#i will literally never shut up when this comes out

[seungfl0wer]

*𝓐𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓵 𝓞𝓻 𝓓𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓵?*

Pairing: Felix x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Smut

Warning: Dom?Felix, Degrading, Choking, Hair Pulling, Hand Cuffs/Vibrator used, Face Fucking/Oral(M), Overstimulation(F), Slight smacking (Not in the face), Unprotected sex, Creampie, Multiple Orgasms, Finger sucking. Sorry for any mistakes or missing warnings.

A/N: ah I’m so happy to finally get this written. Uugh. I’ve had this idea since Halloween! I hope you enjoy it!

-🩵

Halloween was right around the corner and that meant costumes. You had asked your boyfriend if he wanted to do matching ones and of course he loved the idea. After brain storming you thought about doing a devil and angel outfit.

“Lixie how about devil and angel?” You asked him scrolling on your phone.

“Sounds good love.” He said smiling beside you.

“I gotta find a cute angel costume for you” you said.

“You’re not gonna be the angel?” He asked tilting his head a bit.

“Felix, you’re literally called an angel. Besides you’re too nice to be a devil” you said teasingly.

He hummed in response but his brain was swirling with other ideas.

The day went on as normal, felix still in his head about your comment. He wanted to show you how wrong you were. So he devised a plan.

“Love” he said sweetly.

You hummed in response.

“Come here” he said calling you to the bedroom.

When you entered he gestured you to sit. “What’s up lix?” You asked a bit confused.

“You know the light system red meaning stop, green is good, yellow slow down or a break?” He said with that same sweet tone.

You nodded wondering what he was getting at.

“Good” he said simply before pushing your body to the bed. He grabbed a pair of handcuffs from the drawer slipping them on your wrists. He attached them to the head posts without saying a word. When he moved to your side the look in his eyes was something you’ve never seen before. Especially from him. His eyes looked dark, jaw clenching as he stared down at you like you were prey.

His hand slipped under your chin holding your face in place. “I’ll show you how wrong you are Angel” he said with a wicked grin. He came around the bed pulling your pants and panties down. “Look at that, what a little slut we have here. Already soaked for me.” He said his hand coming down to slightly slap against your cunt. The action making your body jolt. It didn’t hurt, the slight pain making you even more turned on.

He let out a chuckle before grabbing something else from the stand beside the bed. He grabbed your small bullet turning it on before sticking it to your clit. The vibrations making you moan out bucking your hips for more. He let the bullet lay on your clit the feeling only slightly there now. His hands ran up your body playing with your breast before pinching at the sensitive nubs.

He moved the same hand back down your body before pushing his fingers into you slowly. God was he going so slow.

“Lix” you whined out.

“Hm?” He hummed.

“N-need more please” you cried out.

“More? How ungrateful. You’ll take what I give you” his voice deep. The way his eyes looked up at you said not to speak, so you kept your mouth shut.

He kept the same pace slowly pushing his fingers in and out of you. His thumb once in a while brushing the bullet making it feel stronger. “You’re dripping all over me, making such a mess” he said before pulling his hand from you. He brought his slick soaked fingers to you “you made the mess now clean it” he growled pushing his fingers into your mouth.

You happily sucked them off looking up at him with puppy eyes, trying to butter him up. Pulling his fingers for you with a pop the grin he had made a chill go up your spine. He dropped his pants quickly stroking his cock as he looked at you. “Open that dirty mouth of yours for me hmm? Gonna put it to some good use” he said before getting on top of you. His strong legs on either side of you as your back was against the headrest. He pressed his tip to your lips smacking against them slightly. “Open” he growled.

You did as you were told opening wide to take his long cock. He wasted no time before pushing in fully his cock hitting the back of your throat. He groaned out head falling backwards before he grabbed your head. He gripped your hair harshly as he fucked into your mouth relentlessly. “Fuck- that’s it- take my fucking cock- that’s what this dirty mouth of yours is good for” he growled.

You felt tears pricking at your eyes, the bullet still agonizingly slowly going. You felt almost embarrassed to say how hot everything was. The way he was talking to you, the way he was just using you as he pleased. Fuck it was to keep you on the edge of an orgasm.

Felix gripped your hair harshly once more pulling your head back only to push back into your mouth. His balls slapped against your face as you felt his release coming. You could feel his leg muscles tensing as he came. Making sure to push as far back as possible. “Don’t- you-“ he breathed heavily. “Waste a single drop”

When he pulled out he watched as you swallowed very drop. “Good girl” he said with a grin. He repositioned himself at your entrance, taking the bullet and turning it on high. He held it to your clit “color” he said looking up at you.

“G-green” you whimpered out. That’s all he needed before slamming into your dripping cunt. His hand let go of the bullet but how he was positioned it still was pressed against you. He was moving fast in and out of you, his cock head hitting your cervix.

His hand came down slapping against your breast before he pinched at your rosy nipples. “Still so fucking wet for me, such a good little slut you are. Ready for me to use at any moment.” He grunted. He repositioned himself once more putting you in a matting press. Legs pressed against your chest as he pounded into you. Your cunt clenched around him as your orgasms was close.

“Gonna cum aren’t you?” He said.

“Yes- please lix- can I cum?” You whined.

“Since you asked so nicely you may.” He grinned knowing you’d be even more sensitive after.

You came quickly after cumming hard around his cock. His hand laced around your neck squeezing it, breaking your chain of moans. He thrusted harshly into you before pulling out. He grinned down at you before pushing back in quickly. The sensation making your body arch. You wanted to grab ahold of him wanted to dig your nails into him until you remembered the cuffs.

“Gonna cum- fuck gonna fill this fat cunt up so you remember that I’m no angel love” he growled. Your body stuttered under him as another strong orgasms was about to crash over you. He pushed as deep as possible hitting your womb before dumping his load deep inside you. His hand came down toying with your clit knowing you were close. You came hard once more but he didn’t stop, he kept playing with your clit.

“To much- lix!” You cried. He didn’t stop though he kept going as your body came off the bed. You felt tears fall as he asked “color?”.

“Ah- lix- g-green” you whined.

“Guess it’s not too much then” he said with a grin.

He kept going kept toying with your overstimulated clit until he got what he wanted. Your body looked like it was from the exorcist as it came off the bed once more. One of the most intense orgasms you’ve ever had washed over you. Your body felt like it was floating as you squirted all over the bed and him. You shook at the feeling silent cries leaving your lips.

He leaned down kissing you softly before quickly unlocking the cuffs. He wrapped you up in another blanket holding you tightly. You both breathed out coming down from the intenseness. “You alright?” He said softly against your skin.

“Great” you breathed out making you both chuckle.

“Shower?” He asked with a smile.

You nodded “please”.

When he got up taking your hand to help you up you laughed a bit “you should definitely be the devil only if I get to play with him some more” you said with a grin.

“Oh you will, especially now I know how much you like it” he said kissing your cheek.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp @ldysmfrst @felixleftchickennugget

[ennabear]

enananan wants blurb ideas plu can deliver for bae💚 SHUTTING SEV UP WITH KISSES PLEASE!! maybe like she's getting grumpy :sevikaeyebrow: but r is like nope!! SMOOCH i love u twinsy go get em <3

HEHE HAII TWINSY!!! SMOOCH FOR U hehehe thanks for this idea i need to blurb about my wife because i miss her… grumpy sev is my baeee hehehe she’s just a little baby bear cub 🤎🤎🤎

sevika often comes home at late hours in the night or even early in the morning, so she’s never really in a great mood. although your version of ‘scary lady’ is just her grumbling about stubbing her toes on your furniture or demanding a back massage. but still, your babe is sleep deprived, hungry, and most of all, she misses you.

you have a habit of making sure she has everything she’ll need when she gets home, like a meal, a neat and tidy bed, a drink if she needs one, a warm bath if it’s been one of those weeks. she’s always immensely grateful for it, even though to anyone else she might seem to be unhappy. but you can tell that she appreciates and loves you, especially when she cuddles you to sleep or when she wakes you up with her tongue stuffed in your cunt.

tonight, she comes home angry and growling as always. jinx has gotten herself in trouble as always, and no matter how much she tries to keep the kid in line, she always blows it up. literally. and sevika is left not only cleaning up her messes, but silco’s too. it annoys her, and it’s exhausting, and all she wants to do when she comes home is just get all of her frustration out.

so when she walks in through the front door, she sighs, takes a seat, and starts sipping at the glass of whiskey you’ve poured for her. you can tell by the crease between her brows and the way her lips are pouted that there’s something on her mind, and you know that she’s just itching to get it off of her chest.

“how was your day?” you prompt.

she sighs deeply, closing her eyes and exhaling through her nose. “i hate my job sometimes.”

“really? i thought you liked helping your people.”

“not when jinx kills them all.”

and her tangent has started. she tells you all about how silco had her running around the city all day, in and out of buildings, up and down between topside and bottom, tracking shipments, meeting people, cleaning the bar, babysitting jinx, finding information, etc.

what she hasn’t noticed is that you’ve been sneaking closer to her while she talks. she’s too busy in her own world, ranting about jinx and silco and the chembarons and the enforcers, and suddenly you’re wrapping your arms around her and pressing your lips against hers.

you smile against her, you know that she likes to vent sometimes, but you also know that it’s good for her to just move on and enjoy your presence. she sighs against you, pulling away with another pout. some of her brown lipstick has smudged against your lips, so she reaches forward to smear it off.

“sorry, am i boring you?” she says with a sleepy grin.

“yeah, a little.” you tease. “why don’t we go to bed, babe. i know you’re tired.”

sevika also likes to overshare when she’s drunk. it doesn’t take much, just a few drinks and a steady conversation to start her rambling.

sometimes it’s dangerous, she’ll start talking to some random goon about silco’s plans and incoming shimmer shipments, and you have to swoop in and start making out with her before she reveals to much and loses her job.

other times it’s cute. she’ll get a little tipsy, the bar will be somewhat empty, the lights shining perfectly on your skin, and she’ll just dump out a million reasons as to why she’s in love with you. she gets so adorable and soft, her cheeks get firm with a smile reaching from one ear to the other, her eyes squinting closed a little, and it’s hard not to lean forward and shut up her words with your kisses.

it’s not like she minds, though. she never minds. her favorite thing in the world is the feeling of your lips on hers, and that sweet feeling of love that it brings to her. whether she’s had the worst day ever or not, she knows that you’ll find a way to comfort her with your sweet kisses, and she instantly forgets all about what caused her to start talking in the first place.

[sunnie-angel]

miss july you absolutely killed this fic (and me. i'm dead. deceased. cause of death: julymusings). tbh my only thought about the wound marinating for a half hour was "oh no, the ice cream is gonna melt" and not, you know, the medical side of things. i don't know how but you've captured such a specific anxious meltdown that i could feel myself getting worked up too (this is meant as a compliment). you deserve all the flwoers (and ice cream) for putting out this incredible thing, if it feels like i highlighted half the fic below, no i didn't but i was very tempted.

You still have forty-eight minutes of peace before it will scare you awake. Its beeping will ring so loud and angry that the adrenaline from the startle will power you through your morning routine, and your beating heart won’t dare still to entertain wishes of just five more minutes.

miss july are you in my mind? are you living my life? are we the same person?

Rush hour traffic has the ice cream tub you bought at the convenience store dripping condensation all over the passenger’s seat and your hips hurt from being in the same sitting position for most of the day, but you remind yourself that peace is only a few miles out. Stopped at yet another red light, your grip tightens on the steering wheel. Breathe in. Breathe out. The line of cars starts to move forward.

there is something so visceral about this passage. i've never been in this exact situation and yet i feel like i have.

He’s just sitting there, doing nothing except bleeding out on your cream-colored carpet. He’s spread out on the couch like he owns the place, head leaned back against the wall as he lets his injured arm hang over the armrest and drip blood and dirt onto your cream-colored rug. The liquid seeps into the expensive wool, staining it with reddish-brown hues and the scent of iron, and he doesn’t even notice.

can't defend myself, my brain just went hot here

You want to scream it in his face and kick him out for having the audacity to think he can come and go as he pleases, that you’re nothing more than a drive-through emergency room who will drop everything if he gets so much as a paper cut.

god the frustration is so real and palpable and catty. (honestly miss july, are you in my head bc this is almost exactly what my reaction would be in this scenario)

You’ll be subjected to all the shitty coworkers and unsympathetic friends and exploitative vigilantes of the world for the rest of your life.

you know how some people complain about how they can't get into x reader fic bc 'they wouldn't do that'? well i DON'T have that complaint bc this is literally me

After a moment’s hesitation, he continues. “It’s easy. You just need salt and—” “Okay.”

jason trying to be nice and problem solve because he can sense there's a problem but he doesn't know what it is but by trying to be helpful he thinks he can maybe make it better? me. reader not having the emotional bandwidth to deal with his attempts to help and shutting him down before she can implode anymore? also me.

First your carpet, now your pajamas. Your favorite, special, extra soft matching cotton pajama set, a rare splurge after your promotion that stood out among old t-shirts and sweat shorts. Ruined.

real talk, i would be sobbing at this point. i don't care what kind of tricks jason has to get blood out of light coloured fabric, these pyjamas have now been tainted by the moment

(Maybe you noticed in the back of your mind that he’s not exhibiting any body language since you snapped at him, but the compartment in your head for guilt is already overflowing, so maybe you didn’t notice it, you tell yourself.)

this!!!!! oh my god when your mind is noticing but you're trying to not notice because then you'll spiral but you're already spiraling so all it does is make you feel guilty but because you're spiraling you don't have the emotions or energy to deal with the full weight of it so you're just back to guilt

You close your eyes and lean against the door. Breathe in. Breathe out.

who hasn't been here before, am i right?

“No, I’m not.” It comes out as an empty whisper.

reader gets to exhale. it just feels like they've been holding their breath for the first part of the fic but now they can't anymore. this is the exhale, this is catharsis.

You know why.

jason, honey, sugar pie, darling. USE YOUR WORDS. YOUR ACTUAL WORDS

you're good to me, baby

with the roar of the fire my heart rose to its feet, like the ashes of ash i saw rise in the heat. settle soft and as pure as snow, i fell in love with the fire long ago.

or; because the red hood bleeding onto your living room carpet is exactly what you need right now [3.6k]

Jason Todd x fem!reader; based on this lovely ask; ngl this turned into a personal vent jason doesn't show up until 1k words in LMAO; warning there’s blood (duh) and reader is type A and suggested to have heavy anxiety; pre-established relationship where reader doesn’t know his identity + muzzle red hood bc HOT

Compartmentalize. Create baskets in your mind. Analyze the situation, and drop the corresponding emotion in the appropriate basket.

One: You had a fight with your best friend. She called you selfish because you weren’t enthusiastic about her new relationship. She just can’t seem to understand that no matter how happy you want to be for her, it’s painful to see everyone find safety in another person when you can’t. Every attempt at romance is squashed by something or the other that you keep doing wrong. I thought you were hot, your latest dating attempt had said when you ran into him and asked why he never texted back. But you’re kind of a lot. Not something I have the space for right now, you know?

Two: There’s an important presentation today, one that could determine the fate of your position in the company. Your coworker, the one who’s convinced you stole his promotion (he just flirted with the higher-ups while you actually completed the requirements), refuses to let you forget how much is at stake. All it takes is one misstep, one stutter, one hesitation, and he will take it as an excuse to demand your demotion— or worse, termination. You’ve been preparing for this presentation for three weeks. If after all that effort it’s still not good enough, maybe you should be fired.

The emotions here? Frustration. Anger. Exhaustion. Jealousy. Just to name a few. But there’s no time to dwell on anxieties right now, so you shove those thoughts aside. Drop them in their compartments and move on because, after all, if you can strip them down to their bones and find where they stem, you can yank those anxieties from the ground before they have the chance to root. And then there’s no need for unnecessary heartache, right?

(Who cares if the baskets are overflowing, crumpled fragments spilling over the sides like garbage in a landfill? Who cares if the room of your mind is so packed that you’re pressed against the wall and breathing becomes painful.)

The digital clock beside your bed reads 6:12. The numbers blink in and out of the window, their red dots and dashes taunting your heavy eyelids. You still have forty-eight minutes of peace before it will scare you awake. Its beeping will ring so loud and angry that the adrenaline from the startle will power you through your morning routine, and your beating heart won’t dare still to entertain wishes of just five more minutes. 6:13 now. You have forty-seven more minutes of peace, minutes which should be spent sleeping, giving your poor brain a break from itself. But you can’t. Every time you close your eyes and begin to sink below the level of consciousness, your heart pumps a house-special cocktail of cortisol that laces through your bloodstream and convinces you that if you fall asleep you will miss your presentation and you will get fired. The off-grid escape plan formulating in your head switches from hypothetical to tentative when your neighbors, apparently awoken to lust as well as tired by it, start going at it again. You want nothing more than to bang on their door and scream obscenities until they hate each other enough to never touch again, but you resign yourself to consciousness, giving up on the dream of what would now be forty-four more minutes of sleep. 

It’s Friday morning; only one more day to get through before the sweet release of the weekend finds you. (The whole weekend will be spent contemplating the start of a project, feeling like two days is not nearly long enough to complete anything, and dreading Monday until it finds you with nothing done and the same, endless cycle awaiting.)

After completing your morning routine 44 minutes early, you use the spare time to go through your presentation once more, just for good luck, wrapping up the third run-through just in time to hear your alarm to leave for work.

The presentation goes decent, at least well enough to quell any doubts about your ability to do your job. Your coworker ate his words for sure, and you might have enjoyed the look on his face had you not mentally checked out as soon as you finished your closing remarks. Rush hour traffic has the ice cream tub you bought at the convenience store dripping condensation all over the passenger’s seat and your hips hurt from being in the same sitting position for most of the day, but you remind yourself that peace is only a few miles out. Stopped at yet another red light, your grip tightens on the steering wheel. Breathe in. Breathe out. The line of cars starts to move forward.

When you get home, your frustration is close to boiling over. You kick off your shoes right at the door, your keys and bag following close behind.

Far be it from you to break down on the floor in the middle of the room, the plan begins to formulate. There’s a box of tissues on your desk– that can go on the nightstand, along with two of the chilled water bottles you keep in the fridge for after you work out. And you’ll need something for the tissues, right? The small wastebasket from the bathroom should be fine. You drag it over to the side of your bed, sitting in your usual spot to make sure you placed it at a reachable distance. You won’t want to get out of bed to wash your face after this, so a washcloth should go next to the tissues. And an extra one, just to be safe. There’s a half-pint of ice cream left in the freezer, you remember, and store that information for later.

You keep a set of comfortable clothes ready, the nicest, softest pajamas you own that you only wear after an everything shower. This shower, however, is a quick one, not much more than a few minutes under scalding water to comfort you, if nothing else. The light pink pajamas are a high-quality cotton and you feel like you’re in the clouds when you slip into them. Remaining is the ice cream, which you set out on the counter right before your shower so it would thaw just enough to be soft but not melted, With everything in your room ready, you go to retrieve the ice cream but stop with a startle when you round the corner.

“Jesus,” you mumble.

He’s just sitting there, doing nothing except bleeding out on your cream-colored carpet. He’s spread out on the couch like he owns the place, head leaned back against the wall as he lets his injured arm hang over the armrest and drip blood and dirt onto your cream-colored rug. The liquid seeps into the expensive wool, staining it with reddish-brown hues and the scent of iron, and he doesn’t even notice.

“Hey.” The Red Hood lifts his head when he sees you.

On any other day, you’d be quick to action, hauling him up off the couch and sprinting for the first aid kit under the bathroom sink. Today, your arms are too heavy and your gaze remains rooted on the widening splotch of red against white. Your throat feels dry. “You’re getting blood on the carpet.”

He peers over the armrest. “Oh, shit,” he curses, lifting his arm to hover it over his lap. He sounds robotic through his muzzle mask. His hood, pulled down to reveal his thick black hair curling at the ends from humidity and sweat, rests on his back.

I don’t have time for this, is what you want to say. You want to scream it in his face and kick him out for having the audacity to think he can come and go as he pleases, that you’re nothing more than a drive-through emergency room who will drop everything if he gets so much as a paper cut. But you can’t say any of this, and you do want him to come to you whenever he needs help. God knows he won’t go anywhere else.

Holding back your heavy sigh, you wordlessly walk to the bathroom. He takes that as an invitation to follow. 

It’s clinical. Rehearsed. Neither of you speak. It’s a partnered dance long since committed to muscle memory, steps you can take in your sleep. He knows to seat himself on the step stool you got just for him, for nights like these. He knows where to find the first aid kit and which supplies to hand you first. You know the exact steps to follow. Check the palms for abrasions. Antiseptic to the lacerations. Concussion exam. 

Maybe he can sense the air of tension surrounding you, because he doesn’t say as much as he usually does (though, granted, it’s still not much). It’s a reflection of your dynamic several months earlier when this arrangement began, back before you’d managed to chip away at the surface of his rough exterior. You notice the way his fingers curl against his thighs when you, somewhat carelessly, wipe the dirt from his skin with more pressure than necessary and the way his eyebrows tilt inward when you work slower than usual. You notice, but you ignore it.

We both know you have at least a dozen people who could do this for you. The words echo in your mind. Don’t act like I owe you this. If anything, you owe me a new carpet. These are things you wish you could say, but never will. Being realistic, you’ll probably never be able to say things like this. You’ll be subjected to all the shitty coworkers and unsympathetic friends and exploitative vigilantes of the world for the rest of your life.

This isn’t his fault, you remind yourself, but still, your lips turn down and your jaw feels tight with the effort to keep your face still, to not burst into tears right on the spot. In the second it takes for you to calm yourself, your hands pause. He notices. He says nothing. 

It’s not until you’re finished with cleaning the blood from his arm wound and giving him a wad of gauze to hold against it that he tests the waters and asks, “Is it too bad?” 

He sounds automated, but over the last few months, you’ve learned a thing or two about reading even these robotic actions. There's a certain quietness to the beginning of his sentence like he’s debating if he should say it or not. 

“It’s fine,” you say, shortly. 

“Sorry about your rug,” he says. He tugs at the strap of his muzzle with one finger, rubbing at the skin underneath the leather. “I can get the stain out.”

You retrieve the needle and thread from the kit and don’t respond. You don’t even look at him.

After a moment’s hesitation, he continues. “It’s easy. You just need salt and—”

“Okay.”

He goes quiet.

You don’t mean to be so tetchy, but you don’t have the energy for anything more. Every little thing has you feeling on the edge of shattering. It’s too much. It’s all too much.

It’s when you’re kneeled at his side, staring into the gaping wound on his bicep and trying to thread the needle, fingers trembling from the chill of the tiled floor with nothing but a layer of thin cotton to keep you warm, that it happens. He shifts on the stool, a mere twitch in an attempt to get comfortable, but it brushes his bloody arm against yours. Flecks of fresh red on the light pink fabric. First your carpet, now your pajamas. Your favorite, special, extra soft matching cotton pajama set, a rare splurge after your promotion that stood out among old t-shirts and sweat shorts. Ruined. Again, he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Did I say something?” Hood asks. He waits for your response, but when none comes, he adds, “I’m sorry if I did.” He speaks so quietly you may not have been able to separate his words from the whirring filter of his mask, if not for the chilling silence of the bathroom floor. The insulating brick walls of your old apartment building are something you’re usually grateful for, but tonight you find yourself wishing for the city’s commotion to seep through the walls. Something, anything to buffer his proximity to you.

You hear his inhale as he prepares to say something else.

“Can you just let me work?” You snap before he has the chance to speak again. It’s loud, louder than you’d ever dream of speaking to him, and he flinches. Your eyes shut in apology, but only for a moment before you get back to it. He looks away. His feet point towards the door.

He wants to leave, you can tell, and you don’t blame him. You just messed everything up. But you started this, so now you have to finish it.

You sit in silence for the several minutes it takes for you to clean his wound and stop the bleeding.

He’s not looking at you, gaze transfixed ahead of him on a chip in the paint. At least, you assume. It’s difficult to guess what’s going on behind the milky white covering over his eyes. His subtle body language can be read if you pay close enough attention, you’ve learned, but that’s not something you care to do right now.

(Maybe you noticed in the back of your mind that he’s not exhibiting any body language since you snapped at him, but the compartment in your head for guilt is already overflowing, so maybe you didn’t notice it, you tell yourself.)

You stare at your sleeve, at the patches of blood blooming like ink blots. The red and pink hues blend together behind your blurring vision. You sniffle.

“Are you—” Hood starts. Because now he’s looking at you.

“Excuse me,” you say, pushing yourself off the ground and stumbling out of the room without so much as a glance back at him. You stagger into your room, needle and thread still in hand, and push the door closed. The lights are off, and the darkness is calming, quieting your buzzing thoughts. You close your eyes and lean against the door. Breathe in. Breathe out. You continue this exercise, breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth to soothe your sympathetic nervous system, the same way a therapist instructed that one time you went. You wipe away the moisture that has collected in your eyes, roll out your stiff neck, dry your sweaty palms over your thighs. You toss the needle and thread aside, because they are definitely not sterile anymore, and take a few more breaths before opening the door and going back to the bathroom.

You avoid his face, following the lines of grimy grout between the tiles before resuming to your spot at his side. His inspecting eyes burn on the side of your face. You wipe down the forceps with a sterilizing wipe and rip open the plastic packaging for a new needle, holding it up to the wound, but your hand refuses to steady.

Another deep breath. Then another.

Hood sighs. It’s almost chastising. “I think I should go.”

“What?” You’re just surprised enough to be torn away from your thoughts and look him in the eye (mask) for the first time all night.

“You can’t do this,” he says, gruffly. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ll let you figure it out.”

You scoff. “Yes, I can. I’m fine.”

Before he can argue, you grab him by the wrist to hold him in place just as he starts moving to get up. He winces, but you keep your grip tight on him. You can feel his scrutiny through the cold, expressionless barrier of his disguise, practically track his pupils as they search your face.

You both pretend he couldn’t break from your hold in an instant if he wanted to.

“You’re shaking,” Hood says. His voice is much softer now.

You follow the turn of his head to your hand where it hovers the needle right over his skin. You are shaking. Trembling, in fact.

“No, I’m not.” It comes out as an empty whisper.

You focus all your strength on steadying yourself, but the harder you try to stabilize, the harder you tremor. Your other hand releases his wrist to clamp over your dominant hand and force it to stay in place. It guides the needle closer to the skin, but now your vision is blurring. You blink rapidly, but it’s not enough. The tears start falling. You look away from him, but a warm hand settles over yours. You don’t dare look at him, unable to bear showing him your shameful face, wet and blushing and screwed up in misery. You turn your face into your sleeve. Clamp your eyes shut tight, thinking maybe if you keep them closed, this darkness will swallow you up and he won’t be here anymore.

But the warmth of his skin on yours is the first feeling of softness, of relief you’ve felt in months, and then it’s gone. Your shoulders are shaking, quaking with the effort to keep your sobs quiet.

One finger ever so gently hooks around your chin, pulling it back up to face him. You keep your eyes closed, not wanting to see him see you like this, but the tears are still streaming. He brushes them away. Whether that makes it better or worse, you can’t be sure, because you cry even harder, snatching your face away from his grasp to muffle your sobs into the back of your hand. You don’t realize he’s pushed himself off his stool to sit cross-legged on the floor until you feel his hand circling your arm and pulling you closer. The tools in your hand clatter on the floor as your palms come up to press against his chest, fighting against him with half-hearted protests murmured through your cries. But even with only one good arm he’s too strong for you, and you’re pulled into him.

He’s so gentle with you, rubbing your back and resting his chin atop your head while you cry and cry and cry into his shirt. Several minutes pass like this, with your face buried in his chest and his good arm holding you tightly against him while the other dangles lamely at his side, throbbing with an intensity he’s trying to ignore.

When your sobs die down, and you’re sure you’re all cried out, you linger against him. He smells like smoke and gasoline, and his shirt is soft and warm from his body heat seeping through. His hand continues to stroke up and down the length of your back, even after you’ve quieted. The edge of his mask digs into your scalp where his chin sits, but it feels worth it. Your hands, still pressed to his chest, slide higher, completely of their own volition, out of a newfound desire to wrap your arms around his neck. You don’t hear it, but you can feel his sharp draw of breath, his chest rising quickly under your touch. Your hands lose their nerve at his clavicle as you hold your breath for fear of the smallest movement drawing attention to your forwardness. You wait for him to rebuff you, to lean away from your touch, or grab your wrists and pry them off. He doesn’t.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. His chest finally falls.

Eyes opening, your thumb swipes over the edge of the red bat symbol just below his collarbone.

His movements pause, lightly gripping the fabric of your shirt for just a moment, before releasing it. “It’s alright,” he tells you.

You pull back from his chest to look at him, the way his cold and unfeeling expression stares back at you. You wonder from time to time what’s under the mask, but tonight the desire is overwhelming; you ache with the want to know what he looks like. The color of his eyes. What his mouth looks like when he winces over a deep cut or chuckles at one of your anecdotes. You wonder if his lips are soft or chapped. If he’d like it if you dragged your thumb across the bottom one.

The metallic odor spreading through the room brings you back to the present, and you hope the flush from your tears hides your cheeks’ growing heat when you realize where your mind had wandered. 

“Oh, fuck, your arm.” You speak in a watery voice, wiping at your face as the urgency returns to your senses. Though you try to move away, his firm hand on your back pulls you back in.

“Don’t worry about it, okay?” He says, resuming his caresses up and down your back. “I can take care of it.”

“Then why do you even need me?” You sniffle with a small smile.

He stays silent. But when you search his face, waiting for an answer, his hand moves to your side, palm sliding a fraction of an inch closer to your waist and fingers tensing, you can almost see through the mechanical muzzle to the way his lips shape the words. At least, he wishes you could.

You know why.

this was lots of fun to write and thank u for your patience ik i said i was gonna "knock this out in a day" 2 weeks ago😬😬 also we're gonna pretend they aren't just letting his open wound marinate for half an hour when it should be getting stitched up bc it's fiction ok? everyone say thank you mostly-imagines for proofreading this😚

but anyway happy new year!! it's been barely 2 months but starting this account made my year so much better🫶🫶🫶and ty for 500 followers that's crazy🫣🫢

[ryssabrin]

i feel like people who don’t like solas or solavellan have such a warped perspective of what the romance is and how fans of it actually engage in it. like i’ve seen a lot of (most likely het dudes lol) on reddit say they tried it to see what the fuss was but felt it was “demeaning” and i’ve seen it described as literally a horror story where solas is manipulating and using and lying to a young impressionable lavellan who gives up her entire identity for him and becomes a complete doormat to all the awful shit he does. that’s never been my experience and i kinda just want to ramble about how i see it and what i find romantic about it?

so full disclosure, if veilguard had come out a few years ago with how they portrayed lavellan and solavellan i might have been pretty disappointed. i think there is a subset of the solavellan fanbase that likes the wolf/halla or student/professor thing and they play their lavellan younger and agreeing almost without question to everything solas says. i see the appeal but i never played my lavellan that way and i really like the dynamic of it when lavellan actually goes against his advice at times. solas is a character that needs to have his preconceived biases questioned. especially in inquisition when he’s still coming to terms with the fact that the modern people of thedas are in fact people lol. so i was concerned at the prospect of my lavellan being taken out of my hands and having to listen to her make excuses for him and submit to everything he says. (which tbf i don’t think is how she actually comes across in dav, but that was a worry.)

however when i replayed my canon dai run this year, i realized i was closer to the age i always saw my lavellan as (early 30s), and as my lavellan is probably the bioware pc i’ve always played closest to my own personality, i took the opportunity to tweak her a bit and make some different choices. i’ve (hopefully lol) matured and grown a lot since i was 24 and so rather than going for the snarky sarcastic cool girl vibes i opted to play her with more diplomatic and caring choices. it made me see the solas romance in a completely new light. rather than some sort of student/professor dynamic or a pride and prejudice-esque rivals-to-lovers vibe where lavellan is fighting for his respect the whole time, what stuck out to me was how much their connection builds simply because lavellan is kind to solas. she hears him out when he wants to give his opinions and advice, she respects his expertise on the fade and spirits, and she offers him comfort and friendship when she sees he needs it. she impresses him because he finds himself wanting to indulge in her closeness. he finds a connection to someone he never expected to and it makes him rethink everything about the broken state he put the world in.

it’s worth noting that lavellan is always making the first move. she kisses him first, she pursues him. he tries to brush off the kiss as a spontaneous lapse in judgement and she doesn't let him. he only ever gives in to her advances, he doesn't make them himself. he calls their relationship "selfish" on his end. he knows he shouldn't be encouraging her but he can't help but long for her companionship. that being said though if lavellan shuts it down he respects it. he probably feels a little relief because the temptation is now out of his hands lol.

i feel like there’s also this perception that he’s constantly shitting on the dalish while lavellan just has to put up with it and that alone is reason enough to find the relationship demeaning. he mentions the dalish in one optional conversation chain where you ask him for his opinion on the state of the elves and then in the balcony scene where he realizes he’s misjudged the inquisitor after his personal quest. in both instances, lavellan can stick up for the dalish. in the optional conversation, lavellan can say that if solas had a bad experience with a clan once (which we know from dav is exactly what happened lol), that she’d like to correct that misunderstanding about her people.

it's worth noting as well that lavellan doesn't know solas is the dread wolf when he's criticizing the dalish. from her perspective, he's essentially a city-born elf who had some dalish look down their nose at him for not being a "true elf" like they are, something that not only happens in canon throughout the games and lavellan would be aware of, but literally happens to solas specifically, right in front of you. he doesn't say a single word to mihris and she doesn't know a thing about him other than his face is bare and thus feels comfortable referring to him with what is essentially a slur. but rather than confront her directly about it he just passive aggressively speaks to her in elven almost exclusively for the rest of the quest lol.

far from the dynamic being that lavellan is just putting up with someone talking down to her about her culture, i think it's reasonable to see her view is more that they're both members of the same marginalized group, but from different cultures. his position in criticizing the dalish is not punching down it's lateral. she loves her culture, but is able to recognize it has flaws and not every member in it treats other cultures well, particularly even when they're from the same marginalized group. (and it's also just really meaningful that the first "flirt" option you get in the solas romance is lavellan recognizing that solas has put himself in a very vulnerable position as an elven apostate joining the chantry-led inquisition and with whatever power she has she will make sure that it's not held against him.)

i do think the writing conveys that he does have his mind changed about the dalish at least a little bit, but one of his pet peeves is when people are ignorant and refuse any information that challenges their worldview. as a manifested wisdom spirit, it is a particular sticking point to him to not be listened to when he is providing knowledge. i think criticism of how he is towards the dalish is lacking without taking into account his nature as a spirit. obvs we didn’t know that in dai but we do now. when wisdom isn't listened to it turns to pride. "i told you so," "i'll prove i'm right," "you should have listened to me," etc. etc. he got his feelings hurt when the dalish didn't believe him (and according to dav, literally tried to kill him) and his ego's held a grudge ever since.

when it comes to the vallaslin, to me it’s less about solas wanting to dismantle part of dalish culture (he offers no actual opinion on the dalish during that scene) and more that it clearly bothers him a lot that he fought so hard to free the elves from slavery and the one community of elves that’s closest to the descendants of the people he wanted to free still wears tattoos honoring the very tyrants he wanted to free them from. if lavellan says she wants to keep them and that the dalish reclaimed them and they mean something else to her, he doesn’t argue. i actually don’t like that solas’s post breakup banter with cole implies that lavellan thinks he might have broken up with her over the vallaslin. it’s putting thoughts in the head of my character that i personally don’t see her having. the way the breakup plays out, there’s not a single indication that it has anything to do with the vallaslin. i like to pick the “i believe in us” option because it shows lavellan having some idea that there’s something solas isn’t telling her and that’s the main reason he’s walking away. and the irony of course is that we learn in dav that that was the moment he came the closest to just giving up everything to just be with her.

so when i played through dav with my solasmance lavellan and she talks about what drew her to him it all just felt so right. he was kind and wise and sad but he made her feel like she was the only thing that mattered to him. (and that was very almost true!) there was a passion and intensity to their relationship that made her think he was the person she wanted to be with forever. when she says "i thought i would have followed anywhere he asked me to" you could read it as her saying she would have joined him in tearing down the veil if he asked and depending on your lavellan that might be true (though in the next bit she talks about how she would have been trying to change his mind anyways). but you could also read it as what her mindset was while she was with him during dai. before joining the inquisition, she knew him to be someone that traveled the world looking for lost secrets and history. why would she not have wanted to join him in that? is that not something you do when you're in love with someone?

something else that i find really compelling about solavellan is how solas relates to the inquisitor (not just lavellan) as a figurehead stripped of their personal identity. he knows from personal experience exactly what that's like. in the romances (not just solas's), the inquisitor is able to find someone that knows and cares for them for who they are, not what they represent. this aspect of the inquisitor's arc is honestly why i like keeping the vallaslin. my lavellan wants people to be able to look at her as the inquisitor and see a dalish elf. it's one small act of defiance and in reclaiming her own narrative. so thinking about what she might want to do after her responsibilities to the inquisition are over, it's reasonable to think she might want to just go wherever solas goes? because she loves him and feels like herself around him. even her asking him to let her come with him in trespasser feels more motivated by the fact that lavellan sees solas isolating himself and closing himself off and she's sad about it because she cares about him. that was why she wanted to grow close to him in the first place.

and i genuinely don't think it's all that wild that lavellan still holds a torch for solas 10 years later. i personally was friends with this guy in high school i always had a crush on, and towards the end of senior year it looked like it could actually end up turning into something. but then he immediately left for a summer abroad after graduation and eventually moved out of the country full time for school. we kept in touch off and on and caught up when he was in town, but nothing romantic ever happened. for years after i would catch myself thinking every so often what could have been and what he was up to. for solavellan, they were actually together. they had mutually expressed feelings and though their time together was maybe a few months at most, it was intense and passionate. they split up not because anyone's feelings changed, but because of solas's baggage. it's really not unrealistic for lavellan to continue wondering to herself what would have happened if he had been honest with her sooner. if she could have convinced him to change course. and it's not like she has the luxury of retiring and just not thinking about him anymore. that's not a conscious manipulation on solas's part to string her along, that's just the reality of their situation.

and even with all that in mind, in dav lavellan is still able to have the self-awareness to understand that the good in him that she believes exists and all that they had together and what she meant to him could all just be wishful thinking on her part. that she's giving him the benefit of the doubt "imagining his broken heart" when he doesn't deserve it because it makes her feel less foolish. she's not blindly faithful to him. i just loved everything about that scene and every word out of my lavellan's mouth felt spot on and perfect for how i saw their relationship. i could not have been more relieved lol.

as for the ending, i really really dislike the bad faith read that the only thing that matters is mythal and that he somehow loves mythal more and if that weren't true then lavellan alone would be able to convince him to stop. varric says about solas that he wants to be a hero, but it's easier for him to play the villain because it means he didn't fail, everything bad he's done is a choice. once you've done one bad thing, betrayed one friend, manipulated and sacrificed some pawns, committed one lil genocide, etc. lmao, it becomes easier to do it again. you've already crossed your moral event horizon and now you just have to find an end that justifies the means of all your misdeeds. what i've said about solas before is that what's frustrating is that he does genuinely feel remorse about the shit he does, but he needs to believe it's necessary and he will keep doing it. he needs to believe it will all be worth it in the end. it's not that he thinks feeling sorry makes up for it necessarily, but that he had to do it. he had to be the one taking on all of the bad things to hopefully one day do a good thing and it will all work out.

(as a side note when solas says "i would not have you see what i become" in trespasser i always thought that meant he was going to resort to some awful corruptive magic or something but it turns out what he actually meant was "i'm about to be a real asshole and do some incredibly awful things and i don't want you to see that side of me" which is much sadder.)

so when rook says "you don't have to do this" solas counters with "i've betrayed and fucked over and killed so many people who trusted me and if i stop i will have done that for nothing." so then the inquisitor jumps in with "as one of those people, i'm telling you that you can stop." but then we get to the heart of it. he thinks he failed mythal when she died the first time and was unwilling to listen to her as flemeth. he needs to make that mean something. he needs to justify to himself what mythal made him into. so he needs to hear from his mythal, not morrigan's mythal who has the benefit of the wisdom and hindsight centuries of living among mortals gave her, but his mythal, the one closest to who she was when she died that what he is is broken. that she's the one that broke him and he alone doesn't have to bear the weight of everything he did because of her. it's not about loving her, it's about the specific relationship he had with her. with that baggage unpacked, he's not only able to let go of his prideful need to prove himself right by tearing down the veil, he's also free to choose what he always really wanted: lavellan.

and still! yet again! he does not ask or assume anything on her part. she offers! of her own free will. something that really rustles my jimmies about a lot of solavellan criticism is that people act like lavellan has no agency. that she couldn't possibly make the choices she does of her own accord and it has to be solas manipulating her. that has never rang true to me at all. she always made the first move. i think this more uncharitable read might unfortunately be encouraged by how many actual solavellan shippers play into the wolf/halla thing but i personally don't think that's the dynamic that weekes actually wrote. it is lavellan that pursues solas, not the other way around. and weekes was honestly so careful in how they wrote the romance so that when solas's identity and plans are revealed, it doesn't feel like he intentionally tricked you or took advantage. i actually really like the ambiguity of whether or not they slept together because to me it does feel like that's a line solas wouldn't cross, but i get why that doesn't matter as much to other solasmancers.

i also think there's this perception that solavellan is a ship with an unhealthy power dynamic that needs to be "fixed" in some way or at the very least apologized for before you're allowed to like it. for me it's honestly kind of the appeal? not that there's some goofy dom/sub thing going on lol but that in spite of how "superior" solas may or may not feel to lavellan and the modern elves, he still falls hook line and fucking sinker for her. lavellan has so much more power in the relationship than she realizes. she changes his entire perspective on modern elves and his ultimate goals so bad he had a complete crisis of faith and had to run as far away from her as he could. how could he have broken the world so badly he needs to catastrophically break it again to fix it if it could create someone like her? someone he wants and cares for so desperately? it's the push and pull of him trying to stay away but selfishly indulging as long as he can that's so juicy to me! it's so good and i just wish other people could see that, even if they don't care for the character.

anyways. i don't have a conclusion. i don't want anyone to think i'm vaguing about them. this is honestly the result of some thoughts that have been brewing for a while and a lot of common criticisms i've seen over the years. i didn't want to respond directly to anyone in particular bc i learned my lesson about not doing that waaay back in the shenko fandom iykyk lol. i just really like the ship! i think it's tragic and romantic and lovely and poetic and mythological and all that good stuff. it humanizes solas as a character and makes me think about empathy and compassion and how much faith you can have in someone if you love them. or how it might feel to sacrifice love for something you think you need to do, only to ultimately realize you never did and find that love patiently waiting for you to get your shit together. or to love someone and know they love you back and that they love you so much they had to leave or they would have given up everything they thought they needed for you and then to be able to actually get through to them and get them back. "she could save him if he'd only just let her"! it's a very niche wish fulfillment fantasy and it's me! i'm the fan being serviced!

[empressdede]

The Lyon’s family Christmas

Summary: You lie to your mom and tell her that you have a boyfriend to bring home and begs your best friend Jon to come with you to meet your family.

Word count: 2.7k

Pairing: Jimmy x Y/N

A/N: Happy New Year and Happy Holidays; I am so so so so sorry that this is so late but I literally worked the entire holidays so this was the best day for me to release. I hope you guys enjoy!

P.S. Guess who’s officially back? 🙂💙

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

As often as this was a reoccurring issue, Y/N don’t know why she expected the conversation to take a different direction unlike the very worn out route her and her mother usually seemed to take.

“Do you remember Trent from church? I’ve heard the younger girls were saying he’s single now, and I was thinking about inviting him to our Christmas party. I think he makes for a nice boy, don’t you?" Her mom asked over the phone. And there it was, the same damn conversation causing Y/N to roll her eyes. Thank God her mother couldn’t see her.

Her mom never knew how to stay out of her business, always going out her way to try and set her up with damn near anybody because she thought it was the most terrifying fact that her daughter was single at 30 and have been for the last three years now.

But Y/N valued her peace more than anything, and all her past relationships have not always bought her peace, just heartache. So she wanted to be very cautious her next go round because she was being very serious when she told everyone she only had one more relationship in her. She just wished her mom understood that.

Y/N let out a sigh, "Mom, I haven’t seen Trent in forever. Do NOT invite that boy over for no foolishness. Plus, he’s really not my type." Y/N expressed which caused her mother her scoff.

"And since fuckin when was Trent not your type? I thought you were trying to get with a good man Y/N?" Her mother questioned.

Exactly.

Y/N let out a huff in annoyance, she knew way more than her mom and knew that Trent was definitely not the way go. But she didn’t know want her mom to think she was trying to push at the conversation so instead of being honest, Y/N does the first thing that comes to mind.

“I didn’t wanna tell you like this but Trent ain’t my type because I have a boyfriend now Ma.”

Y/N’s POV

The silence on the phone made me more nervous, why the fuck would I just say that?

“You got a boyfriend? Since when you found a boyfriend? And why haven’t you said anything about him?” The questions were leaving her mouth like quick fire, barely giving me anytime to answer her. But I did the best I could.

“I didn’t say anything because I wanted to make sure this was something worth bringing up.”

“Mmhmm, and how long you’ve been seeing this guy?” She asked

“Five months now, but we were friends before we started dating. I’ve been trying to take it slow.”

Another beat of silence took over the phone and for a second, I thought she knew I was spewing nothing but bullshit just to get her to shut up.

“Hmm, well baby you ain’t getting no younger. Tell this man I wanna meet him, invite him to the party and I’m not taking no for an answer.” She finally replied, but her response took me aback.

“Wait- mom..”

“Great! I’ll see you guys next weekend, Love you baby.” And with a quickness, she hung up in my face.

I was left amuck, staring at the phone in disbelief because what the fuck did I just do?

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

In retrospect, you didn’t really have anyone to ask but him. You weren’t comfortable asking anyone else but your best friend - who has yet to meet anyone in your family, which was perfect.

Who else would’ve agreed to do this for you?

“You want me to what?” He asked, choking on the fried rice he was eating prior.

Okay, so maybe it’s going to take a little bit of convincing.

“Please Jon, you’re the only person I can ask and I feel like we’re close enough; we could definitely pull it off.” You exclaimed, a small smile on your face; trying to be as persuasive as possible.

Jon was not amused, for all he knew this was another one of your tired ass pranks that he refused to fall for.

“So you want me to lie to your mom for Christmas?” he questioned, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Why don’t you just tell her you’re single? I’m sure it won’t be the end of the world.”

You sigh, shoulders sinking in a bit. “She wants to set me up with some guy I haven’t seen in years. You know how I get with guys Jon and she won’t stop until she sees me with someone.”

You turn to fully face him with pleading eyes. “C’mon Jon, I already told them I have a boyfriend, who else am I supposed to ask?”

Jon watched you with careful eyes, silent as if he was thinking it over. You couldn’t help but keep your gaze hopeful as you guts sat in your living room waiting for him to respond.

You knew it was a big favor to ask but you would owe him the world if he could help you get your mom off your back.

The silence that filled the room made goosebumps litter all over your skin and the anxiety that bubbled in your stomach made you want to throw up. Just when you were going to tell him to forget it, Jon cut you off.

“Fine, I’ll go. But if we do this, we need to get our story straight.”

And just like that, the planning began, and for the rest of dinner, the two of you sat and theorized on how their fake love story came into existence:

Two friends who danced around the possibility of what could be till one night Jon stepped up and asked you to dinner and you agreed and you guys have been taking it slow from that night on.

____________________________________________

Two days after that, Jon surprised Y/N with matching pajamas for this impromptu trip.

“What kind of couple would we be without matching PJs?” Jon had asked when he dropped them off.

It made Y/N more appreciative of the effort he seemed to put into it. Of course Jon would play the perfect gentleman like boyfriend, who else would’ve did this for her?

The night before they had to drive six hours to your mother‘s house, you two agreed that Jon spend the night. This instance wasn’t anything new, Jon was your best friend and he slept over before, but something within your dynamic changed.

It was as if they were falling into the role of a loving couple for each other instead of Y/N’s family.

Jon sat on the bed watching Y/N finish applying her night cream, getting ready for bed.

“Is there anyone I should expect to give me a hard time?” Jon asked and you shook your head.

“Honestly, my mom is probably going to push you to marry me.” You joked causing Jon to chuckle.

“Well, if that’s the case, you ready to be stuck with me for life babe?”

The nickname caused butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

“Babe?” You questioned and Jon sends you a shy smile.

“You gotta start the habit now. I can’t call you that when I get over there, what if I just randomly call you princess and you get flustered?” He slightly teased, and there was those damn butterflies again.

He was right though, they needed to fall into the role of a devoted couple because how else were they going to make everyone believe they were in love?

You playfully rolled your eyes, and respond back, “what if I call you, baby boy and you get flustered?”

At that, Jonathan laughs and shakes his head at you. “I thought you said you wanted it to be believable?”

“How is that not believable?” You questioned as you walks out of the bathroom and towards him where he sat on the bed.

You cupped Jon’s cheek and talked in a baby tone, “Who wouldn’t think you’re my baby boy?” Cooing softly in a joking manner.

Jon decided he’s had enough of your antics and stood up to tower over you. Your hand falling back to your side as you stare up at him, a small smirk slowly formed on his lips as he stared down at you.

“C’mon now, you really think anyone is going to see us and think you call me anything but Daddy?” He had lowered his tone on purpose, and just like that the playfullness was sucked out of the room.

Your breath hitched at the sound of his voice, taking note of how close you guys actually were. Why did he have to do all that?

You felt your cheeks warm up and you couldn’t be more thankful than you are now that your skin had a darker hue to it - but Jon didn’t need to see it to know that you were flustered because your silence gave it away.

His smirk grows, almost tauntingly as he stared down at you. Maybe he knew what he was doing to you or maybe he didn’t and just got a kick out of this, but you did not appreciate his little game.

“Isn’t that right princess?” Even though you knew that Jon was teasing, you couldn’t help the shiver that ran up your spine.

You squinted your eyes to glare at him, “You’re not funny Jonathan.” You hissed out but he only chuckled at you and shrugged his shoulders.

It was all fun and games until it was his turn.

Just to put the icing on the cake: Jon’s hand lifted up to cup your cheeks, “Say you love being daddy’s baby.” He cooed back causing you to smack your lips and slap his hand away.

Your nerves were still a little rattled as Jon doubled over in laughter.

“Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny; you ready for bed or what? We got a long day ahead of us tomorrow and you’re driving.” You stated, walking past him for bed.

This is going to be the longest four days weekend ever.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The drive to your childhood home to Orlando FL, wasn’t so bad, three hours into it anyways.

When there was three more hours left to go, you became just a little restless, whining about how cramped your legs were starting to feel.

It went to show how much you really disliked long distant roadtrips.

“You don’t think you can wait another hour? We’re almost there.” Jon tried to negotiate but when he turned to face you and seen the pout on your lips, he let out a tired sigh and looked for the closest exit to stop at the nearest gas station.

You flashed him a cheeky smile, “Who knew you loved me so much?” You teased and he rolled his eyes letting you have this little moment because you guys had three more hours to kill and he’d rather you be in a good mood.

Another pro for stopping at the gas station is the opportunity to restock on snacks. After Jon filled up the tank, you both entered the gas station to look for whatever looked good enough to replenish you guys for the rest of the trip.

You both split ways to look for your favorite road trip snacks: Honey flavored chex mix, gummy worms and sunflower seeds since it was Jon’s preference.

Humming along to the Christmas song playing in the store, you went looking for Jon. Your eyes skimming through the isle looking for the tall idiot until your eyes fall on two figures: a girl laughing and holding herself up on Jon’s arm.

You raised an eyebrow at the scene, the feeling of annoyance swirled around in your stomach.

What the fuck was he doing?

You watched as the girl flash him another smile while fluttering her lashes in a flirting manner, and you couldn’t stop the scoff that left your lips. Your eyes squinted into a glare before an idea flashed in your mind.

It barely fully registered in your mind before you found yourself walking towards the two with the fakest smile on your face, “Babe did you find us some drinks?”

Jon turned to face you, a small smirk on his face cause he had watched you walk up to him.

The jealousy that burned in your eyes was very amusing and very apparent for him to see. If he didn’t know you well enough - he would’ve pushed his limit just a bit to see how far he could take it.

But knowing that they had three hours to kill before reaching Orlando, he’d rather not be in the car with an irritated Y/N, no matter how amusing it was to him.

Little did he know it was a little too late for that.

“Uh.. No, sorry babe. But we could go get it together.” He replied, and without bidding the girl goodbye, he locked arms with you to walk you towards the refrigerated section.

The girl watched with a frown on her face, as you guys walked away from her, and you couldn’t help but turn around to flash her a quick smile - almost taunting her before returning to face Jonathan, with the meanest glare, you could muster.

“I could’ve stayed in the car if you were going to be hot and fresh chasing hoes.” You gritted out once you were out of earshot.

Jon just chuckled softly, shaking his head at you while looking for your favorite drink. “She was just being nice.”

You roll your eyes again, “I’d rather you not insult my intelligence Jon.”

The frown was prominent on your face, and Jon couldn’t help the small smile that seemed almost glued to his face. You were cute he could definitely give you that.

A small chuckle emitted from him again as he walks closer to you to pull you into a hug. “You’re absolutely right princess, Daddy’s sorry.” He cooed, causing you to tense in his arms.

“Jon.” You grit out in a warning tone but he completely disregarded you. He lifted his left hand to tilt your head up to face him, and suddenly the air shifted between the two of you like it did back at your house.

“Jon.” You whispered out this time and he still chose to ignore you, his eyes flickering to your lips instead causing your breath to hitch.

“Jonathan.” You repeated, almost pleading with him and his eyes slowly traced up your face to lock eyes with you.

“You forgive me?” He rasps out; goosebumps littered all over your skin at the deepness of his voice.

“Y/N,” He muttered and you hummed to let him know you heard him. “Do. You. Forgive. Me?”

What in the world were you mad about again?

“Yeah.” You breathed out, hoping Jon with snap out of it, but he still didn’t let go of your chin.

“Good.” Was the only thing he stated before closing the gap between you guys. His lips pressed against yours and just for a second you both forget that this was supposed to be an act.

The butterflies that erupted in both of your stomach’s made the moment even more real for you guys. Your lips locked in a slow kiss, Jon’s hand slid down from your chin to grip behind your neck to keep you in place in deepen the kiss, just a little.

Your heartbeat filled your eardrums as blood rushed to your cheeks. When Jon finally pulled away, he seen how flushed you were, despite your darker skin tone.

He flashed you a small smile, “Was that okay?”

You nodded your head to assure him that it was more than okay. After the two of you finished up buying your snacks, you got in the car with childish grins and giggles slipping through your lips, both of you now in a way better mood than you were not less than 10 minutes ago.

You couldn’t help but secretly thank your mom for the invite to your family Christmas party because you don’t think you would’ve been here otherwise; and even though you’re pretty sure there is a conversation that needs to be had, maybe there was something to finally look forward to this holiday season.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Lmao this was lowkey eh, but I did my bestest😭🫶🏾 Thank you to those who like and read it!

As always please, like, comment and reblog if you feel like and lemme know how you feel.

Tagging the lovelies: @wrestlingprincess80 @whatdoeseverybodywant @blacst4r @paigereeder @alyyaanna @raya-hunter01 @mzv11 @trippinsorrows @partypoison00

(If you would like to be added to my official taglist please comment and I will add you, and if you want to be removed, please let me know🤍)

[gay-dorito-dust]

Just some big three pjo things I think about.

Percy -the little shit- would absolutely utilise his ability of water to mess with you.

100%

If you leave a water bottle unopened, expect Percy to surge what little water was left inside to spray you when you’re going in for a drink. Leaving you soaked and glaring at the boy across the camp.

He thinks he’s funny but he’s really not.

You can’t even try to do this back to him as it usually results in it being thrown back in your face, literally as you’re reminded that this dude can walk into waist deep water, and miraculously come back as dry as he was before entering.

So needless to say you keep your water bottles tightly shut when you’re near Percy in case he’s feeling funny that day or has that certain gleam in his eye.

Percy can’t be trusted near uncapped water bottles, it’s a rule to never leave Percy near them or be within sight of any un opened water bottles.

Percy is not allowed to participate in watergun fights…for very obvious reasons and even if he does, the bastard had to be prohibited from using his powers at all during the watergun fights!

Everyone else in camp will be soaked and he would be dry as fuck, everyone calls it cheating but Percy calls it otherwise. Smug little twat.

Also don’t imagine Percy using the water out of an water bottle to douse you and when your chasing him, ready to kill him, his excuse is that ‘it’s a hot day in camp and I thought you could cool off a little!’ As if that was going to save him from the ass whooping your about to give him.

Nico has silent footsteps.

He can travel through shadows.

This is a recipe for disaster as he can easily scare you without having to try all that hard. And it’s the worst feeling ever.

He won’t know just how silent his footsteps are until you point it out to him or else he’ll think that he’s more than made his arrival known. (He absolutely didn’t)

Nico could emerge from the shadow nearby and walk up to you and casually say ‘hey’ and you’ll almost come out of your own skin when you realised the pale Italian in the aviator jacket next to you.

‘Fucking hell Nico’ you’d groan as you grasp your chest, trying to calm yourself down from the initial scare. ‘Warn me next time.’ You would add and Nico would only look at you as though you had grown a second head.

He had no clue what you were on about but would continue his day like he would any other, doing the same exact thing to other campers and getting the same exact reaction he got out of you too many times to be coincidental.

Even when he’s not shadow traveling, his footsteps are quite enough to have you believe that he had just appeared out of nowhere, and not walked the entirety of camp just to tell you something.

‘You’ve got to stop popping up out of nowhere.’ You tell him.

‘I’m not doing anything!’ He’d reply.

‘You’ve got silent footsteps Nico! Can’t hear shit when you’re creeping up on me, do you want me to die?’ You’d say and all of sudden everything made sense to Nico as to why everyone seemed to be unable to notice him until he was standing nearby.

‘Oh.’ He’d say. Does this change anything? No not really as Nico finds it funny to see people get scared. It’s made even funnier when on Halloween when everyone is done telling their scariest stories.

Jason tends to electric shock people, not on purpose, it just happens without warning.

I’m talking rubbing your hands on a carpet super fact and touching someone’s arm, or rubbing a balloon against yourself and watching in awe as it makes the hairs on your arms stick up.

However he didn’t need to rub his hands on a carpet to give someone an eclectic shock, he can just reach out to you and make it happen.

You could just be reaching for his hand and zap! You’ve been given an electric shock by Jason grace! You flinch back to rub your hand and Jason thought you were hurt and was already reaching out to you to help when-

You guessed it another electric shock happens.

It doesn’t hurt, you’re not in any pain but still you were being zapped at the end of the day.

Jason isn’t aware of this ability until afterwards and he’s just as confused as you and will not reach out for you for a while until he’s certain he won’t shock you.

Which is a solid 50/50. It happens when he least expects it or it can strike twice if you were the unlucky soul to get an electric shock back to back.

Guess it’s a weird perk of being the child of Zeus.

[ju-nebugg]

moments from trb that make me lose my mind (pt. 2)

- “once your balls drop, that beard’ll come in great. like a fucking rug. you eat soup, it’ll filter out the potatoes. terrier style. do you have hair on your legs? i’ve never noticed.” ronan lynch i love you so much

- ronan panicking and letting the mask slip when gansey was staring down that wasp

- ronan being jealous that gansey was leaving henrietta with adam and saying “do you not want me to come” and gansey responding with “i would take all of you anywhere with me”

- “the sky as blue as death above him” like WHAT

- “i didn’t realize that ‘midget’ was the adam parrish type” ronan your yearning is showing

- gansey’s smile being “complicated” when he notices adam and blue holding hands

- “…blue’s dress had gotten hitched up and gansey could see a long, slender triangle of her thigh. adam’s hand was braced a few inches away on the seat, knuckles pale with his hatred of flying. there was nothing particularly intimate about the way they sat, but something about the scene made gansey feel strange, like he’d heard an unpleasant statement and later forgotten everything about the words but the way they had made him feel.” (long quote i know but holy fucking shit)

- obligatory “i’m always straight.” “oh, man, that’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told.”

- gansey doing his little indie film main character scream to god in a field

- gansey pointing at people. so much pointing. what a dork. i love him so much

- also his vocabulary. what a NERD <333333

- ronan pissing all over the state of virginia

- gansey calling blue “the table everyone wants at starbucks”

- “i just fed chainsaw but she’ll need it again.” “this,” gansey replied, “is precisely why i didn’t want to have a baby with you.”

- adam’s immediate thought when holding blue’s hand is to worry about crushing her fingers :(

- ronan forgetting to be “cool or surly” when translating cabeswater’s latin, and apologizing over and over again good lord and gansey only responding with “it’s okay, you’re doing really well”

- the whole “coincidence because it wasn’t” trend

- gansey being SO NERVOUS to ask blue to hang out at the church, and then sounding “fourteen shades brighter” when she accepts

- gansey’s arms being super fucking ripped from rowing and blue Noticing

- “aquamarine is a wonderful color, and i won’t be made to feel bad for wearing it”

- “gansey’s voice, when he replied, was a little rough. ‘well, if you killed adam, i’d be quite upset.’”

- “on the inside, he sort of wished he looked more like the camaro. which was to say, more like adam.”

- gansey planning out his “cunning thing to say to blue when he saw her next”

- ronan walking in on adam and blue flirting and immediately shoving chainsaw in their faces. hm.

- “no matter how hard he tried, he kept becoming a gansey”

- “out of the blue?” “i’d prefer if you didn’t use that expression.”

- BUTTERNUT

- blue being reluctantly attracted to gansey’s glasses

- ronan trying so hard to give adam an excuse not to go home, and then going absolutely apeshit when adam gets hurt

- neeve’s voice sounding like a “computerized voicemail menu” (can you tell i’m in love with maggie’s descriptors)

- “gansey was just a guy with a lot of stuff and a hole inside him that chewed away more of his heart every year.” oh god

- ronan carrying all of adam’s possessions into monmouth on his back

- gansey saying things like “excelsior” and “yee haw” for no one but himself

- gansey being miserable and blue liking him better that way

- ‘“crushed and broken,” gansey said. “just the way women like ‘em.”’ correct!

- “cabeswater was just as literal as ronan was” HMMMMMMMMM CURIOUS

- ronan writing “remembered” on the red mustang and walking away without a word shut UPPPPPP

- ganseys first question after adam sacrifices himself being “was i so awful?”

- “they didn’t even have the authority to choose an alcoholic beverage. they couldn’t be deciding who deserved to live or die.”

(pt. 1)

as soon as i can stumble my way to a bookstore, dream thieves will be annotated to hell and back. expect more yelling very soon <3

[lechrts]

hi pookielicious i NEED (another) paul fic 🤦‍♀️

one word. Beach. i miss summer so i need some shit with sun kissed tans and the overbearing smell of sunscreen. maybe paul and reader head to the beach and are literally dog fighting each other in the water .. It’s cute and sweet and fucking stupid. THANK YEWW. i Love you.

Beaches. ✷ Paul Aron

Pairing: Paul Aron x Bff!reader

Summary: When you and your best friend have a fun day at the beach!!!!

Word Count: 1.3k

Disclaimer/s: fluffff yuhhhh ^_^

Vera’s Voice! had to get this done for u asap my sweet ellis. HOPE THIS WAS GOOD. I luh yuh. mwah!!!!! @wdcbox

The sun hovered above the sparkling ocean, bathing everything in a golden glow that promised tans and potential sunburns.

The overbearing smell of sunscreen clung to the humid air, thanks to Paul’s overzealous reapplication routine.

You could still hear his earlier lecture echoing in your mind: “You’ll thank me later.”

You plopped down on your beach blanket, adjusting your bikini straps as Paul finished slathering his arms in sunscreen. "That white cast is insane." you teased, the consistency of the sunscreen making him look paler than usual.

"At least I won’t be burning like you," He shot back with a grin, snapping the bottle shut. He leaned back on his towel beside you, the sun radiating off him.

The beach was alive with the chatter of other sunbathers, the laughter of children chasing waves, and the distant hum of a radio playing summer hits. You tilted your head to look at Paul, his damp curls sticking to his forehead after a quick dip in the water from earlier.

"Are you just gonna sit there, or are we actually going to do something fun?" He asked, poking your shoulder.

"Define fun," You said, feigning disinterest as you pulled out a book.

He didn’t bother answering. Instead, he just lunged forward and yanked you up by the wrist.

Before you could protest, Paul was hauling you toward the water, his laughter mixing with your shrieks.

"Stop!" You shouted, kicking up sand as you tried to dig your heels into the ground.

"Nope!" He turned around, walking backward and grinning smugly. "You’re coming with me whether you like it or not."

By the time you reached the shoreline, waves tickling at your ankles, you gave up resisting and let him drag you into the water.

The first splash hit you like a wake-up call, the coolness of the ocean shocking against the heat of the day. You glared at Paul, water dripping down your face. "Oh, you’re dead."

"Try me," He taunted, standing waist-deep in the water with his arms open wide.

You lunged, and what started as a splash fight quickly devolved into insanity.

Paul dodged every attempt you had to dunk him, laughing so hard he could barely stay upright. Eventually, he caught your wrists and spun you around, hoisting you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Paul!" You screeched, slapping at his back.

"Give it up!"

"Never!"

And with a laugh, he toppled backward into the water, taking you with him. The saltwater rushed over your head, and you came up spluttering, hair plastered to your face.

Paul was already laughing, his grin wide and unrestrained.

"Asshole!” You scolded, shoving him lightly before splashing him harder.

"You love me," He teased, shaking water from his curls like a wet dog.

The day went on, and the sun began to dip lower in the sky as you both collapsed onto the sand, breathless from laughing.

The warmth of the sand beneath you mixed with the coolness of the breeze, and you let out a content sigh.

Paul laid on his back beside you, one arm slung over his forehead. His skin was glowing, the beginnings of a tan making his freckles stand out more.

"You know," He started, voice soft, "Days like this make me feel like a kid again."

You turned your head to look at him. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He turned his head too, meeting your gaze. "No stress, no expectations. Just… us.. like always."

The vulnerability in his voice made your chest tighten. You nudged him with your foot to break the tension. "Cornball."

"Shut up," He said, but the small smile tugging at his lips betrayed him.

The sun was starting to set, painting the horizon in soft hues of orange and pink, but neither of you seemed to care about the fading light.

The ocean’s waves were a welcome distraction, cool and refreshing as they splashed against your legs since the two of you decided to get back in.

You were both knee-deep in the water, laughing as you tried to splash each other again, the playfulness that had always been a part of your friendship now carrying an undercurrent of something different. Something new.

“Too slow!” You teased, darting past him, the water splashing up with each step.

Paul’s laugh rang out behind you, and you didn’t need to look back to know he was already in hot pursuit.

He always had the unfair advantage in these races. You might’ve been faster, but his long legs and natural athleticism made him a dangerous opponent.

A wave hit you from behind, knocking you off balance, and before you could recover, Paul’s hands were at your waist, steadying you with ease.

His touch was light, but his grip was firm enough that you couldn’t escape it even if you tried.

“I got you,” He said with a mischievous grin, his fingers lingering on your waist.

You both stood there, staring at each other for a moment, the playful energy evaporating into something heavier.

The world around you felt distant, like the only two people that mattered in that moment were the two of you, standing in the water with the sunset reflecting off the ocean.

“Hi,” Paul said, his voice softer than usual, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Hi,” You replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

The tension between you both was palpable now, thick and undeniable.

His eyes didn’t leave yours, and you couldn’t help but feel your heart race. The easy banter, the teasing glances, all of it was forgotten in the wake of this new, unfamiliar feeling building between you.

His gaze flickered to your lips, and you felt your stomach flutter in response. Your own eyes followed the path of his gaze before snapping back to his.

You could feel the electricity in the air, the undeniable pull between you that had always been there, hidden beneath the surface of your friendship.

The water around you seemed to hold its breath as you both stood there, suspended in that perfect moment of waiting, not sure who would make the first move.

And then, without another word, Paul’s hands slid from your waist to your lower back, holding you securely.

You barely had time to process what was happening before he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tentative kiss.

It was like the world shifted, everything falling into place in a way you never expected. The kiss was slow, a quiet question, a tender exploration of something new.

His lips were warm against yours, the sensation both familiar and entirely foreign.

When he pulled back, your breath caught, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

He was still holding you, his hands resting at the small of your back now, his forehead lightly resting against yours.

“I—,” You whispered, your voice trembling a little before you couldn’t help but laugh nervously, hiding your face in his chest.

Paul’s laugh was soft, his nose brushing against your shoulder as he held you in the water. “Hope that got my feelings across.” He mumbled.

You smiled to yourself, feeling something shift inside you, something that felt right. “Got it across for sure.” You mumbled, slightly pulling back to look him in the eyes.

And as the last of the sunset faded into the horizon, you kissed him again, this time with a little more confidence, the water splashing around you both as if it, too, was caught up in the magic of the moment.

likes, comments, & reblogs are appreciated! ^_^ lmk if you wanna be apart of my permanent tags list!!! mwah.

tags! @planetpedri @halfwayhearted @wdcbox @freyathehuntress @iovepoem @piastri-fvx

[xmads-omensx]

Word Count: 1,751

Pairing: best friend!Noah X Reader

Content Warnings: house party, vague mentions of drinking, Noah is bad at feelings, swearing, angst

Tags: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @lacy1986 @collidewiththesav @kenjipepsi1 @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @chey-h @tosoundlessdarkistare @thisbicc @fadingangelwisp

Thank you @alwaysfightforwhoyouare for the inspiration I live you so much <3

I knew it was wrong, ogling Noah like I was, but I couldn’t help it.

He had come down from his bedroom in black slacks and his signature black tank top, looking sleek, handsome and downright sexy.

I tried to make my brain shut up.

Noah was my best friend and I should not be thinking about him like this.

Besides, I knew what he had to offer since we hooked up following an extremely drunken night out after a show about a year ago.

We had awoken in the same bed, naked and tangled up together.

Noah had brushed it off as nothing important, which had hurt me, and we were definitely not as close as we once were, but he was still my best friend.

The sofa where I was sat dipped, making me take my focus off of the heavily tattooed man in the kitchen and instead put it onto a guy in a green bomber jacket and a black beanie.

I had seen him before at a few other parties and social gatherings, but I wasn’t too sure who he actually was.

From what I could remember Matt telling me, he was one of the sound engineers for Spiritbox, but I couldn’t be sure.

“Hey gorgeous.” He began in a slightly nasally voice. I hated it when guys I didn’t know called me pet names.

“Hi.” I replied, slightly awkwardly.

“I’m Jonah.” He stuck his hand out towards me. I shook it tentatively. “And who might you be, gorgeous?”

“Y/N.” I replied simply.

“A gorgeous name for a gorgeous girl.” Jonah said gorgeous too much. I didn’t like it. “So, Y/N, are you single?” He asked.

I took a big gulp of my drink before nodding yes.

He grinned. I liked that even less.

“How about we get out of here? Have some fun? You know, just the two of us?” I cringed.

I was about to decline when two large hands wrapped around my waist, picking me up and placing me onto a firm lap.

The scent of Dior Sauvage filled my nostrils. Noah.

“You having fun baby?” He spoke quietly into my ear, just loud enough for Jonah to hear.

He squeezed my hip, encouraging me to reply to him.

“Yeah baby I am.” I replied with a giggle. This whole situation felt ridiculous and slightly stupid.

“Good.”  Noah said, making direct eye contact with Jonah, making him scurry away.

I burst out laughing, finally able to acknowledge the hilarity of the situation.

Noah didn’t.

“What’s up babe? Not having fun?” I asked in my best Noah impression that I could muster.

He remined blank faced.

“Are you alright?” I asked, instantly worried about my best friend. He never normally acted like this.

Noah simply nodded at me, not saying anything right away. “Yeah, just in my head I guess.”

“Do you want to get out of here? We can go talk somewhere?” I offered, trying to reach out to my best friend.

He shook his head.

I gave his bicep a squeeze, letting him know that  was there for him if and when he needed me. Noah simply smiled up at me.

We sat like that for what felt like eternity, when Jolly came over to talk to us for a short while.

It was nice being this close to Noah again after being ever so slightly distant from eachother.

Sitting on Noah’s lap felt right in that moment, like it was where I was supposed to be. Jolly clearly didn’t care, since he hadn’t mentioned Noah and I’s sudden closeness. It wasn’t like it was a surprise to the rest of the guys as Noah and I often found ourselves entwined together on the couch during movie night, or game night, or literally any hangout ever.

I missed that closeness with him.

Pulling Noah closer to me, I wrapped my arms around his neck and rested my head lazily on his shoulder as we spoke.

“I think I’m going to head to bed now.” Noah announced when Jolly was speaking to us.

I shared a confused look with the Swede as this was relatively out of character for Noah. He never liked to go to bed when a party was still going.

“Oh okay.  Do you want me to come up with you?” I asked, simply because I wanted to make sure he was okay.

“No, you stay here. Enjoy the party.” He said, lifting me off of his lap and walking off without so much as a goodnight.

“Something is going on with him.” Jolly said as soon as Noah was out of earshot.

“You think?” I asked.

“Since that Jonah dude came over to you, he’s been agitated.” Jolly sighed, leaning back in his chair.

“Really? I wonder why?” I replied, asking the questions more so to myself than to Jolly.

The Swede laughed loudly, causing multiple other partygoers to turn and look at us. “You wonder why? It’s obvious Y/N.”

“I don’t get it.” I said with a look of pure confusion etched across my features.

“How about you go upstairs and ask him yourself.” Jolly said with a smirk, gesturing to the stairs that we had just watched Noah ascend earlier.

I hesitated for a moment, before following Noah up the stairs. Jolly still sat on the chair, giggling to himself as if he had just set up the perfect prank and was just waiting for it to fall into place.

The upstairs hallway was quiet in comparison to the party downstairs, since the partygoers weren’t allowed to venture to the guys’ bedrooms.

Soft purple light peeked through underneath Noah’s door indicating that he had switched on the LED strip lights I had bought him when we moved house.

I never usually bothered knocking on Noah’s door, but on this occasion, I felt that I should. Something was off between us, and I was terrified of overstepping.

Noah’s feet shuffled towards the door. It swung open, revealing Noah standing there in only the black slacks he had been wearing at the party.

“Sorry.” I blurted.

“It’s okay.” He replied softly.

There was a beat of mildly awkward silence before he gestured for me to come in.

His room always looked the same. His bed was neatly made and his desk was organised perfectly. There were no rogue socks littering the floor, like there was in my own room. There were no dirty cups or mugs like there was in Jolly’s room. There were no stacks of books in the corners like there was in Jesse’s room. Noah’s room was always pristine.

“So, what’s up?” Noah asked, breaking the somewhat uncomfortable silence that had descended between the two of us.

I turned my body to face my shirtless nest friend. It took all I had not to just stand there and stare at him. It was so tempting.

“I just wanted to ask if you were okay? You didn’t seem like yourself down there.” I asked softly.

His soft smile twitched as he seemed to flinch at my question.

“I’m fine, why don’t you head back down and enjoy the party?” Noah said bluntly in reply.

“I was also wondering if you wanted to hang out for a bit? We haven’t hung out in ages just the two of us and the party is getting kinda boring downstairs.” I suggested with a laugh.

“Y/N,” Noah began with a sigh, “I just want to be alone right now.”

“So you aren’t okay?” I asked, confused.

“No, I never said that.” Noah said, beginning to get defensive.

“I’m just worried that’s all. I miss you.” I tried to diffuse the situation.

“Well, stop missing me.” Noah snarled at me.

I flinched. He had never spoken to me like that before, and it threw me off.

“What is your problem?” I said, taken aback by his tone.

“My problem?” Noah laughed sarcastically.

“Yes! Your problem. Why are you acting like a complete dick?” I shouted back at him.

“I don’t have a fucking problem, you do!” He yelled back.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I snarled in reply. We never fought so it was weird hearing him yell, especially at me.

“You’re fucking doting on me all of the fucking time and it’s annoying.” He sneered at me with a sarcastic grin on his face.

“Did you ever think that I was doing that because I was worried about you, Noah?” I began angrily. “You haven’t been yourself recently and it’s freaking me out.”

“Well maybe I haven’t been myself recently because you’re pissing me off!” Noah shouted, going to open his bedroom door to see me out.

“Stop making me feel like I mean nothing to you.” I yelled, frustrated by his behaviour.

He paused and silence filled his bedroom.

“You don’t mean nothing to me, Y/N, you mean everything to me.” Noah said quietly. Too quietly.

“Then why have you been avoiding me?” I pushed. “You have barely been able to look at me since that night.”

Noah remained quiet, unable to meet my eyes.

“Did it mean nothing to you? Is that it?” I asked, angry at his silence.

“Of course not.” Noah whispered. “It meant everything.”

This time, the silence held confusion.

“Everything?” I asked.

“Yes, everything.” Noah replied, finally meeting my eyes and taking a step towards me.

I wasn’t sure what to reply with in that moment, so I just stared into his deep brown eyes as he stepped even closer to me, so close that I could feel the heat radiating off of his shirtless torso.

His large hand reached up and cupped the side of my face. I leaned into his touch slightly.

“You mean everything. That’s why I was hiding from you. I didn’t want to fuck up what we have, because it means everything to me.” Noah confessed.

“How would you fuck it up?” I asked.

Noah sighed before speaking.

“Because I am so hopelessly in love with you but you don’t feel the same. It would weird you out.” Noah explained in a whisper.

“Who says I’m not in love with you?” I asked.

“Because you’re not. You couldn’t b-“ Noah started.

I interrupted him by pulling him down to capture his lips in a kiss, shutting him up entirely.

We pulled away from the kiss, both slightly out of breath, before bursting into laughter.

“You and me?” I asked quietly.

“Always.” Noah whispered back, pulling me into another kiss.

[mrkeatingsblazer]

Not Jealous (solangelo)

Nico had a problem and that problem took the form of a YouTuber that had enraptured his boyfriend.

Doctor Mike. The bane of his existence. He watches from Wills bed as the boy himself sits with his legs propped up on his desk chair; headphones on and a stupid awe filled look plastered on his face as he watches the doctor on his screen. From what Nico sees, the topic of which he was discussing in his video seemed gross. He saw cysts and clips of surgeries that made him squeamish; he could barely handle the doctor pimple popper videos Will seemed to love. Right now he would take a million clips of blackhead being squeezed out and weird lump removals if it meant that annoyingly attractive doctor was ridden from the monster proof computer the Hephaestus kids kindly made for each cabin. If only he could go back in time and stop them from making their invention.

“Will.”

“hm,” he replied, his head moving towards his direction but his eyes never leaving the screen.

“Will!” he throws the green Super Wars, or whatever it’s called, teddy laying on the bed at the boy.

“Hey!” Will takes off his headphones and pauses the video, “what did yoda ever do to you?”

“that’s your fifth video.” He glares.

“Awh baby I’m sorry,” he puts his headphones on his desk and walks over, “I didn’t even realise I was ignoring you.”

“yeah you were too busy with Mike,” Nico pouts while crossing his arms. A grin slowly spreads across the blondes face.

“sunshine are you jealous of my YouTuber?” He teases as he brushes his hand through the brunettes bangs

“No,” Nico bumbles out, pushing away his hand. Will can’t help but jump onto the bed towards his pink eared boyfriend. Nico swats away from his playful tugs and fighting until he’s final pinned against the bed.

“admit it Neeks you’re jealous.” He grins.

“I don’t get jealous William.” He says as he turns his face to the side, his pout still prevalent.

“yeah what about that time when I said Paolo-“

“nooo-“ he moans out.

“Or when-“

“Shut up,” Will let’s go of him and sits, allowing his boyfriend to bury his head into his shoulder. He lets out a huff of laughter at his boyfriends adorable antics before putting his arms around him and manoeuvring them both until he is cuddling Nico from behind.

“Y’know,” Will whispers into the brunettes ear after a moment of silence, “you’re cute when you’re jealous.” He smirks as he watches the red creep onto his boyfriends face.

”you’re mean.” Nico grumbles softly as he wiggles in his grip, “acting like you don’t get jealous either.”

“No you see when I say I’m don’t get jealous I actually mean it unlike someone.” He says pointedly.

“oh really?” Nico mischievously looks up at him.

“yep.”

“Y’know Travis is looking good lately, really handsome,” Will holds in his laughter as he realised what his boyfriend was trying to do.

“and Jason’s definitely been working out lately, weeyoo” he exaggeratedly exclaims as Will just hm’s and aggressively shakes his head in agreement.

“but of course none of them have anything on the attractive levels of Percy.”

“oh of course,” he joins in, “Percy is super hot. His abs are sure looking delicious lately and his biceps? Out of this world. He’s literally a Greek God; no pun intended. Him and Annabeth are like the hottest couple to ever exist. If I had both of them in a room at the same time-“

“yeah why don’t you go find them and make love with them!!” Nico glares and pushes him away

“see!” Will exclaims “you’re even getting jealous while trying to make me jealous, give up Neeks.”

“that’s unfair! You kept talking about Percy and even included Annabeth when she wasn’t even brought up!”

“Well come on it’s Percy and Annabeth-hey!” Nico pushes him down on the bed. “I’m just trying to get a rise out of you baby,” Will nervously says.

“Y’know what I think,” Nico smirks down at his boyfriend who hesitantly nods, “I think Percy and Annabeth have nothing on Apollo.”

“what.” Will blankly looks up at him.

“yeah you heard me; I think lord Apollo, your dad, is the hottest god- no being on this planet.”

“shut up”

“Gods, what i’d do if he was here right now-“

“shut up!”

“Did you know he was my gay awakening?”

“shut up shut up shut up!!” Will switches their positions, leaving Nico once again pinned on his back. “Take that back!”

“ha! Look at you, you’re jealous!”

“that’s not jealousy! That’s my dad-gross!!” His face twists in disgust as Nicos laughs die now.

“I’m sorry la mia luce,” he says gently as he brings his hands up to softly lay on his shoulders. His fingers curl though the ends of the blondes locks as he looks up at him with doe eyes Will knows he could never be mad at. “You know I think you’re the most beautiful thing to bring light to this world.”

Will lowers himself until he’s resting against Nicos chest, the rest of himself spread out on the bed and the smaller boy underneath him until their limbs starts to tangle.

“no more talking about other people- especially my dad.”

“yes of course bellissimo,” he agrees before innocently muttering under his breath,” and no more Doctor Mike.”

Will laughs before kissing the side of his lips, “for you sunshine, no more Doctor Mike.”

Nico stops him before he rests himself back on his chest. His hands cupping his face, his thumb soothingly tracing circles on his cheeks before softly pressing his lips against the others. Will loved how Nico acted like every kiss was their first, as if he was still shy to touch him. He kissed him back, ensuring him that he doesn’t have to be shy with him and he doesn’t have to be jealous of anyone else either. Will was here and he wasn’t planning on leaving for another anytime soon.

They laid together, holding eachother and breathing in the comfort.

“Was my dad really your gay awakening?”

*note!* if you realised Nico has the romantic vocab of an 80 year old- welcome to my headcanon that Nico is an old school lover boy and Will “raised in a summer camp and probably had the sex talk from a horse” solace has a dirty mind and mouth.

[kamkazoo]

atwi80d brainrot may get so bad i write myself a season 2 and i add a character. themes? found family! hurt comfort! a bit of angst! adventure! (obviously!)

like it wouldn't be typed out like a fanfiction, but like a script? then if i get the whole story done and down that way, then maybe i could write it as a fanfiction.

i need father figure phileas please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please.

but there are key details that i would need to look at. like how phileas, passepartout and abigail are written/acted out as in the show. im not too sure about the book though, cause they had changed some stuff i think?

also i would probably have to write about some topics that does happen every day, but i seriously wouldnt want it to come off wrong or anything. like i genuinely want it to be really good, and i really dont want to offend/accidentally hurt anybody.

im talking about like racism, misogyny and the like. like, i want it to be written well! i dont want any of it to sound rude, or sound like im attacking people when im genuinely trying not to. i am literally so scared of coming off as racist, i dont EVER want to sound racist or be racist. ever.

i would also have to decide what would even happen in it too. like who do they meet? what do they do? is it another adventure? is there... maybe a travelling competition that the three go on? maybe they all just go on a fancy train ride and then get mixed into some drama which then THAT causes it?

also if it was like a script, i should decide if each 'episode' is a chapter. or if each 'episode' is its own story. (im imagining it like its on ao3) i havent read it, but 'Pray for us, Icarus.' you know, the fanfiction collection thingy? like isnt that a bunch of the fanfictions collected together? i never actually looked into it yet, but i remember opening it and getting overwhelmed with how many stories there were.

so maybe each chapter could be a scene? if it was set out like that? but then there may be short scenes, so maybe not.

sorry ill shut up now

[cosmicjoke]

I think it's also important to understand that Erwin was literally breathing his last breaths, here, and was likely so out of it, he wouldn't have registered any physical comfort of any kind, anyway. His body was shutting down completely, to the point that when he did die, it wasn't even noticeable. So I think it's also likely that Levi and Hange both figured there wasn't much point in holding his hand through that. And right, as others have stated, Levi has difficulty expressing himself. He cares more than anybody, but it's just very difficult for him to get it to come out in the "right way", so to speak. When he tries to express how much he cares, it often comes out very harshly and sometimes even violently, just because he never grew up with any sort of role model to show him how to express himself in a way that would be seen as socially acceptable. I think Levi is capable of physical affection and of even initiating it, but as others have also said, he was probably in a state of shock himself. After having to make the choice to send all those soldiers to their deaths, and then having to let Erwin go, who was extremely important to Levi on a personal level (not romantically, but in terms of helping to shape Levi's sense of purpose in life), then yeah, he was probably just in shock and struggling to process losing someone who he relied upon to direct him in a way that would actually help people. Levi feels lost without Erwin's guidance. He still wants to help people. His naturally great compassion and empathy is the source of that desire. But Erwin was the person who showed Levi how to help people, and he lost him that day, and with that loss, he lost his ability to know how to do the thing he feels most driven to do. That's a loss that really can't be overstated in terms of what it did to Levi, mentally and emotionally.

One thing I don't understand about Midnight Sun is no one comforts Erwin as he lays there dying. Levi is certainly capable of it - in the first season we see him grabbing hands with an anonymous dying soldier and declaring: "Your strength won't die with you! The torch will be carried on by me!" But Levi makes no move to touch Erwin, or take his hand, or smooth his hair away from his forehead. He doesn't speak directly to him, instead he talks over Erwin's body to Floch and Hange. And Hange, who moments before grabbed Mikasa, held her back from attacking Floch and gently talked her into accepting Armin dying; she's silent for Erwin, too. Was this some rigid form of respect? Were they so shell-shocked from the battle they had nothing left for Erwin? Were they in denial? I'm just hyper focused on the lack of physical comfort for such an important man in his last moments. It's so odd.

[moonlightspencie]

And I Will Follow You Home

Chapter 6 of ‘treacherous’

Pairing: Remus Lupin x fem!Reader

Word Count: 3k

A/N: the final chapter! i may do some blurbs within this universe if anyone wants them as well, but this series is officially complete.

“Hey,” a voice came softly.

Remus turned towards the wall, unwilling to move from the bed.

“Remus.”

“What?” 

Sirius sat with his friend, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, there’s a meeting downstairs in ten minutes. Most of the others have already arrived.”

Remus fell silent again, clenching his jaw. Sirius huffed a sigh, shaking his head to himself.

“You can’t keep skipping the meetings, mate. They’re important. You’re acting like a big baby.”

“You don’t understand–”

“What I understand is that she’s still showing up, and you’re not. Considering you’re so hung up on your age, you’d think you’d be more inclined to act like an adult.”

“I can’t look at her,” Remus admitted quietly, pulling the covers over his shoulders.

He had hardly been able to look at himself in the mirror after that night, let alone come face to face with you. You’d admitted you loved him, and all he could do was wreck it. It’s all he ever seemed to do, he thought, was to wreck things. He knew he was acting like a child and a coward, but he couldn’t bring himself to admit he’d wanted you just as much. Now he was coming to terms with the fact that he may never have the chance again.

“She still looks for you every time she comes into the house, you know?” Sirius said, crossing his arms.

“Probably so she can steer clear.”

“You’re the one who practically told her no.”

“No, I didn’t,” he snapped suddenly. “I didn’t. I just–”

“You just told her you didn’t want her right now. That’s just as bad, mate.”

He was quiet, the guilt creeping in again, washing over him. Sirius let out a breath, standing from the bed.

“We start in ten minutes. Be there, Mooney, or else I’m bringing everyone else up here,” he stated, then left the room.

You were sitting in a chair in the kitchen, trying hard not to think about the fact that Remus was a staircase and a couple of doors away from you. It had been weeks since you’d seen him, and unfortunately, absence really did make the heart grow fonder. You fiddled with the spoon you’d used for your tea nearly an hour ago, waiting for Sirius to return. So, it felt extra foolish when your heart began racing as you heard someone enter the kitchen, only to find Sirius giving you a small smile.

“Oh. Hey.”

He quirked a brow. “Wow. What a warm welcome that was.”

You let out a short laugh. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I get it. Tall, dark, and moody’s more your thing,” he teased, sitting next to you. “He’ll be at the meeting today.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

You shrugged. “I mean… what else am I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know,” he shook his head. “I just hate seeing you upset like this. Thought it might cheer you up to see him.”

“What, you think I’ll be all fluttery and excited for him to ignore me all evening?”

“Snippy.”

You sighed. “He doesn’t… He avoids me at all costs, now, Siri. I should’ve just kept my mouth shut.”

“No. You were in the right. He’s just a big baby who can’t handle his emotions.”

“Mm.”

“Hey,” he said softly, waiting for you to look at him. “He does love you.”

“Not enough.”

“But one day–”

“It shouldn’t be an if-and-when, Sirius. The world is literally falling apart and he still refuses to be with me. What else would possibly compel him?”

He swallowed, looking a little more somber as his eyes darted down to the counter. “I don’t know, Sunshine. But you both deserve to be happy.”

“Tell that to him.”

“I’ve tried. He’s a stubborn fucker.”

You laughed a bit at that. “He is.”

“You love it about him, though, don’t you? Head over heels for some raggedy, old mule.”

“Hot, raggedy, old mule, to be fair.”

“Gross,” he laughed.

“But… no. I really don’t love that bit about him. I wish it would catch on fire and disintegrate.”

“Come on, but then he wouldn’t be Mooney.”

“But he’d love me.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but came up short, merely pulling you into his side in a hug. You let him hold you, leaning into him. As if on cue, though, Dumpling came strolling in, his chubby little body bumping against your feet, heading straight for his favorite uncle.

“He’s obsessed with you,” you said, watching as Sirius picked him up.

“Who wouldn’t be?” He winked, that cheeky smirk of his shining through as he kissed Dumpling’s soft forehead. “Horrible little beast. Quite the attention hog.”

“Two peas in a pod.”

He chuckled, cradling the cat as Dumpling purred away. You reached over, petting the little traitor as he snuggled up happily to Sirius. You hadn’t even registered that anyone had come into the kitchen until you heard a voice that had you jumping out of your skin from one small word.

“Oh,” Remus muttered softly, freezing up as he looked between you and Sirius. Though he never quite met your eye. “Sorry. Just came for some tea before the meeting.”

“There’s a kettle on the stove. Probably just needs to be heated again,” Sirius responded.

“Right,” Remus nodded, walking quickly to the stove.

Your eyes followed him the whole way, that familiar warm feeling still blooming in your chest as it always did when he was around. 

“I brought a new flavor. Vanilla Caramel,” you blurted out. “If you want some. It’s sweet.”

Remus nodded, not turning around. “Okay.”

You chewed your lip, watching him carefully. You wanted to go over there and kiss him silly again. You also wanted to slap him. But mostly, you just wanted him to look at you.

“I made Sirius go for some cream, too.”

“Right.”

“Your favorite mug is in the cupboard.”

He only nodded that time.

You huffed out a breath, looking to Sirius for help, though he was too preoccupied petting your cat. You looked at Remus again, still standing like stone in front of the stove. You suddenly stood, going to the cupboard to get his mug. You brought it to the counter you were sitting at, setting it right in the center. You then went to get the cream and sugar, leaving them next to the mug. Finally, you reached for the tea, putting a bag in his mug before you sat down again. If he wouldn’t look at you, you could at least get him to face you.

“Why’d you do that?” Sirius asked, a little bewildered at your behavior.

“Thought it would be easier for Remus to prepare his tea if it was all set out.”

Sirius raised a brow at you, then glanced at Remus who was just turning off the whistling kettle.

“Well… Dumpling and I will be… somewhere,” Sirius nodded once, a tiny smirk in your direction as he stood, walking out of the room with the cat.

Remus finally turned, pouring the steaming water into the mug. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know.”

He was quiet, filling the mug and then letting it sit for a moment as the tea leaves steeped.

You watched him for a second. “You’ve been missing meetings.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“With who?”

He huffed a sigh in frustration. “Nobody. You know that.”

“You’re acting like you have something to hide. How am I supposed to know?”

“You should know because I…” he shook his head, cutting himself off. “I’m not seeing anybody. I’m not even talking to anyone except for Sirius.”

“Hm,” you nodded slowly, then looked back at him, studying his face as he looked into the cup. “I’ve missed you.”

“Please don’t start.”

“You’re being a dick. We were friends first, you know? I’m allowed to miss you.”

He finally looked at you, feeling his chest compress when he met your eyes. He wanted to snark back. He wanted to push you away. Despite the guilt he felt, he didn’t want to hurt you even more. But his pull to you felt just as magnetic as ever.

“How do you not hate me?”

“Probably because I love you.”

He shook his head. “Don’t say that.”

“Quit trying to tell me what to do,” you shot back. “Trust me, if I could stop, I would.”

He frowned, looking back at his cup of tea, wishing he could drown in it. His jaw clenched, his head shaking softly again.

“Darling…”

“You said you didn’t want me,” you uttered quietly.

“No, I didn’t.”

“You may as well have.”

“I don’t want to lose you. There’s a difference.”

“That’s fucking ridiculous, and you know it.”

He sighed. “How? You’re… you’re everything. You’re brilliant and beautiful and kind and… and I don’t deserve someone like you.”

“Why do you have to insist on–” you stop, groaning in annoyance. “I can’t keep arguing about this. Why can’t you just trust me?”

“It’s not you I don’t trust. It’s myself.”

“You’re so dramatic,” I roll my eyes. 

“No, I’m not. I’m being–”

“Sirius told me about you breaking his lamp. That’s drama.”

His cheeks went pink. “I only did that because you stormed out on me!”

“Yeah, because you all but told me you would never be with me!”

“I told you I loved you!”

“No, you didn’t. I said you didn’t and you said ‘I do’. That’s not the same thing as saying the words.”

“Well, I… I…”

You stared at him, waiting for him to continue. He blinked, staring at you with wide eyes.

“I love you.”

You all but gasped with the breath you sucked in, your stomach fluttering as his eyes were still glued to yours.

“Remus…”

“The meeting is starting soon,” he said, abandoning his tea on the counter as he started to move towards the door of the kitchen.

“Please don't do this again,” you begged, grabbing his arm. “Please. Stop running.”

“Baby, I can’t look at you without wanting you in every way possible. Please don’t make this harder for me.”

“You just said you love me. Just let me believe that’s true.”

He shook his head, turning to you fully. “It is true.”

“Why are you trying to leave again, then? Stop doing that to me.”

“I– I already told you. I can’t lose you.”

“The only way you’ll lose me is by pushing me away like this,” you said, voice raised in frustration. “We already did this once, Remus, and then you avoided me for a month. Don’t do that again.”

“You don’t understand what this is for me–”

“Then make me understand.”

He let out a shaky breath, his eyes drawing all over your face for a few moments as you waited with baited breath for him to say anything. He went over every possible response in his head, but only one won out.

You shuddered a breath against him as his lips suddenly met yours in a kiss that was far more hungry than the one you’d shared last time you were together. His arms went around your waist, pulling you tightly into his chest, his grip possessive and needy. His tongue pushed into your mouth, leaving you whining softly, your hands in his hair.

“Don’t ever tell me I don’t love you,” he muttered against your lips as he broke away for a moment. “Or that I don’t want you. I want you more than anything.”

“Then have me,” you whispered back.

He stared at you, his eyes hooded and focused in on your lips. Though, you were both taken out of it as you heard Dumbledore’s muffled voice calling the Order meeting to start.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, head dropping against his shoulder.

He took a few deep breaths, stroking your hair softly. “We should go.”

“I know.”

“We can… We can talk about this later…”

You looked up at him. “You have to promise you won’t run again. Actually listen to me this time. I don’t want to argue.”

“Baby.” He frowned a little.

“Please, Remus. You can’t kiss me like that and expect me to be content with friendship.”

“I–”

“Just promise you’ll listen this time.”

“O-okay. Okay, fine,” he nodded. “Promise.”

You stared for another few seconds before nodding as well. You then broke away, intending on going to the meeting, though not before he grabbed your arm, pulling you into one more kiss. His lips moved against yours softly, but certainly not lacking passion. It only lasted for fifteen seconds before he pulled away again.

“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay, we can go now.”

You nodded, hoping you’d be able to pull yourself together enough to not be a flustered mess through the meeting. Though, you were certain by Sirius’s shit-eating grin when you’d both walked in that he knew within milliseconds. The bastard.

The meeting felt excruciatingly long, your gaze frequently being drawn to Remus who looked as calm and cool as ever. Also a bastard.

It wasn’t until you were back at Remus’s home, however, that you really started feeling the nerves kick in. You were in the living room, in the spot you’d always sit in, waiting for him to bring the tea. You stared hard at the coasters on the coffee table that hadn’t moved since the first time you’d ever been in the room. Now, though, you felt compelled as you leaned forward, pushing them a little closer together.

He came out a few minutes later, glancing down at the coasters, noticing their new position. He smiled a little to himself, though didn’t say anything as he sat down the mugs of tea. But this time, instead of sitting with you, he went to get a book from his shelf. You watched curiously as he browsed, searching seemingly for a specific book.

“What are you looking for?”

“Hold on.”

You chuckled softly. “Pardon me for the impatience.”

He shook his head, the ghost of a smile on his lips. He finally pulled out a book. “Ah.”

“Which one is that?” you asked as he came to sit next to you, closer than usual. 

He flipped through the pages, looking for one in particular.

“Here it is,” he said at last, showing the page to you. “Do you remember this?”

You nodded. “Of course I do. It's the first thing I ever read to you here.”

“It is.” He nodded, reading over it. “I… This line, here. The underlined one…”

“‘If equal affection cannot be, let the more loving one be me’,” you read from the book. 

“If you can believe it… I was convinced I loved you then. I was sure you’d never feel the same. And then… Then I found out you did. It terrifies me.”

“It terrifies you that I love you?”

He nodded, looking directly at you. “You’re too good for me. You have to know that.”

“Stop saying that.”

“It’s true.”

“No, it’s not.”

“It is,” he replied softly, bringing a hand up to your cheek. “It is true. And you can believe it isn’t all you want, but–”

“Stop. Please.”

“You need to understand.”

“I understand that you think you’re some kind of monster. I understand that you’re scared. What you need to understand is that I don’t care about any of that,” you say softly. “Remus… You’re right that it would be hard to be together sometimes, with everything going on. I could go be with someone who’d be easier to be with, but I don’t want anybody else. Hell, I worked day and night just to develop a potion because I knew it would help you.”

“Why are you so insistent on being with me?”

“Because you’re everything to me.”

He let out a soft breath. “You’re foolish.”

“And you’re a little bitch sometimes, but I love you anyways,” you tease, reaching up to hold his wrist as his hand stayed on your cheek. 

He scoffed a laugh. “You’ve been spending too much time with Sirius.”

“You were ignoring me for weeks. I had to hang out with someone.”

His smile faded. “I thought you hated me.”

“I could never.”

He took in a breath. “If… If you want this… like, really want this with me… you have to know that I can’t give you a peaceful life.”

“But will you love me?”

“Of course.”

“That’s enough.”

He swallowed down a lump in this throat. “It’s not always enough to just have love.”

“It will be, though. You’re kind, loyal, smart. Not to mention handsome,” you smile a little, as does he, his cheeks a little pink. “Whatever comes with being with you… I want it. All of it.”

“You don’t–”

“You all but told me you wouldn’t be with me, and you were still all I could think of after the fact. You have me already, Remus. You know that. I’m not going to shy away now.”

“You have me, too. In an iron grip, apparently.”

You laugh a little. “I don’t care what goes wrong. There’s far too much that’s right, and no matter how foolish you think that is, I think you’re ten times more dumb for trying to ignore that.”

He shook his head. “I… absolutely adore you.”

“Is that you saying you want this?”

“It’s me saying that you’ve somehow changed my mind. I think you’ve hexed me.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

He smiled. “Can’t help it. Most beautiful woman in the world is in front of me, you can’t expect me to be thinking clearly.”

You leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He kissed back, just as gently, resting both of his hands on your cheeks.

“You moved the coasters closer,” he whispered.

“I did.”

“The tea is still hot.”

“It is,” you replied, raising a brow.

He sucked in a breath, eyes falling down and over your form. “So… we have some time before it cools off.”

The faintest smirk crept onto your face. “We do.”

Sunlight streamed in the room at sunrise, falling on two full, cold cups of tea, matching coasters, and a still-open book.

[allthedamnlove]

AQUAMARINE: RAFE CAMERON X SOFIA FANFICTION: CHAPTER 3, PART 1

Previous Chapter

Face claim for a new OC, Victoria Ramirez: Sofia Carson

WORDCOUNT: 7.5K

Radio for the chapter:

Sofia's POV:

“Well, to wear blue or not to wear blue ‘tis the question, what do you think?”

Merrp Merrp

“Oh my God, Sofia, are you still talking to the cat?”

I heard my cousin Victoria Ramirez's voice boom through Facetime. She appeared on camera with a bowl of cut-up fruit on her hands, and I could feel her amusement radiating from miles away. 

“Shut up, Vic. Mishmish is a good and fair judge of character and also has an impeccable fashion sense, aren’t you, my niñita?” I concurred as I threw a sideways look at my tabby ginger cat, Mishmish, with her irresistible chubby face and snow-white neck adorning a cute blue ribbon, positioned suavely in her loaf position on her cat bed as she peered at me with observant eyes. I found this cutie when I visited here for summer vacations four years ago and she was just a lone kitten, probably left astray by her mom, shivering on our family’s porch. My sisters and I felt so bad for her and thought we would send her to the adoption center the next day after we bathed the poor kitten. 

That didn’t happen at all. And now I am a mom to the most adorable, chatty cat ever. 

“I wish I could aww at you but I am just sad that you have no social life and that all you do is bartend and yap to your cat which by the way, doesn't even understand what you’re saying”

“Well, you can stop feeling sorry for me ‘cuz I-” I shot back as I twirled around, clutching my possible outfit for the party by its coat hanger, “-am going to a Kook party. With a special invite” 

“Uh huh, now I am invested.” she came closer to the camera, keeping her food on the table, “whose party is it, anyway?”

“Rafe Cameron invited me to go to his party, Vic. Yesterday night. After I embarrassed myself in front of him by going to a prohibited beach”

“OH! Now why didn’t you tell me that crucial piece of info before, missy? Wait. Hold up, you went swimming in a prohibited area, Where? How? What happened? Oh my God, did you die? Am I talking to Sofia's haunted soul?” 

“Yup I did, and before you start bombarding me with questions again, I’ll just say what happened: basically I was sick of working. Again as usual. And then I wanted to do something out of the blue, something fun and spontaneous. And so I saw the beach and no one was there which I should have thought that through and then I just went in, mind you, I literally stripped my clothes off and was about to dive and then I felt two hands literally pulling me and then I went autopilot mode and then I screamed and guess who it was who grabbed me…” I threw my hands in the air as I recollected that painful memory, “Rafe. fucking. Cameron.” 

God, that was in my top ten moments of Sofia Ramirez being an absolute dumb dumb.” I might not have died from the water, but I sure did when I turned around and saw him. 

Funnily enough, I was thinking about the flirty-not-flirty conversation we had in the bar a week ago. That night when I lay in bed, sleep didn’t even befriend me as I stared at the night light all night, thinking about the teasing smiles he threw at me and my heart shaking as I quipped back at him, the pink light emanating fresh bits and pieces of memories as I mindlessly stared it for hours. For the town’s certified cokehead, he was charming to the T. 

And god I would be lying if I said I didn’t find him attractive. 

When he asked me if I could come to his party after seeing me in my most unattractive set of underwear that had been used for a year, my mind just went circuit. I just said “Yes” I knew that I had met him only twice, that too, never had a proper conversation but this flicker of attraction and child-like curiosity about this guarded man is gnawing me alive. And the way our eyes can’t stop talking to each other in a language I couldn’t even understand, it’s like whenever we both look into each other, my brain just stops its blood flow and the immaterial part of my muscled heart, and my eyes just race to find his eyes and just, stare at him. 

I should probably choose a dress for this damn party. 

Victoria’s voice cut through my reverie, “Ok, so now you’re going to his party, and then what…you just gonna stand there and wave at him…or…” she arched her eyebrows as she said,” You’re actually doing something there…or…someone there, huh?”

I picked up my phone from my table and I narrowed my eyes at her, her jet-black straight hair reflecting light on her screen “Ok, first of all, shut up. And two, I’m going there because he asked me to, okay, and yeah, I’ll probably stare at the wall and drink some wine or probably some beer and say hi to him. I am not going to “do” anyone, so can it!”

“Be real for a second. How long has it been since you actually got your back blown out?” I opened my mouth to make her stop but she continued, “Wait, never. So why don’t you actually get sum by a guy who presumably has fucked half of the Kook’s female population, I mean, he may have some STD but you can still ask him if he’s clean-”

“BYEE, VICKY. REMIND ME TO NEVER CALL YOU.”

“SUA VADIA. And DON’T FORGET, WRAP IT BEFORE YOU-”

The call got disconnected with a soft PLOP.

I threw the damned phone, my outfit, and then myself on my bed, the bedspring squeaking as my body hit the lavender comforter.

I cupped my hands on my face as I groaned as quietly as I could. I hate that she’s right. I hate that my thieving mind wanted to make out with a guy I just met. 

Am I ovulating or is this how it really feels to have a crush on a guy on the daily?

In my twenty years of living and breathing oxygen, it is a joy and a slight humiliation that I have not had a proper sexual experience. I know I am way too young to even utter that sentence and I have all my life to experience “bodily pleasures” but the one time I made out with a guy was not “pleasurable” at all. It turns out that when you’re both eighteen, virgins, and have known each other for three years and then try “explore” each other, it becomes really awkward at some point when the other person can’t do a proper handjob and then you’re unsatisfied. Still, you can’t also tell that person cause you don’t wanna shame him. 

Then the worst part comes. 

You can’t even look him in the eyes the next day without turning beet red or wanting to sprint away from him yet you are stuck with him since he was your dance partner. Yeah, that technically means I am still a virgin. 

However, a dark cloud passed over my memory as I thought about the implications of baring my body and soul if I give myself to a person. Murky thoughts. No, not thoughts but memories.

"Sofía, tienes un pecho perfecto… Para bailar, por supuesto"  (Sofia, you have a perfect chest. For dancing, of course)

"Sofía, te ves muy gorda. No puedo creer que realmente te hayan dado permiso para estar aquí" (Sofia, you look so fat. Can't believe you actually got permission to be here)

"Veamos de cerca el cuerpo perfecto que mi papá nos dijo que tienes" (Let's look at the perfect body that my dad told us you have up close)

“SOFIAAA, I NEED HELP!”

I shot up as I saw Isabella, my youngest sister standing in front of my room, her walkman in one hand and her teddy bear, Beans in the other. The pink plastic tic-tac clips with charms shimmered as the light hit her hair; an adorable pout situated on her face that mirrored my features. Out of my twin sisters, Isabella “Ines” Ramirez has been endowed with my features: her oval face,  chestnut brown eyes, and wavy black hair that curls around winter; my ma always says that she even smiles like me, eyes crinkling, dimples and all. She tumbled towards me and accompanied me on the bed, crashing beside me, sitting cross-legged amidst the mountain of all the clothes that I own.

“Sof, I need you to change this song, it keeps replaying. I wanna listen to Night Changes, not Kiss You.” 

I take full responsibility for introducing Isabella to the best boyband ever, (yes, it is my subjective opinion but also it's a fact, get over it) when she was seven. It’s been three years yet she loves that band to death. Her side of the twins’ room, like any other fangirl, is filled to the brim with 1D merchandise; from her school bag, and pencil pouch to the spoon that she uses for cereal, she has been obsessed with those boys and I, for one, am ecstatic since I can sing along to One Direction in the car when I pick her up from school when Alejandra side-eyes both of us. 

Both Isabella and Alejandra are ten now so my ma and pa are very stringent on using mobile phones or even any electronic devices. Isabella and Ajendra have second-hand walkmans that they can listen to music with headphones for 2 hours, (they can blast music on speakerphone anytime but my ma fears that they may get deaf by twenty-five if they excessively use headphones). Other than that, they can use a common laptop for one hour for “entertainment” purposes and only and only if they finish homework. Theo is sixteen now and so shamelessly uses the excuse “Pa, my homework is in the laptop, so just get me a new one” Well, he got a laptop but again, a secondhand one. We haven’t got the funds to buy him a new one but Theo was happy with what he got. 

Isabella is not as tech-savvy as Alejandra and Alejandra has probably run to the neighbor’s house to do quilling with Brianna, her best friend. Alejandra is the “people’s princess” and befriends people in seconds; she is an extrovert to the core and spends her time folding colored papers into cranes and other crafty shapes, quilling, and being a Girl Scout. Meanwhile, Isabella is not as boisterous as my other sister; sure she is also pretty friendly and has a tight friend circle of five (I don’t even have that many people to call as “friends”) but sometimes she just likes to blast One Direction and Taylor Swift on full sound, dote on my parents, Theo and mainly me; and read books. But obviously, Alejandra is her favorite person in the world; after all, she is her twin. However, being #2 in her favorite list (I love it when she bashfully smiles and says “I love you all” when we joke about who’s her favorite) means she just likes to barge into my room when she’s bored or is confused about her walkman not working. Or sometimes she just comes into my room with the most random questions, expecting an answer from me when I am deadbeat from work.

“Sofi, where do fish go when they die in the sea?”

“Sofi, I wanna go to the big place in my  geography book where there’s so much snow and bears that look white” (she’s talking about the Arctic and the polar bear by the way)

“Sof, why do people call taco, “taco?” (this question haunted me for nights cause same)

But I love to sit and answer her questions as much as I can since I know that time runs as fast as light does and I may regret not spending time with my siblings when they’re scrolling through TikTok ten years later and go non-verbal when I ask them, “How’s life?”. 

The kook kids that I see at the restaurant in the country club make me feel scared for the sake of humanity, let me tell you. Unavailable parents combined with unfettered access to all the riches in the world, I feel so bad for those kids who try to fill the void their parents create but then they get rude with the waiters, and then I immediately lose my shred of empathy for them. 

“Oh, Isa. Gimme your walkman. You probably might have clicked the replay button. Lemme disable it.”

Her hands tenderly gave me her device, the edges of the walkman smudged, losing its nude pink color. The harsh white light of the screen hurt my eyes for a second as I changed the settings in her Walkman, her chin resting gingerly on my shoulder. As I fidgeted to give her device back, she took a once over to my another possible outfit for the party; a spaghetti strap baby blue slip dress, flowery lace patterns stitched at the hem; the scooped up neckline accentuating my decolletage. 

“Sofi, where are you all dressed up and going?”

I am going to a guy’s party to probably drink myself to the point of no return or flirting back at him while he just ends up hooking up with some other hot Kook. 

“Oh, just to see a friend”

“Well, I hope you have fun, Sofia. I never see you going out that much since you came home from Mexico” her innocent voice airing out the pathetic state of my social life

Gosh, that’s a low blow and, that’s coming from a kid. 

I knew her comment was innocent so I had to be the bigger person and say, “I will, thank you, Isa. By the way, stop clicking that button if you wanna listen to the whole playlist” It’s not she’s never been given a phone at all but the big sister part of me can’t help it. 

Still, she listened and shook her head vehemently, “THANK YOU SOFI, YOU THE BEST” she screamed as ran back to her room. 

Kids. 

My attention went back to the task at hand as I helplessly stared at the gargantuan pile of dresses, hoping that an impeccable, show-stopping outfit would just magically appear out of thin air. 

Should I just call Rafe and tell him that I am not coming to the party because I have periods…which I don’t. 

I can just dip out of this very rare occasion of me socializing with people and I can spend my weekend like any other, munching on Takis as I watch YouTube compilations of ballerina dancers or a movie on an illegal website and, pester my ma as she cooks dinner at night and then I crash out on the bed, pensively contemplating about what could have been, should have been. 

Or maybe I could face the music, stop feeling sorry for myself, and, go see Rafe at his party and try being a normal twenty-year-old girl, chat up a pretty boy, try to get sloshed, and maybe dip my toes in his pristine pool that he totally has. And maybe, maybe he’ll keep his word and be my tour guide and show me this “spot” that he was raving about. 

Most importantly I am slightly enamored by his overall demeanor, the air of casual indifference seeping with his mysterious, almost quizzical lore surrounding him rendered me curious. The two times we met, the aquamarine-eyed boy’s ridiculous charm and, smiles and sugary words made me dissolve my barely-existing conscience. 

Screw it, I am going to see what’s all the hype about a Kook party. 

And the fact that I even thought of telling practically a stranger that I have periods…I gotta get better at being a socially functional human. 

So with all the strength I had, I bundled all the clothes lying on my bed and crammed them into the unkempt wooden cupboard which already looked like it survived a hurricane with all of my underwear mixed with my work uniform with my other old clothes. As I closed it with my back facing the cupboard, my eyes caught the makeup box half opened on my vanity, the various shades of blushes, lip stains, and the half-finished concealer tube taunting my mind. 

I walked over to the mirror, my eyes catching every blemish and dull spot on my face. There’s a new minute red spot on the apple of my cheeks and the crease underneath my eye is more prominent. 

Ugh, why do my eyes always linger on the faults and why do I always wanna cover up the imperfections with caked-up makeup till the point that my tears wash away all the hard brushing I do over my face every day when I go to work? 

I wish I would have said I didn’t let my insecurities win over my heart but my fingers grabbed the cherry red lip stain and, slathered it along my chapped lips and then fluffed the excess on my cheeks, hoping that the blush would cover my blemishes. 

Ok, now I look…presentable. I twirled myself in front of the mirror, giving a final look at my ensemble, hoping that I wouldn’t change my outfit again. I took my brush combed the unkempt baby hairs and left my room, hastily climbing down the stairs, hoping that I wouldn’t regret the decision to say yes to Rafe Cameron’s party tomorrow.

That’s when I remembered. I forgot my phone and my purse. 

Yikes. We are off to a good start. 

************

A few hours ago, I promised myself that I absolutely wouldn’t change my dress, right?

That was a lie. I changed my mind and wore another dress. 

As I took a peek of myself in the car mirror, I thought to myself for the millionth time, “How the hell did I end up here?”

My blue dress was replaced by a breezy coral red dress reaching up to the flesh of my thighs, the fabric littered with pink, orange, and yellow floral prints all over it. My red colored bra was playing peek-a-boo underneath the outfit, making my insides feel pretty sheepish. My makeup and hair were completely frazzled now, stray hairs having a party over my forehead and the lip stain lost its magic, leaving me with a very light pinkish-red hue on my lips. My blush was completely smudged off with a bare face and my mind spinning in excitement and anxiety, 

As I parked my car over the spacious parking space adjacent to the lush gardens with trimmed grass and perfectly cut trees, I hoped that I didn’t look like my jaw was on the floor as I gawked at this mansion of a “house” 

Goddamn, this guy’s place looks massive. 

Tannyhill, in all its glory, stood tall and huge. With a capacious balcony and mint green paint radiating sunlight, the mansion screamed wealth and old money. I grabbed my purse tight as I leisurely walked into Rafe’s supposed “home,” hoping that I bump into him. I was in awe as I went in, the interior baffling me more. High ceilings, a chandelier with twinkling glass beads twinkling in the sun, a grand staircase with thick white marble railings in the middle, and a large wooden table in the center of the room with a large fireplace at one corner, the furnished shelf above it housing a plethora of photo frames. 

The house was packed too, unknown faces crowding my view as they walked into the house with beers or solo red cups on their faces, bikini-clad bodies shimmying their hips and bobbing their head to Young Thug rapping on the enormous JBL speakers situated at one of the corners of the massive room. 

I drudged around the crowd, too situate myself near the fireplace where the photos were there. Before I walked over to silently snoop at them, I felt a towering presence behind me. 

“See something you like, Miss Sofia?”

I turned around at lightning speed, his baritone tone made me spin and there he was, the man of the hour, Rafe Cameron walking down the stairs, hands in his cornflower blue trousers and beige polo shirt, gold-lined aviators hiding those cheeky eyes and that smug smirk gracing his berry lips. 

“Oh, I was just looking around, I didn’t mean to snoop.”

“Nah, you’re fine. I’m actually surprised that you showed up” he stood in front of me, his looming energy enveloping my vicinity. 

“Well, I’m not the one for turning down polite offers. And I wanna see for myself how you party, so…” I wanted to thank him for inviting him but I stopped myself short. If we are going to play this back-and-forth game of flirty comments, he better start the serve. 

“Now that you are here, lemme show you how we actually do things in Outer Banks. Follow me,” he beckoned me to join him as his long legs led me upstairs, my feet trying to catch up with his speed. The first floor looked more grand if that even makes sense. The walls were adorned with hand-painted lush flora, green leaves, and blue hydrangeas, and another smaller chandelier hanging in the middle of the room that led to the balcony on one side and four other rooms on the other. 

We both crossed the threshold, now with a solo cup in my right hand as he turned towards me and said, “Now if you kindly follow Miss Sofia, the VIP Section.” he pointed towards the huge balcony overlooking the sea, two big brown sofas encircling a round table and multiple white chairs littering the area. It was so spacious that it could fit a party of thirty on that singular floor. 

“Oh yeah.” 

“Yeah, only very very very special people are allowed in here, as you can see,” he said as he put his hands on my shoulder and in turn, made my legs and arms into jelly. 

 He just casually put his hands on my shoulder and I just want to faint. 

I could have just let my hands go limp but no, instinctually my arms went up to his clothed, chiseled shoulder blades, and smirked at his shameless flirting. 

“Uh huh…” I shot back a teasing smile as I looked up at him.

He led me to the wooden railing; the view in front of me taking my breath away again. A horde of partygoers were just swaying to Drake booming on another speaker on the veranda down below with the DJ throwing random signs at the crowd, and a spotless beach situated just a few meters in front of the colonial mansion. Rafe caging me on one arm, pointed his other hand holding a solo red cup like me, toward the line of trees, its leaves crowning like it was the entrance of a fairyland, azure waters, frothy white waves jumping from a faraway distance. The golden ring, with some indescribable engraving, glimmered as he showed me around his place. 

I was nearly smushed to his chest as he said, “As you can see, there’s the water,” I, too, looked around towards the directions he pointed as he continued, “Then there’s the beach. The next neighbor lives like a mile away from mine, it’s that private.”

Then his eyes went to the ongoing raucous at the party and he howled at the party under the balcony. He looked like he was having the time of his life, with everyone hollering at him, calling his name, and high-fiving him before we even reached upstairs minutes ago. Rafe Cameron seemed he was holding the world in his hands and I was witnessing it. 

“Hey, that’s no Jim Beam Bullshit, alright. That’s Pappy Van Winkle, that’s like a day’s salary bro. AND IF YOU HAVEN’T GOT A DRINK IN YOUR HAND, GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE” 

I can’t help but openly laugh at his caveman-esque antics. Rafe was buzzed from alcohol and a flush to his cheeks. His hands were off of me now, leaving a gaping space that I never thought I felt before and then he took off his sunglasses and threw another smirk at me as he took off his sunglasses and slinked them on the collar of his polo.

I couldn’t help but say, “So, this is the VIP life, huh?”

His smile was soft as he said, “Yeah”

“Cool.”

We just looked at each other 

“You wanna see some more?” he suggested. He’s all in for being my gracious host today, isn’t he? I didn’t wanna leave him and his infectious company so I was completely fine with him taking anywhere with me. 

“Yeah, I’m down.” 

His hands found purchase on my body once again as he said, “GREAT NEWS! THAT’S GREAT NEWS. Lemme show you the grand tour.” As we both started leaving the crowded room, a flash of blue nylon appeared on our side, stopping us.

“Don’t go runnin’” a buzz-cut man with harsh brown eyes and blue sneakers mentioned towards Rafe. He abruptly stopped for a minute and let go of me, now gently placing his hands on my shoulders. 

“Hey, give me five minutes, I’ll come see you soon.”

I didn’t want to seem like a clingy pest but I was slightly down that our plans were cut off. 

Stop it, Sofia. It’s only five minutes. Calm down, geez.

I played it safe and just said, “Okay.”

Both men now wore taut expressions as I walked out of the place, but then I heard the other guy screaming, “COUNTRY CLUB!!!”

Feeling explorative, my feet carried me downstairs to the veranda, planning to scout around the party as well as the mansion. They were playing Playboy Carti now, and everyone was slurring their words as the partygoers were all absolutely sloshed or probably coked up or high and it was only 6:30 pm.

Dazed and confused, I saw a girl eating Cool Ranch Doritos in the middle of the dancefloor, bobbing her head as the bass hit her eardrums. 

Now that’s something I can vibe with. 

If I am stuck in a party where I don’t know anyone but the host, might as well have some fun alone I guess. Fun, meaning finding the pantry or snack stash. 

This is going to be a long day.

**********

I’m on my second pack of family-sized Red Hot Cheetos. And still on my first can of some random root beer. 

And, I think most of the people here are mentally floating in some other dimension while I am observing them like some scientist but with toxic red dust on my chin. 

It’s 8 pm. 

Why am I still here, you may ask? Well, it was not like I was completely alone for an hour and a half, Rafe checked in on me every twenty minutes while I was sitting cross-legged on his kitchen counter. He actually came back ten minutes after I left him on the balcony 

“Look who found the secret snack drawer.”

I indeed raided it just two minutes after going downstairs. 

“Oh, is it ok? I don’t drink that much, not when I am alone at a party and don’t know anyone.”

“Yeah, go for it. Hey, I wanna apologize if I don’t stay with you at the party. I really want to but I-” he got cut off by another random person coming up at him and bumping chests with him, “HEYY RAFEE, MAN YOU’RE BACK!” 

His attention diverted to the person in front of him but, his eyes stayed with me, apologetic as he got dragged again by that bleached blonde head who was accompanied by a throng of men who nearly trampled and took him away somewhere else. 

That was an hour ago. He did try his best to come up to me once in a while but in a minute, he got approached by someone and he would bare his teeth for a minute and then switch up to greet them and then get yanked by his Kook friends. However, his vision was always on me even when he was knee-deep in another conversation, both of us playing a silent game of who would peel off their gaze first and, both of us were not backing down. We were both like two ends of a rubber band stretching out incessantly, anticipating when the band would snap, the tension creeping up over Rafe and me. 

I was actually planning to leave fifteen minutes ago but, then Rafe came up to me, trudging through the horde of people across the room, panting and all, eyes glossier than ever, and rushed over his words, “Hey, I am so sorry that I didn’t spend enough time with you when I literally invited you. Just give me…fifteen minutes. I promise I’ll come back and really show the place around and, be with you.” 

He looked so desperate that I couldn’t help but say, “Ok, I’ll wait. But it’s ok. I’ll leave if you are busy, clearly, you seem like the life of the party. And I don’t wanna impose…”

“No! Please, I…I’ll be back. Just stand here and look pretty like you have been doing for the past hour.”

Now, I’m here, hoping that he keeps his word or otherwise, I’m leaving in five minutes. 

I sipped on my root beer; my feet dangling on the counter. If I am leaving without having fun, I’m at least taking this pack of root beer for funsies.

But as per his words, I saw Rafe stroll in my direction with a whiskey glass in his hand; all his attention centered on me. Once again, I felt bashful under his piercing gaze. 

“Finally,” he breathed out, “now…where were we?” he downed his drink in one long gulp.

“I don’t know, it’s your rave, Mister Cameron”

“Well then, I promised you to show you around, right? Before that, let’s have a toast, shall we? Since it’s a party and all,” he maneuvered around the tight space; and took a tequila bottle and two shot glasses from the top shelf above the counter without even trying, his height towering over my relatively shot frame. His biceps bulged as he held the bottle poured two shots into the glasses and offered it to me while sporting a small smile. 

My mind is spinning in circles over his tall frame. And I haven’t even gotten drunk yet. 

He was near me now, his hands inviting me to get off the counter and I took it, the ground underneath me withering for the third time today as he held his hands in mine. His hands felt comfortably warm in contrast to my ice-cold ones. 

“Bottoms up, Miss Sofia"

I was heavily invested in his game now, his risque charm pulling me in at a dangerous speed. 

“Bottoms up, Rafe” We both clinked our glasses, downing our drinks in one go at the same time. 

Game on, I guess. 

************

I lost count of how many shots of neat tequila I had, how many lime wedges my teeth bit into, or even the consecutive gulps of gin I guzzled. All I can comprehend is the calloused fingers digging into my hips as my body is glued against Rafe Cameron who, indeed gave an extensive tour of the house but my conscience was all up in the air. He took me to every room of the mansion and gave a one-line description of each room but I was invested in his booming voice, the way his eyes glimmered underneath the soft lights (which were hurting my eye now, cuz I am so close to getting pissed as hell) and the way he never let go of my hands.  All I did was nod vigorously and throw in some flyaway comments like, “That’s nice,” and “Hmm…interesting.”

We were on the dance floor now, the DJ blasting “Often” by the Weekend, and, both of us stood at arm's length, our inebriated bodies slowly staggering to the beat. The sober me would have been appalled of me throwing my head back and staggering from side to side but here I am, dancing my heart out with Rafe watching me over like a hawk. His eyes were piercing as he stood with a red solo cup, looking at me like he was ready to pounce on me. And I was enthralled by the attention he was showering on me. 

Fuck, for the first time in my life, my twisted heart is carnally desiring something. 

At one point, the minuscule distance between us was reduced to nothing, as he tugged my tipsy self to his chest, his arms seizing my waist and we both started to sway to the sultry beat drops, basically grinding on each other. My arms crept up to his nape, my head discovering my latest favorite place to rest; his chiseled, clothed chest. Air became precious when I could hear our breaths blend in, our chests heaving in insurmountable tension. 

His voice shook me to my core as he deliberately whispered in my ear, “Do you wanna go swimming in the pool?”

No, I want to keep feeling your skin on mine but I was too stunned to say no to his out-of-the-blue proposition. 

“Yeah, ok,” I murmured like no one was present when the party was going on in full swing

I thought I would wobble my way to the pool outside but Rafe Cameron had other plans. 

Effortlessly, he picked me up by my waist and placed me in my his arms. 

Not just anyway. 

Bridal style. 

I was being carried by Rafe Cameron bridal style. 

If I didn’t faint then, I was going to fall into an unshakable stupor now.

My heart weighed as a cloud; his hold on my body was light as a feather. My body softly thudded with each step he took toward the glimmering swimming pool and with it, my adrenaline slowly spiked. My back could feel the chlorine emanating from the water as Rafe neared the pool, his face reflecting the scintillated shine; cerulean blue eyes turning aquamarine in the warm July night. He let me down gently near the steel steps directed towards the pool; the cold tiled floor causing shivers in my feet. 

With no time to waste, he peeled off his polo shirt leaving me no imagination of his sculpted chest; abs chiseled and, a prominent V-line trailing over his limbs. 

Holy smokes. 

“Like what you see, Miss Sofia”

“I’ll let you know later, Cameron,” I shot back as I bared off my excuse of a dress, leaving me with my red bikini. Rafe who witnessed me taking off my clothes in the most unsexy fashion shamelessly stared at me, wandering eyes trying to capture every part of my body.

“Now do you like what you see, Rafe?”

“Very much”

Fuck, he ain’t slick. 

“So what now?”

“Now,” he took a once over at the pool and started to run towards it, body curling into a cannonball as he went airborne and hit the water with a big SPLASH, “we swim. I thought that was obvious, Miss Sofia. I wanted to show you the beach but hey, we both are way too tired to walk till there and swim so why not bring the beach experience, here?”

I just shook my head from side to side, drunkenly giggling and went near the stairs to go into the pool, Rafe also swimming along with me. As I climbed down into the chill waters, Rafe rushed towards me, grabbed my hands, and pulled me into his side for the second time tonight. His body felt warm against the cold swimming pool. My arms found home in his nape again, my nimble fingers softly grasping on the matted buzzcut. A tingly sensation flared up on the inside of my thighs and my heart. 

Space was a foreign concept between us as we both clung to each other, Rafe holding me by the flesh of my thighs and hoisting me up to his level. I was putty in his hands, both of our bodies floating in some random flow like two leaves gliding in a river. 

“So, how was the premium Rafe Cameron experience?”

“It was satisfying, to say the least. But I wish the host was more sober…”

“Heyy…”

“Kidding, kidding. No, but really, thank you, Rafe. This is the most fun I have ever had in a very very long time.”

I have never seen him smile that shyly, eyes downcast as he said, “Well, I’m glad to tell you that the fun has just started, Miss Sofia…” he let go of me as he had a sinister look in his eye.

“What are you scheming…Rafe…”

“Oh…nothing,” his lips turned into an upward chuckle as he started to push the water in my direction with all his might and splashed it in my direction, the buoyancy of the water making me lose my balance; and I slipped into the water. 

“AHHH! RAFE, YOU SNEAK!” 

“HAHA,” his cackle cut through the combined hum of the party as well as the silent night. I staggered for a moment and held my breath for a moment inside the pool.

If he wants to play with me, might as well give him a run for his money.

He caught on to my disappearance and panic slightly flooded his features. I felt the water sloshing as Rafe looked around, silently called me, “Sof, you ok? Hey, Sof. SOFIAAA…”

Poor guy must have thought I drowned or something. Well, I might if I keep staying like this for a few more seconds, 

I rose out of the water, my bangs completely drenched and my face splotched red as I took deep breaths and tackled him, the water swishing in ripples as I latched onto his body. 

“BOO!”

“JESUS SOF, My God, I thought you drowned or something.”

Worry was etched onto his face now, regret filling into those eyes that I can’t stop thinking about for no reason at all. I felt bad now and immediately cradled his head, “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you properly, ok. I just wanted to get back at you for splashing water at me. I’m ok, Rafe.”

“Well, don’t do it again, ok”

Fuck, I ruined the mood. Sometimes, I wonder if there’s another nameless entity in my brain forging the most horrible decisions ever. 

I snaked my arms around him, hoping that my hug would at least emulate my regret. He didn’t hesitate to hug me back, his arms imprisoning me in a sweet deadlock. We stayed in that position for a few minutes, nothing but silence speaking our thoughts out into the ether. As much as I loved being intertwined with the blonde who had been afflicting my dreams, I started to shrivel from the freezing cold pool water and let out a small ACHOO. 

He was the one who pulled away, noting my incessant shivering and pruning body, “Come on, we should leave. Shit, you’re trembling.”

We both waggled our way back to the edge of the pool and got up the stairs, aware that Rafe ogled at my drenched body as I left the pool. The bikini lost its opaqueness, the translucent flimsy red material sticking on my body like second skin. He got out of the pool after me, head dripping with water but held a burning fire in his eyes. Rafe wasted no time and began rushing me inside the mansion through the backdoor; I was worried that I would be exposing my body to a bunch of drunk teenagers. However, Rafe quelled my rising insecurities when he snatched his polo shirt and draped it on me when we reached the threshold, quietly putting my hands on the sleeve holes of his shirt. My skin burned whenever he touched, making me shiver in heat. 

“I have some towels in my room, dry yourself off,” he muttered as he took me in the direction of the staircase, bypassing the party which was slowly dwindling down, the DJ playing a very random song in some unknown language and only a few people littering the living space, slowly sipping on alcohol, the stench of weed and cigarette infiltrating my nostrils.

We entered a peacock-blue room up the stairs, a massive bed with a long mahogany bedframe  occupying the space front and center, lustrous teal blue sheets covering the pristine crisp white bed springs. The sofa and chairs was cluttered with clothes and other stuff and a tall sliding door situated right infront of the bed hidden by coffee-colored curtains with a bathroom attached to its left. 

As he shut the door, leaving only the two of us in the confined space; breathing itself became a chore, my lungs caving in and heart thrumming with anticipation and pure desire. I was standing near his wooden drawer as he went in to the bathroom to get two towels. The stretch of the rubber band felt excruciatingly painful; the tension melting my soul every second. My thoughts started to jumble into one mess that craved for his touch on me, my mind wanting him to cross the distance and end my arduous yearning for a kiss from his lips or even, a graze from his hands. His stormy eyes and alluring body rounded on me as he ambled towards me, his walk having a sure purpose; two cotton towels on his hand. His presence cornered me, my back hitting the drawer. I can sense his body heat radiating off of him, the mix of his perfume and natural musk making me heady with want. 

He gingerly gave me the towel, my hands sizzling with current as my hands lightly grazed his. We both looked into each other, square in the eye as we started to dry our bodies by ourselves. I threw the towel on my hair, feeling the dampness of my chlorinated hair transfer onto the soft towel and slowly rung my hair on the towelletel; my vision cut off by the piece of cotton blocking my eyes. When I felt sure that my hair was more-or-less semi dry, I took off the towel from my head and found Rafe heavily breathing down on me, his angled nose nearly plunging into my hair. 

It felt like life rolled in slow motion as he threw the cloth away from my hands, and put his hands on the door behind me. Rafe’s voice purred in my ear as he said, “You look so pretty, Sofia. Fuck, I can’t stop looking at you all night,” he breathed into my hair as he spoke, “You even smell good, you know how hard it was for me to focus on other shit when all I think about was you in those little white bra and panties with the bow. It’s all I have been thinking about since yesterday with kissing you senseless, and fuck, I can’t even erase the memory of you in your uniform. ”

I looked upto him and saw that his eyes were feasting on my picked on lips, my breasts with his digits digging into the flesh of my hips. I was stupefied too; I couldn’t stop memorising every detail of him; the curve of his Adam’s apple, the defined planes of his face, the sharp ears, the matted blonde strands of his buzzcut, the small freckle under his left eye and those eyes. 

Those cereaulean blue eyes glimmering like sapphire; I knew from that moment that they wouldn’t stop haunting me till I am dragged down to my casket. 

I couldn’t even slip out a coherent sentence to his confession but my heart was on fire, but all I could muster was, “Rafe?”

“Hmm,” his voiced with laced with pain as he spoke to me. 

I knew that this was the moment that my life was going to change forever. 

I felt possessed as I said, “Can you kiss me, please, Rafe? I want to stop playing this game.”

The rubber band snapped and recoiled. 

“Thought you would never ask, Miss Sofia” 

Inches of space got reduced to nothing as he crashed his lips onto mine; his mouth lapping mine up with urgent fervor almost as he was worshipping me by pressing his lips on mine with undulated passion. The kiss felt earth shattering, the earth beneath me felt like it was going to break into pieces and take me away and Rafe’s lips and wandering hands were the only thing keeping me sane and tethered to reality. His lips swallowed my mouth, pouring all his fervor onto me, and my lips couldn’t get enough; chasing his lips like we’re both running from a disaster.  The world went utterly still with only the sounds of  our kiss, hands cradling each other hips and heads and mouths nearly gnawing each other with such intensity and devotion. 

I never thought kissing someone would feel heavenly. Well, I wish I told that girl I was about to get my world rocked by Rafe Cameron. 

Forever. 

AN:

My brain and my fingers after typing this chapter:

FINALLY DUN DUN DUN! THEY KISSED. YK WHAT IT MEANS FOR NEXT CHAPTER, your girl is going to try writing mid ass smut...Pls dont stone me to death for this chapter, the next one and the futures ones too.

THE AMOUNT OF LOVE YOU GUYS GIVE ME IS AMAZINGGG. KISSES TO EACH SINGLE ONE OF YOU. MWAHHH. Any comments or likes or reblogs are absolutely appreciated.

The next update...I genuinely don't know when it's happening but I am always thinking about this story so hopefully within this month.

Hope you guys have a good new yearr...BYEEEE

Taglist:

@lostsyren @araybiaaa @cherubfille @didddii589 @popou61 @rafecameronsfavourite @rafesofiapalomo @me-ig1 @beautyinsteadofashes

[whatsaudreythinkingabout]

a little late to the party (at least on here) but

HERE SHE IS!!!

THAT’S MY BABY!!!

MY FUCKIN CINNAMON APPLE!!!

finally…blorbo from my shows…she’s back…

[marryinred]

A fresh wave of panic began to simmer in the pit of Lydia’s stomach. This was not good.

Part of their original binding contract stated that Lydia was, quite literally, Betelgeuse’s anchor to the realm of the living. Where she would go, he would go, and vice versa. In the time they’d been together, they’d never tested the boundaries and limits of the invisible leash, and now Lydia was desperately wishing they had. 

With a quick, chilly kiss to Lydia’s cheek, Byron was quickly rushed out the door with her father. She remained standing there in the living room, anxiety rolling through her like an oncoming storm as she stared at the closed door. Letting out a deep exhale, she turned and walked past the kitchen. Delia was still busying herself with straightening up after breakfast, so she decided to use that moment to dart back upstairs to the sanctuary of her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. 

Lydia began to pace back and forth, her long black skirt swishing as she would turn direction. She was confident in Betelgeuse’s immense power, but what would happen if he wandered too far away from her? Would the leash function like a Netherworld version of an ankle monitor? Would the Powers That Be assume he was breaking the contract and wreaking havoc upon the world? Or would he be automatically teleported to her side? 

A gentle knock at her bedroom door interrupted Lydia’s chaotic thoughts.

“C-come in!” She called out, trying to keep her voice level. The door opened to reveal Barbara, smiling, but with a slight apologetic expression. The curly-haired woman slipped inside, leaving the door open just a crack. Lydia straightened, giving her a small smile she hoped would pass as friendly and not anxious.

“Hey, honey,” Barbara began, her voice soft and gentle as she spoke. “I just wanted to apologize for earlier. I didn’t mean to upset you.” The ghostly woman fiddled with her fingers, having nothing to do with her hands. “It was just…shocking, you know, to find out you’d told your new boyfriend–”

“Byron,” Lydia interjected.  “His name is Byron.”

Barbara nodded. “Right. It was a surprise that you’d told Byron about us, about…” she waved her hand, gesturing vaguely. “About life after death. Juno was very clear to Adam and I… we can’t let living people know about us. The fact that ghosts are real. It could be dangerous.” Lydia shook her head, coming to stand beside her window. She stared out at the expanse of the town of Winter River down beyond the bridge. God, please hurry up and get back, Beej.

Barbara continued.

“It’s–It’s not that I doubt your judgement, Lydia. I can understand being excited to… share your life, all your secrets, with someone when you get close to them. But I just think…maybe you shouldn’t have told him about us?” After a beat of silence, she continued. “How well do you know him, anyway, Lydia?” At that question, Lydia’s head swiveled back to look at Barbara. 

“I know him better than anyone. And he knows everything about me, too.” Turning now to fully face the ghost woman, Lydia could feel her panic fading into an emotion she rarely let herself express; anger. Lydia had spent the years after her parents’ divorce desperately craving the love and care of a mother and father. While Adam and Barbara were incredibly supportive and loving, they were also almost smothering in their care. What Lydia had thought was comforting in the beginning became overbearing. Through no fault of their own, it was too little, too late.

“What was I supposed to do?” Lydia asked, holding her hands out towards Barbara in a questioning manner. Her voice held a bitter edge as she spoke. “Stay here, in Winter River, forever? Never make friends, never have a relationship? Never really share my life with someone because of this big dark secret that hangs over my head? Was I just supposed to lock myself up in the attic? Be the town’s crazy spinster that can see and talk to ghosts?” 

While she was speaking, Lydia waved her hands for emphasis. Barbara shook her head in protest, and opened her mouth to try and explain she never wanted that for the young woman. Two things happened then– the way in which Lydia moved rang a bell of vague familiarity in Barbara’s mind, and while gesturing with her hands, the light from the window glinted off of the ring on Lydia’s left hand. Chocolate eyes narrowed, Barbara stepped forward and gently grasped Lydia’s wrist, bringing her hand into the light for examination.

At first, Lydia was confused, halted in her expression of a few years’ worth of pent up angst. She glanced down to her ring and realization struck her. She could tell by the look on Barbara’s face that it was all slowly clicking into place for her, as well. Although Adam and Barbara had only been around the poltergeist a handful of times, Barbara could easily remember their first meeting. After having dug him out of his grave in the model, he’d thrown himself at her like a man half starved. When he’d wrapped an arm around her shoulders, she’d recoiled in disgust. She remembered casting a glance to his hand, repulsed by the mold and dirt adorning his fingers. Her attention was drawn, however briefly, to a large gold ring beset with a ruby on his index finger.

An identical ring, although smaller and more feminine, could be found on Lydia’s left hand, where a wedding band would reside. 

It all added up for Barbara now. Byron’s mannerisms, the cadence of his voice, the thinly-veiled contempt in his eyes when he looked at her…

Lydia felt her face drain of all color–how could she have been so forgetful? She’d always kept the ring covered with little lace or velvet gloves, passing it off as another addition to her eccentric style. She’d grown so used to allowing the world to see, openly referring to Betelgeuse as her husband, that she’d forgotten to keep up the guise when she returned to Winter River.

Time seemed to slow down, and silence between the two women seemed to stretch on for eons, before they both began to speak at once. Barbara’s voice was shrill in her concern for the girl, her eyes wide and full of panic. 

“Lydia, what have you done? Did he trick you into this? We’ve got to tell your parents! Adam and I, we can go to Juno, we can get him taken care of for good–”

“Please, please don’t tell my dad and Delia, I didn’t want you all to find out like this–”

Lydia was panicking, and in her mind she was screaming.

This is bad. Please, hurry back, Beej! Hurry!

The panic that was tightening in her chest began to subside the very moment Betelgeuse embraced her.  Lydia closed her eyes and inhaled deeply as he placed a gentle kiss against the top of her head. She gazed adoringly at him as he gave Barbara what-for, and she couldn’t help the faint smile that began to play at the corners of her mouth.

God, I love him, she thought to herself.  

Barbara, however, stood completely still, her chocolate brown eyes wide as dinner plates. Adam, too, was shocked, his jaw gone slack in awe at how this complete stranger was speaking to them as if he knew them. 

But he was passionately defending Lydia, and wouldn’t he do the very same for Barbara? Adam took note of the man’s gentle nature as he silently comforted Lydia, and how the young woman completely melted into his arms. He saw how Byron’s hand gripped Lydia’s shoulder–soft, yet with an undertone of possessiveness. As a man, he read the body language easily. It screamed “She’s mine, and you’re hurting her. This is a warning.”

Byron’s spiel ended as Charles appeared in the doorway, blissfully ignorant of what had just transpired between everyone. There was a moment of terribly awkward silence as they just stood there, not knowing how to react. 

“Oh! Uhm! I changed my mind!” Delia called out, her voice cracking a bit. She immediately started bringing out skillets and placing them on top of the stove. “How does sausage, eggs, and bacon sound? Hm? Want some toast as well? There’s orange juice in the refrigerator!” 

Lydia smiled inwardly and gave her dad a good morning kiss on the cheek. She lead Byron into the living room to sit for a bit, just so she could decompress after what had just happened. Barbara’s eyes followed them all the while, until Charles and Adam began exchanging pleasantries. 

“Thank you,” Lydia whispered, her hand finding Betelgeuse’s and giving it a tight squeeze.