#if he grows up to be an insufferable adult - so be it

[tysonfurybattlepass]

the only “woke mob” you should be worried about is bisexual milf lioness denali and her communist dyke pride

[ourson-guimauve]

Heard about one of my abuser today

He goes on on his life. He doesn’t seem to have mature - I hoped he changed at least

I hope one day he realizes what he has done to me

[anantaru]

cw. ⪩⪨ fem! reader, rich boy au, rich boy alhaitham, semi public sex (in a library), he's insufferable, possessive (he's used to getting what he wants n wants you all for himself), a little yandere i feel like

rich boy alhaitham has never experienced the idea of not getting something he so terribly longed for— in fact, the very moment he laid his eyes on you, desire flooding his veins and invading his taste, it's with immediate certainty that he will make you his no matter what.

because you see, it has almost always been that way for him, the idea of something being too expensive has never really crossed his mind in his adult years— although it was safe to say that in order to make you stay forever, he must add more than the couple gifts he had already planned to send your way, such wasn't enough, despite the fact that they certainly would make things a whole lot more easier for him.

because who on earth doesn't like a costly, with diamonds paired piece of earrings from fontaine? hand crafted of immeasurable worth. or would you rather choose the extravagant silken garments from the nation of electro? oh, you forgot already silly? you're of course, getting both, it's on alhaitham after all.

he doesn't understand that this emotion growing in his heart might become quite dangerous in the future, although again, the man was of smart kind, highly aware of the power he held not only with his fortune alone, but his cleverness as well— and there would never be a time in his life where he couldn't utilize the one or the other, or use them all together to get the result he planned to achieve.

dear, dearer, dearest you, alhaitham ponders, as long as the sun was alive, as long as desire merges with his addiction,

"i will pursue you".

alhaitham knows that from the bottom of his heart, he will make you his, and not just have you for a short period of time during those special days— where two people simply let go of steam, soft fingertips glissading over the edges of sweaty skin as you're wrapped around his fingers, the slight swell of your lips, the strong blush on his cheeks, both vividly showing that the two of you cannot keep your hands away from each other.

as expected, you find yourself hidden behind a bookshelf in the house of daena, and alhaitham kisses you like he has been imagining it for decades on end, soft lips dancing over yours as he forces his tongue past your mouth, his hands greedily skimming through your trembling figure— soul catching soul, like each touch of him felt like it was searing through you, burning your clothes.

there, in those precise rolls of fingers repeatedly crossing your sensitive nipples, alhaitham makes himself acquainted with your trace as he graciously feels around the curves of your body and how well you reacted to his touch, kiss and tremble— an immediate reminder for him that you like it when he touched you like that, lapped his tongue over yours like that or pressed his muscular thigh against your wet cunt like that.

alhaitham was cruel in a way— one might even go as far as to assume that pairing an excessively clever man with a boundless amount of money harbors a much darker meaning in on itself.

but right now, he was slightly cruel to you as well when it becomes more and more painful and he knows, he always does, especially when he notices how you're having trouble breathing from his antics, quite wobbly on your footing as you look up at him through soft eyes, lips parted when each kiss of him made your heart clench, unknowing of everything, only waiting until he finally fucks you like you wanted to.

what you do not realize is that rich boy alhaitham was already weak for you, and he could barely wait himself, his mind fighting with his rationality, being overthrown by nothing more than the addictive scent of your perfume blossoming across the skin on your neck.

he flips you around instantly, your figure now squished between his chest and the bookshelf before he flicks your skirt up with ease, almost territorial like he's the only one allowed to do that from now on, frenziedly touching and loving your body like he needed you to breathe and stay alive, like it's only you who can make him be this way.

"ahh— fuck," he gasps into the back of your neck, his hot breath planing across the skin and manifesting a strong shiver down your spine, "i love those earrings on you," as he trails off, your hips twisting and twitching when he finds them with his hands, repeatedly pistoling his thick shaft into you until the lewd, squelching noises of skin on skin were overturning your little whimpers, smack smack smack, it's only getting louder— so alhaitham uses one hand to quickly close one palm around your noisy mouth.

he thinks it's adorable how you forgot that you were still in a library, yet it only showed him that he was doing everything right, only a little more until you're all his.

the scribe has got you covered, okay? alhaitham needs you to realize that from now on, you have nothing to worry about anymore, so please get that into your pretty head! you're far too delicate and pretty to trouble yourself with something such as stress, not anymore— because wether it was intimacy you craved, love you sought after or money you needed,

alhaitham has got you.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[pretty-little-mind33]

Pietro Maximoff x mutant fem!reader

Summary: You hate Pietro for how he treats you, or at least you do until you're stuck in an elevator with him.

Genre: hurt and comfort, enemies to lovers (only they aren't "enemies") <3

Warnings: Pietro is a dick in the beginning, panic attacks, claustrophobia, swearing, i use Czech to represent Sokovian (probably shitty translation)

~ thank you for requesting @princesssunderworld! loved this prompt sm! i wrote this for Pietro because we need more Pietro content asap and i have so many wips for Tangerine already! I hope you like this! ~

PIETRO MAXIMOFF MASTERLIST

Pietro Maximoff is quite possibly your worst nightmare. 

While he does have the face of an angel, all doe-eyed and charming smile, he somehow manages to make your life a living hell. He's like some beautiful, insufferable, devil that constantly insists on sitting promptly on your shoulder. 

Mostly, he spends his days finding any excuse to either argue with you or undermine you. During training, he constantly makes snarky comments on your form and purposefully speeds by you to knock you on your ass. He'll always wear the same smirk when you chew him out, almost like he's amused and you despise it.

You hate him. 

And most of all, you hate how it makes you feel. How he makes your cheeks feel warmer and that unfamiliar feeling bubble in your stomach. 

Wanda tries to convince you he has a school-boy crush on you—like some little boy who likes pulling little girls' hair on the playground. You don't want to hear it. He's a grown man now, not a boy anymore. If he has a crush, he should deal with it like an adult. 

One afternoon, Pietro had just pulled one of his so-called pranks on you, causing you to walk under a bucket of cold water and successfully drenching you and rendering the flames that usually spark from your hands from your anger into smoke.

The Avengers in the room training grow silent as Pietro, sitting on the weightlifting bench, bursts into laughter. 

"Pietro!" Wanda shrieks, immediately rushing to you from where she'd been talking to Vision but you shake your head, frustrated tears threatening to brim in your eyes.

You send Pietro a glare and storm out of the room, shaking your wet sleeves. 

You're too busy mumbling curses under your breath to hear Wanda shout at her twin brother as you furiously press the elevator button. When the doors opens you do hear his voice, however, "Y/n! Princezna (Princess)!" 

You rush into the elevator and spin around, pressing the close button as fast as you can but obviously, Pietro is much faster.

He reaches you before the doors close, almost slamming into you as his body vibrates from the aftermath of his powers. His hand comes up behind your head instinctively so you don't hit your head against the wall and he glances down at you, his blue eyes piercing into yours. 

You push him away just as the elevator wobbles and the sound of something snapping is heard. Pietro's speed must have somehow messed up the elevator system because the elevator starts to fall. 

You gasp, reaching for the only other person in the elevator,  and Pietro is by your side in an instant, crouching you both into one corner, his arms tightening around your waist as the elevator falls three stories and then halts with a loud screech.

Your mutation sometimes manifests when you're stressed, so you barely even register that you've set a part of Pietro's sleeve on fire from where you're clutching his arm until the sprinkler in the elevator turns on, soaking you both. 

"Hey, miláček (darling)," Pietro holds one of your cheeks in his hand, his voice uncharacteristically soft as he sees the white cloud in your eyes disappear and you blink. "You're okay." You're breathing heavily now, staring at him until you snap and push him away, curling your arms around your knees.

You look at the elevator panel only to see it's broken. Pietro is trying his hardest to pry the doors open, but even with his speed, they remain shut.

"Fuck Tony Stark," Pietro groans and slumps to the ground in front of you, running a hand in his silver hair as he sends you a lopsided grin. "You okay, princezna (princess)?" 

You glare at him. 

Pietro lifts his arms in surrender. 

You check your watch. The team should realize something went wrong and rescue you at any moment. You'll be fine, you try reminding yourself but the walls seem to be pressing in faster and faster. You feel dizzy as tears blur your vision and you haven't realized that you've started hyperventilating until Pietro touches your arm. 

You gasp again and look up at him, frightened. His expression softens as he kneels in front of you, looking you over. He looks concerned, which is a first.

"I- I can't breathe," you manage to croak out, your voice strained. As much as you don't want to turn to Pietro for help, you need him. 

Pietro nods, understanding your panic now. He soothes you and holds out his palm. "Breathe. It's okay. You're safe," he says and shakes his palm a little. He wants you to hold his hand. 

You sniffle, still having trouble breathing correctly as your fingers stroke against Pietro's palm and he smiles. His skin is warm and the shock centers you for a moment.

"There. I'm right here, miláček (darling)," he pauses and his hand vibrates a little, controlling his powers just enough so that he can show you he's here. 

The sensation elicits a laugh from you as you look up at him, matching the breathing he's showing you. Pietro's smile widens, his heart only half-breaking from the tears brimming in your eyes and he resists the urge to wipe your cheeks. 

"Shhh, there you go. Breathe. Dýchej, anděli, dýchej (Breathe, angel, breathe)."

Minutes later, Wanda is fussing over you as you sit in the lounge room after Tony rescued you and Pietro. She wraps a towel around your shoulders.

"Are you okay?" She keeps repeating as she ignores her equally wrecked-looking brother standing in the corner as Clint and Steve talk to him. You nod, eyes round from the entire ordeal. 

"Did he make it worse? Because I'll kill him—"

You shake your head, glancing at Pietro. Your cheeks burn hot when you catch his gaze and you snap your head back to Wanda, who just looks confused. 

"No– he helped me," you whisper, watching realization sparkle in her eyes. 

Still, she doesn't say anything.  

* * *

Pietro isn't awful to you anymore. He's the opposite. 

He's sweet. 

You find the shift weird so you avoid him. You avoid him until you physically can't anymore because he's blocking the door to the kitchen as you stand in the refrigerator light, a spoon stuck in your ice cream tub.

Your eyes widen as you look at him. He's wearing his pajamas as they hang just under his v-line, his hair a mess as he yawns. 

"What are you doing up, princezna (princess)?" he asks and walks over, grabbing another spoon and leaning against the counter, and shakes the spoon for you to share the ice cream. You hand him the tub, staring at him intensely.

"What?" Pietro smirks, his mouth full as he winces. "Sakra, je zima (Damn, it's cold)." 

"Thank you," you blurt out. You're a week late but you don't care.

Pietro raises an eyebrow. "For?"

"Helping me in the elevator. It meant a lot," you say, shifting nervously.

Pietro's smile softens and he sets the ice cream down, licking his lips. He walks over, cornering you into the counter but you don't feel threatened. You feel safe. He lifts his hand and hesitates at your cheek.

"Y'know, I'd be quite an asshole to let you suffer like that," he says in a whisper, his Sokovian accent thick as he chuckles. His fingers touch your skin and you shiver, your eyes widening. 

"Didn't stop you before," you mutter.

Pietro frowns. 

"Listen, anděl (angel), I know I haven't been the nicest to you but it's all been in good fun—it's nothing serious," he looks away a moment, searching for his words as he pauses. "I never meant to ever truly hurt you. I- I like you, Y/n. I just didn't know how to tell you so the teasing was easier for me."

You tilt your head, taking in his words. "What was your plan then, Pietro? Make me dislike you so somehow I'd turn around and like you after? That doesn't make any fucking sense. You could have just been sweet like you're being now!"

Pietro looks at you again, his arms caging you in now as his hands flex around the counter. "My feelings for you make no fucking sense," he argues, his eyes locked on yours. "I hate them. I hate how they make me act like a fool when all I want to do is kiss you and hold you close. Vše, co chci, je milovat tě (All I want to do is love you)."

You never wanted to admit it but you love it when he speaks Sokovian and you calm your breathing as your eyes shut. Pietro leans in, his breath ghosting yours. "One word. Say the word and I'll stop. I'll stop everything. I'll leave you alone."

You open your mouth, your eyes following, and you whisper. "Kiss me."

Pietro wastes no time in kissing you, claiming your lips as his own as his hand tightens around your waist. He's pulling you in closer, your body warms so hard as your hands find his cheeks that you're afraid you'll burn him and you try pulling away from him. 

"You won't hurt me," Pietro whispers through his kisses as he refuses to let you go. "I can take it."

You gasp into his mouth as your hands find his hair, pulling on the strands. This feels so unfamiliar and yet, you've never kissed anyone like this. 

Finally, Pietro pulls away and he leans his head on your warm forehead as you catch your breath. 

"Wanda mi dluží dvacet babek (Wanda owes me twenty bucks)," he whispers, mostly to himself as a lovesick smile graces his features. "Moje. Jsi můj. (Mine. You're mine)."

"What are you saying?" you ask, looking into his icy blue eyes you once 'hated' so much.

Pietro smiles and kisses your lips. He doesn't tell you what he means or how he feels. 

Not yet. 

tags: @kravensgirl, @brokeaesthetic, @sayitlikethecheese, @lqrlei

[maxdibert]

How can you reconcile being a fan of Snape and defending him so much, while also knowing about the terrible attitude he has as an adult toward his students? This isn’t a malicious question,I’m genuinely curious

I don’t justify Severus’ behavior, I simply understand it. And it’s not for the typical reasons like Harry being a copy of James, or Neville being clumsy, or Hermione being insufferable in class, or just because he can’t stand kids. I understand it because, in my view, Severus is still very much a child.

Take Sirius, for example. We can all see that being locked up in Azkaban for so many years essentially froze his life at a young age, so even though he’s old enough to have grey hairs down there, he still acts like a childish, immature person a lot of the time. And well, that’s exactly what Sirius is—an immature kid. He never had the opportunity to have experiences or grow throughout his twenties. Maturity doesn’t come with age alone but through everything we go through during that time and the experiences that shape us. Without those experiences, there’s nothing to build on.

Severus’ case is different from Sirius’, but it also stems from a lack of maturity and the inability to grow. Severus was a victim of violence from childhood, and that violence didn’t end—it continued throughout his school years. After all that torment, instead of leaving Hogwarts, telling everyone to screw off, and starting a new life where he could rebuild emotionally, he ends up trapped in the same school, playing a role to maintain his cover with pureblood families and burdened with having practically sold his soul to Dumbledore. He has no space to heal, no tools to work through his traumas, and no safe, healthy environment to grow into an adult. Severus is stuck in his adolescence, haunted by his past, his traumas, and totally incapable of managing his most visceral emotions. Sure, he’s great at faking it, acting indifferent, and wearing a mask to hide what’s going on inside. But just because he’s good at repressing doesn’t mean he’s good at managing his emotions, because in that regard, he fails completely. I mean, there are so many moments throughout the saga where Severus gets triggered, and every time it happens, his serious, unflappable façade crumbles, and he acts like a kid throwing a tantrum, someone with unresolved anger issues. That’s when you see that, deep down, he doesn’t know how to handle himself, which makes sense because he never had the chance to do so. We’re talking about an abuse victim who, instead of processing and exorcising his demons, had to lock them away and throw away the key—literally the last thing you should do when dealing with trauma.

What I’m getting at is that, on one hand, it’s reasonable to expect an adult to act like an adult. But on the other hand, as I grew older, went through years of therapy, and worked with people who come from messed-up backgrounds and have lived through terrible things, when I revisited the series and saw certain scenes where Severus is being an absolute jerk to his students, I didn’t just see an adult acting out. I saw the teenager he once was, insecure, feeling worthless, scared in the hallways. And now, for the first time, he’s in a position of power where he can say what he thinks and lash out without consequences. It’s not an adult acting here—it’s a kid who never grew up, trying to have the moment of glory he never had. It’s incredibly childish. And I have to say, I really like this aspect of his character because it’s so consistent with his backstory, even though it’s clearly irresponsible and abusive.

Severus shouldn’t be a teacher because someone who hasn’t matured, grown, or healed can’t be a role model, nor do they have the tools to properly handle situations where it’s so easy to project their insecurities and abuse their authority to compensate for their own shortcomings. But we can’t really expect anything else from him—if he were a well-adjusted adult, it would make him an unrealistic character. It’s impossible for someone with his background, without professional help and many years of personal work, to function properly in an environment like that.

[fallingskiesandrisingseas]

Today, Peter Pevensie after Narnia.

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

Peter has severe body dysmorphia when he comes back.

He used to be strong, reliable. Able to pick up his sister with one hand and fence with the other one. He prided himself on it, had arm wrestling contests with minotaurs and centaurs.

The first time he walks down the stairs he falls flat on his face. He's not used to his legs being half a foot shorter than they used to be.

His teachers don't understand how he turned into such a mess. He was normal, right? He was normal before he was sent away?

They talk of the way war hurts young children. They don't know just how true that is.

Peter cannot find his scars anymore. His body is soft, the skin unbroken. It fosters a rage in him so loud that teachers have to scold him every week. He fights with class bullies all the time. They gang up on him. They usually lose. They eventually stop trying.

Peter fights with honour, though. Closed fists, never below the belt, no permanent damage. If he gets the chance he will even take off his lion rings.

Long nights crying are replaced by sessions in the gym. Peter has pride like a wounded lion, will not let himself be pushed around. He gets used to his new body, makes it strong. Others worry over this obsession with strenght.

His siblings know it is because he has to regain an identity all by himself. Sure, they were royalty too, but he was the High King, Commander of the Armies, Emperor of the Lone Islands. He was the face of their court, the man behind the flag.

Others brought more back from Narnia then he did. Lucy has dancing, Edmund has chess, Susan has diplomacy and her silver tongue.

Peter had his crown, his country, his duties and his sword. Peter, even when stranded on a lone island, always had his wit and his strenght.

All that is lost in England, where he is not allowed to speak before his father, where he no longer has authority. He has to respect teachers talking about war while he knows they never fought.

He sits in the front of class still. He learns to hide the snarl, the comeback, the lazy sarcasm that fits a High King but not a 14 year old kid. Stops challenging his teachers verbally. He adjusts. His curiosity never leaves him, and his manners, he reminds himself, shouldn't neither.

He's cunning and clever and articulates himself well. Teachers often feel the need to call him arrogant, but he isn't that.

He's confident and secure, doesn't seem to suffer from teenage angst. He has endured loss, that they know. But they haven't a clue what he lost.

Peter is insufferable for the first 2 months he comes back from Caspian's Narnia. A kingdom, gone. Even with Aslan's words this is a hard lesson.

Then he becomes a man no one knew he could be.

Peter doesn't back down from bullies or harsh teachers. Peter doesn't ask for justice, he demands it.

Peter is brave. Two weeks after he's back, he sees a vet begging in the streets, harassed by a group of young men. He jumps in, comes home with a tooth missing and his knuckles bloodied.

When the vet is admitted to the hospital, no one believes the stories he tells. He says he saw a 15-year old veteran. The look in his eyes gave it away, he assures his physicians. That's a war look.

Peter is much more aware than he seems, can burn right through you with his glares. He takes critique seriously, but doesn't do well with disrespect, no matter who it's from.

Teachers hate that.

Despite this, kids like Peter, eventually. He's popular. Adults listen to him, which is strange. Not many 14 year old kids can command a room the way he can. They gravitate towards him, somehow.

It helps he grows tall faster than seems possible and walks so straight that it adds inches to his height. It helps he tells stories so vividly they almost come alive before their eyes. It helps he is cool under pressure, self-assured, broadshouldered. He's pious, goes to church every Sunday.

Peter settles eventually, a little slower than Susan and Edmund but before Lucy. He discovers the fencing club and immediately becomes the most talented member by a distance. Three weeks after he joins he beats the instructor. It makes him easier to manage, takes the edge of him.

He likes to quip while fencing. It's sometimes quite dark.

He's helpful though. His classmates don't take offence; Peter tells often and gladly of his instructor, a man named Oreius. He makes it sound like he was the greatest fencer in the country, always calls him "swordmaster".

He's often archaic with his speech like that.

His teachers are glad that the anger has faded. He's become better at many things, they discuss among themselves. An excellent writer, a brilliant fencer. A very strong debater. Peter, they conclude, makes sure things get done. The makings of a leader.

Peter likes languages. He's the one that remembers Narnian the best, uses it to learn a few other tongues. He likes sailing, and riding horses. His academic performances always improve after physical exercise, he can feel his brain speed up when the blood is flowing. Stories about who taught him that, who taught ALL the Pevensies that, circulate widly. Peter smiles when he hears he must've been recruited by MI6. He doesn't fight the allegations.

Women take a liking to him as he ages. He has "old-time charm", they say, even though they don't understand exactly what that means.

Chivalrous. That's the word they look for often. When they find out he can dance too, all of them fall head over heels. Peter is never smug about it, always remains polite. He doesn't kiss and tell.

He talks to his sisters and brother often.

Edmund seems like his shadow, but Peter never treats him like a little brother. He respects his input, often asks him for advice. Many are astonished when they find out Edmund is only 11 years old. They don't bicker. He dances with Lucy, talks deeply and seriously with Susan.

The Pevensies are close, and Peter is the oldest brother. He behaves like that, too.

He is the first to sign up for the war effort, eager to defend his nation and his family. But despite doing very well in selection, he doesn't get a frontline position. His skills, his supervisors decide, are better put to use elsewhere. He's too good to be cannon fodder.

Lucy and Edmund are secretely somewhat glad when he leaves to work with Susan in the States after he turns 19. Getting a date is very hard when Peter Pevensie is your older brother. And the States are safe.

Potential partners tend to be a little ... intimidated around him. Golden child, blond hair, 6"3, built like a brick, VERY protective of them, and fencing champion; Peter is a lot. He's disarming when you get to know him, but still.

They never liked Peter in the front lines, anyway.

Narnia never leaves his mind. Back from America with a BA in History and work experience from a secret service, he has dinner with the Friends of Narnia, sees the spectre, goes to find the rings.

He dies happy.

[romeosharpae]

“SAVE YOUR TEARS”

theodore nott x reader

content warning : extremely toxic relationship, cursing, public sex, mature language, explicit adult content, rough sex?, degrading, theodore nott x female reader, oral (f receiving), toxic! theodore nott.

parts : 1,2,

You're sure that if you were to ask anyone with common sense what they thought about you and Theodore Nott's relationship, they'd say it should be against Wizarding law.

"I don't want to talk!" You reprimanded, folding your arms over your chest with a huff. Theodore Nott simply rolled his dead-like blue eyes at your enraged lie.

Looking up at him, you could've sworn a twisted smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "C'mon baby, you're hurting my feelings." He mocked your soft voice.

"You don't have feelings." You mumbled, frustration growing in your voice. Theodore lowly chuckled, leaning his face down to kiss you but you turn away. "Get off of me, Nott, I need to go to Transfiguration."

Theo wrapped a veiny hand around your forearm when you tried to push past him, pulling you back to the stone wall. This time Theodore placed both his hands aside your head, trapping you between him and the wall. From the look on his pale face, you could tell that he knew you were still upset.

But how could you not be?

"Go back to wherever you were last--" Theodore scoffed loudly, drowning out the seething words leaving your lips.

"Are you kidding me?" He snapped. Even though you hated when he used that tone towards you, you weren't to back down. No, you were not about to apologize to Theodore and end up on your knees seconds later just to stop his yelling this time around.

"Funny. Those are the same exact words I repeated last night as I waited around thirty minutes for you." You shot back.  "You know, Theodore.. I really do hate y--"

"Watch your mouth." He warned.

"What's her name, huh?" You continued. Theodore's jaw clenched from anger. He can handle every insult you threw his way, but Theodore really hated when you accused him of being with someone else. "Is it Greengrass? She didn't learn from the last time I dragged her by her root--?!"

You recalled the last time one of Theodore's hook-ups confronted you, and the amount of Slytherin's it took to get you off of her. As previously said before, you were a sweet girl, but the side of you that Theodore brought out, wasn't as friendly or sweet..

"Shut up, you're not even that type of girl." Oddly enough, Theodore was right, you were not the type of a girl to threaten to physically hurt someone, especially over him. The more you thought about it, the more stupider that you sounded by saying that.

You were so stupid.

Had you not been stupid you wouldn't be in this predicament with the emotionless Slytherin brunette. You would've ran for this hills the moment he made it clear your relationship was just a friend-with-benefits dynamic, knowing you wanted more. Theodore knew you were stupid, so vulnerable, and he took advantage of that.

And that made your eyes began to well with tears, eyesight becoming blurred. Before you could even get the chance to control yourself, you began sobbing loudly. How could it even be possibly to hate someone yet love them as much as you do Theodore Nott?

Lucky for your image, everyone else was in class, or you would've looked like a complete maniac to the bystanders.

"Fuck..." Theodore deeply exhaled. The sobbing only became louder as he wrapped his arms around your figure, the heat from his body which was usually comforting seeming insufferable. "What's wrong..? What did I do?"

"Everything!"

You pushed yourself away from him, completely catching your lover off guard. During the years that you've known each other, never have you pushed him away. Even if he was the reasoning behind your distress, you still allowed him to comfort you.

"My best friend hates me!" You cried out, sadness easily detected in your tone. "She won't even talk to me!"

"Why would she hate you?"

Hate was complete exaggeration and you definitely knew that. Hermione Granger actually doesn't hate you. But you don't doubt for a moment she was extremely upset and disappointed with you; You, and everybody else could see the anger on her face when Theodore walked with you, hand-in-hand, inside the Great hall the morning following your rekindling at the Black lake.

"Umm, because I keep putting myself in the same unhealthy situation with you--" You said the obvious and your voice cracks.

Unhealthy situation (toxic).

Despite you being upset in the moment, you knew to avoid having Theodore's patience with you snapping, you shouldn't call it that.

He hated when you or outsiders would name your relationship that.. He claimed that although it had its flaws-way more than the common couple, it wasn't toxic.

But it was!

"Merlin." Theodore hissed, irritated. "Why does it matter what she thinks, Y/N?" Theo's continued rambles make you frown. "Granger and Weasley can not even admit they like each other--Why would she even care?"

"Because she's my friend!"

You could tell he wished she wasn't..

"Friends care about each other, Theodore. Unlike you and yours, me and Hermione are not just friends because it makes us look good." You started hypocritically, and a small frown spreads on the brunette's lips. "So of course she's not going to want me to be with someone who treats me like.. crap!"

You were telling the actual truth. The little patience that he had for you during your outburst has fully vanished as he grabbed the back of your neck, harshly forcing you to look into his dark blue eyes. "Don't say that, Y/N."And you could see the anger rising in his face although he had no right to be mad,

Hermione would tell you that the worse part about you and Theodore's situation was that you knew he disregarded your emotions yet you still went back. It ashamed you how Theodore had you wrapped around his finger. And you fully knew that a toxic relationship was bad enough, but it was even worse if both parties knew the reality of it.

And perhaps that's what led you sob even louder in the moment. Or why you wrapped your arms around Theodore, letting your emotions off into his chest. The brunette's hands slides up from your neck into the back of your head, rubbing you in comfort.

"Aren't the two of you suppose to be in class right now?" Flinch, who guarded the corridors questioned nastily.

If looks could kill, Flinch would be unresponsive on the ground from the way that Theodore turns to glare at him. You pulled away from him, despite the protest your body was giving you, and wiped your tears. There's Concern is written over the squibs face as he watched pull yourself together.

Your attempt to walk away and to Transfiguration fails against when Theodore repeated his earlier action by pulling you back to him. "Stop crying." Theodore's large hands cups your face, bringing you to meet him in a gentle yet powerful kiss.

Merlin, you really hated Theodore, just everything about him. But unfortunately for your sanity, you found yourself loving those same things undefinably.

Did Theodore Nott love you?

You found it sad that you knew the complicated answer to that overly question.  Yet here you were standing, knuckles practically forced between your lips, one leg pressed into the wooden bookshelf as Theodore ate you out like a starved man.

His tongue was roughly swirling against on your clitoris, annually sucking up the juices he earned from you. Your heart was beating rapidly, chest heaving up and down. And you didn't know weather this adrenaline rush was from the pleasure you were feeling or because you were in the schools library.. Or because on the other side of the bookcase was Harry Potter and Hermione Granger.

A person who Theodore had just wrongly accused you of flirting with and wanting to fuck, and the other who probably wishes upon a well that you'd leave him alone. Clearly, the brunettes motives behind wanting to take you right here were clear. And had he not preformed a silencing charm on the two of you, your sure they would've heard your whining and his sucking, slurping, and curses. But a silencing charm wouldn't have stopped someone, anyone, from walking by and seeing the two of you in this obscene state, and that makes you throb, lowly moaning.

"Theo--" You sob.

Theodore growled against your wet flesh, bringing your body closer to him by the hand that he had on your waist. "You want more?"

Despite it being so sick, you nod.

And you knew the sickness behind this situation was what caused that large smile to smile across his full pink lips. He pushed your leg further back into the bookshelf, allowing himself more access before burying his face in-between your thighs once again.

You were absolutely terrified of what would happen had somebody saw you like this, vaginal area on display as the same boy you'd just been fighting with in the courtyard made a embarrassing mess out of you, the rumors that would be spread about you would tarnish your reputation for sure.

You squeeze your eyes shut, butting down further on your knuckles as you roll yourself against his pleasuring tongue.

You could feel your release approaching, probably only one tongue swipe away from getting it out of you. But Theodore ripped his mouth away from you, like you did not deserve your release, and it's gone with the wind. He was such a tease, and you really hated that. Theodore slapped your hand away when you tried to pull his head back between your thighs. Theodore stands to his feet, towering over your height like a tree as usual, and you watched as his fingers frantically went to unbuckle his belt. The desperation clear, the burning fire, behind his eyes as he started at you lets you know that Theodore Nott was seriously about to fuck you until were completely incoherent.

Harshly, Theodore manhandled you around until your back was facing him. Now, your chest was pushed up against the cold bookshelf and due to a few missing books, you could currently see both Hermione and Harry sitting down at a table, studying. Had one of them looked up and stared in your direction, your sure they'd see your face. This makes you hiss out, wanting to look away but Theodore roughly grabbed your jaw, keeping you in place before you could even get the chance.

"Hold it," He breathed out, and without a second thought you scrunched up the plaid school skirt you wore in your hands. Your breath hiked, "'He's no good for you, Y/L/N'" Theodore gritted in your ear, mocking your best friend. Before you could defend her honor, you felt him buried deep inside of you.

"Why don't you fuck my other best friend instead?" Your body knocked into the bookshelf at every hard thrust he gave you. From the way Theodore had you stretched around him your jaw drops, a strangled moan escaping from it loudly. "But you'd like that wouldn't you? He's what you want?"

You would admit that Harry Potter was an attractive boy. He was nice to you, always offered to help you with things, or walk you back to your house after class. And to say that you never thought he liked you would be a lie. But why would you want anything to do with Harry when you had Theodore?

Your eyes squeezed shut. At your lack of response to his question, Theodore pounds into you painfully harder, no doubt realizing that you are actually thinking about the question. "But I'm what you need, Y/N. He can't ever do the things that I do to you, remember that." You whine like a neglected infant at that, for more perhaps?

You stand up on you are tipped toes, attempting to brush an little bit of the pleasuring pain you were feeling but Theodore wasn't going for it. He wrapped his hand around your throat, forcing your back to his chest, whispering harshly in your ear, "Stop running, Take it."

Your pull your lower lip between teeth, attempting to stop yourself from screaming as you finally came undone. Tears began to fall from your glistening eyes, landing on the white button up blouse that were wearing.

Theodore ruts himself into you even harder, holding you in place by your throat to get himself off and nearly cutting off your airway. Although you didn't entirely mind.

As previously said, you enjoyed everything Theodore Nott had to offer you, even the not exactly mentally sane stuff. Theodore finally pulled himself out of you, and you were that he was about to finish. That was until he spun your around to face him, placed his hands underneath your kneecap, and hauled you up. Without even having to be asked,  you wrapped your legs around his waist.

You also took Theodore's lips into yours without having to be asked. Your trembling hands catered his face, tongue sliding over his in an extremely sloppy manner.

But the kiss was disconnected, your teeth baring with a hiss when he slips back in you. Theodore was pace was different this position, a lot more slower and deep, almost meaningful. "You think he'll still like you if he saw us?" He challenged, panting heavily.

"You wouldn't even care, would you?" He chuckled, giving you a smile that displays all his pretty pearly white teeth. "Because I'm all you need, right?"

You nodded your head, agreeing.

"Merlin Nott, you're such asshole!"

You had not even realized that you were crying.. not until you felt Pansy Parkinson hands brush against your cheeks. Her other hand was on your back, attempting to soothe you but it was failing to work.

Theodore looked at you with dead eyes. Yet even then you could see the amusement behind them, almost taunting you. And that made you that much angrier. You picked up an object from the table, launching at the brunette. "I...I hate you! S-So much!"

Theodore dodged it, the same way he does every time you tried throwing something at him while arguing. "Crazy little bi--"

Crazy?

Truthfully, you were in disbelief at the word that just escaped Theo's mouth. How dare he have the nerve to say you were behaving crazy? How dare he? Not when Theodore just basically called you clingy and told you to fuck off in front of his friends.

The embarrassment hurt just as bad as any other time he denied your relationship in and out closed doors. How could he just call things off whenever he felt like it? And you realize that you gave him that confidence by crawling back each time he did.

You're the reason that Theodore felt so comfortable treating you like something off the bottom of his shoe whenever he felt like it. And who was to say that that would change if there was a label on your situation?

"Why do you keep doing this to me?!" You spoke to him and his jaw clenched. "Merlin What did I do to deserve this?" You cried more to yourself this time.

Ever since you welcomed Theodore back in your life at the Black Lake, you have found your self crying so much more. Why did you have to love someone so nonchalant? So evil Why couldn't you love someone like Harry.. or even Draco Malfoy would be better.

Anything was better than someone that was selfish like Theodore Nott. You have dug yourself into this to insane misalliance because you have allowed him to be so selfish with your love that he didn't even deserve.

“Y--You don’t even deserve me...” You admitted said to him, sniffling. “So hey Nott, fuck you.” You wanted to launch something else at Theodore, shout, cry some more but that was the reaction that he wants from you. “Fuck you, Theodore Nott!” His jaw clenched at those words, expression twisting.

He wanted to see you insane at his hands, break yourself until you had other choice but to come to him comfort.

You snatched yourself out of Pasny’s grip, Theodore wore an expression that you couldn’t quite read because it’s so unfamiliar. Regret? Confusion? You couldn’t tell.

And for that you could not contain yourself from throwing a pillow at him. “You will never find someone better than me!”

You both knew that.

Then you breathlessly laughed, “And that’s disappointing because you’ll never ever have me again, Theodore Nott.”

Part four >>>

[lilstarkeydream]

Hidden Flames- Chapter 1

Summary: Y/N, a Kook who prefers the company of her Pogue friends, falls for Rafe Cameron. Despite their growing feelings, they maintain a facade due to their conflicting social circles and personal insecurities. Y/N is best friends with Sarah, Rafe's sister, which fuels Rafe's hidden affection. He despises how Y/N hangs out with the Pogues, believing she has more potential, while Y/N can't stand Rafe's for fights and stuck up nature. After a dramatic confrontation, they confess their feelings but must keep their relationship secret, with only Sarah in the know.

Warnings: 18+ only! Angst, Smut, Adult language, Violence, Alcohol use

Authors note: Hey guys! This is my first time writing any fan fiction, so go easy on me but I hope you enjoy. I am hoping to have another chapter up within the next week, as well as a series navigation. Feel free to send requests if you have story ideas for Rafe (check my bio).

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It was 9 o'clock on a Friday night. Nightfall had crept up before you knew it, and the island was alive with the buzz of another wild party. After a long day working at the golf course, you headed straight to your best friend Sarah Cameron’s white mansion. Known as the Kook princess, Sarah had welcomed you into her world since you moved to the island in middle school. The Cameron residence had become your second home, between sleepovers, getting ready for parties, and just gossip sessions. Despite the bitter fallout between Sarah and Kiara, which shattered your once inseparable trio, you managed to stay close to both, splitting your life between Kooks and Pogues. 

Sarah's boyfriend, Topper, was a constant presence. As her older brother’s best friend, he was also practically part of the family. You weren’t super fond of Topper, as he could be a self-entitled asshole, but he made her happy for the most part- besides their weekly fights and Topper getting mad at Sarah for the littlest of things. He made her happy that’s all that mattered. Rafe Cameron is Sarah's older brother and Topper's best friend, he was also a self-entitled asshole, who you, unfortunately, had to see on a weekly basis, due to the mutual connection. Topper and Rafe also golfed a lot, leaving the interactions unavoidable since you worked as a Bev cart girl for extra cash. Rafe was insufferable, to say the least, he always found a way to make your life a living nightmare. 

Your other time is spent hanging out with the Pogues- JJ, John B, Kiara, and Pope. Both you and Kiara are technically Kooks, but honestly, that lifestyle became too much for you both all the time. Hence how you found your best friends, the Pogues. The Pogues offered freedom, adventure, and a sense of belonging you hadn’t found anywhere else. Your parents disapproved, deeming your Pogue friends as bad influences. They never understood why you would want to degrade your self-worth and reputation, but they don’t understand how intoxicating Kook life can truly be. Your life felt like a constant balancing act, a war between the adventurous and fulfilling life as Pogues and the obligations of being a Kook. 

Now, you were at Sarah’s house, frantically trying to find the perfect outfit for the party, rummaging through her expensive wardrobe. You were caught between wanting to look sexy or slutty, and trying to distract yourself from the anger simmering from your encounter at work earlier that day. Every dress you held up seemed to fall short of the image you had in mind. Rafe Cameron had made yet another one of his insufferable comments, making it impossible to focus. You tried to shake off the previous encounter from the golf course.

Earlier that afternoon, the golf course was bathed in golden sunlight, creating the perfect atmosphere for your shift. As the beverage cart girl, you were used to dealing with the occasional lewd remark or entitled attitude from the Kook golfers, but Rafe always took it a step further. You had just finished serving drinks to a group of older businessmen when Rafe called over, his smirk as infuriating as ever, signaling he only wanted to cause you chaos

"Hey there, service girl," he said, leaning against the cart with an exaggerated casualness with the usually smug grin hung on his face. "Nice to see you finally doing something useful for once."

You forced a tight smile, hoping to get through the interaction without causing a scene. "Can I get you anything, Rafe?"

"Yeah, how about a little respect?" he sneered back, his body language reeking of mockery. "Or is that too much to ask from a Pogue-wannabe like you?"

Your hands instantly tightened on the steering wheel of the cart, every muscle in your body screaming at you to say something back, to put him in his place. If anything he was even worse. But you knew better. Engaging would only escalate the situation, and Rafe thrived on conflict, he wanted you to respond with a snarky comment. Instead, you focused on the task at hand, preparing his drink and handing it to him with forced politeness and a tight-lip smile on your face. 

"Here you go, Rafe. Enjoy your day."

He took the drink, his fingers brushing yours in a way that felt more like a taunt than an accident. "Don't screw it up too badly tonight, alright? Wouldn't want you embarrassing Sarah in front of everyone."

The comment stung more than you cared to admit. It wasn't just his words; it was how he always managed to make you feel small and insignificant- solidifying your existing insecurities. As he walked away, laughing with his friends, you felt the familiar mix of anger and frustration bubble up inside you.

As you were brought back from daydreaming your anger only grew, causing you to blurt out your day's frustration, "I fucking hate him, Sarah. All he does is go around doing drugs and causing fights. I was so close to flipping out today." pacing around Sarah’s room, venting. You already debriefed Sarah on the whole incident, but you couldn’t help but talk about it again. Your usual thick skin was not feeling so intact. 

Sarah looked at you with her empathic face, sighing, trying to calm you down "Y/N, you know he just tries to get under your skin. It’s what Rafe does."

Frustrated, you rolled your eyes, "He doesn't care about my feelings. He thinks I’m a total disgrace to the Kook name. Maybe he’s right. I don’t give a shit about the Kook life and do half of what I do to please my parents."

You continued pacing, finally settling on a black dress that hugged your curves, pairing it with your simple burgundy swimsuit underneath. Leaving your hair down, you opted for simple strap sandals, finally feeling ready for the night. 

Rafe Cameron is a special kind of infuriating. You try to tolerate him, you do, but his constant snarky comments about every aspect of your life makes him incredibly punchable. No matter how tall and handsome he might be, it didn’t matter in this instance. You could handle some comments, but you weren’t a complete pushover.

Sarah trying to steer the conversation to a happier note, in an attempt to diffuse your anger “Let's just go to this party, get blasted drunk, meet some people, and forget about tonight. Rafe isn't worth the stress."

Taking a deep breath, you knew she was right, momentarily letting go of your anger “You’re right. I’m not going to let him ruin our night. Let’s go have some fun." Finally settling down from your pacing, you put the final touches on your makeup sitting down in front of Sarah’s mirror.

“I know I’m right Y/N” giving me a loving side glance “Plus why does it matter what he thinks anyway. He’s always high and pissed off”. She paused for a second, finishing up her hair. “Alright, we're all ready to go and get drunk as fuck?” she said with a smug look on her face. 

You took a deep breath, letting the tension of the day slip away. Sarah's carefree attitude was contagious, and despite everything, you couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement. She might be a little blind to her brother's flaws, especially since she was dating Topper and their worlds were so intertwined, but she was still your best friend.

After a quick car drive and lots of shuffling through Sarah’s mixed-genre playlist, you arrived at the more-than-alive scene of the party. You weren’t even sure whose house it was but hell that didn’t matter. A party is a party. Music instantly fills your ears as soon as you step out of the car. The front yard was packed with people, a mixture of Kooks and Pogues mingling together, the tension of their social divide momentarily forgotten. Almost serving as a symbol for what your pogue-kook life looked like. 

Walking through the front door, the house was a blur of lights and laughter. You made your way to the kitchen, the center of every good party. You hugged Sarah as she wanted to venture off to find Topper, as usual, but you didn’t mind. You needed a little break to gather your thoughts anyway. The familiar scent of expensive cologne and perfume mingled with the heavy aroma of alcohol and smoke, creating an intoxicating atmosphere. Grabbing a red solo cup from the stack, you filled it with a generous amount of a strong mix of whatever was handy—tonight was about forgetting the week’s frustrations. You took a small sip, wincing slightly at the strong taste, but internally smiling at the immediate warmth of the alcohol that spread through your chest.

The drink was strong, probably vodka, but you needed it. As you leaned against the counter, you took a moment to take in the scene around you. The living room was a blur, with loud music thumping in conjunction with conversation and laughter. 

Despite the alive atmosphere, the exchange between you and Rafe still lurked in your mind. Sometimes you felt like a Kook who didn’t quite fit in, you have well-off parents and a promising paved future with privilege and opportunity. Your parents envisioned you with a successful career, bringing pride and status to the family name. Yet, you were never a huge fan of the behavior the Kook lifestyle manifested, often self-centered, ignorant, asshole-like individuals. Rafe is a great example of that.

With your drink secure in your hand, you pushed yourself off the counter and made your way through the house outside to the bonfire. You felt a wave of relief as soon as the fresh ocean air hit your face, heat from the fire mixed with the ocean breeze creating a perfect party atmosphere. You spotted your friends - JJ, John B, Kiara, and Pope, sitting around the fire, laughing about something stupid JJ said. The genuine joy is clear on their faces, contrasting with the pretentious kook attitudes.

With a big grin on your face, you called out, “Hey guys, mind if I join you?”

Kiara’s eyes lit up in recognition of your face, “Y/N! Get over here, come sit down. We were just talking about crazy stuff JJ pulled off last week. “ 

As you settled in, the warmth of the fire continued to provide comfort as well as your friends began to ease your previous tense state. JJ went into vivid detail about his last mischievous adventure, our expressions displaying a mix of disbelief and laughter at his antics. The conversation effortlessly flowed, sharing jokes and stories that had everyone laughing until their stomachs hurt. I could feel the effects of the alcohol starting to take effect. In other words, the night was perfect. For a moment, it felt like everything in the world was right. These moments with your Pogue friends were ones that you cherished most. They made you feel alive, grounded, and understood; something you missed out on in your Kook life.

Eventually, you reached the bottom of the solo cup, signaling a refill was needed. Standing up, you navigate your way back to the kitchen, passing both Kooks and Pogues you couldn’t put a name to. The house became a maze, with more people filing in as the night was still young. As you reached the familiar environment of the kitchen for the bottle of Vodka, you suddenly bumped into someone. Looking up, you found yourself face to face with the one and only Rafe Cameron, his ocean-blue eyes, slightly glazed with alcohol and god knows what other drugs, looking down at you. His presence was overwhelming, you could smell a mixture of his cologne and the sharpness of vodka. 

Rafe smirked down at you drunk, “Well, well, look who decided to slum it with the Pogues tonight. Have you decided you're finally trying to find yourself a real man, Y/N?”

His words were a direct hit causing you to look away, annoyance taking over your face, however, you kept your cool, “Just enjoying the party, Rafe. Not that any of it is your business” 

Rafe took a step closer, lowering his voice for only you to hear, “Everything you do is my business, Y/N. Don't you forget that?” His sudden proximity made your heart race, you felt a mix of anger and something else- something else you wouldn’t dare to acknowledge.

Flustered, you shot back, “Fuck off, Rafe. You don’t care about me.” You angrily push him away, your hands firm against the muscles of his chest, and quickly turn around, making your way back to your friends. The interaction with Rafe left you shaken, the interaction making you once again feel so small yet so noticed. You quickly downed two more drinks, trying to steady your nerves. Taking in Sarah’s words from earlier to just try and enjoy the night.

As the alcohol coursed through your veins, you started to feel a pleasant buzz, hoping the tension was behind you. You felt engulfed by your friend's laughter with the warmth of the fire.

Suddenly, your mood shifted once again, as you saw Rafe Cameron making his way towards the bonfire. This time more drunk and agitated. 

As Rade approaches he spits "Y/N, you think you can just walk away from me like that?"

You stood up, the alcohol giving you a false sense of courage. "What the hell do you want, Rafe? Can't you just leave me alone?"

Rafe rolled his eyes, continuing to mock you “Oh, look at you. Acting all tough in front of your Pogue friends. You’ll never be a pogue Y/N, just give it up!"

The Pogues immediately rose to your defense, with John B stepping forward. "Back off, Rafe. She doesn't need to deal with your shit tonight." John B stepping between you and Rafe. 

Topper, along with a few other Kooks, approached to back up Rafe. "Stay out of it, John B. This is between Rafe and Y/N."

Tensions escalated quickly as insults were thrown back and forth. You could feel the eyes of everyone around you, the entire party was now focused on the showdown. Anxiety coursing through your body, unsure of why Rafe had a sudden interest making his hatred for you a public display.

Rafe's voice grew louder, more aggressive. "You're just a joke, Y/N. You’re pathetic. You don’t belong with us Kooks, and you never will."

Your anger boiled over, you began to raise your voice. "And who are you to decide where I belong? You’re just a spoiled brat who thinks he can control everyone."

Rafe's eyes flashed with anger, and he took a step closer. "You’re going to regret saying that."

Before you could react, Rafe shoved you. The force of his push sent you stumbling backward. The Pogues immediately rushed to your side, while the Kooks moved in to support Rafe. The scene erupted into chaos, with shoving and shouting escalating into a full-blown brawl. 

John B and Topper exchanged punches, while JJ and Pope tried to hold back the other Kooks. Even with the chaos, Rafe's eyes remained locked on yours, his anger still burning. 

You struggled to regain your balance, your head spinning from the mix of alcohol and adrenaline. Kiara was at your side in an instant, helping you to your feet. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice filled with worry.

You nodded weakly, brushing off your clothes and fixing your hair. "I think so. I didn’t hit my head or anything. I’m just really drunk." You instantly are brought back to reality realizing there’s still a fight going on, in an attempt to break it up, you make your way to John B. and Rafe.

"Stop it, Rafe!" you shouted, trying to pull him away from the fight. "This isn’t worth it!"

Ignoring you, Rafe lunged at John B again, but you stepped in between them, pushing Rafe back with all your strength. "I said, stop it!"

Sarah appeared behind Topper, her face prominent with both frustration and concern. She darted between the fighters, yelling at Rafe and Topper. "Stop it, you idiots! This is so stupid!"

Sarah was still trying to break up the fight, her voice cutting through the air. "Rafe, Topper, knock it off! You're acting like complete assholes!"

Breathing heavily, Rafe finally relented, his eyes still locked on you. He remained silent putting his hands up. Before turning around and walking away he muttered, “Dirty pogues.” You glared back at him, your chest heaving, at a loss for words.

As the thrill from the fight finally died down, everyone began to disperse, the calming party atmosphere now shattered. You turned away from the bonfire, heading toward the beach to clear your head. JJ tried to stop you from leaving telling you to stay with them, all you could do was shake your head, knowing the complexity of your emotions was too much right now. The cool night air did little to calm your racing heart. You began to feel tears prick in your eyes, the emotions of the recent events starting to overtake you. Your chest tightened as you began to silently cry, tears streaming down your face. The alcohol did little to nothing to suppress the storm. 

You were still wondering about Rafe's sudden outburst of emotion aimed toward you. He’s said many rude comments to you in the past about you hanging with the Pogues, and how it’s like you aren’t a real Kook. But never this confrontational. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the drugs. But his anger was more intense, more personal. The same feeling as earlier began to rise, the one you don’t dare to acknowledge, was there another reason for his sudden interest? 

You walked along the shoreline, the sound of the ocean filling your eyes, the waves crashing against the sand. The consistency of the ocean brings you a brief sense of relief from the chaos you were wrapped up in. Despite the beauty around you, the moonlight reflecting on the water, you felt the rage boil inside you, coming with another wave of tears.

Rafe's actions tonight suggested something more, tonight hinted at a complexity you hadn’t quite considered before. You wiped your tears with your arm, frustration continuing to bubble up within you. 

Why did he care so much about who you spent your time with? Why was he always your prying eyes, always judging? The more you ponder these ideas, the more confused you become. You couldn’t deny a spark you felt when he was close, but even if that was true, it was too deeply buried underneath many layers of anger and resentment. 

As you were still deep in your thoughts, staring out into the ocean, looking for some sort of answer, you heard footsteps approaching from behind. You turned to see Rafe following you, his expression unreadable. "Y/N, wait," he called out, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable. 

You crossed your arms, the moonlight glowing over your soft features. Rafe could see your clear hurt expression and tear-stained cheeks. “What could you possibly want Rafe? Haven’t you caused enough trouble tonight” You demanded, despite your voice trembling due to hurt and sorrow

Rafe sighed, looking away, running his hand through his hair, “I don’t know, I don’t know Y/N.” he paused for a second, words hanging heavily between you “Maybe I just… I just wanted to talk”

You scoffed at this almost instantly, and you began to turn around and walk away “You have a weird way of showing it? Insulting me, pushing me, hurting my friends.” you spat back, nothing but bitterness in your voice, unwillingly for him to truly see how deeply his actions hurt you.

But his footsteps continued to follow you, “Please” he pleaded, reaching out to grab your arm gently, causing you to turn around to face him. Your heart skipped a beat despite your anger still present. “Just… give me a chance y/n” 

Your mind raced, surprised by his vulnerability, you paused and looked up into his eyes. In this moment, the resentment you too held for each other seemed to melt away, leaving something raw and unspoken in its place. You hated the way he made you feel so small and judged yet here he was at the same time, his vulnerable voice struck something else in you, making you hesitate. Quickly second guessing if you’d regret giving him a chance to talk to you. Opening the possibility of finding out the motives behind his spite and arrogance. The scene from earlier races across your mind. 

All you could do was mutter softly, “What could you possibly want to talk to me about, Rafe? To hurt me again? To prove that I don’t belong? I thought you made it clear your feelings towards me.” your voice breaking even more with every word. 

Rafe's grip on your arm tightened slightly, just enough for you not to walk away. He took a deep breath, his eyes searching yours. "Y/N, I know I've been a complete asshole. I know I've hurt you and pushed you away, but... it’s because I didn’t know how else to handle this. Handle us."

"Us?" you echoed, confused and overwhelmed.

"Yes, us," he said, stepping closer. "I can't stop thinking about you. It drives me crazy seeing you with them, with the Pogues. I hate it because I... I care about you." You searched his eyes, looking for a sense of truth behind his words. Could it be that all his hostility was masking something deeper he felt?

His confession left you stunned. You had always thought Rafe hated you. Ever since you knew Sarah, Rafe was only rude to you. Rolling his eyes every time he saw you, purposefully causing hell for you on the golf course, yet being overprotective when it came to you hanging with the pogues. These new emotions were a lot to take in, something you’d never think for Rafe Cameron to admit. 

“Why Rafe?” you spoke, your voice still barely above a whisper, “Why do you care so much about who I’m with?”

He hesitated at this, not sure whether to reveal the truth to his bitterness, “Because… because it’s you y/n” his voice finally breaking at his vulnerability, “Because you’re different. You make me feel things I don’t want to feel. I don’t know how to handle this.” 

Before you could process all of it, still looking wide-eyed at Rafe, he leaned in and captured your lips in a kiss. It was soft at first, hesitant, but then it grew more passionate. A knot in your stomach growing, the sensation of his lips felt like none other. You kissed him back, your heart pounding, swearing you never wanted this moment to end. This new side of Rafe was one you never wanted to end. 

Rafe pulled away abruptly, his eyes wide with regret. "I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I—" Against your best judgment, you closed the distance again, kissing him more passionately this time. The alcohol must’ve taken over the rational thinking of this situation, the four drinks you had taking its full effect. The moment his lips met yours, a surge of heat spread through your body, making your heart race and your skin tingle. His lips were surprisingly soft, a stark contrast to his usual rough demeanor.

His hands gently cupped your face, his touch both tender and possessive, sending shivers down your spine. Every movement of his lips against yours was intoxicating, drowning out the chaos of the party and the world around you. You could taste the remnants of alcohol on his breath, mingling with a hint of something sweet and entirely Rafe.

As the kiss deepened, you felt a mix of emotions – anger, desire, confusion, and an unexpected tenderness. It was as if all the tension, all the animosity between you, had been building up to this moment, where words were no longer necessary. Your mind struggled to keep up with the rush of feelings, but your body responded instinctively, leaning into him, craving more of his touch.

In that kiss, you felt a vulnerability you had never seen in Rafe before. It was raw and unfiltered, a glimpse into the complex layers beneath his tough exterior. The kiss was a silent confession, a bridge between your worlds that had been divided for so long. It was overwhelming, exhilarating, and left you breathless, with your heart pounding and your mind reeling from the sheer intensity of it all.

You both pulled away from the kiss, both breathless, your head swirling with a mix of new emotions. 

Rafe still noticed your still drunken state, leaving you in no condition to stay alone, “Y/n you shouldn’t be alone right now. Do you want a ride? You can stay the night at my house.” 

Despite your best judgment, you found yourself nodding and smiling. “Sure” is all you could muster out. Even if this was just for one night, you didn’t want these feelings to end. The intimate moment between you and Rafe was far from unexpected, and it was probably the alcohol but hell you didn’t want this night to end. You got out your phone and texted Sarah and the Pogues, letting them know you were getting a ride home and not to wait up for you, telling them you just needed some time to clear your head. You felt guilty for lying to your friends but you couldn’t help but wonder what the night held. 

Rafe led you to his truck, and the cold air flushed against your warm skin. Rafe opened the door for you, his touch lingering on your arm, you climbed in, your mind racing. The car ride was silent, but not awkward. You both stole glances at each other, the kiss and the rush of new emotions lingered in the air between you, heavy with unspoken words and possibilities. You couldn’t help but feel torn. On one hand, you saw a side of Rafe that was genuine and sincere, something that made you want to trust him. His body language, the way he carefully watched the road but still glanced at you, and his words from earlier all hinted at a deeper truth.

On the other hand, you couldn’t shake the nagging guilt and doubt. Trusting Rafe felt like betraying the Pogues, your friends who had been there for you through thick and thin. They despised him, and for good reason. His past actions, the way he treated you and others, loomed large in your mind. Was this a mistake? Would you regret this in the morning?

When you arrived at the Cameron residence, you both carefully and silently made your way up to Rafe's room, you were already familiar with the layout of his house due to being here millions of times hanging out with Sarah. Although despite the numerous hangouts, you have never once been into Rafe's room.

When you entered his room, you weren’t surprised by the size but more taken aback by the simplicity yet authenticity of his room. The smell of his cologne filling your nose, being the main aroma of his room. The room was dominated by a king-sized bed, neatly made with dark blue and grey bedding. In one corner stood a large grey sofa, both the bed and the sofa facing a ginormous TV mounted on the wall. His room was so organized, not a spec of clothing on the floor, it seemed like everything had its place. His dresser took you by the most surprise, it wasn’t even the dresser itself but the picture frames scattered on top of it, Rafe looked happy in all of them, yet again a new side of Rafe you haven’t seen.

Pulled out of your thoughts, Rafe comes back from rummaging through his closet and hands you some spare clothes for you to sleep in. You offered him a warm smile in exchange and made your way to the bathroom to change.

As soon as the bathroom door closed behind you, a surge of conflicting emotions hit you like a wave. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, your face flushed from both the alcohol and the events of the night. Questions and doubts flooded your mind. What were you doing here? Why had you agreed to stay? The uncertainty was eating at your stomach, making your heart race.

You began to change into the clothes Rafe had given you, the feel of the soft fabric against your skin oddly comforting. As you pulled his t-shirt over your head, engrossed by his scent, intensifying your internal conflict. Why did his presence, his touch, and his kiss stir such strong emotions within you?

The memory of the kiss flashed through your mind. The vulnerability you had seen in Rafe, the raw intensity of the moment, it all felt so real. The feeling you didn’t want to acknowledge came rising back, feeling uneasy about facing these emotions. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. You were witnessing a side of Rafe that made you question everything you thought you knew.

Once you emerged for the bathroom noticing Rafe already changed into some grey shorts and an old t-shirt, Rafe looked up and said, “You can have my bed tonight.” His voice was low and tired, “I’ll take the Sofa. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” 

You hesitated at his words, feeling a mix of uncertainty and trust. Despite everything, despite your best judgment and all the hatred you’ve had towards Rafe for years, it all seemed to fade in that moment, you found yourself shyly saying, “Can you sleep in the bed, please? It’s a big bed, plus it would make me feel safer.”

Partially knowing your need to feel safe was a lie, you felt a deeper pull in your gut—a need for his presence. Rafe paused at your response, searching your eyes for any sign of doubt, “Are you sure y/n?”

You nodded at him reassuring him of your answer. Rafe turned off the lights, only the moon illuminating a path to the bed. Both of you got into the bed, lying down side by side. The silence was thick with unspoken words and new feelings, and the room was charged with the intensity of the night’s events. The bed felt enormous with the space left between you, a sharp contrast from your previous closeness.

Lying there, you could feel the heat radiating from his body, a tangible reminder of how close he was. Your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, trying to process everything that had happened. You had always seen Rafe as the enemy, the source of your frustrations, but now he was something different, something you couldn't quite define. The kiss tonight felt like it changed everything you thought you knew about him. You saw Rafe with lots of girls at parties but never seen him touch them or kiss them the way he did to you. 

Rafe turned to you, interrupting your thoughts, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to hurt you tonight. I just... I don't know how to deal with these feelings. I’m sorry"

You turned towards him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes despite the darkness. "Rafe, why now? Why tonight?" The alcohol seemed to be fading from your system.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair and over his face, clearly still confused with his emotions, "I don't know. Maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's just everything catching up to me. But when I saw you tonight, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You looked beautiful tonight y/n, I’ve tried to push it away, but I can’t anymore."

Your heart pounded in your chest, the weight of his words sinking in. You reached out, your fingers brushing against his. "Rafe, this is all so confusing. I've always thought you hated me. I’ve been friends with Sarah for so long, and all you ever did was give me death glares"

Rafe shook his head, his hand closing around yours. "I never hated you, Y/N. I was just too scared to admit how I felt. And I didn’t know how to deal with it. The truth is I’ve always liked you. You’re gorgeous y/n, I can never keep my eyes off of you." You could tell this was hard for him to admit, not being of the emotional type, but his confession tugged at your heartstrings. 

The raw honesty in his voice stirred something deep within you. Before you could stop yourself, you leaned in, capturing his lips in another kiss. He wrapped his hand around your waist pulling you closer. Your hand resting on the back of his neck, feeling the tension in his muscles. This kiss was softer, and more tender, but still charged with the same intensity and emotions as before. 

Rafe pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his breath warm against your lips. "I didn’t mean to complicate things."

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. "It's okay, Rafe. Maybe we both needed this."

Rafe's hands cupped your face, reconnecting your lips with a deeper kiss, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. The kiss was more than just a kiss; it was a confession, a release of everything you both had been holding back. You could feel the desperation in his touch, the way his fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer.

"Y/N," he murmured against your lips, his voice raw with emotion. "I need you."

The words sent a chill through you, and you responded with equal intensity. "I need you too, Rafe. I want you” 

He could feel the warmth of your body through his fingertips, a reminder of how vulnerable this moment was. His hands were steady, yet there was a slight tremor, betraying the storm of emotions he was feeling. Rafe slept with women before but it was never a feeling like this, he never felt nervous. 

As he slid your shirt off your shoulders, his eyes never left yours. There was a softness in his gaze, a silent question asking if this was truly okay. When you nodded, the trust in your eyes sent a wave of relief and gratitude through him. His touch grew bolder, his fingers trailing down your sides, savoring the feel of your skin.

When he finally reached the waistband of your pants, Rafe paused, taking a deep breath. This was it—the point of no return. He met your gaze again, searching for any sign of hesitation, but found only the same longing mirrored in your eyes. Slowly, he pulled your pants down, his hands skimming your legs, committing every detail to memory, not knowing if this moment would happen again. Rafe's breath hitched as he took in the sight of you, every inch of you in this intimate moment. 

"You're beautiful," he murmured, his voice filled with sincerity

Rafe's heart raced as he stood back to take in the sight of you, fully exposed and completely trusting. There was a deep sense of awe mixed with desire, It was a connection, a moment of raw honesty between two people who had spent so long hiding their true feelings. He was nervous, not wanting to mess up this chance to show you how he truly felt, and that nervousness translated into gentleness. As he leaned in to kiss you again, his hands exploring your body with newfound confidence, he felt a surge of emotion he couldn't quite put into words—a mix of fear and excitement. 

At that moment, Rafe realized just how much he wanted this, and wanted you, and he vowed to himself that he would make this night unforgettable for both of you.

As Rafe reached for the hem of his shirt, you felt a rush of anticipation mixed with butterflies in your stomach. The reality of the situation hit you all at once, making your heart race, but you’ve never wanted him so badly. When Rafe lifted his shirt over his head, revealing his toned chest and muscular arms, you couldn't help but stare. The moonlight filtering through the window highlighted the contours of his body, casting shadows that emphasized his athletic build.

Your hands instinctively reached out to touch him, your fingers tracing the lines of his muscles. His skin was warm and smooth under your touch, and you could feel the subtle quiver in his body, betraying his nervousness. As you explored his chest with your hands, you were overwhelmed by a mix of emotions. There was a deep, unspoken understanding between you, a silent acknowledgment of the complexity of your relationship. You didn’t know if this feeling would be there tomorrow, both of you silently promising to make the most of tonight. 

Your breath hitched as you moved closer, pressing your body against his. The feel of his skin against yours was intoxicating, heightening your senses and deepening the connection between you. Every kiss and every touch was filled with a newfound intensity, a reflection of the passion and desire that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long.

In that moment, you realized just how much you wanted this, wanted him. All the years of misunderstanding seemed to fade away, replaced by a powerful need to be close to him, to understand him in a way you never had before. As you lost yourselves in each other, you felt a sense of completeness, as if this was where you were meant to be all along.

Rafe's hands roamed over your body, exploring every inch with a hunger that matched your own. You arched into his touch, your breaths coming in short, sharp gasps as he found all the right spots. It was overwhelming, the sheer intensity of it all, but you didn’t want it to stop. Rafe broke the kiss and began slowly trailing down your neck, his mouth latching onto your breast, swirling your nipple, flicking and sucking, while his other hand cupped your other breast, kneading and teasing until you were a quivering mess beneath him.

He seemed to know exactly how to drive you wild, alternating between gentle caresses and firm, deliberate touches. His hand slowly trailed down your stomach, fingers brushing over your sensitive skin, before finally slipping between your thighs. You gasped as he found your entrance, his fingers stroking and circling, applying just the right amount of pressure.

Rafe's mouth never left your breast as he continued to pleasure you with his hand, his fingers moving in and out in a rhythm that matched the quickening beat of your heart. He added another finger, stretching and filling you, his thumb expertly finding your most sensitive spot. The combined sensations of his mouth on your breast and his hand between your legs sent you spiraling toward the edge. 

Just as you were about to tip over into bliss, he stopped abruptly, pulling his hand away. A whine escaped your lips, craving his touch once again. As scanned your eyes from approval one last time, he lined himself up with your entrance. With a gentle touch, Rafe guided himself into you, both of you gasping at the sensation. He moved slowly at first, giving you time to adjust, but soon the urgency took over, and his movements became faster, more desperate. The room was filled with the sounds of your mingled moans and the rhythmic slap of skin against skin. 

Pressing his body deeper into yours, you felt instant pleasure. You could see in his eyes that he felt it too—the same overwhelming pleasure, the same intense connection. You swore on your life you never felt something as good as his. Your moans filled the air and he picked up the pace. Rafe has never felt so exposed, yet so open to another person. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t bear to be even an inch away from you. The intensity of it all was almost too much to bear, but you didn’t want it to stop.

You lost track of time, the world outside fading away until there was only the two of you. Every thrust sent waves of pleasure through you, building higher and higher until you felt like you might explode. Rafe's name spilled from your lips, laced with need and desire. You could feel him getting close, his movements becoming more erratic.

With a final, powerful thrust, you both came undone, your bodies trembling with the intensity of your release. The climax washed over you in waves, each more intense than the last, leaving you breathless and completely satisfied. Rafe collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms as you both tried to catch your breath. His chest rose and fell rapidly, matching the frantic beat of your own heart as you clung to each other.

The silence was filled with a new kind of intimacy, the kind that comes from sharing something profound. As your breathing slowly returned to normal, you became aware of the lingering warmth of his body against yours, and the sound of his heartbeat beneath your ear. It was a moment of pure bliss, that you wished could last forever.

You could feel Rafe's fingers gently stroking your back, his touch tender and reassuring. The connection between you felt stronger than ever, a bond forged not just in passion, but a sense of trust that had developed between you. A feeling you had never experienced before, a sense of completeness that made you never want to leave his side. Your mind couldn’t help but drift to the complexity of your relationship and the uncertainties that the future held. You tried to push the worries to the back of your mind, savoring the moment of how his body felt against yours.

As you drifted off to sleep, Rafe’s arms wrapped around you protectively, you couldn’t help but wonder what this meant for the two of you. You knew that this moment was fleeting, that the reality of your complicated relationship would come crashing back in the morning, but for now, you allowed yourself to savor the feeling of being close to him. You held onto a string of hold that maybe, this could last.

--——----------————- ❥・-------------------------

Chapter 2

Please like and repost so I know to post more chapters:)🫶 Thank you for reading!

[enviedear]

i've been going solo now ⟶ ben solo

description ⌙ when you get a distress signal from your dad and his life-long goon you're quick to try and come to their rescue. only problem? so is ben solo.

pairing ⌙ smuggler!ben solo x f!reader

warnings ⌙ childhood crush/frenemies turned adults with horrible communication skills, reader is the daughter of lando (biologically or not you decide), ben is a jerk, reader is a brat, petty arguments, forced proximity trope, inner conflict all the time, han and lando are just two pals getting into serious issues that their kids have to fix don't mind them (they're just mentioned), most likely incorrect knowledge of the falcon & starship parts, smuggler!ben solo au because that's canon to me, ben calls reader kid (affectionate, kinda), typos probabaly

word count ⌙ 4.1k

— request | masterlist

i just think ben solo is very much solo by future coded and i wanted to write about smuggler!ben and his smug attitude. special thanks to @crucifiedfaerie for letting me gush over this idea constantly in our dms <3

you never had the stomach for killing— the thought of it or the act itself. the notion of ending someone's life has always been abhorrent to you, leaving a sour sensation in your mouth that lingers long after the deed is done. but right now, you sit, filled with a growing and seemingly unstoppable rage that practically demands blood.

"don't even think about jumping into hyperspace, solo!" your voice is loud but erratic.

the black-haired man piloting the ship gives you a side eye, "and waste hours getting there? sure thing, kid."

you grip the co-pilot seat as hard as possible as he sends the absolutely geriatric ship into lightspeed. the force of it sends your head back onto the headrest, and you screw your eyes shut until the motion of the ship stills.

you've been flying with ben solo on the millennium falcon for a day and a half now, and this isn't even the first time you've wanted to kill him.

no, you'd harbored a hatred for ben solo for as long as you could remember. when you were little your father frequently left you in the care of the organa-solo's. any trip too risky for you to follow him on had you spending time on chandrila han and leia— and ben.

he was a few years older than you and so insufferable - spoiled rotten and full of mischief. the two of you would inevitably end up in scuffles over something, whether it be who got to shower first or which holovid show to watch. you often wondered how your father, han, or leia had managed to handle both of you. a hardheaded pair of troublemakers that needed little excuse to start bickering with one another.

but beneath it all, there had been another layer to your complex relationship with ben solo. even though you feigned anger whenever near him, deep down there had been an admiration growing since those early days spent together. your naive heart fluttered when he would absentmindedly flash his ever-present smirk in your direction. but you'd never admit or act upon any such feelings.

naviagting your crush had been difficult at first. especially having lando calrissian as a parent. you were forced to spend weeks around the source of your teen angst because of your father.

what use is a dad that can sweet-talk a jablogian if he can't fix your unwanted crush on his best friend's son.

you've cursed at his image in your mind every time you look at your ridiculous companion. if not for him, you wouldn't be with ben right now— you'd have never had the displeasure of his company.

you got away from the young solo, and most everyone else, for a good five years, hopping from planet to planet, picking up any honest work. which usually meant boring work— factory jobs, service stuff, a few instances of babysitting.

your life without ben solo is predictable and a little boring.

but you'd rather be bored than deal with the recklessness that becomes your life every time you see the smuggler.

but here you sit beside him, forced to spend an unknown amount of days with him until the both of you find your idiotic fathers.

you had gotten a rouge comm-link message from your dad just days ago. he sounded fine, voice still leisurely and warm, but it was his words that were worrisome, "han's got us in a bit of trouble, little star. would you mind coming to help your old man out? we're somewhere in the trilon sector— i'd try batuu first!"

when you got the message, your mind had gone into autopilot. you had rushed to comm leia, which had been a fatal mistake, as she had ordered her son to pick you up and accompany you. so now you're here, stuck with ben solo and his frightening flying.

"you know, dad should have warned me i'd be flying with a coward." ben's lips are curved into a grin, as usual with his teasing.

you whip your head in his direction, eyes ablaze, "well my father should have warned me that you've gotten even more annoying, somehow."

ben narrows his eyes, a stupid smirk still plastered to his face, "whatever you say, kid."

you feel your blood go hot, why he decided to start calling you kid, you didn't know, but you do know you hate it.

ben's barely your senior, only twenty-three years of age in comparison to your twenty. besides he behaves like an out-of-hand teen away.

"stop calling me that." you groan.

ben chuckles, "aw, what's the matter, kid? tired of following orders already?"

you grit your teeth, the way he talks down to you will forever get under your skin, "i don't take orders from you, solo."

"sure you do. you're on my ship, remember?" ben retorts, his eyes focused on the coordinates displayed to his left.

you cross your arms over your chest, "we're supposed to be working together to find han and my father and get them out of trouble, not bickering like children."

ben rolls his eyes, "it's not my fault you're so uptight."

you take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. you can't afford to lose your temper and start a fight, not when you're relying on him to get you to your destination safely. so, you force a smile, "look, can we just be civil? we're both here because we care about our dads and want to help them."

ben's expression softens a little, "fine. but if you start nagging at me again, i can't promise i won't call you kid."

you roll your eyes, "deal. now, can you tell me more about what's going on? my dad was pretty vague in his message."

ben hums, "same with mine. all i know is that lando got mixed up in some kind of shady deal, and now he's in trouble with a gang of criminals called the ninth sun. my mom's been trying to negotiate with them, but they're not ones to bend the knee."

you groan, "of course not. what's the plan?"

he shakes a stray black strand of hair from his eye, "no plan, just find them and go from there."

"lovely, that's totally going to work," you bite your lip, "oh and, it was han who made the sketch deal, not my dad."

ben shrugs, "and who told you that?" he rests his elbow on the armrest and brings his hand to his chin, "lando?"

you clench your fists, "let's just focus on finding them. no need to dwell on the semantics."

ben glances at you and for a moment, you swear there's a flicker of something in his eyes. something other than his usual teasing, mischievous demeanor, but it's gone as quickly as it came and he turns back to the console.

the ship hums steadily beneath you, and the silence between you two stretches on, broken only by the occasional beep from the controls. you fidget in your seat, uncomfortable with the unfamiliar hush. you've never been around ben so long without saying anything, and you're about to speak up before he interrupts you.

"we'll have to make a pit stop, i need to refuel." his voice sounds tired.

you nod, "alright. any nearby planets we can stop at?"

ben checks the navicomputer, "yeah, there's one a couple of light years away. i've been there before, it's not too bad."

"okay solo, lead the way." you say, leaning back in your seat.

as he pilots the ship toward the destination, you can't help but study him from the corner of your eye. he's changed since the last time you saw him. the boy who used to pull your hair and steal your toys has grown into a man. he's lean and toned with longer hair, still as sable black as ever. it falls into his eyes, despite how much he wills it not to, giving him a slightly disheveled look that you can't help but find attractive.

you rue the thoughts plaguing your own mind.

the embarrassment you used to feel over your crush has come back ten-fold. the feeling shocks you. he's trying to act all suave and mature, but you know deep down that he's still the same old ben who annoyed the life out of you. you can feel the familiar tug in your heart every time he speaks, and you know he can't have changed much over the years. not when he's making you feel just like you're fourteen again.

but there is something different about him now. maybe it's the way he pilots the ship with ease– no longer the boy who'd cover his ears ar take off, or maybe it's just the way his muscles flex under his tight-fitting shirt. he's almost mesmerizing.

it's clear that he's been doing this for a long time, navigating the stars all alone with nothing but his shitty attitude and perfect hair. you find yourself marveling over him, sure and smooth, his hands deftly moving over the controls.

ever the realist, you try to shake off the feeling, but it's proving difficult. you feel a strange urge to preserve your current addiction.

as you watch him fly, you feel a fixation building within you. it's a sentiment you haven't felt in years, not felt since the last time you saw him.

you try to push the feeling down, knowing that it's not the time to have those kinds of thoughts. you're supposed to be focused on finding your fathers and not getting killed by some lethal syndicate, not lusting after your childhood nemesis.

you feel wrong stealing glances at him, trying to understand what's changed and why you're feeling this way. you're towing a dangerous, line. especially if those feelings are inspired by ben organa-solo.

finally, after what feels like hours, you arrive at the refueling station. as soon as ben lands the ship, you stretch your legs inside the falcon, looking out at the new scenery. the planet is bathed in the evening light, and the scene around you is wide awake. the station itself is a bustling hub of activity, with all kinds of alien species milling about.

ben leads the way to the fueling station, where he begins filling up the ship's tanks. you stand by the ship's entrance, people-watching. your eyes find ben's figure again, and you let them stall. when he looks your way, you advert your gaze and step out of the falcon, swiftly approaching him.

the evening air is cool as it hits your skin. this planet is a strange one, with vibrant purple plants and thick, white fog swirling around. but you don't pay too much attention to it, your eyes are locked on ben.

he's leaning against the ship, checking over the fuel meter with a frown on his face. you walk over to him and clear your throat, expecting to get his attention.

he looks up at you, eyes meeting your own. you feel your heart skip a beat, and you curse yourself for being soft for him.

"you know, you didn't have to follow me out here." he mumbles, hand coming to brush the hair from his eyes.

you hum, "i didn't have anything better to do."

he ignores you and looks back at the fuel gauge, his eyebrows furrow, "i found something for you to do." his voice is monotone, but you're all too familiar with the subtle cut of annoyance within.

"what does that mean?" you own voice comes out a bit too anxious.

ben groans before looking at you, "one of the damn tanks has a leak— i told chewie to fix that weeks ago." he follows up his words with a few curses before kicking the faulty gas tank.

you roll your eyes, "can't we just get another one? i'm sure if we go inside someone would know where we could get another one."

"the problem isn't finding one," he tsks at you, "the problem is that this tank has been leaking fuel into the beacon finder. without that, we're never finding our dear old dads."

your heart sinks. you had been so sure that you would find your dad quickly, but now it looks like that might not be the case. "so, what do you suggest we do?" you ask, crossing your arms over your chest.

"i'll have to fix the beacon," he sighs, "luckily i have the tools for it, but i need to find one more part, and with the sun setting soon…" he trails off, letting his silence complete the sentence for him.

you take in a deep breath at his implication. you can tell what he is suggesting without explicitly stating it.

you will be stuck on this planet with him tonight and forced to share the same cramped room. you thank god for separate cots, at least.

you try to ignore the warmth creeping up your ears, but you know that it's a losing battle. you haven't shared a room with ben solo since you were kids, endless unwilling sleepovers at each other's houses. but those instances were filled with innocent pranks and arguments, not the tension and longing glances you've found yourself giving him.

"alright," you say, trying to keep your voice even, "we'll just get the part and fix the beacon. the faster we fix this, the faster we can find our fathers and get back to our lives." you move towards the entrance of the fueling station, wanting to put space between you and ben.

"you mean so you can get back to your life." he calls out to you, and you look back at him only to be met with contempt in his brown eyes, "the one where you avoid me."

you give him a sharp eye roll before making your way toward a small gaggle of vendors, much more interested in finding this part. ben follows closely behind you, and you can feel the weight of his stare on the back of your head.

you're at a loss as to why ben solo would ever care that you've been avoiding him for the last five years. the ben you remember would've never batted an eye. when did that change?

you find a vendor selling the part that ben needs, and you both split the payment before heading back to the falcon. ben sets to work on the beacon, and you sit nearby, supposedly looking over the coordinates but mostly watching him work.

there's an abnormal sense of calm that fills you as you watch him. concentration is etched on his face, lips bitten bright red. you can't help but admire him, not for the sake of not trying.

you're brought back to reality when he starts cursing under his breath, "what's wrong?" you ask, moving closer to him.

"this damn thing won't budge," he grunts, trying to pry apart two pieces of the beacon.

you move to his side, peering down at the device. his breath is hot on your cheek, and you feel an urge to shiver. trying to focus on the task at hand you take a few breaths.

your eyes keep drifting to his lips, the way they move when he curses. you shake your head, trying to clear the inappropriate thoughts from your mind. "let me help," you offer, reaching for one of the tools he's using.

he hands it to you, and you lean in closer, your sides pressed together as you work the tool. you can feel his heat exuding into you, a warmth that isn't just from the planet's humid air. you try to focus, but it's becoming increasingly difficult. every time he moves, you catch a whiff of his scent, musky and rich, and your mind starts to wander to places it shouldn't.

finally, after what feels like an eternity, the piece pops free, and ben lets out a sigh of relief. he turns to you, a small smile on his face, and you can't help but smile back. his eyes lock onto yours, and suddenly, the air between you is charged with something foreign.

you let your tone come out sardonic, "looks like i saved the day. you're welcome, solo."

ben tilts his head, eyes narrowing, "you're a brat, kid."

"i thought i told you to stop calling me that." you want to hit him.

"i said i had a condition," he pauses, arms coming to either side of you, palms pressing into the falcon's floor, effectively trapping you against him, "a condition you just broke. so you're back to kid, kid."

you feel your resolve slipping, "you're the worst. you always have been, and i can see now that will never change."

he has the audacity to let out an amused breath, "if you're going to say shit like that, at least mean it."

your brows furrow, "pardon me? as if i don't mean that."

his hands creep from the ground and to your hips, you gasp as he pulls you in closer. if he were anyone else, you'd expect him to kiss you next, but he's not anyone else. so instead, he cranes down and whispers in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "i know you want me," he growls, his fingers digging into your clothed flesh. "don't act like you don't,"

you're completely caught off guard, and before you can respond, he's pulling away from you and grabbing the beacon. you watch in silent horror as he makes for the falcon's exit, leaving you confused on the floor.

you sit there, rooted to the spot, your mind and body in turmoil. you know if you follow him you'd just be throwing yourself into a petty or embarrassing altercation.

what did he mean by that anyway? how could he possibly know?

taking a steadying breath, you turn away from your seat and make for the other side of the ship. you need to keep yourself busy until nighttime, and you know that there's some maintenance to do on one of the storage bays. when you get there, however, it's already been taken care of. your fists clench in frustration as you realize ben must have done it earlier.

you start searching around the ship for any other tasks that might help keep your mind off things and pass the time more quickly- checking cords, tidying up shelves or going through supplies lists so nothing gets low.

the hours seem to stretch on endlessly despite how much work you manage to do, and all too soon darkness begins to fill the sky outside of the cockpit windows. with a heavy sigh, you head back towards where you and ben had been working earlier. he's back now, tinkering away with the beacon as if nothing had ever happened between the two of you earlier— as if his words hadn't sent a tremble down your spine and confused the emotions tumbling through your mind.

you catch an expectant glance from him when he finally notices your presence. you're sure he's expecting you to say something to him. maybe he wants you to yell.

you don't say anything though, instead offering only a terse nod before checking the endless cords around you.

your fingers move quickly and expertly over the tangled cords, your mind too preoccupied to focus on anything else. but you can feel his gaze on you, burning through the back of your skull like a branding iron. his presence is suffocating and you know that if you don't get a handle on your emotions soon, you'll combust.

eventually, you're so lost in thought that you almost miss the soft footfalls approaching you. you turn to see ben standing beside you, his eyes locked onto yours. the air between you is thick with strain, unspoken words, and feelings. there are so many things you want to say to him, but you don't know where to begin.

"so," his voice breaks through the silence like a blaster shot. "when are we going to talk about it?"

you hear the depth in his baritone voice and it's all you can do to keep your face neutral, your thoughts collected, "talk about what?" you ask, even though you know perfectly well what he's referring to.

"about me and you," he says, voice low but insistent, "or we can just keep ignoring it. the tension seems to be getting us pretty far."

your expression shifts as you take in his words, the longing that had been coiled in so tightly before now coming to the surface. you can feel yourself flustering under the intensity of his watch but you refuse to look away, instead lifting your chin higher and narrowing your eyes.

"there is no us, solo," you say firmly, though your voice is riddled with a hint of something else entirely, "there never has been, and never will be."

ben seems unfazed by your words, his eyes steady and intense. "you say that," he says, his voice softening. "but i know you better than anyone else. and i know there's some part of you that actually likes me. i bet it pisses you off, doesn't it?"

he's right— it does piss you off that your heart can't seem to let him go. no matter how annoying you find him, he's beautiful and confident. and he does know you better than anyone. he knows what buttons to press and how hard. with ben, there's always the thrill of how perceptive he is— that he can see through the walls of anger and indifference you try so hard to build up around yourself.

you can feel your will crumbling under his words, your heart throbbing in your chest, but still, you push back, "even if there is something there, solo," you say, your voice shaking slightly, "it doesn't change anything. we're two different people living two very different lives."

ben smirks, "you don't know anything about my life."

you let your eyes roll, "as if the life you lead is some kind of mystery," you take a deep breath, "i mean, what's to know? you fly alone, smuggle, and rack up credits. that's your life, solo."

he hums, right hand finding a home beside your head on the wall, "you know me so well, kid. you should write a book."

you feel inexplicably hot, "maybe i will. a long book of all the reasons you piss me off."

he doesn't respond, just looks down at you for an uncomfortable amount of time. he pushes himself from the wall and you, twisting and letting his back hit the durasteel wall. his face is turned to you, eyes downcast.

"you know," he says finally, breaking the silence, "i remember when we were kids, it was always you who used to be the one to instigate. you probably don't remember it that way, but i do, and i loved it. you never hesitated. you were fearless."

you look at him incredulously, wondering what this has to do with anything. but he continues, "you were the only girl that would play with me, and not just that, the only one that could beat me. but then one day you just stopped. you ignored me completely."

you stiffen, unwilling to admit even through body language that he might be right. a pre-teen you found avoiding your ben sized crush the most viable option. you just never thought he'd care.

he continues, eyes unwavering from yours, "you used to look at me like i was the only person that mattered. and then, you just stopped. it's was like… like you had something to hide."

it's like he can read your mind because he reaches out and grasps your wrist in his hand. his touch is nice against your skin, sending a comfortable feel through your veins.

"i miss you, the girl who wasn't afraid of liking me," he whispers, his voice low and husky. "and i want you to admit that you miss me too."

you struggle to find words, to make sense of everything inside of you, but before you can speak, his lips are on yours. his kiss is hot and demanding, and instinctively lean into him, body melting against his in perfect harmony. his hands slide around your waist and hold you close as the kiss deepens, and you can feel all of the frustrations of the past slipping away. when he finally pulls back, his eyes are bright with emotion and a hint of a smile graces his lips.

he looks down at you for a moment before speaking in a low voice, "you want me to do that again?" he steps closer to you and cups your face in his hands, his eyes twinkling with amusement. you can feel the warmth radiating from his body and if it weren't for his strong arms around you, you would have melted into a puddle.

you nod slowly in agreement, too lost in the moment to say anything else. he leans down and brushes his lips against your cheek before pulling away completely, "then be honest. right here, right now. you like me."

you screw your eyes shut, basking in the shame of being found out, "i like you, solo. i like you a lot, but if you don't get off your pedestal and kiss me again i'll withdraw the opportunity."

he gazes down at you with an expression that's tender yet mischievous all at once. "i like you too," he whispers before chuckling lightly, you open your eyes to see.

his dimples are on full display, and for a second, he's the spirit of the little brat you fell in love with all those years ago. "c'mere, kid." his voice is soft as he pulls you back into him, lips meeting yours.

[greenbadger]

Hello everyone!🖤

*I'm new to Tumblr and writing is my passion. I love to write fanfics, especially about Severus Snape or older men. This is my first smut story here and I hope you like it. Let's hope I do everything right. I'd love to get feedback.

⚠️ WARNING: NSFW, smut, begging, reference to edging, teasing, degradation, oral sex

What it's about:

❗️Reader is a adult woman❗️

You and Severus have an argument that turn into a sexual adventure. It’s a quit long text. Have fun ;-)

————————————————————————

"Honestly, Severus, you can't possibly believe that nettle root is more effective in this potion than powdered asphodel," I exclaimed, rolling my eyes as I flipped through the worn pages of an old potion book.

Severus crossed his arms, a familiar smirk playing on his lips. "And yet, it is. Nettle root stabilizes the mixture in a way asphodel never could."

I huffed, leaning closer to the book as if it held the answer to our perpetual disagreement. "You just can't admit you're wrong, can you?"

He stepped closer, his breath warm on my neck as he looked over my shoulder. "It's not about admitting anything. It's about knowing the facts, something you clearly struggle with."

I turned to face him, our noses almost touching. "Well, maybe if you weren't so insufferable, I'd actually listen to you."

His eyes softened, a rare moment of vulnerability slipping through. "And maybe if you weren't so stubborn, you'd realize I actually enjoy these arguments."

I blinked, caught off guard by his honesty. "You... enjoy arguing with me?"

Severus's hand brushed against mine, a fleeting but deliberate touch. "It's not the arguing I enjoy. It's... you."

My heart skipped a beat as the tension between us shifted, no longer fueled by disagreement but by something much deeper. "Severus, I..."

He silenced me with a gentle finger on my lips. "Let's save the potions debate for another time, shall we?"

I nodded, unable to tear my gaze away from his. "Agreed."

He reached out, his hand cupping my cheek, his thumb gently brushing my skin.

"Severus," i said, my voice firm despite the shiver of excitement that ran through me. „I want you."

Severus's eyes darkened with a mix of emotions-desire, love, and a hint of possessiveness. He leaned in, capturing my lips in a searing kiss, his hands tangling in my hair as he pulled me closer. The kiss deepened, growing more urgent, as months of pent-up longing poured into that single moment.

His hands roamed over my body, explo-ring, caressing, igniting a fire within me. I responded eagerly, my fingers trailing along the lines of his chest, feeling the heat of his skin beneath his robes. The intensity between us grew, our kisses becoming more desperate, more insistent.

Severus broke the kiss, his breath ragged as he looked at me with a fierce intensity. "Take off your clothes," he commanded, his voice low and authoritative.

A shiver of anticipation ran through me at his words. I complied, my hands trembling slightly as I began to undress. Severus watched, his gaze never leaving me, his eyes dark with desire.

When I was finally bare before him, he stepped closer, his hands sliding over my skin, his touch electrifying.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his lips trailing along my neck, leaving a path of fire in their wake. "I can't wait any longer."

With a swift motion, he shed his own robes, his body pressing against mine, the heat of his skin searing into me.

I could feel his erection through his trousers. He rubbed it slightly against my hip, and the sensation made me wet quickly. He guided me to the desk, his hands never leaving my body, his touch driving me wild with need. He lifted me on top of the desk, spreading my legs as he positioned himself between them. Our bodies entwined in a frenzy of passion.

Severus was dominant, his touch firm and demanding, yet filled with an underlying tenderness. He moved with a confidence that sent waves of pleasure through me, his hands and lips exploring every inch of my body.

He softly twitched my nipple between his fingers and kissed my neck as passionately as ever. His hand went down to my inner thigh and caressed it softly. I felt a flutter in my core as he neared my most sensitive spot.

He let out an excited moan. "You are so wet for me." He put one finger slowly deep inside of me, pushes it in and out once, twice. Never take his eyes off my eyes while he’s doing it. Suddenly he brings his finger to his mouth and suck this one gently. You can see pure lust in his eyes.

Before I could respond, he started kissing down my breasts, my belly, and my thighs. I watched him with wide eyes as he looked at me and started kissing my sweet spot. The view was intoxicating. He slowly stuck his tongue out and licked my clit with a soft touch.

I moaned as I felt his warm tongue circle around. He started sucking and licking as if he were craving my wetness. "You taste so good," he murmured, making my core twitch again. He did it so passionately that I knew I wasn't far from climax.

He went a little further and stuck his tongue deep inside me while his nose involuntarily stimulated my clit. His slurps from my juices made my head fall back as I moaned his name out loud.

"I'm coming, Severus," I cried.

He kept going, and it didn't take long before my body felt like it was struck by lightning. I climaxed on his face, and I could feel how much he enjoyed it.

When he came up to me again, his mouth and nose were soaking wet from me. He quickly wiped his face with his hand before giving me a passionate kiss. I could still taste my climax from his lips and tongue.

"I want to feel you inside me," I said through the kiss.

A big erection left a bulge in his pants, clearly more as I said those words out loud.

He looked me deep in the eyes with his dark ones as I freed his dick from his trousers. I wrapped my hand around it, feeling its warmth and readiness. He let his pants fall so he was completely naked too. I started to stroke him and felt a bit of pre-cum on his tip.

"Is your little cunt ready for me?" he asked hotly through his teeth.

I nodded, and he positioned his dick between my pussy lips as he slowly entered with a groan. It felt all so wet, so easy for him to enter. The sensation sent a jolt of ecstasy through my entire being. I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulders as he began to move, each thrust bringing me closer.

Our movements became more frantic, the intensity of our desire driving us both to the brink. He fucked me harder as he watched my breasts move with each thrust. We breathed heavy as we neared climax. He stopped right before, grabbing my hips and putting me down from the desk.

"Bend over," he whispered harshly in my ear.

Did as he asked, feeling the cold wood against my upper body. I felt his hand grip my butt cheek, and suddenly a sharp spank sent a slight pain through me. I groaned with a smile and glanced over my shoulder. He ran his thumb over my cheek and pushed a sweaty strand of hair out of my face.

"That's all mine. And I want to fuck you until you can't stand anymore. Do you want that?" he said heatedly through his breath.

I nodded hastily.

"Say it," he demanded.

"I want you to fuck me, please," I whimpered.

"Good girl." That made him so hard, ready to do exactly that.

Without any more words, he pushed his dick deeply and fully inside me.

Surprised by his fast action, I sobbed and fell completely onto the desk. I felt his dick grow harder with each thrust.

The sounds of hot breath, moans, and skin slapping filled the room. The desk moved under our hard movements.

With a final, powerful thrust, we reached our climax together. I felt his semen fill me as I collapsed on the desk and he above me. He pulled out and took a moment to watch our combined fluids flow out of me, a sharp breath escaping through his nose.

"Let's clean you up," he whispered mischievously in my ear as he helped me up. He took his wand and cleaned everything up, leaving no trace of our passion behind.

„I'm looking forward to the next arguments with you“ I said amused.

„Me too.“ he smirked.

[rayroseu]

hm... i wish people dont wrangle and correct different interpretations of malleus too much lol

he is kind, he is evil, he is temperamental, he is eeriely calm, he is insufferable, he is a nice companion, he is forceful, he is also understanding, malleus is the mix of kindness and evil because his parents are the embodiments of those opposite sides (Meleanor being the Evil Princess and Levan being the only Kind fae who aspired peace).

There is no purely Evil Malleus or a Kind Malleus. I think Malleus is just growing up lol

Despite the story depicting him as "monstrous," (in my opinion) no character in the story encapsulates the "true experience" of growing up as well as Malleus' story does.

Of course, growing up means being fearful of aging, losing people, and everything changing without your control. It's not inspiring to know that despite your hard work in making yourself "a proper adult (and a royalty too in his case)", there is no reward such as "everlasting happiness" no matter how much he suffers. That he's damned to lose anything and nothing is forever. Growing up means you only have yourself (alone) in this world.

I also like the fact that Malleus' story growing up says one true thing: that everyone really dislikes suffering lol. Malleus canonical fear is the "unknown." I feel like beyond losing Lilia (and Yuu), he just can't imagine a world without them. For him, a world without Lilia is "an unknown world," a reality with no good outcomes. So he avoids that reality happening because its essentially his unknown, (his fear and suffering).

But idk, I never find any story that gives satisfying argument against "the importance of being hurt and losing anyone", I feel like its just sugarcoating if you say its needed for the "happiness to be worth it." That's why I understand why Malleus also believes he's correct for eliminating pain in the world lol I hope TWST gives a new unique answer to convince Malleus that its okay for him to lose anyone and be back in present time.😭🙏🏻✨

[penvisions]

zest {chapter 3}

Pairing: Chef! Joel Miller x Professor! Reader (formally known as Bartender! Reader)

Summary: Your time away with Joel starts now and he makes you feel all kinds of things.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: canon typical violence (fleeting), canon typical language, canon typical angst, rude people, offensive behavior, body shaming, fat shaming, reader gets shoved one (1) time, reader defends herself, brief misogyny, feral joel, joel beats the crap out of someone, joel goes into protective mode, threatening words, worldview of pregnangy being a negative thing, fat shaming, body shaming, reader is canonically mid-size, illusions to smut, adult content, pet names (darling, baby, love), the term slut used affectionately, some mild spice, flirting, they're insufferable your honor. um i think those are all the major ones pls let me know if i need to add more!

REMINDER: this is a sequel series, the previous series can be found here {garnish}

A/N: hi y'all, it's been a whirlwind lately! been trying to figure out the flow of this and i think i was maybe attempting to force this chapter to be more than this and it just wasn't working + made me frustrated. but you know what? not every chapter has to be massively 3k+, it can just be what feels and flows right, so here y'all go. i hope you enjoy these two as much as i do

ao3 link || series masterlist || joel miller masterlist || ko-fi

He's been quiet since leaving the museum, something he had surprised you with a flyer for. He had picked it up in the lobby, had done some research online as he mumbled about some certain paintings, he thought you’d like that were on display, Ellie’s influence strong in his words. His desire to be a good provider and make this trip something to remember. Not that that was too hard, any time spent with Joel was good time, from easy jokes to teasing banter, soft moments as you both reveled in the life you two were leading, the life you two were creating.

Where he had let you guide him from countless exhibits to plentiful ornately framed paintings with a hand clasped around his own. He had seemed engaged enough, eyes alight as you turned to him with wide smiles and small giggles of excitement at the more interesting pieces. It had turned into a little game of 'weirdest little guy' where you each pointed to people and animals in the backgrounds and declared, 'it's you'. He had been the first to start it, by pointing out a woman dressed from head to toe in a tavern maids outfit brandishing a large knife. She had been shouting, her brow heavy and her expression heated.

You had followed his lead by pointing to a rather disgruntled lumberjack in the back of depicting a wintery landscape with a cabin. Though the man impressed in ink had been bald and rather terrified of the approaching bear.

From cats with too human faces, to frogs that looked stunned, to the most bruised or oddly shaded piece of fruit in a bunch or bowl, it had occupied you both throughout the whole building, through everything there was to see. He had brandished a newer, shinier credit card at the gift shop. allowing you the treat of stickers and a coffee mug you had cooed and awed over. But you knew it was the little onesie with colorful peach you had said was him printed on the front.

"To commemorate our first outing as a little unit." You felt so light, so free. Hormones letting you just be yourself at the moment, even if you had to stop to pee quite often. You had said so at the register, the clerk asking after your meaning behind picking it out. Your hands cradling your growing belly as you did so, delighting in the little kicks you had felt stir up as you stood in front of particular pieces. Stirring up at the combined laughter between you and Joel, so much so that you had gotten hushed from a security guard that made it even harder to cut it out. You're picturing the mirth and careful smile on his face even as he held a finger to his mouth in a motion to be quiet, chest rumbling with laughter even as he did so.

But now he was quiet beside you, as he guided the truck into a spot of a rapidly filling parking lot. He's not in a bad mood, per se, but you can sense he's quieted over something in his mind.

"Did- did you enjoy the museum?" You feel silly, like an awkward interloper that first day you had walked in for a first shift at the restaurant. Unaware of how things operated, hesitant to ask where to put your bag or where to get a clean apron from since you hadn't been able to locate yours. Like you had that morning you had woken up to him in your apartment, having slept on the couch after making sure you got home safely. The conversation that had followed, the uncertainty, the almost reproachful way you had asked him what was going on with him, with you, between you both. You feel the same slightly tense and on edge energy around him now as you did back then, when he gave you an impromptu tour of the space and then left you with paperwork to fill out.

You have no clue why perhaps it's the default to being out of town with him. Like there are parts of you he's yet to see and would caste judgement on. Though you know the worst he would do is tease you over something as benign at the way you idle on in the bathroom or fawn over street cats for far too long with a soft, silly coo or the places you tend to pick for coffee being on the extravagant side. 

He thought over his answer, guiding the truck into the parking lot of a coffee house. He had said he would turn a blind eye to whatever decaf drinks you decided to indulge in while out of town. The coffee shop you had seen online garnering your attention and he memorized the drive from the museum.

He’s getting out of the truck, rounding the hood and opening the door as he speaks.

"Not really my cup of tea, but it's yours, darlin'. Do anythin' to spend time with ya and I figured this would light you up like a christmas tree." He's smiling softly at you now, his lips looking perfectly kissable beneath his thick moustache and trimmed facial hair. Face shifting from introspective to present, returning to you and feeding off your nervousness in a way you knew he hoped would settle it.

"I do ramble a lot about stuff from my studies, huh." You can't help the feeling of adoration that floods heat in your face, almost like you've got a schoolgirl crush on the man beside you, despite the ring on your finger and the bump of your belly. His hands are warm on you as they help to steady your movements out of the passenger seat, the tall cab a little daunting and the worry of falling in the forefront of your mind. You were being so cautious, words of failed pregnancies your step mother had cited for the deterioration of your parents relationship.

"Yeah, but I listen to every word even if I don't understand it all." He's brushing those delectable lips against the apple of your cheek. "Listen to ya ramable all day, even if it's about nothin'."

"You're smart too, Joel." Insistent words that are swept away with a brush of his hand over your shoulder. But you can see the way his ears tinge pink at the tops, he's smitten at the idea of you thinking so, even if he doesn't himself.

"Not the same way you are, darlin'. Got math and science smarts, practical. You got the artsy smarts, fun and entertaining. Same as Ellie."

"You and Sarah, me and Ellie. We all balance each other out." You lean up into his space, determined for him to hear the good things you have to say about him. He's a good man, just a little rough around the edges. And he was yours.

"We do, don't we. Perfect little family, all for you." He meets you halfway, pressing his lips to yours and stirring butterflies in your ribcage. "You complete us, sabrosa. Been waitin' for you my entire life."

"I've been searching for you my entire life, I just didn't know it, Mr. Miller." His eyes are hooded as he takes in the sight of you so close, pressed to him and held tight by his arms around your waist, your own around his shoulders.

"Glad to have been found, Mrs. Miller." Another kiss, little whimpers telling him exactly how you feel about the confession, the truth of his words that he had tumbled over in his mind every day you were apart. You were his and you were back in his life where you belonged.

It's a little loud, the establishment crowded around the lunch hour. But it's the comforting scent of roasting coffee and the lingering scent of Joel’s cologne on the front of his shirt as he holds you to his chest with his hands around your ribs. Sighing, you look over the menu wanting for each and every interesting flavor combination. But you know you get one today, that’s what you’d limited yourself too because decaf was only so much better than regular espresso. There was no true way to roast out every last bit of caffeine even if the doctor had also agreed a few indulges throughout the pregnancy wouldn’t cause any harm.

“What’re you gonna get?” Joel’s fingers tap lightly at your stomach, the little kicks still going and endlessly entertaining him. Small taps elicited responses more times than not, something you were sure you would never tire of. The feeling of the small being growing inside of you, already so enamored with Joel softening something deep inside of you.

“I think maybe one of macadamia combination ones. Sounds yummy.”

“You know what else sounds…yummy?” His nose is a distraction as it brushes along the back of your head, almost near your ear as he leans closer to it and rumbles his taunting words.

“Joel Miller, if you do anything that prevents me from enjoying my coffee, I swear-“

“Relax, darlin’.” He nips at the top of your ear, causing you to snort at the tickling sensation. “Not gonna come between you and your coffee. Just lettin’ you know where my mind is at.”

“Slut.” You smirk to yourself as he freezes momentarily, allowing you to step out of his hold and toward the counter. You order the macadamia and white chocolate latte, hot and decaf. When asked if that was all for the order, you turn to find Joel closing the gap of a few feet with a smirk of his own.

“I’ll take a blended mocha chip, medium please.” You catch his eyes as he glances at you out of the corner of his own. “Gonna get you back for that, pretty girl.”

“What?” It’s kinda true.” A tongue is stuck out and his eyes dilate every so slightly as he presses the same shiny black credit card to the reader. Never once breaking the contact.

“Then what do you call someone who nearly had me pulling over because she couldn’t keep her mouth to herself on a four hour drive?” He questions lowly as he steps away from the register, wallet going back into the butt pocket of his pants.

“Your fiancé.” You smile sweetly at him, an eyebrow raised in a silent challenge. His chuckle is a low vibration against your shoulder as he shuffles you toward the pickup end of the counter. He’s filthy, but so are you. There’s no denying it, even in jest. That part of your relationship had gotten off to a rocky start but once it had kicked off, damn if that wasn’t something you two were committed to no matter what. The physical attraction so strong, the desire for each other never waning, it’s what started this in the first place and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“You’re too right, perfect match.” Lips curled up in matching smile, you wonder if his heart skips beats and his stomach flips just like yours. Later you find out exactly what you to do him, when he grunts it into your ear as he fills you from behind.

It happens when you’re waiting at the end of the counter for pick up, Joel having run off to the restroom.

“Move your fat ass, tryin’ to get up to the drinks.” You’re shoved harshly with an elbow before the words even register. Your balance sways and your hair tousles to cover your face as you try to reach a hand out to catch yourself on the counter top, but your nails don’t gain any purchase. You collapse hard on the floor. Your palms sting as you try to prevent from landing flat, worry taking over as you do your best to avoid any pressure or damage to your middle. The guy is grumbling as he watches, the remnants of his coffee sloshed around the ceramic and splashed onto his crips white dress shirt.

“Sabrosa!”

Before you could even blink, Joel is right there helping you back up to your feet, a comforting hand on your stomach and on your shoulder as he looks you over. His full lips are a thin line, the muscle in his jaw jumping as he grinds his teeth, but you know it isn’t aimed at you. At your small nod and tight-lipped smile, his hands fall from you and your turn with your arm crooked back. The crack of your fist on the guy’s jaw breaks the jovial atmosphere and everything goes silent as he falls hard on his ass. The ceramic shatters and the remnants of his latte fly into the air.

“Fuckin’ bitch!”

“You assault my girl and didn’t expect anything to happen?” Joel demands angrily as he partially shields you with his own body, unsure if the man will retaliate. He’d gladly let you get in a hit, but you know he’d be damned if someone laid a hand on you. You’d seen it firsthand before, more than once. You’re your own person, as you’ve proven time and time again. Something he rather enjoyed about you, something you hoped he would continue to find endearing. Even as your attitude flared sometimes.

“She was in the way, it was barely a little shove!”

“You steamrolled me, asshole!” You step out from behind Joel a little, anger flaring and temper coming to bat. It was bad enough you had nearly fallen completely in on yourself but to then be brushed off and told it was nothing? You weren’t about to take it with a forced, polite smile and a feeling of guilt for not having handled the situation better later on in the evening.

“She’s pregnant, you fuckin’ idiot!” Joel roars, one of his boots coming down unnervingly close to the guy’s hand as he sets it flat to try and get back up. Lips frowning part to argue, but loud footsteps of workers rushing off to grab a manager cut him off. “You could’ve hurt her or my child with your reckless behavior!”

“Joel-“ You try to pull at his forearm, urging him to calm down. The veins showing in his skin and you can’t help the drag of your eyes across the length of them. Your stomach flips, body and mind reacting to the way he’s standing tall in front of you, ready to defend. It’s making your body hum, the way he’s so willing, so quick to protect. His instincts appealing to the most base part of your brain, your own reacting to them in a way that is utterly and completely primal.

“You knocked up the fat chick and you’re upset at me? Man, you’re in need of something stronger than coffee.” He’s trying to get back up, but Joel’s closing in on him.

“You ever talk about a woman that way again and I will end you!” Joel’s shouting as he allows you to pull him back, his chest heaving and his frizzy curls in disarray. His arm is putty in your hands, thick fingers tangling with yours in a comforting move even as his attention is focused on the man still on the ground.

“I think it’s best if you pick yourself up and leave, sir.” A large man in a plain black outfit approached, his hands on his hips. You don’t bother to respond to him, instead tugging Joel with you as you begin to walk toward the door.

“C’mon Joel, let’s just go too. I want to leave.”

“There’s no need for that, you two are welcome to stay.” The guy who you assume is the manager looks up at you as he crouches down to take the still fuming and arguing man. His polite but genuine smile falls as he hoists the man up and begins to walk him to the door. “We don’t tolerate hateful behavior here, you’re banned.”

“This is bullshit!” His shirt gets ruffled, his outfit wrinkling as he’s manhandled out across the floor. You jump as a hand gently brushed your shoulder, causing you to tense your hand around Joel’s and twirl to the left. Your confusion and slight worry eases when you see it was the barista that had taken your order.

“You’re drinks are ready, love. Are you okay?” Her smile is soft, the drinks offered to you. “That was quite a fall, do you need any water or want to sit down to catch your breath?”

You shake your head slowly, not wanting to remain in the café even if things were turning around and the atmosphere had gone back to what it was when you first entered. The music is playing softly again, though you’re sure it had never gone out, never actually cut to silence anywhere except for in your awareness.

Joel only turns to face her once the offensive man is shoved out the door. Your hand leaves Joel’s to reach for the do go cups, the warmth of the freshly made drinks sinking into your palms and calming you after the tense ordeal. The barista nods to Joel, her eyes wide and roving. You feel jealously wake up inside you as she takes his form in, even with you right beside him. The signs of your devotion to each other clear, from the defense he had taken for you to the way he’s surveying the café for any other signs of trouble. She’s holding out a small bag, her face visibly flushed when his fingers graze hers to accept it.

“We’ve also refunded your transaction, sir. And included a few things from the pastry case for the trouble.” Her hands are clasped in front of her now, the apron over her front marred with dried foam from steamed milk and espresso grounds. She’s pretty, she’s skinny. You can’t help the insecurity that bubbles up, she’s young and her eyes contain the same lust for life you had when you first moved away from home. You aren’t sure if you’re jealous of her obvious attraction to your fiancé or the attraction to life she exudes. She doesn’t seem to carry any mental burdens, like you had from glancing at what lies behind her eyes. But then again, you hadn’t appeared to either while clocked in and focused on working.

“That’s mighty kind of ya, many thanks.” His left arm curls around your waist, his lips brushing your temple once again. The girl nods before turning on her heel and retreated back behind the counter. “Do you want to stay, darlin’? You were so excited to sit in and look at all the photographs on the wall.”

“I…I would like to go, please.” You look up at him, catching his eye feeling off kilter. Social battery completely drained and yearning for the privacy of your lush hotel room and a bath.

“Alright, let’s get you back to the hotel. We can take it easy until our evening reservations. How about I run us a nice, hot bubble bath, hmm?” His hand curls and guides you to stand directly in front of him, eyes searching your face. “We can soak until we’re all pruned up and I’ll even run it a little hotter for your comfort. Sound good?”

“I love you.” You surge up and press your lips to his cheek. His smile when you pull back grips around your heart and your stomach flips again, butterflies bursting to life. You do, you love him with everything you are, with everything you transformed into. His love in return the only thing that made you feel like you never had before. He was right, he had been waiting for you while you wandered and figured out what it was you wanted. You weren’t sure you had ever even explicitly voiced it or even discovered what it was beyond getting your credentials and teaching. But he had helped you to discover that what you wanted was a life with him. A simple, nurturing and real relationship with someone who saw you for exactly who you were.

You wanted to make sure he knew that as you connected your lips with his smiling ones.

“Let’s get you out of those clothes, hmm? Somethin’ tells me you got some thoughts swirling around in that pretty head of yours.” He whispers against them, breath hot and teeth teasing your bottom one for the barest of seconds, the action sending a shiver down your spine. All you can do is nod as he pivots and leads you back to the truck.

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[harmonictechnicality]

*wrote this for @vecnuthy's birthday, so here you go babe! i baked you a word cake 🥰🎂* *ao3 link here*

Nobody gets cool shit on their birthday after the age of sixteen - Steve stands by this statement firmly. That year, he got his permit. And by yuppie parent default-mode, he also received his first car.

He almost, almost had a quarter-life crisis on his twenty-fifth birthday. Steve was seconds away from buying a motorcycle. Robin was very dramatic about this decision, kept threatening to order his gravestone if he followed through on an impulse purchase. 

This, however, would’ve nullified his Adults Get Lame Birthday Gifts theory entirely. So Steve apologized to the salesperson, and tucked his credit card back into his wallet. Robin canceled the order on his gravestone as well, thank god.

Gifts have continued to be lackluster every year since then. And his 30th birthday is no exception to this rule.

A gift card from his parents. A pair of athletic socks from Dustin. And a t-shirt from Robin. Essentially, the starter pack of Welcome to Adulthood. 

Except for one minor detail:

The shirt from Robin is exceptionally soft. Bamboo fibers or something, he wasn’t really listening to her description. Even the color is soft. Muted red, almost pink. Everything about it is soft. Airy. 

Touchable.

Okay - that’s not an observation Steve makes upon receiving it. But it’s one that Eddie Munson will never let him forget. 

The first time it happens is a week after Steve’s birthday. The two of them hit up a bar on the outskirts of town. A place Eddie frequents a lot, occasionally dragging Steve along as his Token 9 to 5 Friend.

“Welcome to the Dirty Thirty Club, man!” Eddie crows, already diving into Steve’s atmosphere for a hug. 

“Thanks! Good to see you, Munson.” Steve chokes out, returning the massive hug with a single pat on Eddie's back.

The guy always gives the most suffocating hugs, fucking cages Steve into his arms and steals the breath of out his lungs with one squeeze. Steve has to inhale through his nose, smells the soapy steam rolling off Eddie’s skin.

Shower. Eddie just showered before meeting him here. It’s so fucking clear by the way he feels damp, smells clean.

Steve hates that he notices that. Wishes he didn’t care about Eddie’s hygiene schedule. But the scent of shower gel is addictive, breathing it in fast. Big gulps of fresh air. Lungs extending like they can capture Eddie's atmosphere and keep it there.

Okay, seriously. Steve thought his Eddie Munson Crush had been buried with the rest of his trauma back in 1993.

“Dude. This shirt is so soft, holy shit.” Eddie is rubbing his hand all over the back of Steve’s shirt, fingertips pushing into the fabric.

“Uh yeah. Sure is.”

Eddie must’ve blazed up back at his place, it’s the only reasonable explanation as to why they’re hugging for this long. Gotta be some strong shit too - strong enough to make him sound completely blissed out over a damn shirt.

He’s is humming now, both hands petting Steve’s shoulders, one on each side. Pinching the material, twisting it till it curls around his index finger.

“Gotta get me one of these bad boys.” Eddie chuckles, turns it into a playful growling sound. “Could touch this all day.” 

“I don’t doubt it.” Steve does an awkward wiggle out of the embrace. He looks down at his shoes, cheeks growing warmer as he continues to take Eddie’s words entirely out of context. 

Look, the sensible part of his brain knows that Eddie is talking about the shirt. That’s it. But the insufferably needy and more prominent part of his brain wants Eddie to be talking about himself in general.

That he could touch Steve all day long - shirt or no shirt.

Right. Steve needs a splash of water on his face. Could use a splash of water on his goddamn imagination too. Dilute the delusion for christ’s sake.

It happens again about four months later. Lucas invites the whole crew over to throw a surprise party for Max’s promotion at work.

Of course, Eddie is running late - he didn’t fail senior year twice solely from his shitty GPA. But showing up late to a surprise party? That’s a new level of risky. Not everything has to be a thrill-worthy adventure. Ugh.

“Max should be getting off work right about now.” Lucas explains, peering around the living room. “So everyone should head to your designated hiding spots.”

Nobody budges, just carrying on with their conversation.

“Alright, asshats - you heard Sinclair!” Steve snaps at each of them, glares for good measure. “Find a hiding spot or get the fuck out.” He gives a quick nod to Lucas, who still looks severely stressed, eyes ready to bust out of his skull any minute.

The coach-esque threat does the job. Everyone, ducks into place, voices descending into whispers. Whispers descending into shushes as the minutes draw closer to Max’s arrival. Steve is folded up behind the couch, arms wrapped around his knees. 

There’s a small creak coming from the front door. A few people yell 'surprise.' Steve peaks to the side to see Lucas shaking his head at them.

“No, nobody move.” He instructs, voice caught between a yell and whisper. “I was just letting Eddie inside.”

Instinct takes over. Steve twists around the corner of the couch, needing to see for himself that Eddie is here. That he really came.

Clearly, he didn’t move fast enough. Although he could’ve sworn he moved so embarrassingly fast that the vertebras in his back sound like a bowl of Rice Krispies (post-milk). 

But no one is there. No Eddie. No Lucas. No one.

“What the-” Something grabs the back of Steve’s shirt, pulling at his collar. A few people start aggressively shushing him.

“Chill out, Stevie.” Eddie is right there, meeting Steve’s face with a lopsided smirk. He’s close, way too close. Still holding the collar of Steve’s shirt with one hand, stretching it out. Keeping them close.

“Just trying to check the tag,” He releases Steve just an inch or so. His voice is so hushed, the quietest Steve has ever fucking heard it. “Wanted to see where I might be able to purchase such a godly article of clothing.”

“Ever heard of a thing called boundaries?” Steve hisses, swatting a strand of Eddie’s hair out of his face.

“Doesn’t ring a bell, sorry.”

They haven’t talked much since that night, barely any interaction for four months. But watching Eddie lean in, angling his head lower to study the tag on Steve’s shirt, hot breath on his neck…

It resets the clock. Flips the hourglass on Steve’s feelings for him.

He’s infatuated all over again, and all it took was Eddie invading his personal space. Just like he always does.

“You’ll have to ask Robin.” Steve whispers. Tries not to flinch when Eddie smooths Steve’s shirt collar back into place. “She’s the one that bought it for me.”

“Damn. Buckley has good taste.”

“Sure does.”

No distance is created. Neither of them move away. Eddie’s eyes continue to sketch over every stitch in Steve’s shirt, every hemline. He seems hyper fixated on it, too fixated to notice Steve’s pink-ish cheeks, thank god. 

If it weren’t for the shirt, Steve would assume Eddie is checking him out, looking him up and down with a heavy gaze. Dark pupils, casted darker by the dim lighting.

“Can I?” Eddie raises a hand out to Steve’s shoulder. He pauses, lifts an eyebrow at the end of his question.

Steve’s jaw is too tight to answer or counter back with a joke about how Eddie never asks permission before popping personal bubbles. All he can do is nod a little too eagerly.

Eddie reaches into Steve’s sleeve, rubs the material from the inside. A small grin forms on his face. He looks so pleased, purely amused. That’s enough to untangle Steve’s muscles, relaxing under Eddie’s light touch. 

But that’s the other thing. He’s barely touching Steve. Every now and then, his knuckles roll over Steve’s skin. Really, that’s it, that’s all he’s doing. And god, Steve craves more.

Eventually, Eddie switches it up, pinching the material between the pads of his fingers. He scoots closer to Steve’s side to do so. 

Time feels paused. Time feels rapid. It’s going nowhere and already slipping through his grasp. All Steve can think about is placing his hand underneath Eddie’s chin, bringing his lips up to his own. Kissing him till the clock stops ticking. Till the sand stops running.

“Softest shirt ever.” Eddie gives the material a slight tug. Smiles wider.

Steve gulps. “If you say so.”

“I mean, seriously - it must be made from the glow off an angel’s halo or something, cause damn.”

“You’re a trip, Munson.” 

Steve has to keep telling himself that Eddie is obsessed with touching his clothes - he’s not thinking about taking them off of Steve. No matter how much he wants that to be the reality of the situation. 

It’s not.

They stay like this till the doorknob clicks, turns. Steve almost forgot that he was at a party, surrounded by other people. 

Immediately, all of his senses flip back into Extrovert Autopilot. Everyone jumps out, yells a combination of surprise and congratulations (because they failed to coordinate that apparently).

He stays in this zone for the rest of the party. Talkative and breezy. Charming the pants off Max’s coworkers with silly little anecdotes about her as a kid. 

Steve is damn good at hosting. It’s probably in his white-collar bloodline or some shit. Still, anytime Eddie walks by, he glitches up. Temporarily out of sync.

He doesn’t get a chance to say goodbye. Eddie ducks out early, waving broadly before slipping through the front door.

Time does that weird thing again. Feels paused and rapid all at once as he watches the door shut behind Eddie.

“You okay, man?” Lucas nudges him.

“Yeah.” The gentle gesture returns time back to normal. Brings Steve back into this moment.

“Doing just fine.”

It’s all he thinks about for weeks. Anytime there’s a lull at work or a commercial break on television, Steve drifts. Pictures Eddie is in his shirt, the one he’s so obsessed with.

At first, it’s just that. Basic. Eddie standing in front of him, wearing that muted red, almost pink, shirt. Sometimes smiling, sometimes expectant. Either way, it’s always enough to make Steve’s neck feel flushed, creeping up to his cheeks.

Gradually, it evolves into something more complex. A fantasy, almost dreamlike. He imagines Eddie running his hands all over himself, his torso, his chest. The thin material of the shirt moving and shifting under his palms. His head tipping back, lips plush and red from where he’s gritting down, biting hard. Holding back sounds.

Those images get Steve in trouble. Panting on conference calls and boners at his work desk. 

He’s alone in his apartment when it grows, branches off into darker urges. Desires. Steve glances down at the floor, can’t help but wonder what Eddie might look like down there, staring up at him. Wearing Steve’s clothes. Begging Steve to take them off. Rip them, ruin them.

“That fucking does it.” Steve scolds himself, scolds his dick too. He’s calling Eddie Munson right now - before he has time to overthink it.

His hand is trembling as he picks up the house phone, dials out the number he didn’t even know he had memorized. The trembling thing is kinda embarrassing, but it's still better than sticking it down his pants and jerking off while the Cooking Network plays reruns in the background.

Every ring feels drawn out. Stretching time like taffy. 

Eddie picks up on the fourth taffy-length ring. “Eddie here.”

“Hey, man.” His voice comes out all strained, bone-dry.

“Shit. That really you, Harrington?” 

Apparently his voice comes out unrecognizable too.

“The one and only.”

Eddie snorts loudly into the phone speaker. “Doubt that very much - seems like a common enough name.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever, smartass.” Steve rubs his neck, scratching his skin. Working his way to extracting the words out of his throat. “So um… you busy tonight?”

“Nope.” Eddie answers.

“Cool. Me neither.”

There’s silence after that. Well, almost silence. Just a slight hissing sound from the phone line can be heard. Not enough sound to make things less awkward though.

Steve has no good reason to be so antsy, so wired with anxiety. They’ve been friends since metaphorical shit hit the metaphorical fan back in ‘86. So being outwardly weird around Eddie? It’s too damn fishy. 

“Is that it?” Eddie says. “Did you just want to bond over our empty schedules?” 

Of fucking course, Eddie would call Steve out on his weird bullshit. Doesn’t know subtlety if it bit him in the ass. 

Bad time to think about Eddie’s ass.

“Come over.” Steve blurts out. Needs to say something before a parade of ass-centric images start back up in his mind. “I ordered way too much takeout and there's a stack of movie rentals that I need to binge to minimize those late fees, so yeah… come over.”

No response, even the background hissing from the speaker cuts out. Maybe the phone line went dead. Or maybe Eddie hung up. Wouldn’t be the first time he’s abruptly ended a conversation, perpetually flouncing to whatever is new and shiny. Always distracted. 

“What kind of takeout?” He finally responds.

“The Greek place with the kickass tzatziki sauce.” Steve smirks, already knows the answer before Eddie can utter another word. 

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

Eddie arrives in less than an hour, actually. Knocks on Steve’s door exactly 51 minutes after Steve gets off the phone with him. It’s slightly disturbing that Steve suddenly turns into a math whiz when he’s fawning over someone.

Someone that fawns over his clothes more than him, but who gives a shit about logistics?

“Fucking starving.” Eddie says, slamming the door behind him. 

Steve smiles, motions his head toward the kitchen. “Help yourself, dude.”

The plan is so stupid. Half-baked at best: get Eddie out of his shirt (and jacket), and into Steve’s shirt instead. That’s it. That’s all Steve’s got so far.

But it’s better than nothing. So what the hell? It’s worth a shot.

He waits until Eddie has stuffed his face with a decent amount of spanakopita, fully reclining on Steve’s couch. Looks incredibly comfy, too comfy to move.

Good.

Steve grabs the strawberry sorbet from his freezer, the one Robin forced him to buy after going vegan last spring. He scoops a bowl for himself and a bowl for Eddie. Exhales the last bit of his self-respect before returning to the living room with the most boring dessert option ever.

“Here you go.” Steve says.

Eddie scrunches his nose at it. “The fuck is this?”

“Sorbet.”

“Why am I not surprised that the former rich kid prefers sorbet over ice cream?”

Steve sputters, takes the bowl back before it further offends Eddie somehow. “That’s not… I didn’t… it’s actually-”

“Deep breath, Stevie. I’m just teasing you.” Eddie yanks the bowl back, shovels a brain-freezing amount into his mouth. “Far too easy, by the way. Give me a bit of a challenge next time. Makes it more fun… for one of us, at least.”

“Fun. Sure.”

“The one of us being me.”

“Got that.”

Steve decides to take Eddie’s ‘challenge’ remark as the perfect cue to set his stupid plan into action.

Steve pretends to shift around on the couch cushion, getting situated. Does this until he ‘accidentally’ fumbles the sorbet. Spills it all over Eddie’s clothes, his distressed black shirt, his dark gray sweatpants. All of it. Makes a much bigger mess than he intended to.

Eddie jumps up. “Goddamnit, Harrington!”

“I am so sorry!” No he’s not. If anything, his apology is more smug than sincere.

“This shit is sticky as hell.” 

“Really sorry, man.” Steve hands Eddie a few stray napkins, like that’s going to make a difference.

“Don’t be. It was an accident.”

Except it wasn’t. It was one of the most juvenile tactic that Steve has ever pulled. Truly, it tops the overused movie theater-yawn tactic.

“Here - let me get you a change of clothes.” Steve offers, already heading to his bedroom. He’s walking and talking and fucking fidgeting. Suddenly paranoid that Eddie can see right through him, see all his desperation on display. Splattered everywhere like strawberry sorbet.

He turns back around for a split second. “I’ll throw those in the wash. Have them dry and ready to wear again by the time you head out.”

“Oh…” Eddie keeps patting down his clothes with a sopping napkin, barely listening. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

His acting performance is fucking dismal. Over the top. Porno-level obvious. Must be karma for all of those times he gave Robin and Eddie shit about being in an improv club. Makes a mental note to never mock their nerdy hobbies for the rest of his life.

“Well, it must be my lucky night.” Eddie calls out from the bathroom door, causing Steve to wince at the sheer volume.

“What makes you say that?”

“Bestowing the holy grail of shirts upon me? Allowing me even one hour in downy-soft paradise?” Eddie is using that tone, the one that’s boozy and savory. Borderline mean. Equally hot and annoying. “Possibly the greatest of olive branches you could’ve offered up.”

“Christ, you’re dramatic.” Which is so hypocritical after the stunt he just pulled.

The bathroom door swings open and nothing could’ve prepared Steve for how good Eddie looks in his clothes. The shirt is snug through the sleeves, loose through his chest. Makes Steve realize how differently built they are. The waistband on the athletic shorts is sitting low on his hips, maybe a size too big. If they were any bigger, they’d slip right off. Landing all tousled around his bare feet…

Okay, Steve has got to snap the fuck out of it. He rubs aggressively at his eyes. Needs soap or military-strength detergent to fucking cleanse whatever is going on with him lately. 

“We could watch something.” Steve says, even though that’s exactly what he’s already doing.

Watching.

Eddie shrugs. Leans against the wall. “We could.”

“Or… I don’t know.” Steve can’t rip his gaze away from Eddie’s arms. His pale skin looks even lighter against the reddish tones. The waves and curls of black ink look even darker. Just a splash of color has turned him into a landscape of extremes. 

“You don’t?” 

“Um…” Steve flops, flounders. Scrambling for an idea. A coherent thought. Anything. “Cards. We could play cards.”

Eddie’s forehead wrinkles, then quickly straightens back out. Nodding politely. “Sure, we can do that. If that’s what you want to do.”

Steve mumbles something about grabbing a card deck from the storage closet, although he’s pretty sure it’s unintelligible. Makes a quick escape, jogs at the weirdest tempo known to mankind. 

Flirting with a longtime friend is throwing him for a loop. Many loops actually. Theme park amount of loops. All of his usual ease and charm are being denied access. Not tall enough to ride this ride.

The closet is packed with junk, so finding a deck of cards is obnoxiously difficult. He’s tossing coats into piles and shoving shoes into corners. Between his nerves and his determination, Steve is working up a goddamn sweat.

“Need a hand in here?” Eddie’s voice startles him. Steve jolts backwards, straight into a shelf of puzzles. Tons of pieces go flying, some landing in Steve’s hair. Redecorating the fucking closet with tiny bits of colored cardboard.

Fantastic.

Eddie backs away, arms crossing into his chest. “Jesus, man. You’re freaking me out.” 

“Sorry.” Steve says. Shakes the puzzle pieces out of his hair.

“Is it the shirt?” The question sounds genuine. No jokes, no sarcasm. “Does it look that bad on me?”

“Oh.” Steve doesn’t know how to respond. The shirt looks amazing, that’s not the problem at all. It’s just… “Um, actually-”

“Look, I know I’m not a pastel heartthrob.” Eddie gestures directly to Steve before waving his arms around. He starts pacing in the tiny closet, just ranting away. “And let’s fucking face it. I’m not getting any younger, so I doubt I can pull off this slim-cut style the way I used to… but come on. It can’t be that repulsive, right?”

“Eddie.” Steve frowns. 

“Shit, that bad?” Eddie smacks a hand to the top of his hand. Grabs a fistful of his hair and looks down at the shirt, still rambling. “We’re using first names now? What’s next? Gonna bust out my full legal name? My birth certificate? Then we’ll really mean business.”

Okay, yikes. And Steve thought he was the stressed one. This is going south very, very fast. He needs to curb the self-destruction that’s happening in front of him. Just… reach out. 

“Hey.” And Steve does. Literally. He places a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, sucks in some courage. He waits until Eddie makes eye contact, breathes at a less neurotic speed. Then he exhales all the courage. Turns it into honesty instead. “You look… you look good.”

Eddie scoffs. “Yeah right.”

“No, I mean it. It’s different. But in a good way.” Steve skims his nails against the fabric, drawing shapes into Eddie’s shoulder. “I like it.”

“You do?”

Steve nods. Bites down on his lip, flicks his eyes to Eddie’s mouth. “Like it on you.”

The energy between them is thick, clinging to Steve’s skin. It’s new except it’s not. Steve has felt it before. At the bar, the party, that random Thursday in 1993. He recognizes the flex and curl in his stomach as Eddie takes one step forward, then two. The feeling is familiar and strange combined. Knotted tight.

Eddie raises an eyebrow before taking another step. Like the day behind the couch. Quiet permission, one he doesn’t ask for often. Only when it means something.

Steve lets the hand on Eddie’s shoulder fall slowly. Catching the material at the bottom, tugging it forward. Prays to fucking god that’s all the permission Eddie needs.

“You were right.” Steve lets his hand drift back up, landing in the center of Eddie’s chest. Wrinkling and smoothing the fabric underneath. “It really is soft.”

Eddie’s breath hitches up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Steve’s voice drops lower, richer. “Could touch this all day.”

Eddie thumbs over Steve’s bottom lip, drifting into the small space between them. He places both hands on Steve's cheeks and kisses him firmly. Steve presses in deeper, breathes out through his nose so that he doesn’t have to break away. 

It’s so good, kissing like they’re teenagers behind the bleachers. So swept away in the heat and hunger that they’d be late for class. Showing up to study hall with blotchy skin and achy lips. They keep kissing just like that. Feeling, exploring. Lingering in all the areas that seem to make the other person hum or gasp.

“Steve.” Eddie whispers. His hands push up into Steve’s hair, combing it back, pulling in down with an edge. Hard enough to make Steve tilt his head, mouth dropping open.

“Yeah?” Steve replies. Barely a question, too lost in the feeling of Eddie’s lips on his neck. 

Eddie rubs his mouth over the edge of Steve’s jaw. “You’re so…” 

The sentence stops right there, never gets finished either. He nuzzles over the wet spots of skin covering Steve’s neck. Marks them all up with a gentle nip, not enough to leave bruises. Just enough to make Steve shiver.

Steve is making so many breathy noises, which should be humiliating. Pathetic for someone who’s had fucking loads of first kisses, even more makeout sessions.

But none of that really matters, his age or experience or slutty track record. Nothing counts when being kissed like this. Nothing can stop Steve from taking this moment, eating up all of the sounds and sensations. 

Fuck, he wants all of it. Wants Eddie closer somehow, on top of him, beneath him, surrounding him.

He can’t stop tugging at Eddie’s shirt, well… his shirt. No doubt that it’s stretching out, close to ripping it. Keeps pulling it anyways - dragging Eddie into him till Steve’s back is pressed up against the wall.

“Come here.” Steve curls a finger under Eddie’s chin, brings his face back up to him. Not nearly done kissing him stupid, square on the lips. His mouth is warmer now, a few degrees hotter from sucking Steve’s neck. Licks into Steve’s mouth, gets him to whine at how good it feels. 

The washing machine timer goes off, buzzing throughout the whole apartment. But Steve can’t let this end, he can’t.

Except for the buzzing won’t let up. Continuously interrupting all the delicious noises that Eddie makes whenever Steve bites over his bottom lip, gets it nice and puffy between his teeth. 

“Should we...?” Eddie smushes his nose into Steve’s before motioning to the door. 

“Yeah probably,” Steve unclaws his hand from Eddie’s waist. Kisses him once more before sliding out of reach.

As he walks down the hallway, heading into he laundry room, he hears it. Eddie’s voice, still inside the closet. Chanting the same phrase over and over again:

‘Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. Holy fucking shit!’

Steve cracks a smile. Kind of hard to believe his heart is chanting the same damn phrase. So full of adrenaline, fucking crumbling under this wave of raw emotion.

Really, he never thought he’d find himself in this situation. Holding Eddie’s clean clothes in one hand, thumbing over his kiss-bitten lips with his other hand. Impatiently craving to get back to where they left off, hopefully on the couch or bed or floor this time.

“Hurry it up, will ya?” Eddie whistles behind him.

“What’s the rush?” Steve tosses the clothes into the dryer, doesn’t turn around because his self-restraint will be fucked if he does. 

“My lips are getting cold.”

“That’s the best line you got?”

“For now, yeah.” Eddie says. “You sucked out all of my brain cells with your mouth. Can’t expect me to be Swayze-level smooth after something like that.”

No way he’s allowed to be so damn cute comparing himself to Patrick Swayze. As if they're even in the same league. Endearing, really.

“You can head back to the living room. I’ll be there in a minute.” Steve pushes a few buttons on the dryer. The timer starts, another reset on the clock.

Feelings that flip the hourglass once again. 

He really fucking hopes it never runs out this time. 

Eddie is perched on the floor, flipping through the channels on the tv. He's squinting at the harsh light because for some insane reason, he always insists on watching the tv in total darkness.

Even that’s cute now. Annoyingly cute.

Steve joins him on the floor, instantly slouching into Eddie’s arms because he can do that now. Completely allowed to be sweet and gross and smitten. 

“Guess my theory was wrong after all.”

“Hm?” Eddie replies, still mindlessly channel-surfing.

Steve gives Eddie a quick kiss on the cheek (because he can do that now too), and looks at the shirt. Muted red, almost pink. Soft and touchable. “Apparently, you do get cool birthday gifts as an adult.”

“What are you mumbling about?”

This thing between him and Eddie. It feels longer than running sand or ticking timers. Longer than their years of friendship. Maybe not timeless…

“I’ll tell you later, Eddie.”

But pretty damn close.

[kiryoutann]

𝐄𝐗! 𝐀𝐔 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 (𝟏) ::: 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐀

GENSHIN IMPACT MASTERLIST.

MINORS do NOT interact. Warning(s): implied cheating, MANIPULATIVE BEHAVIOR, abuse of power, GASLIGHTING, alcohol consumption, TOXIC RELATIONSHIP (pls don't settle with someone like this ver of childe in real life!!!!!!), childe sabotaging everything to keep y/n with him, mention of the word "suicide" but no actions, just a description for y/n's frustration.

You know your friends have been talking to you about Ajax for a long time – about how he's a bad man, "he's the exact guy people talk about on Tiktok, baby! the one you should stay away from. Sure, he buys you expensive bags, takes you to nice places, free vacations and five-star hotels, even paying for your college, but that's his way of manipulating you!"

At first, you shrug them off, thinking your girls are just worried, and a little jealous because you're dating THE Ajax.

The crazy, stupid rich Ajax, who is so up there that the casual question he asks some stranger is "Do you ski?" before proceeding to talk about his favorite ski holiday spot and how his family has an estate there in case anyone ever thought about going (and he's gonna give the key for free???).

Around four most expensive and tallest buildings in this city belonged to him, the rest either belonged to his family or one of their assets to run their money with.

He definitely has that laugh that is only limited to the filthy rich.

Ajax is the MOST eligible bachelor of all time, honestly. He has good control over whatever business his family has owned for generations, and he looks good doing it.

Not to mention, he is always well-dressed, quiet-luxury from head to toe. Has a row of cars worth a country, but he's not rubbing it in anyone's face. Humble, down-to-earth guy.

You met him at a socialite party that you and your girls snuck into. Good god, what a contrast—your "nightclub" dress (exactly what you typed on the website) and a sea of people clad in clothes from designer brands whose names you can't even pronounce.

You remember about four or five women scanning you up and down before whispering to their friends "who let these girls in?!?!"

But, then again, perhaps that's what caught Ajax's attention on you.

And while your first meeting and how you ended up dating him is a story for another time, this one isn't.

Despite his "perfection" (money and crazy handsome face), you and Ajax were nominated as the most INSUFFERABLE couple by your friends. On-and-off relationships; one day in the honeymoon phase, the next like adults in crisis threatening to break up.

And the reasons? Because Ajax and his lack of boundaries when it comes to other women always finds a way to make you jealous.

There were many times, but this one—this one was the final.

Your sanity is gradually vanishing, in danger of running out completely. Every second, your breath grows scorching hot—the flames of insanity inching closer. The searing sensation that conquers your chest stands in contrast to your cold stare as your eyes meet those of the ginger-haired man standing in front of you. As if blind, he continues to stand with his lips curled into a stupid smile (or his pretty face is compensation for having little to no empathy).

Ajax, your boyfriend, looks at you mockingly, and you're still unhappy because you saw him being so touchy with an employee. Your gaze flits across his ring-studded digits—the exact same fucking fingers that caressed the dumb bitch's hips.

You're in love, not dumb; at least, not anymore. Ajax can never stand it when a man stands too close to you, always ending with him approaching the poor guy with a smile that reflects anything but friendly—the kind you would see on the cover of a true crime documentary. He should have known you wouldn't like it when you walked into his office and saw the woman hanging to him like a monkey – lips curving shyly, and Ajax doing nothing but smiling back at her as if he was enjoying it (or maybe he DID).

"I told you; she almost fell and I caught her. No need to be so jealous, doll.”

There it is. When you interpret his words as more of a mockery than an explanation (and if it were, it was a very much half-assed one), you know you're not hallucinating.

"Stop trying to gaslight me. I'm not fucking blind, Ajax! You'd fuck her right there if I hadn't walked in!" To hell with self-control; it’s impossible to maintain when another chuckle escapes him. "Oh, you think this is funny?”

Ajax shook his head, still unapologetic. "Sorry, you look adorable."

The audacity of this man????????

Right now, you're unsure of whether to be furious, sad, or strike a knife at his stunning neck. That's THE problem. Ajax takes joy in your suffering—his lips stretch and laughter sprouts in a voice no better than fingernails against a wall. One of these days, you're going to blame yourself; perhaps the reason he acts this way is that you often show the wounds he inflicted as if it's a trophy rather than a disgrace. It is a constant reminder of the power he has over you to watch you burn with jealousy.

But not anymore cause as you shout: “Fuck you, Ajax! We’re done!”

The smile on his handsome face disappeared. A taste of his own medicine. About fucking time.

You walked towards your shared bedroom, He was yelling your name in desperation, but you ignored him. The door swings open. You snatched up a suitcase in a flash and packed it with his stuff. You won't be leaving; Ajax will. He should, at a minimum, vacate the residence and vow to never interact with you again.

“Babe!”

Ajax shouted when you placed his final item of clothing into the luggage. That burgundy shirt feels like fire on your skin. You zipped the luggage before dragging it out of the room. It hit the marble floor with a loud "thud!" sound.

“Babe! You can't be serious!”

“Oh, I’m dead serious.” Your eyes glared at him, both threatening and challenging. "Get your ass out and leave the fuck here!" was yelled.

Before Ajax could reach you, you quickly closed the bedroom door and locked it. He’s banging on it, and you wouldn't mind if he continued doing that all night though. It will be the best-case scenario if Ajax leaves the apartment, swollen on both hands.

Honestly, you thought it would all end there.

Because there's no way Ajax will risk his ego and continue to beg as if he would be homeless if you kicked him out, when he has four other condos in the city that he can stay in before going somewhere looking for new prey, right?

Wrong.

Imagine the shock on your face when you wake up and come out of your room, to find Ex bf! Ajax standing in the kitchen.

And him opening his mouth saying, “Morning, princess. Feeling better now?”

The devil himself was in his usual apron, a white buttoned shirt underneath, sleeves rolled up. He presents a sickening smile that instantly spurs your frustration levels to the absolute apex of your cranium, fury growing at an alarmingly fast pace.

Unfortunately, he lacks the concern to be worried about the expression on your face. His veiny hands flip the pancakes deftly—his morning routine—he remembers you like your pancakes perfectly done, with butter, and lots of syrup.

Your brain is debating whether to commit suicide or homicide right now.

this ended up being a fanfic but in bullet points LMFAO. might be a part 2 soon(???) and i know i said that im gonna put "ex-problem" on ko-fi but since i'm not able to finish it (probably), im just gonna put this here for u guys to enjoy<33 if anyone wants to give me tip for my writing, you know my ko-fi!!

SUPPORT ME THROUGH KO-FI! CHECK MY WRITING COMMISSION.

[runesandramblings]

Intended

Word Count: 4600

Pairings: Fili x reader

Warnings: None

Description: Abandoned by Fili in the Blue Mountains after the quest to Erebor, you accepted the hand of another. But when you arrive in the kingdom under the mountain months later, you find that things were not as you believed.

“Fi, I really don’t know about this.” 

You stuck your head out of the doorway to your chambers and looked hesitantly down the hall. It didn’t appear as though anyone were around to hear your conversation, but you could never be too certain. Every wall in Erebor seemed to have ears; gossip traveled around the kingdom like wildfire. 

Fili only grinned at you in response. 

“Come on, (Y/N). Has age truly made you this precautious? You used to be so much more fun.” 

You grimaced at him as you checked both ends of the corridor again for lurking busybodies. 

“We were children, Fili. We’re grown now. Besides, how would it look for a betrothed woman to be sneaking off with a dwarf who is not her intended?” 

It was Fili’s turn to grimace at the mention of your fiance. He had made it known on more than one occasion that he was not overly fond of your soon to be husband, in spite of the fact that the same man was a distant cousin of his. The engagement was the only reason you were even in Erebor to begin with. 

“It used to be your favorite thing to do, you know. Back in the Blue Mountains.” He continued, doing his best to urge you out of the front door. 

You smiled wistfully as you thought of your home. Sure, Erebor was the ancestral home of your people. But the Blue Mountains had been where you were born and raised. Although you were sure you would grow to love Erebor in time, there was something about it that felt cold and unwelcoming. It had only been six months since the kingdom had been reclaimed, and construction was still heavily underway to rebuild the mountain. You had tried to give it the benefit of patience; surely it would all come together and feel as glorious as you’d always been told it was. But right now it was all piles of stone, closed corridors, and strict rules – which had led to the conversation you were having with Fili. 

“Fili, your uncle will wring our necks if he catches us sneaking out. Curfew-”

“It’s a stupid rule.” Fili interrupted. “There’s not been a single disturbance since the battle for the mountain. Thorin worries too much.” 

You sighed, feeling defeat was imminent as you looked up into Fili’s shining eyes. You’d never successfully said no to him a day in your life. You had grown up alongside Kili and FIli in the mountains. Their mother Dis and your mother had become close friends after the dwarves had settled into their new homeland. Both had lost their husbands in the battle for Moria, and they’d been a support system for each other as they raised their young children. Dis and Thorin were like a second set of parents to you, and your mother was the same for Kili and Fili. Growing up the pair of them had always gotten you into loads of trouble, whether it be playing pranks on their uncle or sneaking off for adventures in the forest. It hadn’t changed as you got older, and well into your adolescent and young adult years the three of you had continued to be an inseparable, and insufferable, trio. 

“How would we even get out?” You asked quietly. 

Fili grinned as he realized he’d finally worn you down and extended his hand out for you to take. 

“You think I’ve been in this mountain for six months now and haven’t figured out all the secret passageways? Honestly, (Y/N). Do you know me at all?” He teased. 

You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face as he tugged on your hand and pulled you from your chambers and into the stone corridor. You tiptoed silently behind him as he led you down and around several narrow passageways, occasionally pulling you to duck behind pillars as members of the royal nightwatch patrolled the empty halls. Fili seemed to know the schedule and route they took, so avoiding watchful eyes was easy for the most part. 

You felt a flutter in your stomach as Fili gently squeezed your intertwined hands. The older you had gotten, the closer you two in particular had grown. There was a special bond the two of you had, something that even your mother and Dis seemed to pick up on. In your adulthood a flirtation had begun to grow between you. You’d certainly begun to look at him much differently as he grew into himself, and from the way you noticed him watching you it seemed he felt the same. The budding feelings were also noticed by both of your mothers, and on more than one occasion both Dis and your own mother had grilled you about your relationship with Fili. They seemed to be certain that you and Fili were each other’s Ones, and that at some point he would formally ask their permission to court you. 

It never happened, however. You’d never forget the chilly, spring morning when Fili had come to you and let you know that he and Kili were leaving to meet Thorin. They were going on a quest, he’d said. A dangerous journey to reclaim Erebor and bring their people home. You knew it was likely they might never return, and when he’d told you of his plans to leave you’d fully expected him to confess his feelings for you before he went, or at least make a promise to court you properly when he returned. He had not. He’d left the next morning, without so much as a hug goodbye. 

It hurt, deeply. A part of you grew resentful, hateful even. You’d cursed Fili for leaving the way he had, and sworn on your own life that if he did return you’d never speak to him again. Dis had insisted it was not the way it seemed. She’d assured you that Fili spoke so fondly of you, and the evening before he left he’d fretted himself sick over how to say goodbye to you. She’d seemed surprised that he left without a word, but she assured you it was not out of any ill will or malice. 

“You mean so much to him, nâtha.” She’d said, hugging you as you wept bitter tears into her shoulder. “He knows he might not return and the thought of telling you goodbye for what could be the last time tore him to pieces.” 

Your feelings of malice and anger had slowly dissipated the longer Fili was gone. You’d grown wistful, longing for the day he’d come back into the village and come knocking on your mother’s door. You dreamed of the time he would stroll into the room, take you into his arms, and declare his love for you.

“This way.” 

Fili’s voice cut through your thoughts and brought you back to reality. He released your hand and placed his on your lower back instead, guiding you through a narrow doorway that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. It was carved seamlessly into the stone, invisible to the naked eye as most dwarf doors were. 

“How-” You started. 

He winked as he pulled the door shut silently behind him. 

“I have my ways.” 

After a few moments of walking through near darkness you began to smell the scent of pine mingled with fresh, rain-tinged air. The tiny stone corridor led directly out into the forest. Pine trees stood tall around you, and you could hear the faint sound of a running brook. Moonlight spread over the small clearing, illuminating the ground in a pale light. 

“Wow.” You breathed. You inhaled deeply, filling your lungs with the scent of the fresh air. It had been weeks since you’d stepped outside, thanks to Thorin’s tight curfew for those who resided in Erebor. You hadn’t realized how much you’d missed the moonlight until you saw it for the first time in so long. 

You looked over at Fili. The light of the full moon washed over him, illuminating his golden hair in an almost silvery glow. He was too busy also admiring the moon to see you admiring him. You felt a pang of guilt and regret course through you, and you couldn’t help but wish that it was he you were engaged to. 

After word had been sent back to the Blue Mountains that Erebor had been reclaimed, and that all thirteen members of Thorin’s company survived, you’d expected to hear from Fili. For weeks you’d waited for a letter, for some communication from him that he wanted to see you. It never came. You’d grown discouraged, and after months of silence you’d finally put Fili out of your mind. When an acquaintance of your family had reached out to your mother and proposed a match between their son, Barin, and you, you had accepted without a second thought. Despite your mother’s reluctance to wed you to a man you’d never met, you had assured her that you wanted to go. You had written back immediately, accepting the proposal, and within weeks you’d traveled to Erebor to meet your intended. The wedding plans had begun right away, and the date was set for a mere two months to the day you’d arrived.

Within hours of you arriving in the mountain, Fili had found out. He’d sought you out immediately, and in spite of the year since you’d seen each other he seemed thrilled to finally be around you again. He never brought up why he hadn’t said goodbye to you, or why he hadn’t written since they’d retaken the mountain. You tried to put it out of your mind as you rekindled your friendship. However you couldn’t deny that the questions had been gnawing at you ever since you’d arrived. Why hadn’t he come to see you before he left for the Shire? Why hadn’t he written to you once the mountain was won? Had you imagined everything forming between the two of you back home, before he’d left? 

“(Y/N)?”

Fili’s voice cut through your reverie once again. You turned to look at him. He was staring down at you, his eyes searching your face for some hint as to what was occupying your thoughts. His look was so gentle, almost wistful. You thought your knees might buckle underneath you if you stared back at him for too long. 

“What are you thinking about?” He asked, his voice soft. You felt yourself locked into his gaze, and it took every ounce of willpower you had not to stretch up onto your toes and kiss him right there. 

“A lot of things.” You said quietly. You desperately wanted to bring it up, to ask him all of the questions burning in your mind. 

“Such as?” He prompted. You felt his hand touch your elbow as he tugged at your sleeve, indicating he wanted you to sit underneath one of the towering pines with him. You obliged and sat down, legs crossed in the same unladylike fashion your mother had often scolded you for as a child. He sat beside you in the same position, close enough that your kneecaps brushed against each others.

You debated for several moments as he watched you, anticipating what you were going to say. 

“The wedding.” You lied finally, deciding not to bring up the questions you so desperately wanted to ask.

Fili’s face fell, and he quickly turned from looking at you to looking up at the moon through the trees. 

“Ah.” He said, keeping his attention focused elsewhere as he spoke. “What of it?” His tone was flat, disinterested. You knew it was probably the last thing he wanted to discuss. 

“Don’t sound so excited.” You muttered. You kept your own gaze focused on the exposed ground beneath your criss-crossed legs. You felt the familiar feelings of bitterness growing in your chest as you toyed with a few fallen twigs on the ground. It was his fault, anyway. The only reason you’d accepted a match with a man you barely knew was because he’d abandoned you in the Blue Mountains and not returned. Had he only come to see you before he left, or reached out after the battle, things would be very different. 

“No, I’m thrilled for you.” He said, though you could detect the falseness in his voice. “Barin is from a good family, I’m sure he’ll make a fine husband.”  You were sure the words were eating him alive as he spoke them. Fili hadn’t said one kind thing about him since he’d first learned of your engagement. 

You sat in silence for several agonizing moments, neither of you looking at each other. 

“Do you love him?” He asked finally. 

You felt your breath catch in your throat. Love. There was only one man you had ever loved, could ever see yourself loving. He was sitting beside you. No, you did not love your intended. But the one you truly loved had rejected you, abandoned you. 

“Love will come.” You said quietly, keeping your attention focused on the ground as you spoke. 

Several more moments of silence passed before Fili spoke again.

“And what if it does not?” 

You shrugged, declining to answer aloud. You hadn’t stopped to think for yourself what you would do if you could not find love for your betrothed. Dis and your mother had both voiced the same concerns. You’d been telling yourself that it would be alright for weeks, and you couldn’t stop to think now of what would happen if you were wrong. 

The two of you sat in silence for several long minutes before Fili began to speak again. He changed the subject, to your relief, and began to tell you stories of the company’s journey to Erebor. He’d already told you so much just in the few short weeks you’d been reunited, and you were surprised to find he still had many tales to tell. You sat for hours under the trees together, enthralled by the sound of his voice. The way his speech quickened as he got to the exciting parts. The giggles that spilled out between words as he told you of the humorous things that had happened. Even the deepening timbre of his voice as he told you of the darker parts, the moments when he truly did not know if they would make it out alive. 

You’d lost track of the time as he spoke, and before you realized what was happening you found your eyelids drooping. Fili took notice and quickly stood, extending his hand to help you to your feet. 

“Come on, gaihith. Let’s get you back.” 

If you did not know it wasn't physically possible, you would have sworn you could feel your heart breaking within your chest. Fili’s nickname for you, the one he’d used so many times before. It had been nearly 18 months since you’d last heard him call you by that name. Hearing it now, given the circumstance you found yourself in, felt nearly unbearable. Once you were wed to Barin you were certain you’d never hear it again. 

You followed Fili closely as the two of you wound your way back through the hidden passageways, back through the empty corridors and into the wing where your chamber was. As you stopped in your doorway and turned around to say goodnight, you were surprised to find Fili standing inches away from you. He stood so close the tip of his nose almost touched yours. You backed into the threshold and felt your back hit the door. 

“Fili, what are you-”

Without a word he closed the space between you, bringing his lips down to feverishly touch yours. It was a moment you’d longed for, had dreamed of. His lips felt soft and warm against your own. The familiar scent of him, the sweetness of the pipe tobacco on his breath mingled with the earthy scent of the cologne he wore. Unthinking you felt yourself lean into the kiss, your hands grasping at the leather of his tunic. You’d not yet kissed Barin, but you were certain it could never compare to the sparks that flew through you at Fili’s touch.

Barin. Your fiance. 

You broke the kiss instantly, pushing yourself backward and into the hard wood surface of the door. 

“Fili!” You whispered harshly as you shoved him away. “What in Mahal’s name are you doing?” You looked quickly from one end of the hall to the other, relieved that no one was awake at this hour to see what he had done. 

“(Y/N)-” He stepped closer, coming back to tower over you in the doorframe once again. “I-” 

You put your hand against his chest to stop him.

“No, Fili.” You said firmly. “No. Do you have any idea what would happen if someone were to see what you’ve just done? My engagement would be over. How dare you.” You felt a surge of anger rising in your chest. After all he’d put you through, after you’d finally tried to move on and put him out of your mind… Now he had the nerve to kiss you publicly, in full view of anyone that might come strolling down the corridor. To think of the scandal.

“You need to leave, Fili.” You said harshly, shoving against his chest and pushing him out of your doorway. “Now.” 

“(Y/N) wait-” 

“Go.” You shouted, no longer caring if anyone were around to hear. You fumbled for the doorknob behind you, pushing it open and disappearing into your chamber, not looking back.

**

“Oh, (Y/N) this dress is beautiful.” Dis cooed.

You stood between her and your mother as they circled you, making adjustments to the intricate white gown you wore. You gave her a halfhearted smile as she paused to pin a small section back that would need altering. 

“It is unlike anything I’ve ever seen.” Your mother said in agreement. “I think one more round of alterations should do it. How does it feel?” 

“It feels fine, amad.” You lied. You ran your hands over the front of the dress, feeling each delicately woven bead. It truly was a beautiful gown, one you should be thrilled to wear. Perhaps if it were someone else you were marrying, you would be. 

“Is everything alright, dear?” Dis asked. She paused her circling as she came to stand in front of you. “You’ve been unusually quiet today.” 

No, everything was not alright. In spite of your best efforts to put it from your mind, you couldn’t stop thinking of the kiss. That kiss. Your head spun just thinking about it. You couldn’t help but wonder if you’d reacted too harshly. Fili had kissed you, after all. And maybe that meant…

No. You couldn’t think of that now. It was too late. You couldn’t throw away a sure thing for a chance. Without even realizing it you visibly shook your head, willing the thoughts away. 

“(Y/N), what is the matter? You’re hiding something.” Your mother said. She stopped before you as well, hands planted on her hips. 

You felt your mouth open and close, debating whether or not you should tell them the truth. Both Dis and your mother wore the same worried expression, standing in the same stance with their hands on their waists. 

“I-” You started to explain, to spill everything, as a knock at your chamber door interrupted you. 

“I’ll get that.” Dis said, giving you a ‘this isn’t over yet’ look as she darted away. 

As she departed your mother stepped closer to you, bringing herself close enough to whisper in your ear. 

“Are you having second thoughts, darling? If you are, you know it is not too late.” She urged. 

Before you had the chance to explain a familiar voice rang out from the foyer.

“Please, amad. I just need a few minutes.” 

It was Fili. 

You felt your breath catch in your throat as Dis reappeared. She gestured for your mother to join her. Your mother gave you a questioning look as she also recognized the voice of your childhood friend. She nodded reluctantly as she crossed the room to join Dis. As soon as they’d disappeared, Fili rounded the corner. He stopped short as he saw you standing in the center of the room, outfitted in your wedding gown.

“Mahal.” He breathed. “You look beautiful.” 

“What do you want, Fi?” You asked flatly, ignoring his compliment. Although you were seconds from admitting to your mother all that had transpired the evening before, you were still cross with his behavior. To kiss you out of nowhere, after all he’d done. The impudence of that dwarf.

“Why are you marrying him?” He blurted. 

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks. Anger surged through you at his forwardness. 

“What kind of question is that?” You snapped. 

“Don’t answer my question with another question. I deserve to know.” 

“You deserve to know??” You lifted the dress up around your knees and stomped across the room to where he stood, coming to rest a mere foot away from him. “You don’t deserve anything from me, Fili.” 

“What does that mean?” He asked, his voice softening. His eyebrows were knitted together, confusion splayed across his features. 

“You know damn well what that means.” 

“I don’t.” He said simply, and from the surprised tone of his voice you somewhat believed him. Could he really not understand just how deeply he’d hurt you? 

“Why didn’t you say goodbye?!” Finally, the questions you’d been holding onto for nearly a year began to spill out. Once the floodgates were opened, you found it impossible to stop the words from tumbling from your lips. “Why didn’t you write to me?! I waited FIli. For months after I heard you were alive. You sent for your mother. You sent for your things. But you didn’t send for me.” As the words you’d been holding back began to flow, the tears did as well. Your voice cracked, your throat thick with the emotion you’d suppressed these long, agonizing months. 

“(Y/N)-” 

“You didn’t even say goodbye.” You continued, willfully pushing through the tears that fell freely. “You ran off to be a hero. I might have lost you and you didn’t even come to see me.” Your tears broke into a loud sob as you choked out the last few words. You clamped your hand over your mouth, trying to hold back the emotions that had finally been set free.

Fili said nothing. He stood, staring at you with an expression you could not read. His arms were stiffly at his sides, as though he did not know what to do. You felt your anger return as you watched him, emotionlessly watching as you broke down over him. A bitter laugh slipped from your throat as you shook your head at your own ignorance. 

“I was a fool to think you ever loved me.” You muttered, turning away. 

“Loved you?” He said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. 

You did not turn back as you continued moving across the room. 

“Forget I said anything. Just go, Fili. Please.” 

“You think I loved you?” He asked again, his voice growing louder. You could hear him begin to walk, following you across the room.

“Fili-”

“(Y/N) I love you. Here, now. I never stopped.” 

You stopped in your tracks. Had you heard him correctly? Did he just…

You turned slowly back to face him. He was staring at you softly, and he looked as though tears were threatening to spill over in his own eyes. 

“Then why did you leave me the way you did?” Your voice came out in a whisper, muffled both by the tears and the shock of hearing FIli’s words.

“Oh, ghivashel.” He stepped hesitantly closer, and when you did not move away he took your hands gently in his own. “If I had come to see you before I left that morning I do not think I would have gone. I don’t think I’d have had the strength to say goodbye and know I might never see you again. Kili needed me, I had to be strong for him. I had to go.” 

“Why didn’t you write to me after? Why didn’t you ask me to come join you?” A million new questions had sprang into your mind. Could it have all been a misunderstanding? Had he not truly abandoned you? Did he…? 

“I did. You did not come, I thought you didn’t feel the same for me.” 

You shook your head. 

“I didn’t get a letter.” 

He scowled down at your intertwined hands, shaking his head. 

“Damn ravens. Untrustworthy things.” He looked from your hands back to you, and the softness of his earlier expression had returned.  “(Y/N), the first thing I thought of when we retook the mountain was you. We spoke of the rebuild, of the future… All I could think about was bringing you to me as soon as possible. I couldn’t possibly imagine building a future if you were not in it. I love you, (Y/N).” 

You opened and closed your mouth, unable to find the words to speak. He wanted you. He had sent for you. He loved you.

“It broke my heart when I heard you were engaged to another.” He continued. You felt him tenderly squeeze your hands as he spoke. “It’s taken everything in my power not to tell you how I felt. To beg you to marry me and not him. But I assumed you were happy. It wasn’t until last night that I realized I might have a chance. I’m sorry if I blindsided you in the hallway, it probably wasn’t the best way to show you how I felt.” 

You shook your head, still in a daze over the words he spoke. He’d intended to marry you. 

“Fili, I love you too. I always have.” You said quietly, finally finding your voice. You felt as though you were in a daze, in a dream that you might wake up from at any moment. You knew there would have to be a conversation with Barin at some point, but for the moment you didn’t care. 

“So… now what?” You asked uncertainly. 

A nervous smile crossed Fili’s face as he fumbled around in the pocket of his tunic. After a few moments of digging he removed a small, golden bead. You felt your heart begin to pound in your chest as you recognized the courting bead his father had given his mother, the one you’d seen many times as a child in Dis’ jewelry box. 

“I’ve known you for 80 years, gaihith. We don’t need to overcomplicate it.” As he spoke he knelt down before you, still holding one of your hands tightly in his as he held out the delicate golden bead in the other. “Will you be my wife, (Y/N)? I cannot imagine spending another day under this mountain without you by my side.” 

You felt the tears begin to flow again, only this time they were tears of joy instead of sorrow. You nodded wordlessly as Fili got back to his feet. Without hesitation he cupped your face in his hands and brought his lips down to meet yours, gentler this time than he had the night before. For the first time in nearly two years, you felt as though you were home.

Gaihith – little dove 

Amad - mother 

Ghivashel - my treasure

Nâtha - daughter

[fictionaltrvlr]

Roman Empire this, Roman Empire that. I don’t really think I have a Roman Empire-

The Overwhelming Hatred of Rachel Zegler

This rising star of a 22 year old woman is being torn apart by men and women alike and I’m so tired of it.

I’m disgusted by the amount of hate she’s getting and you best believe I’m gonna lay it out. I’ve tried to organize this but I’m really tired so bear with me.

Main Controversy

Her saying that it’s no longer 1937 and Snow White doesn’t need to be saved by the prince is not her saying that women can’t want to have a husband or a family. Simply that they don’t need a man to give them value.

And to be clear, yes, okay? Yes. Women should be allowed to soft, they can want families, they don’t need to be badass to be happy. They can fit “traditional” roles. Women can want different things. Meg March, the icon that she is, “just because my dreams are different than yours doesn’t mean they’re unimportant.” 100% yes. But Rachel wasn’t saying otherwise.

She said the prince was a bit of a stalker so they’re not doing that this time… and yes? The prince was weird. I thought we agreed on that. Snow White was 14 in the original and got kissed while she was unconscious by an adult man… but sure, ✨iconic✨.

And it’s fine if you don’t like the *apparent* girlbossification of Snow White, but people are acting like Rachel wrote the movie?? Did it ever occur to people that maybe Disney wants the “girlboss independent woman who doesn’t need a man” picture presented?

She’s doing press for the movie, is she maybe taking the direction Disney gave her?? Also… we. haven’t. seen. the. movie. The teaser only just came out!

Strike Comments

Her comments being popularized during the strike is already suspicious enough. Is it not in the studio’s interests to portray the strike and those taking part in it as unreasonable?

Her saying she deserves to be paid fairly for the hours she spends in a dress playing an iconic Disney character is completely valid. She wasn’t saying she’s the most amazing actress ever or that she plays the hardest roles or does the most complicated stunts. Just that she deserves fair pay… like every other striking actor and writer??

Childhood Relationship With The Character

Her saying that Snow White scared her as a child and she didn’t revisit it until she got cast. Why does that matter so much?? There were scary things in that movie! The witch, the poison apple, the forest coming to life and trying to grab her.

Tastes change as we grow and Rachel has shared her excitement about getting to play the character now.

She was a child. *screaming*

The Extremely Different Treatment Men Receive in The Same Situations

May I present, Robert Pattinson?? Mr I hate these books and felt like I shouldn’t be reading them?? Mr Edward is creepy?

He mocked and joked about the Twilight series every chance he got and people ate it up. They loved it and still do. He’s funny, he’s confident, he’s so real for that.

Harrison Ford wanted his character to die off and said it had run its course. He was praised for his humour and honesty.

Oh but Rachel is ungrateful. She’s rude, she’s cringe, she’s mean, she’s annoying. She’s irredeemable, she’s overbearing, she’s smug, off putting. There’s just something about her that we don’t like…

She’s pitted against other successful women, like Halle Bailey. She’s pitted against Kristen Stewart. Against Elle Fanning, Jenna Ortega. Ignoring, may I point out, how hated so many of these women have been at the different points in their careers?

This is how Brie Larson is being treated and now she wants to leave Marvel too.

Women can be sarcastic. They can joke and speak their minds. They don’t have to package every thought with a pretty little bow so it’s palatable to you.

Rachel’s statements are being misinterpreted and twisted. But on top of that, even if she was what people are saying, have we forgotten about Tom Cruise? Leonardo DeCaprio?

These men are insufferable and problematic and yet some of the biggest names in the industry and, again, confident. Boss. In charge. Charismatic. Not annoying, not petty, not “oh you should be grateful you have anything!!”

Let me pull out Taylor Swift for a hot second because she does a wonderful job of describing the different ways we talk about men and women.

A man does something and it’s strategic. A woman does the same thing and it’s calculated. A man is allowed to react, a woman can only overreact. […] A man shares his experience in writing and he’s brave. A woman does the same thing and she’s over sharing, she’s over emotional, watch out!

America Ferrera when she said that the only difference between being bossy and being a boss is that one is a woman.

People need to listen to “All American Bitch” again -

I know my place, I know my place, and this is it! I don't get angry when I'm pissed I'm the eternal optimist I scream inside to deal with it All the time I'm grateful all the time I'm sexy, and I'm kind I'm pretty when I cry Oh, all the time I'm grateful all the time

And not that women need to be grateful because they don’t, but just to be clear, she is grateful.

She has expressed how lucky she was to get Shazam and how much she enjoyed it and made amazing friends. She was excited to play her version of Snow White. She shared pictures of herself as a child dressed as Snow White. She’s thrown herself into it.

Conclusions

Hate trains fun, I get it. But let’s not pile on young women when they’ve not even done anything wrong. Question why all of a sudden everyone hates this person, what are the facts, what else is going on, what confirmation bias do we have?

There is something so much worse to me about seeing other women tear her down. Like yeah, men will be pigs, but what are you doing? It’s so sad.

And women like hunting witches too, doing your dirtiest work for you, it’s obvious that wanting me dead has really brought you two together… (Mad Woman, Taylor Swift)

Rachel seems like such a joyful person and people are out here bullying her like she kicks puppies on the weekends.

Claiming to be a feminist because you want a wide variety of princesses (ie, ones that get saved by their prince), and then sending death threats to another woman for possibly appearing as though she holds a different opinion about one princess - is not only a contradiction, it’s just baffling.

Anyway stan Rachel Zegler

That’s my speech, please do contribute collaboratively if you want :).