franco sat beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “He’s gone, Y/N. For good.”

She broke into sobs, burying her face in her hands. Relief poured out of her in waves, shaking her frame as the months of fear and anxiety began to melt away. Franco held her, his hand running soothingly up and down her back.

Over the Next Few Weeks

Y/N took slow but steady steps toward reclaiming her life. Franco was with her every step of the way—helping her rebuild her confidence, reminding her of who she was before Marcus had taken over her life.

One evening, as they sat on a park bench eating ice cream, Y/N laughed for the first time in what felt like forever. It was a small laugh, but it was real, and Franco couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“You’re staring,” she teased, her voice lighter than it had been in weeks.

He grinned, his heart flipping at the sight of her smile. “Can you blame me? I’ve missed that laugh.”

She looked down, swirling her ice cream with the spoon. “I’ve missed it too. I didn’t even realize how much I’d lost until… until now.”

Franco nudged her playfully. “Well, it’s coming back. Little by little. And I’m here to make sure it doesn’t go anywhere this time.”

Y/N tilted her head to look at him, her gaze soft. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Franco. You’ve been my rock through all of this.”

A Month Later

“Close your eyes,” Franco said one evening, leading Y/N by the hand into his living room.

“Franco, what are you up to?” she asked, her tone suspicious but amused.

“Trust me,” he said with a grin.

When she opened her eyes, the room was lit with fairy lights, and her favorite snacks and a cozy blanket were laid out on the couch. A projector screen displayed her favorite childhood movie.

“Movie night?” she asked, her voice catching slightly.

“Not just any movie night,” Franco said, gesturing grandly. “The start of the new, sparkly, unstoppable Y/N era. Consider this a celebration of you being… well, you.”

Tears pricked at her eyes as she hugged him tightly. “You’re too good to me, Franco.”

He hugged her back, his chest tightening. You deserve the world, he thought, but didn’t say it. Instead, he said, “It’s what you deserve.”

Weeks Turn to Months

Y/N began finding joy in the little things again—taking walks, experimenting with new hobbies, even joining Franco at karting tracks where he indulged her playful trash talk about his skills.

One afternoon, as she beat him in a casual race, she threw her arms in the air triumphantly. “Told you I’d wipe the floor with you, Colapinto!”

Franco laughed, pulling off his helmet. “Alright, alright, you win. But don’t forget who’s the professional here.”

She winked. “Professional loser today.”

He watched her, his heart swelling with pride and adoration. She was glowing again, her spark fully returned. And every day, he found himself falling deeper in love.

But he kept those feelings locked away—for now. Because seeing her happy was all that mattered.

For now.

---

Franco stood nervously in the middle of the clearing, the moonlight filtering through the tall trees. Their childhood spot had transformed—fairy lights twinkled between the branches, and soft candles lined the pathway leading to the small wooden bench they had carved their initials into as kids. He had spent hours making it perfect. Tonight, he would tell Y/N everything.

He heard her soft footsteps before he saw her. Turning, he saw Y/N step into the clearing, her eyes widening in surprise.

“Franco…” she breathed, her hand flying to her mouth. “What is all this?”

He smiled, though his heart was racing. “A walk down memory lane. Do you remember when we used to come here every summer? When the world felt simple and small?”

She nodded, tears already forming in her eyes as she took in the glowing lights and the warmth of the scene. “I… I can’t believe you did this. It’s beautiful.”

Franco held out his hand, and she took it, letting him guide her to the bench. They sat side by side, the soft glow of the lights illuminating her face.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice trembling slightly. “I’ve been thinking about this moment for a long time. Months, actually. Maybe years, if I’m honest.”

She tilted her head, her brows furrowing. “What moment?”

He took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto hers. “The moment I stop pretending that I’m just your best friend. That I don’t feel everything for you, every single day. The moment I tell you the truth.”

Her lips parted, her breath hitching, but she said nothing, her eyes searching his.

“You’ve been through so much,” Franco continued, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve watched you lose yourself and then fight to get your light back. And every step of the way, I’ve loved you. Not just as my best friend, but as the person who makes my life brighter just by being in it.”

Y/N blinked rapidly, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Franco…”

“I love how you challenge me, how you make me laugh, how you see the good in everyone—even when they don’t deserve it. And I hate that I waited this long to tell you, but I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you. Of scaring you away.”

Her hand covered her mouth, her shoulders trembling as his words washed over her.

“You’re my everything,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “And I want to be the person who makes you feel safe, and loved, and free. Forever. If you’ll let me.”

For a moment, silence hung in the air, broken only by the sound of the wind rustling through the trees.

Then Y/N let out a shaky laugh, wiping her tears. “You idiot,” she said softly. “I’ve been in love with you since we were kids. I just thought you’d never see me that way.”

Franco’s breath caught. “Wait… what?”

She nodded, laughing through her tears. “You were always the one, Franco. I was just too scared to ruin what we had.”

He let out a breath of disbelief before pulling her into his arms, holding her tightly. “You could never ruin anything, Y/N. Not with me.”

As they pulled back, she cupped his face, her eyes shining. “You’re my everything too, Franco. And I’m so glad you didn’t wait any longer.”

He smiled, leaning his forehead against hers. “So, does that mean you’ll go out with me? Officially?”

She laughed, nodding. “Yes, you idiot. A thousand times yes.”

Under the glow of the lights, Franco kissed her—soft and slow, pouring years of love and longing into that single moment. And for the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt right.

[cutielando]

knight in shining armor | r.c.

synopsis: in which Rafe doesn’t prove to be the biggest asshole around

a/n: based on this request!

my masterlist

The island was quiet, only the crashing waves breaking the eerie silence of the night.

It was late - much later than you had planned on staying at the bar. You didn’t go out often, especially not this late, but an invitation from your girlfriends to go to the bar and a couple of shots later, here you were.

Battery dead, walking home in the middle of the night.

It might have been because you hated walking alone, or because of the sketchy streets, but your skin prickled with unease and tension.

You tried to tighten your jacket around you in a desperate attempt to soothe your worries, but it was useless. The tense feeling wouldn’t go away.

Someone was watching you.

You kept your head down, cautious yet very fast steps carrying you closer and closer to home.

Only a couple more minutes and then you’re home. You’ve got this.

You kept telling yourself that as you navigated through the streets, but suddenly stopped dead in your tracks when you saw a group of men sitting on a bench, exactly across the street from where you were supposed to go just now.

The voice in your head was very adamant, turn around and find another way home, but there was no other way to get to your house.

Sighing and gritting your teeth, you began walking again, not sparing the men a glance in hope that they would just ignore you and leave you alone.

That thought and hope went out the window as soon as you were passing in front of them.

A high-pitched wolf-whistle broke the otherwise quiet night, making you stiffen and almost stop in your tracks.

"Hey sweetheart, pretty late to be out and about all on your own" one of the men called out, laughing at the end of his sentence.

"You want some company?" another one said.

"Come on, don't be shy now" a third chimed in.

A feeling of panic and fear settled heavily in your chest. You were thinking about a way to respond, to say anything to get rid of those assholes, but a voice stopped you from doing so.

"She's not interested" the voice said, rough and edged with a warning of what might happen if they didn't get the hint.

You froze, slowly turning around to see who had jumped to your rescue from the shadows. And your shock was even greater when the figure finally stepped into the light, revealing the last person you had thought you were going to see.

Rafe Cameron.

"Who the hell are you, man?" one of the men called out again, not moving from their spot on the benches.

"Doesn't matter who I am. She's not interested, so you're going to leave her alone or you'll have to deal with me" he replied, his tone low and dangerous.

It was the way he said it that made the men finally slink off into the night and leave you alone.

The street fell quiet again, which allowed you to let out a breath you hadn't realized you had been holding.

"Are you okay?" Rafe asked, his voice much softer now, as he turned around to look at you.

"Yeah, I think so" you nodded, even though your voice was shaky and your hands were trembling. "Thank you"

He shrugged his shoulders, like what he did was the most natural thing in the world.

"It's nothing. You shouldn't be walking out here alone at night, it's dangerous in this part of town" he said, his eyes remaining on you.

"I know, but I don't have much of a choice. This is the only way home and my phone died, so I couldn't call a cab" you explained.

"Where do you live?" he asked, his tone direct, but still gentle.

You hesitated, your mind wary. He was Rafe Cameron, and his reputation very well preceded him, but after all, he had just saved you from a very uncomfortable situation. And the walk towards your house only got sketchier.

"Near the south docks" you finally replied, making him nod.

"I'll walk you" he said, falling into step with you, his hands stuffed into the front pockets of his jeans.

The silence between the two of you was awkward at first, neither of you saying anything. But as the minutes passed, you found yourself sneaking glances at the Cameron boy. He didn't seem dangerous or crazy as people had claimed him to be, he was... normal.

"You don't have to walk me home, you know" you said after a little while, breaking the awkward silence.

"Yeah, I do" he replied, his tone neutral.

"Why? You don't even know me" you pointed out.

He shrugged, the corners of his mouth threatening to turn into a faint smirk.

"I don't like seeing people get pushed around" he said.

It was a very simple and straightforward answer, but the fact that it came from Rafe Cameron was the big surprise.

You had heard many stories about Rafe Cameron from different people on the island, but none of those matched the Rafe Cameron currently walking you home to make sure nothing happened to you.

By the time you had reached your house, the tension between the two of you had slowly disappeared and the heaviness on your chest had eased.

"Thanks again, for saving me and walking me home" you said as you stopped in front of the house.

"Get inside safe, okay?" he said, his eyes finding yours.

You nodded, smiling a little.

"I'll see you around" you said before turning around and walking towards your front door, stealing one last look at him before entering the house.

Maybe the island didn't know Rafe as well as they thought.

Maybe they were wrong about him, after all.

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[lives-between-lines]

We gave our time to something undefined - poly!marauders x slytherin reader

─

Summary: Everyone is back from summer break and the rumor mill is buzzing about a certain Slytherin, can our favorite Marauders provide a bit of comfort during trying times?

Notes:  I’m so sorry about how long this took! I honestly wasn’t sure where to go next with their story, so it took me a little fiddling but I’m happy with the direction I landed on and I hope you are too. 

Tags: Angst, fluff, traumatized Slytherins, pureblood elitism, slightly mean!reader

Words: ~8.3k

p.1 p.2

─

I hated summer. It was too hot and there was too much down time stuck with my parents. Maybe if they let me actually visit my friends more, or leave the house for more than an hour at a time I could enjoy it. Maybe if I could have a hobby that was just for leisure and not something else that I had to dedicate countless hours to being perfect at I could have a bit of fun. Instead my summers were occupied with studying to get ahead for the next year, going to stuffy formal events where I recounted how well I did on each of my OWLs, and listening to my parents drone on about all the accomplishments of their friends’ kids. 

One special cloud loomed over me as I stepped away from my parents at the train platform and toward a few months of freedom, but I shook it out of my head and focused on getting to my friends as quickly as possible. 

Having taken one last glance back at my parents, I wasn’t watching where I was going and walked straight into the stiff, muscled back of one James Potter. He turned around and I'd be damned if he didn’t smile at me like we were great friends. My brows furrowed as I scowled at him.

“Hey! I haven’t seen you since─”

“Quite a while, I’m sure. If you’ll excuse me,” I sharply interrupted him. Then I shouldered past him before he could say anything else. I knew what he was going to say, and I knew that I did not care for Potter loudly announcing to the entire platform about our encounter over the summer. Even the small interaction just now brought more attention to me than I particularly wanted. 

Andromeda stood just outside one of the train doors and we made eye contact. As I neared her, she glanced back to where I presumed James still stood. “What’s his deal? He looks a bit like a kicked puppy.”

I frowned at her, but forced myself not to look back. “How should I know? Let’s get to our seats, my feet are killing me.” 

One of Andromeda’s eyebrows ticked up at me in suspicion, but she led the way to our usual compartment. 

─

I sat amongst my friends, quietly observing as they recounted their adventures, or similar lack thereof. A part of me felt like a snake had coiled itself around my neck, a heavy weight that wouldn’t let up. 

“Are you feeling quite right?” Narcissa asked me about halfway through the trip. I looked up at her, startled. Suddenly all of the girls in the compartment were staring at me. I tried to take a breath and couldn’t. I opened my mouth to respond and words failed me. 

“Has something happened?” Andromeda asked, her hand reaching out for mine. I jerked away just as a knock sounded at our door. Everyone’s attention was quickly redirected, except for Andromeda who gave me a weary look before turning to see who had interrupted whatever had been about to happen. 

My heart dropped to my feet when I looked up to see Evan Rosier smirking at me. I willed him not to say anything that would inform my friends of the deal our parents had made this summer. It was as if he could read my thoughts at that moment, and knew exactly what to do to rile me up. 

“I believe the snack trolley is making its rounds and I do feel obliged to offer my inamorata whatever her heart desires,” he says with a self assured chuckle. 

The girls look rightly confused before glancing to me and seeing the way I glowered at Evan. 

Andromeda lets out a disbelieving laugh which causes Evan to frown slightly. “What on earth do you think you’re going on about?” 

“Our betrothal of course.” Evan holds out his hand to me. I glare at it until he drops it back to his side. “Oh, don’t be like that, my dearest. Our parents have made the deal and set the date for the second we graduate.” A series of gasps sound around me. 

Arranged marriages weren’t abnormal in our society, they just weren’t often arranged with people as young as Evan and I still were. To plan to be wed as soon as you graduated was unheard of. 

I shoot daggers at Evan for taking yet one more thing out of my hands. I decided in that moment that I hated him. I absolutely hated him and if I truly were to marry him I would make our marriage a living hell for him just as it would be for me. 

“Well. I suppose I’ll leave you all to your gossiping and wedding planning then.” He gave me one last smirk before finally excusing himself. I wanted to scream at him and rip his hair out. I wanted to hex him clear off the train. I wanted to curl up on the floor beneath my seat and hide from the world as I cried out everything I had been carrying with me. 

Instead I sat frozen in place as everyone else simply stared at me. 

“Please tell me that’s not true. You can’t truly be engaged to Rosier. Why on earth would your parents ever arrange such a thing?” Narcissa asked. 

When I swallow it feels like gravel tearing down my throat. “It appears that our parents have decided we would make an advantageous pairing.” It’s a piss poor answer, but it’s the best I can offer. 

“Well I suppose you should be grateful it’s Evan and not his widowed grandfather,” Phoebe Parkinson giggles. The others are quick to agree and start highlighting all of Evan’s so-called dreamy qualities that will make him a great husband. 

As I sit there I can’t help feeling upset that they aren’t mad on my behalf. 

─ 

Two weeks into the school year and the entire school has been murmuring about what I must have done wrong for my parents to plan to get rid of me so quickly. Of course no one wants to ask me anything directly, and Evan has been feeding the rumor mill every chance he got despite my efforts to limit my interactions with him. My friends act like nothing has happened, having gathered quickly the subject was not open for discussion. 

Walking into the Great Hall for breakfast every morning I catch myself looking for something, though I can’t seem to figure out what. 

In the hallways Evan tries to walk me to class and carry my books or hold my hand. I see girls giggling that he’s such a sweet boyfriend and I want to scream at them he’s not my boyfriend. 

In classes he enchants notes to fly to my desk which only serve to get me in trouble with the professors.

At meals he makes a show of placing food on a plate to give me before making one for himself.

One time in the common room he tried to massage my shoulders.

Every bloody chance he gets, he parades around like the perfect boyfriend, making me look like a heartless villain every time I shoot him down. 

─

A little over a month into the school year and people have finally started to move on, but I still feel the weight of their looks when I’m forced to sit next to Evan in class. He’s nothing if not persistent, never giving up his ostentatious displays of “affection.” 

It’s a Thursday evening after classes and I managed to shake Evan when I disappeared into the library. I have a stack of books up to my shoulders as I move through the shelves back to the table I had secured. I think I see a ruffle of golden brown hair turning one corner as I turn the other, but I brush it off. I hadn’t seen anyone worth studying with in the library yet this year.

I make another sharp turn and stop dead in my tracks. I’m frozen in shock and I don’t know why because I don’t care. It doesn’t hurt my feelings, or make me mad, or even feel like an inconvenience at all. 

Rosie Connelly jumps away from Evan Rosier, who in turn pulls his hand out from under her shirt. When he turns to face me he looks perturbed until he realizes it’s me. He’s quick to smooth a pacifying smile over his face, likely ready to say something truly dense. 

I stare back at him, blankly, waiting for whatever his idea of a good excuse is. 

“Well we’re not married yet,” he finally says with a sort of self-pleased laugh. And that truly does me in. I swing so violently from pissed off to heartbroken that this is what my parents want for me and back in a matter of seconds. Evan seems about ready to say something else despotic when his face suddenly falls. “Oh, shit,” he mumbles, looking past me. 

I turn to see what has been able to elicit a more reasonable reaction from him at having gotten caught making out with someone he isn’t currently betrothed to. Of course it’s none other than Phoebe Parkinson. A rather nice, well-mannered girl in our year who only happens to be the world’s nastiest gossip. 

I let out a dejected sigh. There’s no threat in the world that could keep her mouth shut for more than five minutes. 

Without a word I storm past her, leaving behind a situation that is only going to exponentially complicate the future my parents plan for me. 

I manage to navigate back to my table, set my books down without toppling any of them, and take my seat. It’s only when I hear someone clear their throat that I look up and come out of my numb daze.

Remus Lupin’s golden brown eyes meet mine and I nearly miss the way he subtly licks his bottom lip. He opens his mouth to say something, then pauses as he analyzes my face. His face drops at whatever he thinks he sees, seeming to be suddenly unsure of himself.

If he isn’t going to say anything, I will. “What do you want?”

He cringes. Okay, maybe it came across a bit harsher than I meant. 

I take a steadying breath. “Forgive me, how can I help you?”

“Dove, you look like shit,” he says bluntly. I gape at him. 

“Well excuse me, it’s not everyday the bastard my parents are forcing me to marry is caught feeling up some Hufflepuff slut by the world’s nastiest gossip,” I snap at him. 

The shock on his face satisfies an angry part of me. A part of me that just wants to lash out at everyone for how bullshit the whole thing is.

Another part of me, the part that cares about Remus, the part that remembers he called me his friend, feels a bit kicked. 

I suddenly struggle to meet his eyes anymore. Instead I choose to stare down at my hands. It feels a bit cowardly to tear into him then turn in on myself. 

I see his hand move in my view, coming close to but not quite touching my hands. 

“What do you say we get out of here? Get some fresh air?” He offers quietly.

“Er─ yeah that sounds nice,” I choke out. Remus hesitates for only a second before loosely wrapping his hand around my wrist. It’s merely a guiding touch, but I could cave at how gentle it is. 

I’m vaguely aware that Remus is guiding me toward one of the courtyards. My thoughts spiral as I wonder what my parents will have to say about the latest development between me and Evan. Would they break things off with his parents? Would they blame me for not playing his blushing bride to be? Would they continue to punish me and make me uphold the arrangement? What would people say about me if I still had to marry him? What would people say if things ended? What would my parents say if people began to pity me because of this?

“Would you like a bit of chocolate, dove?” Remus interrupts my racing thoughts as he guides me to sit on a bench next to him.

I look over to him. My friend. 

“It may not solve all your problems but it can certainly make them feel less daunting,” he explains.

“I think I might be sick, actually,” I say weakly. 

He frowns at me. “Maybe not, then.”

We sit in awkward silence for a few moments. 

“So it’s true? What people were saying about your parents making an arranged marriage with Rosier’s parents?” He finally asks.

“Yeah…”

“Did you even like him?”

“No.”

“Why would your parents make you marry him?” He sounds frustrated on my behalf.

“We make an advantageous pairing,” I murmur the same response I’ve given anyone else who has ever asked. 

“The bloody hell does that bullshit mean?” He scoffs.

“It means I only got an acceptable on my divination OWL,” I say so softly he may not even hear. The way his brow furrows tells me he heard and is still miffed. “I’m a failure and an embarrassment to my family. The only success I can find in my future is as a house-wife, serving an actually great wizard.” My words are void of emotion, merely an echo of the vitriol that was spewed at me by my parents. 

Remus looks actually hurt by what I’ve said. I give him a smile I know is nowhere near convincing.

“Dove, please don’t tell me you actually believe what you’ve just said,” he says, cautiously. 

“What does it matter if I believe it or not? What choice have I ever had? I must do proud by my family. I had one chance to prove myself and I wasted it. I can’t embarrass them like that again, but now Rosier’s gone and soiled everything.” I feel absolutely hopeless. 

“A passing grade on a tremendously difficult test is not an embarrassment. Your family is bloody insane if they truly believe that.” Remus sounds exasperated with me and I hate to think I’ve let down someone else.

“You lied, Remus,” I whisper.

“You have infinitely more than just one chance to prove yourself, you have a million every day,” he continues, ignoring what I’ve said.

“You lied,” I murmur again.

“Your family should be embarrassed for saying such backwards things about your future success,” he grumbles.

“Remus…”

“And if they truly think Evan bloody Rosier is meant to be a greater wizard than you? Well. They are─”

“You lied!” I nearly shout at him. 

Remus looks offended at my outburst. “I’m quite certain I’ve done no such thing, not to you anyhow, but please do enlighten me.”

“You said it would be okay if I wasn’t perfect. You said things would turn out okay.”

He seems at a loss for words.

“It’s not okay, Remus. Things are very much not okay,” I get choked up as tears well in my eyes.

“Oh, dove,” he sighs. Before I know it he’s pulled me into a hug. The dam inside me breaks and I begin to sob into his shoulder. He holds me closer.

Eventually I begin to calm down, at least enough that Remus pulls away and begins to wipe my tears. 

“Darling, I’m terribly sorry that things are looking dreary, but I don’t believe for one minute that this is truly to be your destiny.” He pauses. “In fact I know that things will turn around for you because you are strong and capable and a very, very powerful witch.”

I look up at him, feeling forlorn. “I don’t feel strong and capable and very, very powerful, though. I feel… defeated.”

Remus pulls me into another crushing hug. There is one thing that I am becoming very aware of and that is how powerful of a hugger Remus is. He smells like cinnamon and firewood and with how firmly he holds me I feel as though I can relax and I won’t completely fall apart. He rubs circles between my shoulder blades and I nearly melt into him. 

“You are not defeated,” he whispers to me in a serious voice. “I simply will not allow it.”

I pull away to look into his honey brown eyes. They hold so much warmth in them. 

“You take your time, build yourself back up. But don’t you for one minute give in and accept your parents words as the truth. You are too wonderful to succumb to their hate.” I try to stop the tears that spring back into my eyes. “James and Sirius and I will help you, you know. With anything.” I give him a weak smile and start to politely brush it off. “No, I’m serious. Anything you need, dove, we’re here for you.”

“Thank you,” I mumble.

The dinner bell starts to chime. I clear my throat and start to gather my things. 

“I suppose I should probably─”

“If you’d like to, we could─”

Remus and I speak at the same time. We pause and a grin wiggles onto my face.

“I─”

“Sorry─”

We do it again and I can’t stop from laughing at us.

Remus’s eyes shine with mirth as he mimics zipping his lips shut.

“No, you go ahead,” I urge.

“Well I was just going to offer if you’d like me to grab James and Sirius and we could have dinner together, maybe out here even.” He seems uncharacteristically shy as he asks. I consider what it might mean to skip the Great Hall and all the rumors it will be turning tonight. It’s very tempting, but I’ve never been one to back down from some hearsay spread by bored teenagers. And I certainly don’t want anyone to think I’m hurt over Evan’s actions and hiding from them.

“I really appreciate the offer, and it is very tempting, but I should probably face the music.” 

He seems dejected for only a second before masking it. “Right, I understand.”

“My friends likely have plenty to say about matters and avoiding them doesn’t usually go the way I’d like,” I further explain. 

“Of course. I can certainly relate to that.” He gives me a knowing smile. 

He starts to reach for his own bag. “But perhaps─” I stop myself, uncertain of what I even want to say.

Remus watches me expectantly. When I don’t say anything further he prompts me. “Perhaps…?”

“Perhaps we could─ you, me, Sirius, and James that is─ well… We could meet out at the lake after dinner?” Suddenly I’m the one who’s gone shy. 

An almost smug smirk seems to settle onto Remus’s face. I fear for a second he’s going to make fun of me.

“That sounds great, dove. I’m sure they’d love to.” The smile he gives me is genuine.

“Great,” I say, trying to keep my voice even. I don’t know why I’m suddenly nervous. “I’ll see you out there after dinner, then.” 

Remus nods in confirmation. “I can’t wait.”

We stand to part, me to go clean up before going to dinner and him likely to go find his friends. 

“Oh, err─ just one request if you will?” I ask before he can walk away.

“Sure thing.”

“Maybe don’t tell a bunch of people?” He looks confused at my request. “I’m sorry I know it’s a bit strange, but I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea considering what Rosier’s been doing.”

“Ah, I see. I’ll make sure to stay discreet and let the boys know to do the same.”

“Thank you, Remus.” We share an almost conspiratorial smile before finally departing.

─

Dinner seems to take forever as my friends pointedly avoid bringing up what the whole school is already talking about. Evan sits further down the table than he usually does. I think him a bit cowardly for not trying to talk to me about it, but I also appreciate that I don’t have to deal with him just yet. 

My friends start toward the Slytherin common room after dinner, as is our standard routine.

I catch Andromeda and Narcissa’s attention. “I’m actually going to go back to the library to study a bit more before bed today.”

They share a confused look. “Oh, okay. Would you like us to join you?” Narcissa asks.

“No, that’s okay. I think I just need some space tonight. Might try to draft a letter to my parents,” I explain. I tug at the sleeve of my robe. 

“Right, of course. It’s good to keep up with them,” Andromeda says, treading lightly around the idea of me telling my parents what happened today. 

“You know where to find us if you need anything,” Narcissa offers.

“Thank you, I’ll be fine,” I promise before departing.

I make my way out to the lake without running into anyone I fear will be keeping track of my whereabouts.

I don’t see the boys anywhere yet so I settle down under a tree and practice levitating a branch. I’d left my book bag back in my dorm, otherwise I would take the time to pull out my divination textbook that I’ve been studying extra hard since we got back. 

“There she is, the prettiest Slytherin princess,” I hear Sirius say from somewhere behind me. I turn to him with a scowl. 

“Aww, don’t worry, darling,” James coos as he walks next to Sirius. “You’re the only Slytherin princess we care about.” Him and Sirius laugh at his stupid joke and I roll my eyes at their antics.

“I’m not a bloody princess,” I grumble as they sit on either side of me.

“Sure you are, dove,” Remus says as he sits across from me. “Doesn’t make you a ‘simpering girl in need of a man to save her,’ just makes you special.”

“If that’s how you feel then I cannot relate to you at all, princess,” Sirius starts. “I am most definitely in need of a big, strong man to save me.” He pretends to faint, falling into Remus.

“Oy, pester Jamie with that hero shit. I haven’t got the time.” Remus pushes him off. 

“Hey! What’re you volunteering me for? I’ve saved his ass enough times already, I’m nearing my limit,” James argues. 

“What the hell? Who’s going to save me then?” Sirius asks, pretending to be outraged.

They each glance at me.

“Well I suppose I could spare a bit of time to save you, but my time is precious to me so I expect to be fairly compensated for my heroic efforts.” I try to play along, but I’m not entirely sure I’m doing it right.

Sirius grins at me. “Why yes of course. I don’t suppose some chocolate frogs would do the trick?”

“Five chocolate frogs and two cauldron cakes,” I counter-offer.

James laughs. “Is that the going rate for princess-saving these days?” He jokes.

“I’m afraid it is, though I hear it goes up for each occurrence,” I explain.

“You drive a hard bargain but considering my limited options I suppose I have no choice. What’s a princess to do these days?” Sirius laments dramatically. 

“Damn, if I knew I could be getting sweets out of you for saving your ass I would’ve been cashing in on that this whole time,” Remus quips. 

The evening continues on with wise-cracking banter and the boys sharing silly stories about each other. I try to share my own stories in return, but it becomes jarringly apparent to me that me and my friends have significantly less fun outside of class than the boys and their friends. I try not to think so hard about why we’re all so serious all the time.

All the while that we’re talking, James picks at and fiddles with the grass. Occasionally, he switches to picking at a scratch on his arm, and Remus gently guides him back to playing with the grass. I think they think I don’t notice, so I don’t say anything about it.

At some point, Sirius’s hair starts to go a bit everywhere, frizz making him look a bit frantic. He keeps trying to brush it out of his face, but I can tell it keeps bothering him still. 

I don’t know what possesses me to do it, but suddenly I ask if he’d like me to braid it back for him. Each boy wears their own look of shock at my offer and I worry I’ve crossed a line.

Once the shock passes, Sirius’s eyes go round and he just nods in response.

I have a spare hair-tie on my wrist, so I move to kneel behind him and start combing through his hair with my fingers, gently working out the couple of tangles I snag on. His shoulders start to sag as I work my fingers through his hair, so I continue to comb through it a couple moments longer than necessary. 

James and Remus are talking about one of their assignments they haven’t quite finished that’s due in a couple days, but I focus in on Sirius’s hair. It’s quite soft, and very thick. I notice that Sirius doesn’t try to make any conversation with James or Remus as I work on french-braiding his hair.

I can’t help feeling almost sad as I near the end. I liked the excuse to be close to him.

As I secure the hair-tie at the tip of the braid I let him know I’ve finished. He lets out a sad sigh. I move back to my original spot, although maybe a bit closer to him still. 

He gives me a glum smile. “No one’s ever done that for me before,” he explains, softly. “It felt quite nice.”

“How long have you been growing it out?” I ask, matching his tone. 

“Last three years or so. It practically grows overnight, though.”

I reach out to fiddle with the end of his braid. He leans closer to me in response. I study the contours of his face. It really is a nice face. Part of me wants to cradle it between my hands. My eyes drift down to his lips and I wonder what they might taste like. I look back up into his piercing grey eyes and try not to betray what I was just thinking about. 

“Christ’s sake, James, quit picking at your arm,” Remus exclaims, breaking Sirius and I out of our reverie. 

Sirius and I look over to where James has started to make himself bleed just a bit.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t notice I was messing with it again,” James says, looking stressed. Sirius gives him a sympathetic look. 

Remus mutters under his breath, exasperated, as he digs around in his bag before pulling out a bandage. 

“I’m sorry, Remus, I really didn’t mean to,” James insists as Remus gently presses the bandage over the re-opened scratch on his arm. 

“It’s okay, Jamie. Just try to stay more aware, yeah?” Remus speaks softer this time, giving James’s hand a reassuring squeeze. James nods.

Sirius asks them about the assignment they’d been talking about when I started braiding his hair, swiftly changing the conversation to more navigable territory. 

The rest of the night seems to go on without a hitch. The sun eventually sets and the stars are bright in the sky. 

I start to feel sleepy, but don’t say anything, not wanting my time with the boys to come to an end. In the end my yawns betray me, and Remus calls it a night on my behalf. They walk me back into the castle before bidding me a good night as I go toward the Slytherin dorms and them toward the Gryffindor tower.

─

I’m fixing my hair for the night at the vanity in our dorm when Andromeda breaks the silence. “You were gone quite a while, is everything all right?”

“As much as it can be,” I reply. “Sorry if I worried you, but I feel better after having some time to think.” 

“It’s okay, we understand,” Narcissa is quick to say. 

“We heard about what happened in the library this afternoon,” Andromeda speaks plainly. Narcissa looks shocked that she brought it up.

“I figure most people would have by now,” I say neutrally. Andromeda moves to stand behind me and look at me in the mirror. “Look, Andy, it’s all fine. Really. You both know I didn’t want to marry him anyway. I don’t know what my parents will have to say about this, but I can tell you one thing for certain, I am not marrying that lowlife.”

Andromeda holds my gaze in the mirror before giving a sharp nod, then going to finish getting ready for bed.

Later on as I lay in bed I can’t help but remember the night my parents told me about the deal they had made. 

─ 

“It doesn’t matter if you love him or not, you don’t even have to like him, but you will be cordial and respectful. Your future relies on it now,” my mother spoke harshly to me. Then she instructed me to get dressed for the gala we were attending that night. “Do up your makeup, too. The Rosiers will be there and you’ll want to make a good impression as Evan’s new bride.”

I nearly gagged hearing the word “bride” uttered in relation to Evan Rosier. I remained composed and replied with the proper “yes, ma’am.” 

The dress my father had picked out was truly horrid. The seams were itchy and the fabric clung to my skin in a way that made me sweat. It was the kind of dress that made me look older than I am, something that my mother would wear. I did my makeup in a way that I thought matched, but it felt heavy on my face. 

I came out when my parents called out that it was time to leave. My father inspected me carefully. “Fine,” he said, sounding bored.

At the gala my parents forced me to socialize with nearly every person there. For the most part I was there to be seen and not heard. I listened to the grown-ups drone on for ages about politics and the economy and snide remarks they pretended didn’t count as gossip. 

Eventually I managed to sneak outside, under the guise that I was using the women’s powder room. I hoped the fresh air would do me some good, maybe give me a bit of strength to power through the rest of the horrible evening.

“Not having fun in there?” A familiar voice asked. I turned to see James Potter. I hadn’t realized he was here tonight. In fact, I hadn’t realized anyone Hogwarts-aged was here besides me and Evan. I gave him a confused look. “I mean, it’s always been my dream to be paraded around like cattle,” he joked.

I let out a weak laugh and opened my mouth to say something but nothing came out. 

“I’m sorry, you’d probably like to be alone right now, I can leave.” He starts toward the door to go back inside. 

“No it’s okay, you were here first. I can go back in.”

James pauses next to me. “I don’t mind the company if you don’t,” he offers. I consider him for a moment before deeming him harmless.

“I suppose as long as you’re sensible company,” I tease.

We stand together in silence for a moment.

“I know it’s a bit different, running into each other here, but you seem a bit… despondent tonight,” he says hesitantly.

“You’ll have to forgive me, I’ve uh… Well if I tell you you have to promise not to tell anyone else.” I really shouldn’t trust him while I feel so vulnerable but the look in his eyes convinces me I can.

“Is everything alright?” He asks, taking a step closer to me.

“I really don’t know,” I admit quietly.

“I won’t tell a soul,” he swears.

My brows furrow and I can’t stop my lip from quivering. James takes another step toward me.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he offers.

“My parents are forcing me to marry Evan Rosier when we graduate,” I whisper. 

His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Oh… I see.” I give a small nod. “I think I would feel rather despondent myself if I were in your shoes.” 

“I feel… as though a great axe has cracked into my chest and everything that I am is pouring out and every move I make to stop it the axe just tears into me more.”

“Oh, darling,” James says so softly it tears through me in a twisting pain.

“Please, James, you can’t tell a soul about this,” I nearly beg him. “I know that people will find out soon enough, but I just need some more time to come to terms first.” 

He nods in reassurance. “I understand. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thank you.” 

We take in the night air for a few moments. The full moon is bright in the sky. James seems to revere it with disdain. 

“I know why Evan and I are here tonight, but not you. It seems everyone else is at least fifteen years our senior,” I say after a while.

“My dad is considering selling his business, I’m meant to be helping him scope out prospective buyers,” he explains. “Not so sure I’ve got his business acumen, or that I’m quite the right fit for modeling his product.” He gives me a goofy smile as he further ruffles up his hair. It somehow doesn’t look any more or less wild than before. I can’t help but smile back. “Usually my mum can help him charm the room, but she had to stay home tonight.” 

“Is she feeling alright?” I ask politely.

“No, yeah, she’s just fine. Sirius came down with a cold, though, and my mum wanted to stay home to take care of him.” 

I give him a confused look.

“Sirius, he… well he ran away from his parent’s last summer and he’s been staying with me and my folks since,” he clarifies. 

“Oh, I see.” I had known Sirius had run away from Regulus, but I didn’t realize he’d been staying with James’s family. “It sounds like he’s very lucky to have you and your family.”

James gives me a sad look because just like Sirius he understands. He looks like he’s about to say something, but I don’t know if I’m entirely prepared to hear whatever it may be.

“I should probably head back in,” I say quickly.

“Right, I should probably find my dad,” James agrees.

─

The next morning at breakfast I walk into the Great Hall and my eyes catch on the Marauders over at the Gryffindor table. Sirius’s eye catches mine and he gives me an encouraging smile. 

Evan sits next to me at the Slytherin table and I entirely ignore his existence. 

History of magic is my first class for the day and when I take my seat a note falls seemingly from the ceiling. It’s on a different type of paper than the notes Evan sends me, and there’s only a handful of other students in the classroom, so it's not flashy enough to be Evan. I peel it open to find an invite to meet at the green houses after classes, signed by James, Remus, and Sirius.

I quickly tuck the note into the pocket of my robes, but can’t help the smile I wear throughout the day, waiting for my rendezvous with the boys. 

─

I don’t know what to expect when I get there, but the boys are already waiting for me.

“What’s this about then?” I ask as I approach.

“It’s about having a bit of fun before you give yourself a hernia,” Sirius jokes.

The boys guide me through preparing a prank on the plant Evan has been growing for his herbology assignment. 

“This is so wrong, we could get in so much trouble for this,” I complain.

“But not if we don’t get caught, so move quicker, darling,” James says.

“Don’t you lot have another friend who usually helps you pull these foolish shenanigans off with?” I ask.

“You mean Peter,” Sirius confirms. “He’s been all head over heels for his new girlfriend Mary and she’s convinced him that pranks are childish.”

“They are childish,” I argue.

“Then why’re you helping?” Remus teases.

“I really shouldn’t be,” I start to set down the packet of seeds that I’d been sprinkling into the pot of Evan’s begonias. 

“Oh, but princess, he really deserves it,” Sirius says as he wraps his hand around mine to make me pick up the seed packet again. A jolt of electricity shoots up my arm from his touch but I do my best to ignore it.

Several moments later I have thoroughly spread grass seeds into the soil. James reaches around me to pour some sort of quick-grow potion over the seeds. His chest brushes against my back and I pick up on the way he smells like fresh-cut grass and lemon verbena. I nearly lean back against him to smell more of it.

After our prank has been executed Remus places Evan’s pot back on its shelf exactly as it had been. Tomorrow when he comes to class he’ll find his begonias have turned a sickly brown and become overwhelmed with weeds. We sneak away and go a roundabout way to the castle so it doesn’t look like we’ve just come from the green houses.

A part of me knows that I really should split off now to go study, but I’m having so much fun with the boys that I walk with them through the castle as they banter back and forth, giving each other silly dares. I’ve lost track of time when the dinner bell rings, and I realize that I really should depart from them now.

Back in the Great Hall I take my usual seat and try not to look too happy. It becomes all too easy when Evan sits next to me again. 

Andromeda scowls at him and Narcissa gives me a nervous glance. 

“Will you just talk to me?” He asks, frustrated.

“What, like how you were talking with that Hufflepuff? I don’t think so,” I snap.

He clenches his fist around his fork. I don’t have to look around the table to know that we all pick up on it. 

“I don’t know why I even tried with you.” He rolls his eyes.

“I never asked you to,” I said coldly.

“It’s not like I asked either, you know.” My eyes dart around the table to see that everyone is listening very closely, while pretending to be focused on their meal.

With a sigh I turn to face Evan. 

“Then you should be glad to hear I won’t marry you.” His jaw clenches and I wait for him to blow up at me. He glances around the table himself to see all eyes on us. 

With a scoff and a muttered “whatever,” he storms off.

─

That night I toss and turn in bed before accepting that I won’t be getting any sleep anytime soon. I slip out of bed and pull my sneakers on. Something draws me to the night sky tonight and I want to get as close to it as possible, so I decide to sneak up to the astronomy tower. As I approach the landing I hear soft voices, and I worry there’s a class being held. I move quietly up, curious to see what’s going on. When I poke my head through the doorway I’m shocked to have run into familiar faces.

“Is that dovey?” Remus asks from where he sits, leaning against the half wall. I glance behind me, confused if he means me. When I look back he’s got a tired smile on his face. James is lying between his legs, resting his head on Remus’s thigh, and Sirius is wrapped around his arm with his head on Remus’s shoulder. They’re altogether a big tangle of long limbs and cozy embraces.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was up here,” I say quickly. It must be too loud because Sirius quickly shushes me. He then points to James’s face and I realize he’s actually asleep. “Oh, shit. I’m so sorry,” I whisper. 

“S’all good,” Remus mumbles. “He’s probably already too heavily asleep. We’re lucky he isn’t snoring.” 

I let out a soft laugh. Remus and Sirius observe me and I feel awkward under their scrutiny. I’m just in an old pair of flannel pajamas. Thankfully the air hasn’t turned to crisp yet, but up this high a chill settles over my skin. 

Sirius tsks when he notices me rubbing my arm. He untangles himself from Remus and sits up a bit straighter. “C’mere, princess. I’ll keep you warm,” Sirius offers, holding his arm up for me to presumably sit next to him.

It must be the exhaustion finally wearing on me that has me lowering my inhibitions, but I sit next to Sirius albeit a bit stiff. He wraps his arm around me and jostles me a bit to lean into him. I can’t help the yawn that escapes me. With his other hand he reaches up to nudge my head until it's leaning on his shoulder. 

“What’re you doing up this late, princess?” Sirius asks. 

“M’not a princess,” I argue.

“You’re too pretty not to be,” he argues back. 

I’m taken aback by his words and am too tired to think of a witty response. “What’re you lot doing up this late?” I ask instead. 

“Tomorrow night’s a full moon,” Remus says on the other side of Sirius, as if it’s a perfectly logical explanation. 

“Does that make it a good night to stargaze?” I ask for clarity.

“Makes it a good night to be alive and not in pain,” he grumbles.

“What…?” I’m at a loss of words, entirely unsure how to respond.

“See that bright one, right there?” Sirius interjects. I accept his redirection without complaint considering Remus sounds like he might be about to fall asleep too and could be saying any sort of nonsensical things. 

“That one?” I point at the brightest star in the sky.

“Yeah, that one. It’s mine,” Sirius tells me.

“It’s yours? How’s that?” 

“Well it’s named after me.” His voice is mirthful as he says it.

“Being named after a star and having a star named after you are two very different things, Sirius,” I joke. 

“Nah, one and the same to me,” he teases back. 

“Whatever,” I murmur. My eyes start to droop and I can’t help leaning on Sirius just a bit more. A bit of his hair tickles my face and I notice the way he smells like sandalwood and violet. It feels safe, here with the boys.

Sirius says something back to me but it’s a distant, muffled sound as sleep pulls at the corners of my consciousness. 

I don’t know how long I’m asleep before I’m being gently woken up by James who kneels in front of me.

“Hey, there she is.” He gives me an encouraging smile. I give him a confused look and try to blink away the hazy edges of my vision. 

“Come on, princess, we ought to get you back to your dorm so you can have a proper sleep in your comfy bed,” Sirius says and I realize that I’ve been sleeping practically on top of him.

“Oh, Merlin, I’m so sorry.” I push off him. James helps me to stand up, then reaches down to help Sirius up. “How long have I been asleep?” I ask, stretching out a slight crick in my neck. 

Sirius glances at his watch. “Maybe half an hour. I was fighting to stay awake myself when Jamie woke up and started complaining about his back.”

I look up at James who makes a guilty face.

“Oh, don’t blame the poor boy,” Remus coos. “The concrete floor must not have been very comfortable.”

“Well why did he lay down like that in the first place then?” Sirius chides.

“It had felt comfy at first,” James says shyly.

“Please, you just wanted to be between Moony’s legs,” Sirius laughs. James and Remus both look shocked and glance nervously at me. My brows furrow in confusion. “Ah, shit, I didn’t mean…”

“Didn’t mean what?” I ask. Suddenly I realized just how comfy the boys had been laying together before I interrupted. My cheeks flare up. 

“Dove…” Remus seems hesitant to say anything.

“Are you guys… what exactly were you guys doing up here?”

James’s winces and glances to Remus.

“Nothing like that, Sirius was just joking,” Remus says carefully.

“But you guys are comfortable together like that? Aren’t you?” They glance at each other, unsure how to proceed. “Were you guys on a date and I interrupted?” I ask, slightly horrified. “I am so, so sorry. I should─ I should go, I can’t believe I ruined your night.” I start to rush away.

“Wait, princess,” Sirius calls out and just manages to grab my wrist to stop me. It’s not a tight grasp, just enough to get my attention. I look into his grey eyes that seem to reflect the starlight back at me. “You didn’t ruin anything,” he promises.

“But you all were on a date?” I press.

He hesitates.

“I wouldn’t─ I won’t tell anyone.”

He glances behind me at Remus then back to me. 

“Yeah, we’re… The three of us…” Sirius doesn’t seem to know how to say it. 

“We’re together,” Remus says finally. Sirius drops my wrist. I move so that the three of them are all in front of me.

“I can’t believe I didn’t realize any sooner,” I say, laughing at myself. They seem relieved by my reaction.

“Well that’s kind of the point,” James giggles.

“Oy, don’t be cheeky,” Remus chides. They all pause to observe me before seeming to all come to a conclusion. “Thank you, dove.”

“What for?”

“For… not freaking out, I guess,” Remus clarifies.

“Oh, well I mean yeah. The three of you are clearly happy together. I’m… I’m glad that you have each other.” They each give me a winning grin. Something pangs in my heart to realize they’re all already taken, and so clearly happy together, but I try to brush that off. 

“We should get you back down to your dorm,” James says after a moment.

Remus and Sirius are quick to agree and even though I want to argue I can get back to the dungeons on my own perfectly fine, I agree to let them walk back with me. A selfish part of me just wants to spend more time with them, even despite what I’d just learned.

─

Over the next month I find myself spending more and more time with the boys. Always in private, invited by an unsuspecting note. It doesn’t feel weird like I worried it might now that I know they’re all together romantically. In fact, it actually feels more right the more time I spend with them. 

About a week after Evan was caught macking on the Hufflepuff in the library, I got a letter from my mother that simply said the engagement was off. I don’t know how they found out as I never had written them, but I don’t question it with them anymore. That night the boys and I celebrated in their dorm by gorging on sweets from Honeydukes. Evan thankfully left me alone after that and would only occasionally interact with me, similar to before the engagement. 

If my friends thought my distance from them lately was weird they never gave any indication. Andromeda would inquire about my whereabouts, but I easily brushed it off as needing time to study in the library. 

Occasionally the boys will rope me into a silly prank, but for the most part we meander low-traffic areas of the castle and talk and play weird muggle games that Remus teaches us. 

Whatever weird emotions I had felt about learning that the boys were in a relationship together had worn off quickly. It must have merely been a bit of jealousy that they found something that made them happy, when I had almost been trapped in something that would make me miserable. 

─

The morning after a late night escapade to the lake with the boys I make my way to potions class. I’m barely staying awake, but excited for the day’s lesson. When I walk through the door I see that Amortentia has been written across the blackboard.

The whole class is abuzz while we work to brew our potions, everyone excited to see if their potion will work. Slughorn carefully supervises as we mix and stir. This is one of the classes I share with the self-proclaimed Marauders and I keep a careful eye that they don’t do anything tremendously wrong, but Remus is very careful in following the directions. I notice each of them stealing glances my way in turn.

Eventually, Slughorn makes his rounds to inspect our completed potions. Andromeda and I get the highest score in the class.

“Now do share with us what you can smell,” Slughorn instructs.

Andromeda goes first, leaning in to carefully smell our potion. “Hmm… It smells like cedarwood,” she pauses to smell it again, “juniper berry… and pineapple!”

“Ah! How exciting,” Slughorn proclaims. “And you?” He prompts me.

I lean over the cauldron to inhale deeply. “It’s very clean smelling,” I start. “And also florally, I’d say like violets and cut grass.” I breathe in again. “And it’s a bit… err─ I can’t quite place it,” I explain. I force myself to keep my gaze on Slughorn while the whole class watches me.

“Very good.” Slughorn gives a sharp nod. “Fifteen points to Slytherin.” 

He turns then to the table next to us and everyone’s attention shifts. I can’t help but glance toward Remus, who’s already staring straight at me.

He knows. 

Bloody hell he knows.

He knows that Sirius smells like violets and that James smells like cut grass.

Merlin now he’s going to think I’ve got feelings for his boyfriends. 

But it's worse than that because the last thing I could smell was cinnamon. Cinnamon like how Remus smells like cinnamon. 

Because I’ve got feelings for all of them.

[ihrthoney]

you know what the time is, ak!jason thoughts

me when i don’t write fics so i make hcs

i feel like jason will sometimes lose himself, his sanity will be spread thin with planning to take down batman (he planned for like a year then the moments in the game happen in one night)

even though he tweaked your devices and had your full trust, he couldn’t trust you. not completely.

he had a tracker in your jewelry, when he was gone for days to train he could always pull up where you were. 99% of the time you were at the safe house, you respected him enough to stay home and wait for him. granted he got you whatever you wanted to keep busy. whatever you wanted.

you were so compliant that it started to make him doubt. what if you were just taking advantage of him? what if none of this was real? what if batman sent you and you’re working undercover?

thoughts filled his head, drowning him. he couldn’t think straight, it became hard to look you in the eyes, to let you come close to him.

whenever you asked to go out, he let you but always followed. it tugs at him at not trusting you because he wants to so badly, but he can’t get the doubts out of his mind.

he hates feeling obsessive. he hates the look on your face when he denies your request to go out for the day. your face fell before instantly softening and becoming understanding.

of course he wanted you to go out, but his mind was telling him you’d betray him. that you would try to leave him, he was abandoned too many times he can’t.. he can’t have you leave too.

one night, you woke up and found him watching you sleep. he was in bed next to you, sitting up against the headboard. given his build he looked intimidating in the dark room, but he was your jaybee.

without another word, you sat up against the headboard and locked your pinky with his.

nothing is said for a long time, the distant honks of cars and yelling is carried through the wind that filters through the room,

“i don’t ever want you to leave.”

“i’m not going anywhere, jay.”

“what if i ask you to never leave the safe house.”

“not even with you?”

your soft voice frustrates him, you should be mad, irritated, he’s not being rational!

“you could be living a normal life-“

“stop that, jason.”

“it’s true. you’re like a bird trapped in a cage, you should be out there! not here with me.”

“but i want to be here with you. this is my choice. you aren’t making me do anything, you know that right?”

he doesn’t want to look at you. a part of him wants the rage to consume him, to swallow him whole. jason wants you to run only so he could convince you to come back.

he needs you so badly, he wants you more than anything but his own mind can’t let him.

your free hand moves to slowly turn his head towards you, he lets you break himself out of his thoughts,

“i love you, jace. more than your mind could ever comprehend. anything you need me to do to make you feel safe, i’ll do it.”

“but it jeopardizes your comfortability.”

“who said that? i’m perfectly comfortable here.”

“in this cage?”

“in our safe house. we have traps, cameras, and weapons in case anything happens. i have a device i can click just once and you’ll be here in 5 minutes tops”

“3 minutes.”

his correction makes you laugh, “you bought me a whole fucking pc and made some of your workers play games with me. i can promise you, i don’t feel trapped baby.”

“this isn’t normal though, you should be allowed to go out whenever you want to.”

“and i can, you just have to be with me. it’s not like i want to go anywhere without you anyway.”

“we can’t go to the beach, or pools, or hotels, or-“

“we can if it’s another state.”

“but we can’t leave gotham.”

“then let’s build a pool.”

“you always have something to say, don’t you?”

“i’m always here to keep you in check, i always have been.”

“yeah, a pain in my ass you are.”

he wants you so bad omg. he’s still working through his trauma and he hates to burden you, but just the feeling of your hand in his is enough to pull him out of that dark place.

[azlovesem]

Obviously im way better. Ill beat anyone on earth at just about anything. As you can plainly see Syd somebpeopke a few americans especially got severely injured or way worse during my tribilations. People fonyvwanna kees alwith sn Archagrl ill thtow any rabbi priest or rat iman fown the staris and jump ftom the top stair onto their head. Ive fone i love killingove it its one of my favorite thingsZ to kill lesser being who know not makes me GOD!!!! Im the dupreme boss of heaven. Theyre just jeslous! I might be too if i had any equal in combat but i dont. They laugh at yhise religios eith me too. Rveryone knows im boss even thise losers. Inprotect yhem too theyre citizens of yhe free world inprotectvthrm. They think yheyre in cgarge and gonba judge everyone harsky ill judge them then kill them all. I font trust them theyre nonces sll their churches are in my kand so i iwn their ass like property and i treat themike dirst in oupose. I font like religion it teligios it snd they ard false, ill stuck thrm sll in hell if they get on my nerves. I shoot sny politicisn i tried to kill fattybtwoce. Third timesctue charm kidZ im bad ass hes jyst a fat asz and ge evrn looks at us erong hes dead andcwas deliveredca message as such. Yhen the rest of your fsmily too. Theres no tariffs coming we re weorknmout deals its bysniess not personal. I made a deal for Emms to just leave transvpeople yhe fuck alone. Now i have obligations if i want what i want. I dont think she understands properly resposibilty or obligation byt im gonna teach her a lesdon. Yiull see her with me, or never again soon. Thats how we eork no ones powerfyl exceot my crew we ll jill anyone. First i ho after theirvfsmilies but Syd. But unlike you thry hot thrmsrlves involved. Msybe youre dnarter than they are. Or jyst from a more csuyioys generation. Either way yourecso hot and look great. Take care.

Sydney Sweeney

[spiderb00]

Scoring points in my heart - Lara Raj

Lara Raj X Reader  Synopsis - In the most important game of the season, your girlfriend decides to surprise you.  Genre – Fluff  a/n - I think it's kind of short, but I think I got the essence of it. <3  (request)

It was the most important game of the season, you were nervous, your anxiety speaking louder at times. Being calm in those moments was necessary, but as much as you played basketball practically your entire life, you still felt butterflies in your stomach every time the game was close to starting.  

One of the things that helped you calm down was the calls from your girlfriend, Lara, before each game. With Lara building her career and being very busy with her schedule, you and she hadn't talked about going public yet, you both knew you wanted to, but you never had the opportunity. Although Lara didn't come to your games, all the support she gave you from afar helped you and consequently your team to get to today, one of the most important games of the season.   

Today, to your surprise, you didn't receive anything, not a message, not a call, not even a selfie (which she insisted on sending you every day), nothing. Of course you were worried about your girlfriend, you even tried to call Sophia and Rhea a few times, but you got no answers, and since it was already close to the game starting, you thought it best to take a break. 

"No sign of your girlfriend?" One of your teammates asked, they knew you had a girlfriend, they just didn't know that your girlfriend was simply the "rising global popstar sensation, LARA RAJ!".   

"yes, still no answers, I guess I'll have to wait until after the game." You said crestfallen. 

You understood that Lara was busy, and that was the price for dating someone in the industry, but you certainly wouldn't trade that for anything, you faithfully believed that Lara had an explanation for all the disappearance. Then, when the game was about to start, you cleared your head and started to focus, leaving any problems and worries out of your mind.   

When you started running, it felt like there were tons on your shoulders and legs, it felt like you couldn't move properly. Forcing yourself to give your best, you started to be more aggressive, trying to make quick passes and not taking risks and passing the ball more than usual.   

  It ended up not working out, my coach called your attention, directing you to try to score points instead of just passing the ball. That made sense, in fact, you were one of the best players, if not, the best on the team. It seems that wasn't working for you today.   

 At least it wasn't, not until you see a Lara cheering you on in the stands, she looked beautiful, her outfit casual and yet she managed to be the most beautiful girl in the middle of everyone. Lara and the Kats were all screaming and cheering, in the stands you can also see Rhea, and now it makes sense because none of them answered your calls.   

You only came back to reality when Lara blew a kiss on you, a smile on the red-haired girl's face, you could read her lips from afar, a soft "I love you", it was all you needed to regain your confidence. In the end, the game was a success, his team scoring points and winning the championship.   

You were happy, very happy. You ran towards Lara as soon as the sound that indicated the match was over sounded. Hugging the shorter girl and spreading kisses all over her face.   

"Oh my god, Yn! You're all sweaty." She said, laughing and pulling away softly.   

"What happened to you? I called everyone and no one could answer, I started to get very worried, what happened to you? And since you're here, I mean, can you be here? Oh my god, everyone saw me kiss you, I'm sorry, baby, I just..."  

Lara interrupted you by gluing her lips to hers. Her arms wrapped around your neck as you held the shorter girl by the waist. At that moment, you didn't even care anymore if someone was looking, let them look, you have Lara Raj in your arms.   

You didn't care, too lost in all the sensations you felt when Lara was around you, everything was perfect, nothing could make you sad, discouraged or bad when Lara was around.   

"How about telling the world that you're mine, baby?" Lara said, caressing your slightly messy hair.   

"Are you serious?" You asked, incredulous at the possibility that they didn't have to hide from anyone else. 

"Super serious. So what do you think?" She asks, her head tilting a bit as she looks into your eyes.  

I'd love to tell everyone that we're together, baby."  You said, leaning over and giving the red-haired girl one more kiss.   

sorry if this is too short, i kinda have some relatives over at my house right now, so it might take me a while to respond to some requests.

or I can just run away and write to you, it will depend on how the day unfolds...