#island humidity is mad

[mjm5655]

❝ it's fuckin' roastin' n' humid as fuck here in tokyo, it's 'bout time y'all just strip, n' put on factor fifty sunblock. ❞

[kombuuuu]

Can I request Miles 42 bullies you at school and is always bothering you but he gets mad and tries to fight someone else who is bullying you because he’s the only one who can be mean to you😩😩‼️

Deflecting.

Earth42!Miles x Fem!Reader

“I would get your hands off her if I were you, homeboy.”

This one is kiiiinda violent, not by Miles mostly be warned C:

PART TWO !!

such a cute wife (throw me on an island to live in my delusions)

You were quiet, silent most days. Not stepping out of the very thick circle you’d made for yourself consisting of just you.

And yet, still.

Still, the mere thought of keeping to yourself as a permanent transfer student would make even the most daft of people scoff.

You weren’t anything special, you were void of attention, and happy that way. Acted appropriately and left anger at the door. Had nothing and no one to complain to, so why make problems for yourself?

You’re entire life was just floating along your schooling and waiting patiently for the day you left. Even if you were the rare case of “Got transferred half way through the year because the school saw potential!” girl, you’d just wanted to be left to yourself.

But even the premise of that seemed almost impossible now.

Because ever since you were pushed by some rushing kid straight into Miles Morales, tripping him over with you. Him and his asshole friends had made it their life mission to bother you.

“The cute new girl?”

“Yeah, the one that—,” The first boy glanced at Miles. “,—tripped on.”

“Oooh, shit—, She’s fucked.” The other man whispered back, laughing under his breath. You could feel his taunting stare at the back of your head, and when you checked your peripherals, Miles was sending a sickening glare your way.

You sighed.

—

The ache in your head was probably the only thing keeping you awake.

The day dragging longer than usual had you right about ready to get home and knock yourself out within a minute of being in your bed. Your hand slowly dragged down your face, taking a deep breath and stuffing your jacket somewhere in your locker. The heat of the school mingling with the temperatures the Summer was providing and then adding on the rain from the prior day? You cursed Brooklyn and its humidity. Reaching to close your locker, you finally fit the jacket in the already cramped space. A little piece of the fabric poked out, and you pushed it in while simultaneously trying to keep everything else in too. Pulling a face before you finally managed to get it shut, and slip your finger out before it can get trapped. You turned the key into the dumb metal and scowled at it before pocketing the key and turning to leave.

Being so engrossed in your feud with the locker, you had failed to realise the very man who’d given you this headache, leering over your frame. Turning straight into his chest and reacting in a pained groan, gripping your forehead in displeasure and glaring up at whomever was standing so close to you.

Which happened to be Miles Morales. Staring down at you with cold, dulled eyes.

“What the fuck are you doing, man?” The simmering anger in your voice was made known, and also promptly ignored. He tilted his head down at you, braids shifting with the movement, his expression barely changing. If only he had a conscience. Then maybe you could read his expression, the emotions on his face —, but in this universe? The thought seemed laughable.

He stepped forward, sending you staggering closer against your locker.

“Back off—,” You’re voice shook a little as you swore. Dropping his eyelids into a glare, he spoke, “You keep talkin’ to me like that, and we gon’ have a problem.”

“You keep creeping up on me like a fuckin’—,”

“Like a what?” Miles’s bored, taunting voice grated against your eardrums.

You let out a shaky breath, chest heaving, and clenched your jaw. Shaking out the annoyance in your bones, you kept your calm.

“Don’t get shy on me now.”

A surge of anger rose through you, before you willed it away.

He was antagonising you.

You tried not to instigate him. If you didn’t encourage it, maybe he’d go away.

“Never mind. Whatever, Why—,”

“Miles, my man.” A different man clapped him on the shoulder, giving you the chance to step back and away from him. The other man was tall and lanky, spindly in the way where he looked out of place for a high school. His blue eyes caught sight of you, smirk contorting the bridge of his nose and baring his teeth. “Fuck you doin’ with this thing?”

“What d’you want.” Miles diverted attention from you quick, his companion not getting the hint.

“Fuck, nevermind man,” The man sent a sleezy smile at you, looking you up and down slowly, a short whistle under his breath.

“Shut the fuck up, James.”

You glared are the taller man, something like bile clawing at your throat. The way he was talking about you was sickening, nothing more than a bothersome rodent.

Miles glanced at you, raising a brow, he wanted to see how long it would take before you’d finally fight back. Through the months you’d been at this school, not once had you actually lost your nerve.

On worse days, like this one, you gave him attitude. Snapping at him the moment he showed up, knowing if you didn’t, he’d take the chance too first. He looked forward to those days, where you would engage him. It sent some sick thrill through him. Watching the way your eyes unfocused, urging yourself not to roll them. How your composure surely chipped but never cracked, fingernails digging prints of a fine line when dug into your palms.

He watched your breathing stutter and counted your breaths with you, he’d basically memorised the pattern.

10 beats in, hold for 8, and 12 beats out.

Though, this was only on a good (bad?) day. Other days you just stood and took it. Letting him say whatever he wanted to you, talk shit right to your face. Spread rumours without repercussions and mess with you just because he had the urge.

And just like always. Through the heat of Summer and the full ache in your head, you managed to do nothing.

Just stand and stare as James acted like you were less to a piece of meat.

Miles scowled, dropping his shoulder and causing the man to fall from leaning on him. “Omf— Hey! What the fuck, dude.”

“Let’s go.”

James scoffed, rolling his eyes but following behind nonetheless.

“Miles, what was that shit about?”

“None of your fucking business, homeboy.”

Their voices faded as they walked away, the white noise of chattering people swallowing the scraping of James’s voice.

You wondered what Miles had really wanted this time, as he hadn’t gotten the chance to say anything with James showing up. You hate to thank him, but god. You might’ve lost your mind.

—

Four months in and you were losing your mind. Miles hadn’t stopped, neither had his determination. He seemed so eager to piss you off and do nothing but stare coldly as you composed yourself every time.

Just as that thought brimmed in your head, something kicked out in front of you, sending you flat on your stomach. Hands pressed into the hardwood of the gym below. You groaned, knees being knocked straight to the ground, landing with your arms outstretched in front of you. At least it wasn’t your face.

A voice was heard behind you and you froze, unsure what to do at that moment.

“Get up, [Name].”

James.

“Yeah, I’m—“ You shuffled back onto your feet. Standing up cautiously and checking your uniform was in place.

“Shut the fuck up.” He interrupted you, and you turned around slowly to face him. “Ever since I made it clear how little you were fucking worth, that dipshit Miles has been a fuckin’ dog to me.” He spat at you, the anger rising in his voice, he gripped the polo shirt you wore, dragging your limp upper half closer to his.

You shivered at his breath on your face, wanting to gag.

“Sorry.”

“You’re a fucking freak—.” His group of even more childish people were standing behind him like some sort of team work movement.

“Please let go.”

“I’ll fucking gut you. I needed that motherfucker—,” “Woah.” “,—He’s lucky I don’t beat his ass for ditching me.” Seems like attachment issues. “And you too, cunt. I’ll end your fucking life.”

He pulled you ever closer, using his height to intimidate you, six foot four of an angry man standing over you, no thanks.

A whistle was heard from the main room of the Gym, prompting James to let go of you.

“You’re lucky you’re a looker, call it pretty privilege.”

“..”

“Next time I’ll fucking kill you.”

You dropped from where you had been dragged onto your toes, stumbling a little as James’s group snickered when they walked past, bumping your shoulder and wolf whistling.

—

The lesson ended, and you rushed to get out of there. Making your way to the locker room, and being the first in there, also the first to leave. Changing from your sports uniform and rushing out of the Gym.

You kept looking over your shoulder, Knowing that James wasn’t lying. He probably would kill you, or, objectively worse.

You tripped over your feet before righting yourself again. People around sent curious looks to you which you ignored easily.

Getting to the front of the school, glass double doors shut with a “locked” sign on it, you continued to shoulder forward. Ignoring the shout of the office lady, you pushed against the metal bar and opened the door. You’d already known about the doors being unlocked constantly, having seen many times teachers trying to check no one was watching before slyly slipping out. So when the door opened for you with no trouble, you breathed out quick, and booked it.

You praised yourself for the amount of cardio you could do, the school was three stories for goodness sake, the amount of stairs you needed to climb was insane.

You slid to the side, dodging the occasional pedestrian and making it to the main gate, another shout was heard from the front of the school and you slipped out the gate just as it opened for another teacher, thanking them as you passed.

“Thank you!” You shouted as you ran.

“You’re welcome?— Oh..”

“Kid, Get back here!”

The office lady watched you hit the end of the street and turn, no longer in her sight. She threw her hands in the air and sighed.

“I’m going to get fired.”

“No, Marlene. I’ll cover you.”

“Thanks, John.”

“Why were they running, anyway?”

“Dunno, maybe AP exam.”

—

Miles watched as James was escorted back inside the building. His scowl etched onto his hideous face. Two of their shared buddies trailed behind him, rolling their eyes at the teachers questioning them.

One of the girls in his group was pressing against him, Miles getting more agitated by the minute. His disinterest in her only seemed to fuel her infatuation more, and it was getting annoying.

The guys at his table were all laughing at some—, probably sexist joke one of them made, the ladies giggling along with them, feeding their toxic lovers the attention they so desperately want. It’s not like Miles thought he was above these people. He just was. They were scum, but the only friends he could keep. Hurt people hurt people, and all that sappy shit. So when you hurt so much, only a small portion of people can stand you, and you them.

But when your name was mentioned, he perked up significantly — his ears fine tuning to the conversation. Completely forgetting about the raven-haired girl pressing against him, and focusing on the words spat by James and his two huevos.

“She’s hot though—,”

“Fuckin’ cares ‘f she is? Woulda beat her ass.”

“[Name]?”

“Yeah, [Name]. Miles got all fuckin’ sissy I thought she was hot, and now we don’t talk.”

“So?”

“So—!? Now I lost my chance with Imogen, she’s all fuckin’ over him cause I’m gone.”

Right, Imogen was her name.

“You want to beat her up over you losing a bitch? Just bag her instead?”

James rolled his eyes, debating it. Miles tensed, his relaxed posture straightened quickly, causing him to almost knock Imogen in the face. Too which she squealed at. An awful noise, really.

He quickly stood, chair falling behind him with a loud clang, and strode out of the hall, Glaring at James the entire time. His two friends laughed James’s sudden hesitance to respond, knowing how piss scared he was of Miles.

James stayed silent until the doors to the cafeteria closed, and the whispers started up. Then told his buddies off in a harsh tone.

No one had ever seen Miles do anything too bad. But with the amount of times he’s shown up to school with a busted nose and smug aura, you could tell—, whatever fight he’d had.

He’d won.

—

To say that Miles wanted to have the day away from school, probably wasn’t true. With the stuff he’d heard James and his dogs speil, he’d rather you not be alone.

He was—, worried.

But when his Uncle Aaron called him in for something urgent right at 4 AM, telling his Ma it was a work emergency, he couldn’t refuse his Uncle. He fit his mask onto him, faceplates slotting closed. Claws being turned and clicked into place, he flexed his hands, dragging the window of his room open in the early morning, and left with his Momma sound asleep.

—

The peace and quiet of the day had been rather disturbing. Not having Miles or any of his groupies bother you—. Was off, not unwelcome, but odd.

So when the bell rang for your fourth class, everyone heading from their lunch break back to their assigned classes, it was only by nature you’d be pulled into deserted corner of the school by some unknown figure. A hand placed over your mouth and the other gripping your wrist, pulling you back.

You struggled against the mystery person, a sickeningly familiar voice croaking in your ear.

“Be—,” You kicked your head back, knocking his jaw. “,—Fuckin’ bitch, be quiet.”

Your foot slipped under you, bringing him more leverage to haul you further from the light of the main hall.

You screamed through his hand, tears building behind your eyes when you heard a door unlock.

“Get in.”

“Fuckin—, Open it wider, dipshit.”

“Fuck off.”

James ripped his hand off your mouth before you could realise, pushing the middle of your back so you were forced into a dark, cold classroom.

You fell to your knees, a sense of déjà vu kicking in as you braced yourself with your hands.

Your chest heaved, James slamming the door shut.

“Keith, close those blinds.”

“Fuck are you gon’ do?”

“Beat the fuck outta her.”

—

Miles stuffed his claws somewhere in his locker, uncaring for secrecy. No one was there now, everyone having gone to class. He’d arrived fairly late, not an unusual occurrence considering his occupation, though. So the office ladies didn’t mind.

He slammed his locker shut, an image of you doing the same with a pout on your lips coming to mind. He had class with you now, sat right next to you, actually.

So he made his way towards the back block of the school, where you’d be.

—

A hit straight to your cheek sent you flying to the floor again, Mathew letting go of where he was holding you up.

“Dude your grip is shit.”

“Nod off.”

Keith muttered something about “Fucking brit..” from his seat on the prior teachers desk.

You groaned internally, eyes lolling to the closed curtains, the broken glass of the window letting in a sweet breeze. The only reprise from this entire ordeal was a broken window.

There’s some poetry in that, or something.

Blood dripped from your nose and lip. A cut on your cheek now present too. James, the creep, had rings on his thin fingers that, when used, hurt to no end.

You were picked back up by under your arms, closing your eyes in pain and hissing. You opened your eyes in time to see the small glint of metal in James’ pocket, and the wince on Keith’s face before another fist connected to your temple.

—

You weren’t there.

You had shown up to school, evident by your paper on the lecturers desk, but hadn’t shown up for the period.

And by the empty seats of James, Keith and Mathew. He could only guess what was happening right now.

Miles slammed the door to the class shut, ignoring the panicked yells of his teacher and started towards the darker parts of the school. Where no one used, a chemistry accident setting the safety board director deep in debt and a block of the school unusable.

He flung open his locker when close enough, snatching the prototype version of his claws from the locker. Small, sharp finger coverings that were something close to the claws he had for his Prowler suit. The knuckles were brassed and the wrist latch clasped easily to his skin. He slammed it shut again, not bothering with the lock, and honed in his hearing.

The walls were thin enough.

—

“Don’t you think this is a little too far?”

“Shut the fuck up, Keith.”

“Fuck you gonna do if she snitches—?”

He gripped James’s wrist, holding the knife away from both you and himself.

“—You gon’ ruin your life for this shit, man?”

“She’s been playing my fuckin’ nerves—, yeah.”

Keith gave him a bewildered look while Mathew stared on in disinterest, still holding you at a position you couldn’t right yourself.

The blood had stained your shirt now, bruising littering your face and body.

James had taken to ditching the knife.

“Fuckin—, Whatever man.”

It clattered to the ground with a large clang, the tiled floors of the science room made the echo ring in your head like the growing migraine.

“Drop ‘er.”

Keith glanced down at you, then backed off. An odd look on his face while he kicked the knife away from James, unintentionally pushing it closer to you.

He walked back to his seat.

Mathew let go, watching as you dropped to the ground and started coughing.

Choking on your own blood before you spat it out.

“You know how long i’ve been wantin’ to fucking do this?”

He raised his leg, tilting your chin up with his boot, how demeaning.

He swung back and kicked your ribs, sending you into another coughing fit while you fought the urge to throw up, tears streaming the blood dripping down your chin.

“Your family ruined my fucking life.” Another kick to your stomach, you gagged.

“Taking my dad, then my fucking girl too?”

What is this guy on about.

“Your fucking daddy couldn’t just mind his own business. Had to get involved, then you.”

A harder kick to your stomach, you clenched your abs and covered your head.

A sudden shock ran over you, a familiarity that always sat with James clicking in your mind.

James Ohnn, son of Jonathon Ohnn, a man who had a hand in the collapse of a still-in-construction Kaleidoscope that was said to bring revolutionary science to the new world. It’s framing shattered while the workers on it all went with it.

His father was the lead scientist of that Kaleidoscope, and by turn in of your dad, was promptly arrested.

“I didn’t do shit—,”

“Shut your fucking mouth.”

He kicked your ribs again, and you swore you could feel them crack.

“I’ll kill you, you fucking ruined me.”

He swiped the knife again, Keith shouting something you couldn’t hear amongst the ringing in your ears.

You shut your eyes, crowding your head with your arms.

A slam broke through the muffles of your mind. Panicked voices and accusations being thrown around before a thick accent curled around your head.

Miles Morales.

“I’d get your hands off her if I were you, Homeboy.”

Miles approached slowly, checking your face while keeping his eyes on the three men.

“Fuck off, Miles.”

“No.” His head cocked to the side, eyes slanting while he assessed the situation.

“What, you gonna fight us?”

James’s voice was shaking. He’d never seen Miles looks o absolutely pissed before.

“Don’t think I can, asshole?”

“It’s three against one.”

“Realmente piensas—, sabes que, no importa.”

Miles lunged at him, Keith and Mathew shouting in tandem while you struggled to keep your eyes open. The pain working its way past your adrenaline and into your bones.

He grabbed James by the wrist, twisting it back and listening to the sickening crunch of his Lunate bone in curious satisfaction. James screamed, trying to tear his hand away from Miles. Even with his right hand pulling too, he wouldn’t budge. The metal clicked together every time James shifted, and Miles gave an extra squeeze before letting go. The force James was pulling sending him flying back, he stumbled and tripped over your feet, falling back and smashing his head on the tiles.

The other two boys scrambled for the door, running out the hallway and whining like dogs.

James groaned, rolling onto his stomach, Miles deadpanned down at him. You watched through blurry vision as Miles picked his up, sat him against the teachers desk, almost slumped against it. Grabbed his hair by his crown, slowly bringing his head forward, bending him at the waist. Before slamming his head back against the wood with a dull thud. He repeated this sick, prolonged process until James had fallen unconscious. Standing over him, then going to grab the knife laid a bit from you. You looked at him from your position, not unthankful, but still—, he was evidently a contributor.

“Don’t move.”

“Wha— Why? I have to get home.”

Miles scoffed, crouching down next to you, knife in hand. His limp wrists resting on his bent knees.

“You gonna’ go home with a cracked rib and busted face? Nah, Chiquita. Vente conmigo, yo te arreglo.”

He stuffed the pocket knife down the side of his Nikes and took off his claws, putting them in the pocket of his jacket.

He hooked his arm under your knees and upper back, cradling you bridal style before standing to his full height.

You panicked a little— “Wha—, No. Miles, put me down.”

“No.”

“Hh— Whatdyu’ mean ‘No’!?”

You hooked your hands over his shoulders and gripped him as he made his way through the back exit of the school.

“I said, I’m taking you home.”

—

You groaned in pain, shirt lifted to just under your bra line as Miles assessed the damage.

He had been joking when he said cracked rib, but there was an underlying sense of real possibility. According to him though, nothing had been enough to seriously injure you. Except the disgusting looking bruises littering yourself.

You tried to focus away from the pain. Or Miles in general, he was very distracting, the lingering attraction you had when you met thought to be squished, was bubbling up again.

He had an ice pack pressed to your skin, and if you were a tad less conscious, maybe you would’ve made a joke of how cold his hands already were. The sweltering heat doing nothing to soothe the bruising.

“Keep this here.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Watch the attitude.”

You huffed a breath, laugh being painful.

“Yeah, whatever.”

You shifted yourself to alleviate some pain, and took his place holding the pack on your stomach.

He grabbed an anti-septic from the small kit he had for first aid. When he’d pulled it out earlier, you’d questioned it.

“You get injured women on your room often, Miles?”

“Nah, Just you. Usually they can take care of ‘emselves.”

You’d giggled at that, not entirely offended but more so amused he’d decided not to take offence at your jab.

His hands reaching for your face brought you back to the present. Flinching back in surprise, you watched him watch for a moment. “Chill, ma. Just gon’ put this on your cuts. Needa’ touch your face for that.”

You cringed, the twisting of your lip having you suck in a harsh breath. “Yeah—, yeah, okay. Thanks.”

“Mhmm.”

The callouses in his hands were made known the moment he touched you, spreading the cream along the cut on your brow, cheekbone and lip.

His hands were a nice contrast compared to the heat of your cheeks, and the gentleness at which he was using.

When Miles touched your face, leaning his body closer to yours, he wanted to savour the feeling. The softness of your flesh against his own, how he could trace the contour of your cheek without it being awkward. His thumb rubbed a small amount of cream onto your lip and he couldn’t look away. The sight of your blood stained skin under his blemished hands had him stuck in the moment. Unable to answer her last question.

“Miles?”

The way her lips formed around his name sent a burning heat throughout his body.

“Yeah—.”

“Is my lip okay? ‘M I gonna need stitches?”

You poured up at him and he shook his head. “No.”

“Mmh— Okay.”

You looked to the side, addressing his room and Miles watched the way your eyelashes brushed along your cheeks when you blinked.

“Okay, just this left. Gonna be a little cold.”

“Thank you.”

“No stress, Chiquita.”

He grabbed some petroleum jelly, spreading it along the cuts on your face and moisturising the wound.

He then placed adhesive bandages along the places necessary, and placed everything back into his first aid.

“Miles.”

“Yeah, Mami?”

You paused at the name, he’d been using those a lot lately.

“How’d you know to find me?”

He looked down, shuffling up next to you against the headboard. You gazed out the window, ignoring the tension that was eating at the both of you. He did too.

“Gut feeling.”

—

DAMN BABY THIS ONE GOT WILD

tags :3 @gemma42 , @denuparxoume

my gorgeous translator @kissmxcheek !!

[gladiatorcunt]

- UNDEAD UNEARTHED !!

you’re too sweet for me

cw: 18+ mdni, goth reader, reader is lowkey mean but not really on purpose, mentions of reader wearing makeup & a skirt, dubcon due to alcohol use and taking advantage of a vulnerable person, ambiguous intentions/ending, reader has a pussy, friends!pope & reader, one line of vomit kink & puppy reader talk, unprotected sex on the beach, feet kink, mentions of animal hunting & implied bone collecting, arguable intox (?) kink, unedited, title inspired by hozier but not directly from the unreal unearth album (subtitle is), experimental style, one usage of the word ‘daddy’, piss kink

wc: 1.5k

1k event. / consider commissioning me!

You’re out at night hunting a gator that some jackass threw into your family’s lake on a whim. It’s not a body of water that beckons the upper class to visit, large parts of it swamped with algae and fervidly humid as any circle of hell. But it’s yours, and you’d hate to get your foot bitten clean off because you procrastinated taking things into your own hands. An annoying job anyway, guess the bones rumored to be buried in the marsh will have to wait.

You’re just minding your business when a boat pulls up. Standing tall behind like the wheel like a captain is your one night stand from a few days ago, John….. C? Or maybe B, whatever. To his right is your longtime acquaintance Pope, someone who you probably would be a lot closer to if you didn’t resign yourself to being the world’s youngest hermit. You bonded over math and reading and you were glad to feel normal for once, to have a normal near-friend and do normal things.

He was the one that made an off handed comment about a party going down at the beach. Nothing special on this sinkhole in the shape of an island, but in theory you can appreciate a casual offer to hang out. You made the decision to only be there for half an hour since the drive back to your trailer was long and winded. You must have looked lonely, because John B (though you didn’t know his name at the time) had sought you out 15 minutes after your arrival and pats your back while you throw up the cheap liquor. Fuck you for trying out the nauseating neon colored liquids in those cheap red solo cups.

You can’t be mad at Pope, you squirreled your way to the pebbled trail leading to the beach soon after exchanging small talk.

“You’ll feel better when you get it all out, okay?” The brunette guy holding your back softly smiles, chomping at the bit to take care of something other than everything else he has to deal with. “Just lean on me and try to relax your throat.”

You’re admittedly embarrassed but you felt something warm stir within you, if you were sober you’d have batted his hands away and all but hissed and bared your teeth. You could almost purr like this, a heavy hand settled on your head and another petting your flank to soothe your trembling. The crosses on the black jacket you’re wearing shook in the breeze, a soft chorus of jingling sounds ringing through the air. Eventually you empty your stomach, he squeezes your shoulder and tucks you into his side as you calmed down.

Your heavy eye makeup and dark lipstick are smudged, your mascara left little trails down your face due to your tears. Having a gag reflex really was the worst, you decide.

“So, do I have a name to call you?” He asked “Can’t think of you as the pretty stranger I saw puking their guts out forever, y’know?”

Your cheeks heat up and you really wish a random tsunami would sweep you out to sea, but you give him your name and hoard the sound of him repeating it in your skull. A part of you between your legs hopes that he does the same when you wrap your lips around the simple syllables of his name, first and last. John B. Routledge is more attractive than he has any right to be, but you know he doesn’t need you to tell him that.

He tilts his head and the moonlight shifts to frame his face. It makes him look like the kind of guy you‘d go to a Lovers Lane with and makeout in his car past any reasonable hour. Someone normal, and you’re a recluse but that doesn’t mean you don’t get lonely. You stumble away from the partygoers, led by his firm grip to a private-ish area of the beach.

He smiles at you again as he pulls his t-shirt off and lays it down on the ground.

He takes a seat and pats the spot beside him, “You need some peace and quiet, some fresh air too. Come sit with me, I don’t think it’d be a good idea to leave you alone right now.”

You bite the inside of your cheek but sit down anyway, and you let him rest your head against his shoulder. You sit in that position for a while, watching the full moon shine on the ocean below. It feels nice, and you weirdly don’t want to leave, so you sink into the embrace and allow the distant cheers and yelling to fade into the background.

The world is fuzzy when he kisses you for the first time, there’s an airbrush filter over everything in your field of vision. You throw caution to the wind and clumsily kiss back, enjoying the glide of your lips together and the reoccurring pecks that bookmark every brush of skin.

You slur that you really never do this, have sex with somebody the night you meet them. John B chuckles, assuring you that he never thought you were the type to do that anyway. You keep to yourself too much, it’s a wonder you’re even allowing him to peel off your studded skirt and lace panties. He kisses down your leg and when he gets to your strappy sandal, he directs your foot to his bulge and grinds against it while he undoes the straps.

Your right shoe is promptly tossed over your head. Your top joins it, but the sickening clang your jacket makes is close to taking you out of the moment.

Then he groans, and you boldly move your toes up and down the shaft, giving what seems like a sizable cock a sloppy footjob. Your foot keeps slipping, but it makes him harder watching you struggle to regain your footing and keep up your pace. You press your heel into his balls, judging the heft of them and how they swell. You only stop when you skirt your big toe around the head of his dick, and John B clamps a hand around your ankle, chiding you for being so greedy already.

He repeats the process with the other shoe and suddenly your legs are spread and he’s kneeling in front of your exposed pussy with the strangest look on his face. Like it’s what he’s been waiting his entire life for but never knew he needed until he saw it in the flesh. He teases your clit with a few uncoordinated touches, messy circles with the tip of his thumb that leave you wanting.

Your limbs wade through water on the way to wrap around his neck, your anchor in the dizzying sea of lowered inhibitions. You grow wet disturbingly quickly, and the sticky sounds of his fingers playing with your folds, delving deeper up your slit and into your cunt sound louder than gunshots.

You’re so out of it you don’t notice the golden droplets falling on the pads of his digits. He wears them like luxury rings.

He coos and grins, “That’s it, you’re a messy puppy, huh? ‘S okay, I think it’s sweet.”

Your throat spasms and gargles around a watery reply, something about agreeing and thanking him and begging. You think you call him Daddy when the pleasure starts to rewire your brain.

He’s… caring, adjusting his shirt under you so you don't get too much sand sticking to your skin and stroking his thumbs down your thighs whenever you tense up. A tad too sweet for your liking, without the bitterness you’d expect from someone else. It feels right, and you guess that’s what causes you to whine and paw at the waistband of his shorts. John B pants into your slack jawed mouth and nods, licking your teeth and freeing his dick.

You don’t pick up on the lack of alcohol that should be permeating his breath, all you can focus on is how softly he taps the fat tip of his cock on your hole. Like it’s shy but going to do whatever it wants regardless, mold your guts around his length and leave anyone else without being able to fit into the lock he’s custom made.

In the present, your grip around your shotgun loosens considerably and that’s the sign he needs.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and I forgot to get your number, so I…I just couldn’t wait anymore.” He says as if that explains everything, as if it seems perfectly fine that he dragged his friend out onto his boat to find out where you lived.

You don’t remember the specifics of the night, but you recall bits and pieces. How his cock stretched your walls and left you clenching around nothing, his necklace smacking the inside of your chin as he thrust inside of you with expert precision, his tongue cleaning the dried vomit off the corner of your mouth and forcing you to taste it. You don’t really remember the individual actions, but you can’t forget the sensations, so you watch the barely there ripples in the water as the boat moves farther into the distance. Your number on a torn piece of paper clutched in John B’s fist.

The gator better not have been scared off.

[kallista-diune]

Suprise... - part 1

Words count - 1319

OC name is Via, sorry I can't force myself yet to change habits 😅 White hair are specific for a reason, but you can imagine the rest of her appearance as you like.

My first concept changed a lite since the Imagine blurb. Second part won't be fast unfortunately, sorry :( I'm still learning to write stories in English, it probably would be much longer and faster if I was writing in my native language.

_______

Mae just stormed out from the abandoned house which was currently their hideout on the planet Kiros. Nice, quiet forests, safe lakes, small cities. The door slammed behind her, making the two other remaining people flinch. White haired woman looked over at her partner with annoyance in her eyes. 

“I swear, if the Master wouldn't punish me later, I would smack her head with anything heavy…” She said and the man chuckled.

“She's young and rebellious. She likes to think we are beneath her, less important. I’m used to it and just continue to do my job. 

“Maybe. But I really don't like how she is treating you, Qimir. You are such an intelligent man, without you she wouldn't even know where to go or look.”

“Without us Snowflake.” Qimir pointed at her. Again with that nickname… Via tried very hard not to show how much his little nicknames messed with her heart. “Don't forget that your connection to nature in the Force is very helpful for her, me and our Master. We are both important to him.”

“I'm trying to really believe him when he praises me… But… never mind. We should get to sleep. She exhausted me…”

“He never praises without meaning it. You know how he is.” Qimir offered her a warm smile. “But yeah we should hit the pillow. I guess you're sleeping next to the wall?”

“Yes, mister radiator. Have I ever mentioned that I would freeze long ago without you?” Via laughed and got up from the floor. 

“Every time we go somewhere where it's cold at night. “ Qimir playfully rolled his eyes and followed her to their shared makeshift bed. 

They didn't even bother to change, always ready to run if something would happen. Via took her place and a moment after Qimir was laying beside her, his back facing her front. Always respectful. At least at the beginning… Throughout the night, he was often changing positions, sometimes ending up cuddling her. Usually when the night was really cold. Via didn't know if it was for his own need of heat or somehow he sensed her shiver. Her home planet was hot and humid which was the reason why she was even less resistant to low temperatures.

 It was such a good thing their Master knew or probably sensed through the Force her struggles, and he always gave her additional covers when she was sleeping on his island while training. Who knew he actually had at least a string of compassion in him. 

Qimir on the other hand was just sweet and caring, but he couldn't know what those little hugs were doing to her. She was hiding her feelings for so long… Despite his somewhat unkempt appearance, he was a handsome man. His smile brightens up any blue day and her heart skipped a beat every time. His little playful head tilts accompanied with his signature single brow raise without a fail made her laugh every time. He liked to watch her braid her hair into a crown-like style around her head, sometimes helping if her hands were too stiff from the cold. She welcomed his closeness every time, trying so hard not to show her excitement. If he was hinting to her he was in fact interested in her, she was oblivious. Her mind was somewhat clouded with fear. Fear of being rejected or scolded by their Master for creating a relationship among his subjects. 

This night was a nightmare. It was getting colder and colder, wind bringing unpleasant waves and Via was not able to fall asleep. She tried very hard to resist and not do something stupid, but her resolve was weakening every passing minute.

“Get your shit together Via… He won’t be mad…” and with that thought she turned, now facing Qimir. He was currently laying on his back, one hand under his head making a perfect opening for her to snuggle closer. So she did. Her heart beating wildly in her chest as the only option was to lay her head on his arm. The moment she does that he stirred awake.

“Hey, what is… oh Maker you are freezing! Come here, poor thing.” Qimir pulled her close, maneuvering her so her head was on his warm chest, her whole body pressed with his. His next move made her heart race as he grabbed the back of her thigh and placed her leg between his. His hands held her tightly, rubbing along her back to warm her up faster. 

“I’m s…sorry…”

“Don’t be. It’s okay, I got you Sweetheart.” Qimir kissed her forehead, making her blush and she was hardly able to hold in a gasp. His heat engulfed her, making her slightly relax and finally feel drowsiness. 

What she couldn't see was Qimirs signature satisfied half smirk…

_______

“You did good on the last mission, both of you.” The Master spoke, tilting his helmet clad head a little. “Via, go prepare for training, I will discuss Maes new mission. This time you will go alone. Qimir won't accompany you either. This time you will handle things by yourself.”

Via bowed her head and turned to go back to the ship. She couldn't help but smile mischievously, happy that Mae would finally experience doing something without their help. She entered the ship and quickly changed as well as gathered her things knowing she will probably stay here for quite some time. When she was going down the ramp, she saw that Master was nowhere to be seen, but she spotted a very angry looking Mae heading her way. 

“What did you two tell him huh?” she stopped less than an arm length before Via.

“What do you mean? I haven’t spoken with the Master until we arrived here.”

“Don't lie to me! Why is he sending me off alone this time then?”

Something snapped inside Via and she venomously responded.

“Suddenly afraid you are not up to the task on your own, Mae? 

“Listen here you little shit. You are useless. Week in the Force. Master is taking pity or keeping you for Qimir to fuck when he is bored. I don’t need you.” With that she passed her hitting Via's shoulder angrily with hers. Via held her ground, guarding her thoughts tightly as she walked away from the ship. Mae quickly fired up the ship and started to take off. Only when Via was sure Mae was at a safe distance, her composure dropped. Her knees gave up and she fell on the soft sand. Her eyes watered as her body shook in a silent cry. 

Mae was right, she was useless and weak. She never believed in herself even if the Master and Qimir were telling her they needed her and she was wanted. 

Suddenly warm strong arms engulfed her body. She was so deep in her head she didn’t even feel her Master's appearance. He pulled her into his lap, cradling her head to the crook of his neck, rubbing lightly her hair and back. She felt even more bad about herself. She tried to pull away in a desperate attempt to save her dignity but he held her firmly in place. 

“I am here for you, my Angel. Cry. Let it all out.”

“I…I’m… use…useless M…Master…” Via cried out.

“No. It is a lie you accepted. You know me well enough to know I wouldn't be here right now with you if I shared her opinion.” His voice was gentle, he only ever had that tone with her. After a deep consideration of his words Via slowly nodded against his neck. His embrace felt somehow familiar, the heat of his body, his smell. She felt safe. 

“Thank you, Master.” She managed to say clearly and she dared to put her arms around him as well. She couldn't tell how long he held her in his arms, but his hold never lessened. 

_______

[salemoleander]

"My teeth hurt," Martyn says.

He and Scott are on the deck, enjoying the morning sun before it has the chance to get humid; Scott is busy crafting sugarcane into paper while Martyn is (ostensibly) trying to carve a bowl.

"What, like- cavities? We've only been here for a few days, and I know you're eating the same fish and dried kelp as me." Scott pauses, holding a fresh sheaf of paper. "-and if you're not, and you've been holding sweets out on me, I'll be pissed."

Martyn huffs a laugh, then grimaces when pain shoots up through his sinuses. Ambling over to the table, he half-sits, half-leans on the back of one of their deck chairs.

"Nah, same food as you. Man, I don't know what I did. TNT to the face carry over, d'you reckon?"

He grins, and Scott blanches. Well, shit.

"Alright, what's wrong with my mouth?" Martyn asks, stress rising when Scott doesn't answer. "I've still got teeth, right?"

Scott nods sharply. He wavers on an answer for a moment before sighing. "Yeah. You've just got some new ones, seems like."

‐---------------------------------------------------------------------

The hard part of suddenly having shark teeth, Martyn quickly discovers, is that they are not particularly designed for beings with lips, and certainly not ones that talk.

He tells Scott this, nursing several sore spots on his lips and tongue.

"Have you considered talking less?"

"Oh, screw you."

Scott rolls his eyes, and they go back to sorting through chests in companionable silence. Waves gently lap against the edge of their island, while bamboo canes creak and shift. After a few minutes Scott says, "In the- last time. I remember being relieved, a bit, that even though Cleo and I chose each other-"

"Exactly the conversation I wanted to have," Martyn deadpans.

"Would you shut up? Honestly." Scott smiles, but his jaw flexes as he does and Martyn resolves to shut up and let him say this, whatever it is. At least for the next ten or fifteen seconds. Probably.

"Anyways. I was a tiny bit relieved that I was paired with Pearl, because she was human. And I'd seen how it was for BigB getting canine features and Joel getting whatever the hell from Etho, and you, y'know..."

"Rotting?"

"Eugh. Yeah." Scott looks through their fence-lattice walls and out to the water. "But Pearl didn't stay human."

Martyn raises an eyebrow. (For effect. If Scott is doing a dramatic monologue towards the ocean, Martyn at least gets to make faces, whether or not Scott sees him. Them's the rules.)

"She got kind of... wolf-y? Or more accurately, the game made her wolfy. Not like Ren, not nearly that elegant a combination."

Scott's voice is bitter, an edge to it that Martyn associates with fireworks going off too-close by. "I woke up one morning and my teeth were sharp and there were too many for my mouth. And it hurt, and the worst part was knowing this wouldn't be happening if we'd just done what the game wanted."

Blinking, Martyn says, "Oh." Brilliant. Nailed the response, there.

"I just wanted to tell you. That it might- those might be my fault, because it seems like whatever runs this game doesn't like me very much. There's a reason I set up alone out here."

Martyn- ignoring the ache from his jaw and the kernel of self-interest that tells him to get while the getting is good- scoffs. "None of that, thank you! I don't care if bloody Herobrine has it out for you, we're sticking together."

Relief washes over Scott's face. Martyn adds, "If whoever runs this circus thinks unlimited knives for teeth is a punishment, they're mad."

"Clearly! You were already enough of a menace." Released from whatever tension kept him still, Scott reaches over to flip another chest lid up and starts rifling through. "It's like trying to annoy Joel by giving him too many TNT minecarts."

Martyn snorts. "Right! Once my mouth gets the memo about where everything is now I'll be doing fine- probably better than I was before! A supernatural entity trying to tell me who I can be friends with? C'mon, nothing that stupid is busting the Mean Gills up."

He almost believes it.

[pedriscroquettes]

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄. PEDRI

summary. you’d always claimed pedri as yours while he always found you as a disturbance to his life. here’s the timeline of your relationship.

warnings. angst, fluff, asshole!pedri, kind of annoying reader(?), virginity mentions, and a love triangle?

a/n. this goes out to all the delusional girlies like me. gif by pedripics

september 2007

the look of horror on your teacher’s face contrasted your calm demeanor. you thought she was overreacting when in truth she was not. you were too calm for what had just happened to you. doña rosy’s son had just cut off a huge chunk of your hair and was currently running around the class displaying it like a prize. the fact that you weren’t as upset as you should’ve been shocked your teacher.

the reality of it is that you thought pedro was cute and somehow instead of crying about your loss of hair you were rather flattered about it. you were quite literally insane for thinking that somehow this demonstrated that pedro liked you. at least that’s what your older cousin would say.

“boys are mean because they like you.” her words echoed in your mind.

soon the two of you along with your parents and pedro’s older brother fer were in the principals office. your mother was in shock and couldn’t believe that you’d have to start your hair growth process all over again. meanwhile, pedro’s mom was full of embarrassment and of course both father’s couldn’t help but laugh at the scene in front of them. after all you were both just kids who didn’t know better.

“well it seems your daughter isn’t too upset about the events that occurred therefore i have no reason to suspend pedro.” the principal decided.

“what? he cut off a chunk of my daughters hair! it will take months for it to grow back! surely there’s got to be some form of punishment for him?” your mother yelled.

“but mom i’m not mad at him.” you tried to tell her but she wouldn’t listen to you.

“fine. pedro is designated table cleaner after lunch for the rest of the month and no recess for a week.” the principal sighed.

“but mrs. dominguez we play football during recess hour i can’t miss it!” pedro whined.

“you should’ve thought about that before chasing your classmate with scissors and almost leaving her hairless.” she scolded him.

on the way out of mrs. dominguez’s office pedro’s parents couldn’t stop apologizing for what he had done. meanwhile, all you could do was stare at him. he was the cutest boy you had ever seen, given that you were only six and didn’t know any better obviously. it didn’t take long for him to notice your glare and he began to approach you slowly. you lifted your shoulders thinking this was finally going to be the moment he declared his undying love for you like men did in the movies. you stood there stupidly with a smile plastered on your face.

“i should’ve cut off the other side of your hair if i knew you’d stop me from playing football. i hate you.” he told you before chasing after his older brother.

any other girl would’ve started crying, well more like any other smart girl. they would’ve realized he meant what he said but not you. you simply thought he was bluffing that he still wasn’t ready to confess his feelings. so, you simply brushed it off and picked up your book bag. you couldn’t wait for saturday, the day your family always went to his parents restaurant to have dinner. maybe he’d confess then.

october 2013

the humid hot air of the island almost made you turn around and go back home but your foolishness made you continue your walk. it took you almost fifteen minutes to make it to the local football field but alas you had arrived on time for kickoff. you sat next to fer, someone you had somehow gotten close with the last few years. it also helped that he was pedro’s brother and allowed for you to be close to him.

“why are you here?” fer turned around to face you.

“geez, didn’t know i was such a bother to you.” you joked.

“oh, come on! i like you my brother hates you which is why i’m so surprised as to why you’re here.” he looks back onto the field spotting his brother.

“pedro doesn’t hate me he’s just too scared to confess his feelings for me.” you playfully hit fer on the shoulder.

“yeah, okay. just don’t give him too many children i don’t want to take care of too many kids in the future.” he jokes.

the both of you chat for a bit catching up on your day to day when all of a sudden the ball hits the back of the net and the local crowd, which consists purely of parents and siblings, goes wild. you notice it’s pedro who has scored as he starts running towards the area you and fer are located and blows a kiss to the crowd. like the delusional girl you are you pretend it’s meant for you. no, you know it is because you’re still stuck on the idea that pedro is devotedly in love with you.

the referee blows the whistle and tegueste takes the win with a score of 4-1. you immediately follow fer onto the pitch to congratulate his younger brother and find him chatting with his teammates. pedro immediately goes up to his brother and starts thanking him for coming as their parents couldn’t since it was a busy night at the restaurant. you get ready to tell him how well he played but as soon as he sees you he walks away.

you’re supposed to be embarrassed but somehow you think he’s the one who is. you think that he’s too nervous to be around you and that’s why he left so suddenly. you’re about to walk back home when one of his teammates stops you.

“hey!” he seems excited to talk to you.

“hi.” you greet him back.

“i’m xabi, does your brother play here?” he asks curiously.

“uh no. my friend does. pedro.” you explain.

“oh! pedro! he’s great! he’s going to be good i think. do you go to-” he’s interrupted by pedro himself.

pedro is too quick and silent you don’t even notice that he’s been sneaking up on you until he’s standing right in front of you. he’s staring at you with a devious smile on his face and you wish you knew what he was thinking.

“you know what we usually do after a win?” pedro asks you.

“we grab the buck-” xabi is once again interrupted.

“shut up xabi.” pedro turns around to shut xabi up.

“we usually grab the bucket of water and pour it on all the scorers but today i proposed that we do something differently. i think you were our lucky charm and that’s why we should pour it on you.” his smile somehow grows wider.

you’re flattered at first but then realization hits you. the dress you’re wearing is too cute to end up drenched. most importantly you didn’t want to get sick. your smile falters when you see his teammates approaching you with the large bucket of ice cold water.

“no, pedro please.” you beg.

he tries to hold you still but your instincts kick in and you immediately kick his ankle. he lets go and you immediately start running. you don’t realize it but he starts chasing after you. you’re about to cross the street when he grabs you from behind and pushes you against the wall. he has a smirk on his face again. you panic not wanting to get soaked. you try to kick him again but this time he doesn’t budge and you’re about to give up when suddenly an idea pops up in your mind.

you grab his cheeks and kiss him.

“what?” he’s confused.

you can’t help but smile at the way his cheeks turn pink but you don’t have a lot of time so as soon as his grip on you loose a you take a run for it. you arrive home exhausted and out of breath. you dramatically fall on your bed with a smile on your face excited that at your wedding you’ll be able to tell all your guests about today.

november 2019

it had been around a year since pedri, as they now called him, left the island in pursuit of a football career. it had also been six months since you gave up on the relationship you had hoped to have with him and it had been approximately three weeks since you had started seeing xabi. something you would’ve only thought would happen if pedri had stopped existing. fer told you to be more optimistic about xabi and that he actually liked you because he would’ve never pranked called the local pizzeria and sent forty pizzas to your house.

the three of you were currently gathered at the beach alongside some of pedri’s friends patiently waiting for him. fer had told you that he would be staying for a week before going back to preseason with las palmas. being the kind person you were you had organized a welcome back party for him with the help of fer. you’d paid for the food, drinks, and the cake that would be delivered later that night.

fer watched you carefully decorate one of the wooden tables with all the snacks and drinks. it was so obvious you still cared about his brother and it somehow made him mad that his brother never reciprocated your feelings. even though pedri didn’t owe it to you to feel the same way it just made him mad that he had always treated you bad for no reason. you had never done anything wrong to pedri prior to his teasing so fer always wondered where his brother’s hatred for you came from.

fer doesn’t have much time to wonder about his brother because said person was already making his way towards him. he’s about to run towards him when he notices somebody else behind him, a girl. he quickly turns around to look for you but you’re too distracted with making sure everything looks nice that you don’t notice pedri or the girl with him. it’s not until everyone starts greeting him that you notice his presence. you don’t expect him to talk to you so you stay back with xabi and that’s when you notice the girl next to him.

you’re surprised at yourself for feeling jealous and hurt because you thought you had finally moved on from your stupid childhood crush. xabi’s arm wraps around your waist at the sight of pedri as if the midfielder’s presence threatened him. you turn around facing the beach not wanting to see pedri and his girlfriend, you assumed that’s who she was. you’re too entranced by the waves to see the look he sends your way and more specifically the way he glared at xabi’s arm around your waist.

who did he think he was? just because he was named after one of the greatest spanish players of all time he was some hotshot? pedri mentally scoffs at the fact that his old teammate had finally been able to ask you out. he had practically drooled over year since the first time you showed up to his games. he grabs alba’s hand in spite. alba was just his friend but felt the urge to rub her in front of your face. he didn’t know why he felt so mad at seeing you with xabi or why he was also upset that you weren’t looking at him in admiration anymore.

“xabi! it’s been so long.” he greets your boyfriend.

you can smell his cologne, the one fer had bought for him last minute when he had visited his younger brother in las palmas. it was intoxicating. you finally turn around to face him and it’s like primary school all over again. you mentally slap yourself for still feeling flustered around him especially after all the damage he’d done to you. the girl he brought offers you a smile and you can only giver her a weak one back not knowing how to feel. xabi treated you so well yet he wasn’t pedri.

as soon as he’s done speaking with your boyfriend he walks away as expected. you don’t feel embarrassed nor angry anymore but rather relieved you don’t have to face the feelings you thought you didn’t have anymore. you took a step back fixing your skirt and making sure your appearance was okay. xabi notices how you fidget. he always does. he notices the smallest things and you hate that you can’t reciprocate how he feels to the max.

“he’s an asshole.” he whispers making sure the two of you are the only ones who hear.

“xabi, come on.” you whine not wanting anything to break out tonight.

“what? it’s true! he’s treated you like shit since we were kids and he still does it now. he didn’t even say hi to you when you planned this whole thing.” your boyfriend claims.

he’s right but you’d never stop making up excuses for the man you’d probably love for the rest of your life.

“i mean i did annoy him every single day of his life until he left. he doesn’t owe me anything.” you replied.

“yeah, you were like 10 with a little girl crush on him so it doesn’t give him the right to act like that. he should just tell you that he doesn’t like you and leave it at that. he probably doesn’t even know that you help out doña rosy at the restaurant, or that you helped fer with his exams, or that you had convinced the principal to not take away his recess time to play football! it’s not fair to you!” xabi exclaims.

“you’re right but i just don’t want to fight him. not today. so promise me you won’t start anything?” you beg him.

he scoffs but then offers you a weak smile himself.

“yeah, okay but if he pulls some messed up shit tonight i can’t promise i won’t beat him up.” you both laugh at his words.

the two of you are unaware that you’re being watched by said asshole and that he’s gripping his cup to the point that the sofa starts dripping out of it. he starts looking for his brother leaving alba alone. in fact he completely forgets about alba when he can only notice how infatuated you are by xabi. what did xabi have that he didn’t? besides compassion and kindness since pedri clearly had the looks.

“when did they start dating?” is the first thing he asks his brother.

“wow, not even a i missed you or how have you been?” his brother scoffs.

“i missed you so much.” pedri pretends to care. “now answer my question.”

“why does it matter? you hate her?” fer continues to pour himself a drink oblivious to the fact that his younger brother is completely losing it.

“so? doesn’t mean i can’t ask about her?” pedri scoffs. “plus, look at him he’s such a loser. she could do better i guess.”

“better like who? you? please, don’t make me laugh. you’ve treated her like shit your entire life just because you knew how madly in love she is with you and now you’re interested? now, that’s she moved on with someone who cares about her? she is doing better. now go attend the guest you brought. it’s bad manners to leave her alone.” fer taunts his younger brother.

“fuck you.” pedri was always determined on having the last word.

on the way back towards alba an idea forms in his mind. it doesn’t take long for him to get everyone together. he brings an empty bottle and places it in the middle of the circle everyone had formed. the midfielder had decided to play spin the bottle with his old friends.

“so, here are the rules!” he speaks up. “when it’s your turn you spin the bottle and you get to ask them truth or dare. but if you ask a stupid question for truth i’ll skip your turn. now, who wants to go first?”

the game starts out light and fun but as the game goes on it becomes more intense and interesting. fer had somehow ended up skinny dipping with the girl next to him and an old friend of yours had confessed that she was the one who gave your old principal food poisoning with the cupcakes she had made. before you know it, it’s pedri’s turn. you stare at the bottle intently hoping it doesn’t land on you but as if the universe heard you it lands on you. the smirk he has on his face reminds you of the one who always had when he was about to do something to you.

“truth or dare?” he asks.

“truth.” you decided to go for the lighter option.

“is it true that you lost your virginity to xabi?” his first question takes you by surprise.

“what the fuck pedri?” xabi yells at him.

“shut up xabi and let her answer.” pedri glares at him.

“i don’t understand why that’s any of your concern-” you start.

“just answer the question and we’ll move on.” he urges.

“no.” you reply simply wanting to get this over with and go home.

fer is about to spin the bottle before pedri stops him. he looks back at you with a sly grin. your stomach churns and you start getting a bad feeling.

“wait, i’m not done. is it also true that you’ve had a crush on me since you were five and thought we would end up together even though i find you repulsive?” pedri started ranting.

you feel everyone’s eyes on you and soon you feel your eyes brim with tears. you don’t know why he’s suddenly putting you on the spot when you hadn’t spoken to him in a year. you’d thought he would’ve left you alone now that you were with xabi.

“well, don’t be shy now. come on? do you think about me when xabi kisses you or touc-” you don’t let him finish because you slap him, hard.

“maybe i was a pathetic little girl then who had no self respect but i do now so don’t ever talk to me like that again. i don’t care if you’re a future football star or the future prince of spain you have no right to speak to me like that. go to hell pedro.” you pick up your things getting ready to leave.

you take out thirty euros and hand them to fer.

“for the cake delivery. he should be here at 9.” is the last thing you say before you walk away with xabi closely following behind.

“what the fuck is your problem? did you just come back here to say all that bullshit to her?” fer confronts his younger brother.

“she shouldn’t have been here in the first place. she’s like a parasite.” pedri scoffs.

“without her i wouldn’t have planned this! she paid for everything and spent the whole day decorating this for you! she helps mom and dad out at the restaurant now that we get tourists there almost everyday. she helped me pass my exams and most importantly all those gifts i gave you when i visited where picked out by her. so, go to hell. i don’t wanna see you for the rest of the night so go home.” fer let’s him know.

pedri stands there in shock not knowing what to say. suddenly he feels horrible but he doesn’t want everyone else to notice so he picks up his shoulders ready to go home.

“oh and stay away from her. she finally found someone who cares about her and i don’t need your jealousy ruining that. xabi is going to play for girona next year and he’ll take care of her. i don’t need you fucking up anything else.” is the last thing his brother tells him.

you wake up to loud knocks on your door. you notice xabi isn’t next to you anymore meaning he’d probably left for training already. you yawn before slowly making your way towards the door. you don’t even check before opening the door something you regret when you see who’s on the other side. it’s pedri but now he’s rocking a black eye.

“your boyfriend paid me a visit last night.” is the first thing he says to you.

“shame.” you reply.

“huh?” he questions

“shame he didn’t get the other one as well.” you cross your arms.

“okay, i deserve that.”

“look pedri you have five minutes to tell me why you’re here before i call your parents and tell them you’re harassing me.” you say.

“i came to apologize. i was out of line last night and i fucked up. in truth i think i realized that i was jealo-”

“don’t pedri. you’ve had twelve years to tell me that you liked me or had a crush on me and instead you spent every single one of those humiliating me. maybe i was annoying but i have never disrespected you. now, leave. i’m happy with xabi and you’re not going to ruin that.” you interrupt him.

“but-”

“leave. we were never meant to happen. xabi is my person and i hope you find yours. hopefully someone nice and not full of hatred like you.” you slammed the door closed in front of him.

that day you call in sick for work and the day after that and so on until you heard news that pedri had gone back. his parents didn’t even question your absence after fer had told them what happened. you cried the first two days and then spent the next few days with xabi. in the span of those days he had asked you to move with him to girona and you didn’t even hesitate before accepting. maybe if you moved you’d loose all memories of the brown eyed boy you had once worshipped.

present day

the adjustment to barcelona wasn’t hard. the few years you were in girona were enough to learn catalan easily so you could communicate with almost anyone. the only problem was getting used to your new job at fc barcelona as a physical therapist. most of the players at girona barely stopped by opting to have surgery and recovering with their own staff. but at barça it was different, you were always busy with injured players as well as recovering players.

xabi and you had parted ways roughly six months ago when he transferred to roma. you couldn’t make the move not wanting to be too far from your home and you were surprised that he understood and took it likely. it was a rough breakup but not because he treated you bad or anything but because he had cared so much and now you felt alone. like you were missing your best friend.

you had stopped keeping up with pedri so you had no idea where he was now and had even stopped talking to fer to which he understood why. he wasn’t mad but he was upset that your friendship had failed because of his asshole brother. alas you shake your thoughts away when a knock on your office door interrupts you.

“come in!” you pick up the file that had been dropped off earlier about the player you’d be seeing today.

the door opens but you’re too engrossed by the files to notice who it is. you’re halfway into the summary of his injury until you notice you don’t even know who you’re treating. when you see the name up top your mind goes blank. you almost walk out the door at the sight of pedro’s name. you spend a few minutes panicking before remembering you’re being paid to be a professional so you gently get back into that mindset and set the file down.

“so the process of your recovery will include-”

“so, you’re just going to pretend that we don’t know each other?” pedri asks you.

“for the remainder of the time that i will work here? yes. now shut up and let me explain how your recovery process will go if you want to play again this season.” you scold him.

he just scoffs and shuts up.

“i assume the medical staff has already told you that you need to apply ice packs to the injured area several times a day as well as taking pain medicine?” you ask him.

“yeah.” he replies staring at the roof wanting to avoid your glare.

“okay so, as part of the healing process i’ll advise you certain gentle hamstring stretches to strengthen you and when the pain begins to subside we’ll move on to harder strengthening exercises. we’ll start working on them on tuesday. i believe that’s all so unless you have any other muscular issues or problems please let me know now.” you reply as stiffly as possible.

“are you and xabi still dating? i mean i assume you’re not or else you’d be in roma. unless you’re doing long distance but i doubt it, it never works out. he’s probably cheated on you by now.” pedri simply starts blabbering nonsense.

“don’t really understand why any of that concerns you.” you turn around to type up his file to the database.

“because you’re too good for him and quite frankly i don’t think you should be with him.” he stands near your desk.

“who should i be with? the asshole that let everyone back home know i was a virgin? don’t make me laugh pedro.” you look up at him to meet that same mischievous smirk from twelve years ago.

“i’ve changed.” he admits.

“good for you pedro. there are plenty of other people in the sea that you could go after. unfortunately for you i’m not one of them. so please be professional and leave me alone. i have to see gavi in an hour so i have to get ready for that.” you urge him to leave.

“please, gavi isn’t even in need of physical therapy he just thinks you’re cute.” pedri laughs.

“like you? at least he’s professional and doesn’t throw soup all over me when i approach him for lunch.” you give him a smile.

pedri steps back realizing how much of a bad person he had been to you. he couldn’t even remember all the things you were accusing him of. he suddenly feels bad for that night at the beach where he had humiliated you in front of everyone just because he thought you were too good for xabi. when in reality he was perfect for you.

“look i’m really sorry for what i did to you. for all of it. i’m not the same person i was at the beach four years ago. and you don’t owe me anything but i’d really like to take you out to dinner and make it up to you.” he begs.

“pedri, you constantly made me feel insecure about myself, humiliated me, made me wear a bob cut so short i might as well have gone bald, and bullied me for my whole childhood so a simple i’m sorry isn’t going to cut it. now, get out of my office please.” you point towards the door.

pedri simply sighs in defeat before making his way out of your office. but he doesn’t give up because as soon as your sessions with him start you’re met with flowers on your desk, links to random memes he finds on the internet, and invitations to all the fancy and expensive restaurants in the vicinity. although what finally makes you give in are the coldplay tickets he offers you.

“what the fuck, pedri?” you jump up at the envelope on your desk. “i can’t possibly accept these? they’re like the best seats as well? oh my god.”

“yes, you can and you will. my recovering process is going much faster than expected because of you and you always mentioned how much you loved the band growing up. please take them.” he urges you.

you don’t know what comes over but you’re suddenly that little girl trying to cross the street and you grab him by the cheeks. you kiss him without a second thought but this time he kisses you back. it’s a short but meaningful kiss.

“i should buy you coldplay tickets more often, huh?” he teases you.

“oh, shut up.” you blush.

he slowly creeps up next to you and wraps his arms around you before removing a strand of hair from your ear.

“in five years when we get married i’ll tell our guests about this.” he whispers into your ears.

a sudden rush of heat is felt near your cheeks and you can’t believe that six year old girl inside of you has won. you stare in awe at the midfielder, not the one you hate and despise but the one you’ve learned to love. the one who will cherish you for the rest of his life. he kisses you with so much fervor and passion you forget to breathe. his hatred for you the hatred that had never existed is now replaced by adoration and love. and you smile once again at the thought of telling this lifelong story to your wedding guests.

[cleoluvrr]

Smarty IV (Rafe Cameron x OC)

SYNOPSIS: smart girl isn’t as smart as rafe cameron.

WARNINGS: mature content; dark!rafe, toxic relationship, domestic violence, verbal abuse, blackmail, jealousy, general violence, manipulative behavior, explicit language, substance abuse & addiction, use of guns, mentions of past crimes, obsession

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“i wish you could just give me one day, laia…” rafe sighed loudly into to the empty space in front of him, fingers tensing around the steering wheel before dropping to his lap. “just one day where you aren’t being a total bitch.”

a scoff escaped my throat, the sound coupled with a roll of my eyes. it took everything to bite my tongue, memories of the last time i called him a bitch reason enough to do so. 

“because i didn’t want you talking to the bitch–the girl, you were fucking while i was away?” i corrected myself immediately. it was out of character to call other women such derogatory names, but the word flowed so easily off my tongue. “the one that we just argued about a few days ago?” 

“jesus christ, all she did was say ‘hi’! she was working!” 

“she could have been lying on the floor dying of anaphylactic shock, rafe. i don’t give a fuck.” i shoved the car door open and jumped out before turning back to face him. “i told you not to talk to her.”

slamming the door shut, i left my boyfriend in the truck by himself as i trudged down the dock to where he keeps his boat. the sky was a clear blue and the sun was beaming down onto the earth, the warm yellow light leaving a sheen of sweat on my skin that was only amplified by the humidity. it was a beautiful day, calm waves and a stunning horizon in the distance gracing the view of onlookers surrounding the dock, but i couldn’t begin to appreciate it.

i tried giving rafe the silent treatment after finding out about his indecent activities, but he was never one to let that go on for very long. 

after the fourth day of avoiding all contact with him, he made an appearance at my front door with little patience for my attitude. he gave no room to argue when he told me to get dressed and dragged me out to his car a few minutes later. i didn’t fight back because i knew it would make no difference.

he took us to the island club, and that girl happened to be working today. i’ve never been one to be jealous of rafe talking to other girls, but the fact that she got to fuck him before i did enraged me beyond comprehension. the scoff of annoyance that left my body as she greeted the two of us was out of my control. i didn’t notice that i had been mean-mugging here until rafe told me to ‘fix my face’ when she walked away.

the entire car ride after our lunch together was filled with a tense silence; one that remained until we arrived at the dock and was broken by him. 

“i don’t wanna argue with you, laia. i was just being nice.” rafe tried to hold a hand out for me to board the boat, but i paid it no mind. hopping over the gap between the ledge of the yacht and the water, i made my way to the front with my boyfriend dragging his feet behind me.

“i gave you four days of peace, rafe.” my eyes cut him with the sharpness of the hunting knives he keeps in his basement. raising a finger, i point it directly into his broad chest. “you insisted on coming to bother me knowing that i’m mad at you. on top of that, you took me to the place that girl works! so no, you don't get to complain about me being a bitch.”

i take a seat on the right side of the steering wheel, eyes trained on the water in front of us. the blonde sighs loudly, the bass of it filled with frustration. 

we remained silent for an amount of time that i’m sure was longer than necessary, but i refused to be the first to break it. rafe stops the boat a couple nautical miles away from where we were originally, the dark blue water surrounding all sides of us.

“baby?” rafe locks the wheel in place before take a seat next to me. i feel his eyes burning into my figure, gazing hotter than the summer sun beaming down onto us.

“yes, rafe?” the answer to his call was released with a tired sigh. i was genuinely upset about what happened, and hearing him talk was beginning to give me a headache. 

my boyfriend takes a seat next to me, reaching over to pull me closer. he ignores my protests as he sits me on his lap and wraps his arms around my waist snugly, resting his chin on my shoulder.

“you know i love you, right?” the vibrations of rafe’s chest traveled through my back as he spoke. “i didn’t mean to make you upset. i haven’t thought about her in forever, i really was just being polite…”

it took everything in me not to roll my eyes. 

he just told a blatant lie, right to my face.  if he hadn’t thought about her in forever, why did she text him just a few days ago? if they hadn’t been in contact recently, then she wouldn’t have thought they were still on speaking terms. on top of that, there was no reason for him to speak to her–politeness be damned. he knew i was mad–and why i was mad–but chose to acknowledge her anyway.

it was a habit of rafe’s to take me out on dates, buy expensive gifts, and sing praises about how much he loves me whenever i was upset with him. he thought i didn’t notice, but after all this time it was hard not to pick up on the pattern. there’s only so many times shopping sprees and worship will make someone forget why they were upset in the first place. 

“okay.” my voice was edged with irritation. i tried my best to disguise it with indifference, but there was nothing rafe didn’t notice when it came to me.

“okay?” i could feel him turn his head to look at me, the side of my face burning hot from his fiery gaze. 

“yes, okay, rafe.” the reply was snippier than i meant for it to be. “i love you, too–what do you want me to say?”

a puff of air escaped through his nose; a sign of his own temper flaring up. i could feel his arms flex against me for a second before settling in their natural state.

“well; i’d like it to sound like you mean it, first of all.” the sass in his voice was evident. “i’ve already apologized, like, forty times. it happened, laia–i’m sorry that i slept with her. i’m sorry that i acknowledged her existence today. what else do you want from me?”

“you slept with her, rafe!” i swiveled my own head to meet his eyes directly, the familiar sight matching the ocean below us in color. “you can apologize forty-thousand times–i don’t give a fuck! that is so…beyond…i don’t know what you want from me, either.”

throwing his arms off, i rose to my full height before turning to face him with folded arms.

he stood up as well, head towering far above mine. i stumbled forward from being pulled back into his body, a pair of strong hands gripping my hips keeping me in place. there was no point in trying to back away–it wouldn’t make any difference when he would just put me right back where i was.

it was obvious that he was really sorry, but it was also clear that he wasn’t too happy about me not accepting his apologies. usually, i would let things go just so we didn’t have to argue. this time was different–he didn’t like that.

“if i could go back in time and un-fuck her, i would.” the wet muscle of his tongue poked out from his plush lips before returning to its place. “but i can’t. we were on a break that you wanted! it’s in the past now, laia, alright? do you think picking fights and ignoring me is gonna change what happened?”

i blinked up at him slowly. mouth sewn shut, i wasn’t really sure how to respond to that.

he was right; picking fights wasn’t going to change anything. my anger was genuine, but it had dissipated over the days that i’d isolated myself from him. i was mostly trying to make a point on how he couldn’t get away with doing things that hurt me and then expect to shower me in praise to receive my forgiveness.

shrugging as a reply, i turned my head away from him to face the horizon. my head was snapped back in his direction by a set of fingers sinking into my jawline. rafe’s eyes held the same softness they alway did when they held me in their gaze, but his exasperation was clear as the sky above.

“you look at me when i’m talking to you. do you think that’s going to fix things?” my throat bobbed at the scolding, his stern voice covering my skin in goosebumps inappropriate for the warm temperature of the nature that surrounds us. shaking my head no silently, i give him my honest answer. “right, okay…so are you acting out for attention? what are you trying to do?”

i shrugged again. the blond chuckled from above, amused by my sudden loss of words.

“i’m trying to show you that you can't just…say you love me and expect me to let shit go.” i said. “you took it way too far this time, rafe.”

“okay, so you wanna break up?”

i furrowed my brows at him, head jerking back in surprise. the question caught me off guard. he looked down at me expectantly and watched my eyes open and shut rapidly as i blinked away the shock.

“i never said that.” my head shook in denial at the accusation. “if i wanted to leave you, i would have done it before any of this ever happened.”

“so if you don’t want to break up, what the fuck are you still mad for?” i wasn’t sure if he was genuinely confused or angry; most likely overcome with both feelings. “tell me what it’s gonna solve when i’ve already apologized and i stopped talking to her before you even came back from school because i knew that i wanted you, not her. it’s not gonna solve anything, right?”

i hate it when he makes points. it made me feel stupid whenever he called me out and happened to be right–like right now. there were no plans for me to leave him; if i wanted to then i would have done it a year ago before i left for school. obviously i wanted us to work out, i loved him. 

it was more of a point to make for myself than him. rafe gets away with most things, simply because i hate fighting with him. if it meant that things would go back to normal, i would let it go–even when it hurt me. i couldn’t let him just walk all over me anymore, that’s what i was trying to prove.

instead, it’s making me feel like i’m being difficult. 

it was embarrassing. it shouldn’t be, but i could feel my skin heat up from the emotion washing over me in a thick layer that overpowered the sun above.

rafe took my slice as agreeance and nodded his head in understanding. bringing his face closer, i could feel his nose brush against mine, the gesture leaving a ticklish feeling in its wake.

“we’re adults, baby.” his warm breath landed against my lips as he spoke in a gentle voice. “that silent treatment shit is childish and you know i don’t like it. it’s over now, okay? just let it be over–let’s just focus on each other. that outside stuff isn’t important; just us.”

closing the minimal space between us, rafe presses his lips to mine. my eyes flutter shut at the familiar feeling. it was short and sweet; he pulled away before it went any further in order to gage my reaction. not seeing any resistance, the blond returns to the contact.

rafe’s lips open slightly, just wide enough for him to lick at the seam of my lips. i follow his lead, lips allowing him the access to slide his tongue into my mouth. the hand at my waist pulls me in so close that you’d think he wants me to live in his skin.

the feeling of his tongue against mine was pure sweetness, the taste of him something i missed more than i thought. nothing about it was sloppy, it was passionate and slow. the way he would pull away just slightly with my lip in tow, low eyes watching as it snapped back into place before he captured it again in a kiss.

rafe groans when try to pull away, the sound followed by the hand resting on my face relocating to the back of my head to tangle itself in my hair. he deepens the kiss, teeth smacking together just barely as allows himself to be a little rougher.

humming in protest, i place a firm hand against his chest to separate us. my head pulls back when my boyfriend attempts to chase after my evading lips.

“just us.” i whisper, repeating the words that left his mouth just a moment earlier.

something in the back of my mind set off alarm bells at the way rafe smiled, the look in his eyes unsettling in the strangest way, but I tuned them out in favor on focusing on the way his lips felt on mine.

[confused-pyramid]

Damage is Done

pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!reader

summary: You and Rafe hooked up when you first moved to the OBX, and he hasn't been able to get you out of his system ever since.

word count: 8.6k

warnings: SMUT, slight dub-con, p in v, fingering, overstimulation, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), hair pulling, choking, dark!rafe, toxic relationship, drinking, vague discussions of mental health

The air feels hot and humid even as the sun sets on the first day of summer. The annual start of summer bonfire is just getting underway, and you can already feel yourself starting to perspire. Not even your bikini top and denim shorts are small enough to keep the heat away tonight.

"Where the hell is JJ with my beer?" you grumble as Kiara takes a seat on a log next to you. "I'm melting over here."

Kie, who hasn't even started to glisten, just laughs. "That's what you get for being from out of state. All of us locals are used to the heat by now."

You feign a laugh and shove her shoulder. "You're hilarious. I've been living in the OBX for two years now, when are you guys gonna stop giving me shit for being from Boston?"

"When you're no longer from Boston."

You look up to see JJ and Pope, the first of whom hands you a full cup of metallic beer. The first time you tasted beer from a keg, you spat it out after a single sip. Since then, you've grown to love the taste of metal.

By the time you down your cup, the party raging around you finally starts to get exciting. You spot John B dancing with some girl who's clearly here on vacation, and watch as Pope stares longingly at Kie...who is staring at JJ.

Shaking your head, you stifle a smile and head over to the keg to fill your cup again. When you arrive, the line seems to go on forever, so you turn around, looking for something different, or a bit stronger.

"Looking for something?" a voice calls from next to you. You turn your head to see a shirtless Rafe Cameron holding up a bottle of whiskey. "Hey, Boston. I'll pour you a finger if you ask nicely."

Perfect. Just who I need to see today.

"Just give it to me, Rafe," you grumble, reaching out to grab the bottle. Humor dances in his eyes and you gulp, hating the fact that you are still affected by his bare skin.

He pulls it away at the last second, making you stumble forward slightly. He's much taller than you, and you have to tilt your head back to meet his eye, but that's how he likes it.

"I said nicely," he grins, holding the bottle out again.

Rafe can see the anger growing behind your eyes, and it builds the excitement in his own. He's only seen you mad on a few occasions, but that was when you were the most fun.

You roll your eyes, tossing your empty cup at his feet and shaking your head. "Whatever, Cameron. I'm not playing this game with you."

You turn and start walking across the sand to your friends, when a hand grabs your wrist and spins you back around. "Rafe, what the fu-"

"We need to talk," he mutters under his breath as he leans in close - too close.

You take a step back and put on what you hope is your most menacing look. "We are never talking about what happened, okay? Ever."

This time when you storm off, he lets you, and you make your way back to your friends, hoping they didn't see any of what just occurred. When you sit back down on the log next to Kiara, JJ's spirited recounting of a time when he stole a six-pack lets you know that you're in the clear.

***

You are waiting for JJ to finish his shift at the docks when you see Rafe again. He is grabbing something from his yacht when he catches your eye, and you look around for a moment before deciding that making a break for it would draw too much attention.

He takes his sweet time walking over, and you squint against the bright sun as he finally stands in front of you.

"Finally stopped avoiding me?" he taunts, his voice low over the heavy breeze.

You laugh humorlessly. "I'm not here for you, Rafe."

"You're on my side of the island."

Of course that's how he would see it. The separation between Kooks and Pogues is something you still have a hard time wrapping your head around, but each interaction has made it clear that you may be the only one.

"I'm not doing this with you," you sigh loudly, turning to see if JJ has appeared yet. "Just go back to your fucking yacht and let me live in peace."

Your words are laced with malice, but he can sense the tension hidden under your tone. He gives you a once-over, taking in your skimpy tank and shorts, and frustration flares behind his eyes as he realizes just how much you have started to look like all the other Pogues you hang out with.

"So it's about the money," he says, his voice slowly ramping up as he speaks. "If the only reason you can find to hate me is my money...then maybe try a little fucking harder."

"I don't fucking care about your money, Rafe," you gape, appalled by the fact that he could boil it down to something so small. "You're not a good person. All you do is bring out the worst in people."

Something that looks like hurt crosses his face for a split second before it turns into a frightening air of pride. "Like I did with you?"

You blanche, glaring at him even as your face flushes with embarrassment. "I didn't hear you complaining."

He wipes the corner of his lips with his thumb, glancing behind you for a moment, before leaning down to your level. "My mouth was a little preoccupied."

Heat sizzles through your veins and you feel a gush of wetness as his breath tickles the shell of your ear. There's a ghost of a smirk on his face, but there's also a flare of irritation in his eyes that sets off a nervous excitement inside of you. You don't know what it says about you that you like the fact that he looks like he wants to tear you apart just to put you back together again.

Your eyes fall shut for a moment, before you regain your senses and shove him away. "Fuck off, Rafe."

"Leave her alone, Cameron!" JJ's voice suddenly calls from behind you.

Fuck. Of course he saw JJ, he's just trying to get a rise out of you in front of the Pogues.

You close your eyes for a beat, and when you open them again, Rafe is wearing an amused expression.

"See you around, Boston," he salutes before spinning on his heels and walking away.

You paste a smile on your face when JJ comes up behind you, and when he asks if Rafe was bothering you, you don't know why you end up saying 'no'.

***

Before you know it, the Midsummers party is around the corner. Kiara's family makes her go all out for the celebration, and John B has been sneaking off to meet up with Sarah Cameron, still pretending that they all don't already know what's been going on between them.

When John B finds out that Pope and JJ are both working at the event, he approaches you with a plan to get in, but you decide that simply asking Kie to be her plus one may be a simpler solution, for you at least.

When the evening of the party finally arrives, you find yourself in Kiara's room, getting ready for an event you have never seen the likes of before.

"What's with all the flowers and stars and shit?" you ask as she hands you a flower crown that looks like hers, but slightly smaller.

She shrugs, placing her crown over her hair. "Don't ask me. I've just been dragged to this party every year since I was 13."

You would never admit it, and especially not to Kie, but you're actually pretty excited for Midsummers. Ever since your family packed up and moved out to Kildare, you've only really gotten to experience the Pogue life, and while your friends were everything you wanted and more, a taste of Kiara's upbringing wasn't entirely unwelcome.

She may complain about the Kook life, but there was something to be said about having everything you needed at your fingertips...and that something spoke to you.

The country club is decorated beautifully when you arrive with Kiara and her family, and you take a moment to soak in the warmth of the torches and the scent of flowers that waft around you.

It smells...expensive, for lack of a better word. And you don't hate it.

Rafe notices you the moment you walk in. He doesn't even bother trying to tell himself that his eyes were just wandering, because ever since he found out the Carreras had added a plus one, he hadn't stopped looking for you. He half-expects you to turn your nose up at this event, just like Kiara always had, so he's taken by surprise when he sees the wistful expression that crosses your face.

You like it here. The thought brings a small smirk to his face and he takes a sip of champagne to hide his glee. He doesn't have to hide for long, because his expression immediately falls the moment your waiter friend comes by and pulls you into a spinning hug.

Rafe turns away from the scene and tunes back in to the conversation he was having with Topper and Kelce.

"I feel like Sarah's been avoiding me," Topper continues miserably, and Rafe resists the urge to roll his eyes.

Of course she's avoiding you. She can't handle being committed to anyone, let alone a spineless prick like you.

He has had just about enough of Top's complaining for tonight, so he downs his glass in a hefty gulp and walks out onto the dance floor to get some air.

That's when you notice him. His pale blue suit makes him look soft under the waning sunlight, but you know better. Even if you sometimes wish you didn't.

You watch as he grabs a champagne flute from a waiter's tray and takes a long swig. Memories of his lips trained somewhere else send a shot of heat through your abdomen, and you press your legs together under your dress.

His throat bobs as he swallows the bubbly liquid, and you don't realize you've been staring until Rafe's eyes meet yours.

Your eyes widen and you turn away immediately, but it's too late. You don't have to look to know that he's coming up to talk to you, and before you can formulate an escape plan, he is standing beside you.

Rafe can feel the tension wafting off of you, and while he does love to agitate you, he definitely doesn't want to cause a scene and embarrass his family.

He leans over by a fraction of an inch and his bicep glances against your shoulder. He is fully ready for you to shove him aside or start another outburst, so when you don't move, he can't help but lose his breath.

"I thought you were too cool to party with the kooks."

You scoff, looking at something out on the horizon. "I'm only here to keep Kiara company."

"You just keep telling yourself that."

He always did know how to say just the right thing to get a rise of you.

"What do you want from me, Rafe?" you ask, finally looking at him. "Just tell me what you want, so we can stop this asinine charade we've been playing for a year."

He almost doesn't know what to say now that you have finally addressed the growing tensions, but when the words form, he can't hold them in. "I want you to admit that you haven't stopped thinking about what happened that night...because I damn well know that I haven't."

It takes you a few moments to fully understand his words, but once you do, your body involuntarily takes a step back.

You would be lying if you said that you hadn't thought about what happened between you two. If you said you hadn't pictured his mouth when you slid your fingers between your thighs late at night.

Everything about that night had been a surprise, but nothing more than how Rafe Cameron had made you feel when you finally slipped under his sheets.

You can't even say you were drunk, because the expensive liquor had been too much for you and you hadn't touched your cup since arriving at the Camerons' end of summer house party.

It was your first summer on Kildare, and the Pogues had just accepted you into their ranks. You weren't sure if you would be able to fit into their tight-knit group, so you took a chance and went to a Kook party.

The drinks had been too heavy and the music too loud, but everyone was having fun, so you tried your best. However, if you had been honest with yourself, you would've known that you had come to this party for one reason. One person.

Instead, you pretended this was a way to explore the island, and when you needed a break from the party, you had gone up the stairs and sat in the first empty room you could find.

When Rafe found you there, sitting on his bed, he almost didn't seem surprised.

"I've seen you around," he had said, setting his cup on his desk, "hanging with those Pogues."

"What is with the fucking names around here," you had mumbled under your breath, until you heard his quiet chuckle. "I just don't get why you guys have divided the island like it's fucking Battleship or something."

"What's your name?" Rafe asked then, his eyes trained on yours like a hawk. "Where are you from?"

You weren't sure what you wanted out of tonight, so you stuck with a simple answer. "Boston."

He laughed again, shutting the door behind him and taking a seat on the chair opposite you. "What are you doing in my bedroom, Boston?"

You jolt out of the memory as Rafe's head dips down to look at you.

So yes, it would be a lie to say that you hadn't thought about him since. But lying to him was easy, especially when the truth had the power to tear your life apart.

"I can't," you whisper, leaning in like you have a secret. "I can't admit it, because it's not true."

His lips part with shock, and you take this second of confusion to rush down the stairs and onto the dance floor, where Kiara is waving you over.

"Was Rafe giving you trouble?" she asks as you take her hand and follow her out onto the lawn. "I would say I'll tell the guys, but my parents would kill me if I created a scene."

You laugh lightly, shaking your head. "No trouble. He was just asking what I was doing here."

She still looks concerned, so you pat her hand and cock your head over to where Pope is working with his dad. "Let's go say hi."

"I hate to say it, but the kooks really know how to throw an event," Pope muses when you approach him. "Don't tell JJ I said that."

Kie starts to laugh but it quickly turns to a cough when she points to the veranda off to the side of the party. "I guess John B found his way in."

You follow her line of sight to find John B pulling Sarah Cameron into a tight hug. When you look past her, you notice that Topper and Kelce are getting dangerously close to spotting them.

"Guys," you whisper-yell, getting their attention, "we need to buy him some time."

Kiara frowns. "I got Topper."

"I guess I got Kelce," Pope sighs as they disperse.

You glace around the party for a few moments before deciding that your efforts may be better spent inside. Pushing past all of the couples swaying on the dance floor, you walk into the country club, catching onto the railing when you stumble over your heels.

Other than a few stragglers and couples making out in the corner, the club is basically empty, most people favoring the festive pavilion. You're about to head back outside when a familiar voice calls to you from across the hall.

"If you want me to leave you alone, you gotta stop following me around everywhere."

You suck a breath in, spinning around to see Rafe sauntering over to you. "I'm starting to think you might be stalking me, Boston."

You make an undignified noise, your eyes taking in his tall form. His hair is falling into his face and you begrudgingly admit that he looks good - really good - but this isn't the time. You're supposed to be helping John B.

"Give me a break," you scoff. "Why would I be stalking you?"

Rafe shrugs, striding forward so he's a step away from being face to face with you. "That's what I'm trying to figure out, seeing as how you don't think about me."

He takes another step, his breath fanning over your temple. Your face burns as you try to avoid looking at him, but with his lips so close to yours, it's nearly impossible.

When you finally look up, his eyes are piercing, and your mouth dries up like the room has been turned up a 100 degrees.

"Now," he whispers, his eyes never leaving yours, "I'm gonna go back to the other kooks."

He takes a step around you, and you almost let him, before you remember what you're doing here in the first place: distracting him.

Running on pure instinct, you grab his arm and pull him back toward you until his lips meet yours.

Rafe can hardly believe what is going on, but your mouth is hot and sweet and he would be remiss to let you get away when he's finally gotten you back. You smell like gardenia and he takes a deep breath in as his hands grip onto your waist, pulling you closer to him under the dim light of the club.

You can taste the champagne bubbles on his tongue when he kisses you back, and you gasp against his mouth when his hands tighten on your waist and push you against the side wall, away from the view of the party.

Your back hits the wall with a thud and you almost laugh at the fact that he wants to hide this as much as you do, but it feels so good and it's been so long, that you allow yourself a second to stay in the moment. With him.

When his hands come up to tug your hair back, the sharp sting sends a shot of heat through your core and you bite down on his bottom lip for good measure.

Rafe pulls back with a wince, but he doesn't look mad. The opposite, if anything.

He presses his thumb against his lip and the sight of his blood sends you flying back to reality. Reaching forward to wipe a bit of your lip gloss off the corner of his mouth, you flash him a grin and stalk back into the party.

When your conscience comes back to haunt you later that night, you tell yourself it was all just to distract him.

***

After the party, Rafe screws his eyes shut as the girl kneeling in front of him takes him in her mouth, her lips gliding up and down his length at a maddening pace.

His head falls back and he resists the urge to grip her hair and pound up into her, even though his body is begging for a release. He doesn't want to touch her or taste her or even open his eyes, because then he'll remember that she's not you, and that's exactly what he needs tonight.

You're what he needs every night, but when he saw your blond friend tuck his face into your hair as you left the party, he had seen red and needed an immediate reprieve.

His cock twitches in the girl's mouth and he allows himself a single moment to imagine it's you instead. To picture your soft lips and wide eyes and -

A groan tears through his throat and he spills into her willing mouth.

***

It doesn't take long for Sarah to insert herself into the Pogues, but once she and Kie figure out their shit, you find that you don't mind having another girl around.

She was fun to hang with at the Chateau, and she was a great surfing buddy, so when John B recruits the gang to break her out of her house late one night, you don't question it.

As usual, the plan is pretty much to go with the flow, but once you make it to the Cameron property, the risks of what you're about to do finally hit you all.

"Okay, fuck this," Kie sighs, holding her hands up. "We need an actual plan this time. I say John B and y/n sneak up to her room to get her, while JJ, Pope, and I create a distraction out back."

You nod, fist bumping John B and saluting the rest of the group. "Let's do this."

Once you find an open window at the back, the plan goes into motion, with Kiara and the guys lighting a pillow on fire while you and John B hide behind curtains on the first floor.

When Ward and Rose run out back, you both hightail it up the stairs before slowing to a tiptoe on the top floor.

"I'll get her from her room," John B whispers to you as he sneaks along the wall of the hallway, "you keep a look out."

He slinks off down the hall as you backtrack, being careful not to make any noise. You hear a few excited whispers from Sarah's room, but you don't notice anything else until a hand clamps over your mouth and pulls you back into a room off the hall.

You stop trying to scream when the door shuts and you realize you're in Rafe's bedroom. Peeling his hand away, you shove him off, glaring at him as he smirks back.

"Now I really think you're stalking me," he grins, pushing his hair back from his face. "What are you doing here, Boston?"

"That's none of your business," you spit, turning on your heels to leave.

You don't make it to the door before Rafe's hands spin you back around and push you against the wall. There's a small thud as your back makes contact, but no pain comes until he presses his hand to your throat, keeping you in place.

"Actually," he licks his teeth, "seeing as how it's my house, I think it is my business. Now spill it, Pogue."

"I can't say anything while you're choking me," you grit out, your voice just barely constricted by his hand.

He barks out a laugh, his hand tightening on your throat until it actually hurts. "You call that choking? When I'm really choking you, you'll know...because you'll be begging for more."

Against your every instinct, heat floods your core, and you know he's right. You know that whatever this is, whatever dark, animal urges he is running on, so are you.

He must notice the shift in your eyes, because his face dips down and your chin involuntarily tilts up to meet him halfway when a voice whisper-yells from the hall.

"Y/n!" Sarah calls out, "where are you?"

You use this moment of distraction to push him off and slip through the doorway before he can make himself seen.

You meet the group at the bottom of the stairs, where they are all waiting.

"Where the hell were you?" Pope asks, concern tinging his impatience.

You wave away his confusion, following them out of the house. "I thought I saw someone, so I hid in one of the spare rooms."

It's not the truth, but it's close enough that you allow yourself the omission. The part of you that wanted a person like Rafe; the part that was drawn to the darkness, instead of running from it...that part of you needed to stay hidden, even if it meant lying to the people you loved most.

***

Every Friday night, you guys would all have a 'Pogue party' at the chateau. This always consisted of drinking, smoking, and playing stupid games until everyone passed out for the night, and tonight was no different.

The air was sticky with heat and John B had left his door open to let whatever fresh air there may be in.

You're already a couple of shots in when JJ finishes his joint and starts to get paranoid, like he usually did.

"We need to figure out how we're gonna get back at the Kooks for what happened at Midsummers," he commands, his hands gesticulating wildly. "They can't get away with treating us like shit."

"I actually agree with him," Pope nods, taking a sip of his beer. "We need to retaliate so they know we won't take their shit lying down."

Kiara lets out a small laugh as she hops up to sit on the arm of the couch JJ is lying on. "What do you propose we do then? Set fire to their backyard? Already done."

You don't even register that it's you talking when you blurt out, "What if we just let it go."

You blink when the rest of them gape at you, only then realizing what you said. "That was a joke."

"Good," JJ squints, a small frown coloring the edges of his mouth. "So anyway..."

You stand up from your spot on the couch and head into John B's kitchen with some lame excuse about getting another drink. You have no idea where your comment came from, but if you had to guess, you think it may have something to do with the growing presence Rafe has had in your life recently.

You grab a bottle from the counter and take a long swig that burns your chest from the inside out. The flavor just reminds you of the whiskey on his tongue from the night you got together, and the bottle almost falls from your grasp.

It takes you almost an hour to get your bearings again, but when you head back into the living room, the rest of the gang is asleep.

Sighing, you lay down on one of the couches and close your eyes.

***

An hour later, you're no closer to falling asleep than you were when you first closed your eyes. Your mind keeps wandering to memories that you have kept locked away for a long time - too long.

The sound of a soft breeze hitting the wind chimes out front lulls you into a quiet trance and for once, you finally let yourself succumb to the memory.

"What are you doing in my bedroom, Boston?"

"I got lost," you said simply, shrugging. You both knew you were lying, but that's what made it more fun.

He had flashed you a sly smile and you had wanted so bad to just reach out and trace the seam of his lips with your fingertip. He looked so pretty under the soft moonlight, and you were the kind of girl who knew how to get what she wanted.

You knew that was probably why you had been so infatuated with Rafe since coming to the island. Because of the challenge. Because he's a Cameron, and you're practically a Pogue, and something about getting a taste of the darkness excited you more than you'd care to admit.

"Why don't I believe that?" he asked, his voice coming out like a breath. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his thighs, and you had to exercise all of your self control to keep from staring at the way his biceps strained in his button-down. "I know about you, Boston. I've seen you watching me."

"Oh yeah?" you had smirked, pressing your feet into the ground and inching your legs apart. "What are you gonna do about it?"

Your eyes fly open and you sit upright, your breaths coming out in short spurts. This was too much to bear, even without the other Pogues sleeping all around you.

Taking a deep breath, you carefully step over JJ's sleeping form, making sure to avoid the creaky floorboards on the way to the door. You slip through the open doorway and out into the trees, feeling more and more reckless, the farther you get from the chateau.

It's a long walk to the Cameron mansion, but the fresh air doesn't help clear your thoughts. You're a long way from the girl you were when you first moved to the OBX, but Rafe keeps finding a way to prove that you still have the desire for pain and discomfort. For danger.

When you get to their front porch, you allow yourself one moment to pretend that you're here to get Sarah, but when Rafe pulls the door open, you can't deny it any longer.

He must be able to see it on your face, because his mouth curves up into a slow grin that makes your eyes dance with relief.

"Is Sarah home?" you ask, maybe somehow still hoping for one last chance at a reprieve.

He shakes his head. "She just snuck out."

You nod once, glancing behind him. "Can I come in?"

He leads you out to the back balcony that has a small patio setup and a beautiful view of the ocean. "I'm assuming you don't want anyone to know you're here, so this is the farthest we can get from the bedrooms."

You press your lips together, taking a seat on one of the couches. The wind brings a slight chill, and you shiver, prompting him to hand you his hoodie.

The waves are crashing quietly against the shore, and they look like black ink under the night sky. When Rafe takes a seat next to you, you glance over at him, watching his jaw twitch as his hair rustles in the breeze.

He looks almost wistful under the dim lighting, and your brow scrunches as you try to fathom how this boy could have fallen so far. 

"You hurt my friends," you whisper once the silence starts to become unbearable.

"I know."

You pause for a beat. 

"You hurt me."

His eyes flicker down. "I know that too."

You run a hand through your hair, your breath coming out like a scoff. "I don't understand what you're doing, Rafe. Please, just help me understand it all, because I feel like I'm losing my mind trying to come up with excuses for you."

That gets his attention. "I never asked you to make excuses for me."

Your face contorts and he closes his eyes for a long moment. "I don't deserve your forgiveness, Boston."

"Don't you think I know that?" you cry, before bringing your voice down again. "I've just never had the best judgment when it comes to you."

"What are you gonna do about it?"

Rafe stood up from his chair, his eyes impossibly dark in the dim light of his room. "You sure you know what you're getting into?"

You nodded, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. "Do your worst."

His eyes flashed and he pushed your knees further apart, sending you falling back onto the bed. You were prepared for him to lift your dress and tear your panties off without a warning, so when all you felt were his fingers trailing up your thighs, you were almost upset.

But then he ran his cool finger down your glistening slit and you gasped loudly, turning your face into the sheets bunched up around you.

"So wet for me," he mused, sticking his finger into his mouth. "Sweet too."

Without another word, he pushed two fingers into you, sinking all the way in as you squirmed over the covers. It took a second for you to get acclimated to the feeling, but once his mouth came down to join in, waves of heat had already begun spreading through you.

You practically whined when he lifted your ankles over his shoulders, diving back in to run his tongue over your sensitive clit. Your hands came down to grip onto his hair as he continued his pleasurable assault to your dripping cunt. The sharp tug made him groan, which only sent more vibrations up your abdomen.

"Fuck, I'm close," you moaned as he pressed his hands into your stomach to keep you from rising off the bed. "Don't stop!"

Instead, he did exactly that.

"Asshole," you spat as he grinned back at you, his chin glistening with your slick.

"We're not done yet," he said simply, lifting your legs off of him and pushing you back further on the bed.

Rafe began undoing the buttons on his shirt, so you lifted your dress off, chucking it onto the floor beside his clothes. You couldn't help but watch as he slowly pulled his pants down, his thick cock springing out of his boxers.

Saliva flooded your mouth and you instinctively reached forward, hoping for a taste, but he batted your hand away. Climbing over you, he grabbed a condom from his drawer and slid it on, pumping his dick a few times for good measure.

"It's not gonna fit," you whispered as he lined himself up with your cunt.

"I thought you said you could handle it."

His smug expression sent a flare of anger through your brain and you wrapped your legs around his waist, pushing him down and inside of you.

The stretch was a perfect mix of pain and pleasure and you both moaned in tandem, his low groan blending with your sharp gasps. He pushed a bit further until he was all the way in, before starting to move.

His thrusts began slow and shallow, allowing you a few moments to get used to his size, but the moment you began to squeeze around him, he changed his pace.

"Rafe, fuck, yes," you gasped, your hands lifting up to press into his back.

His thrusts sped up, hitting the same perfect spot inside of you as the coil in your stomach wound tighter and tighter. It only took a few more seconds for the coil to snap, and you cried out, digging your nails into his shoulder blades as you spasmed around him.

Once your orgasm had finally begun to abate, he pounded into you a few more times, before spilling into the condom and pulling out.

You were lying next to him, your breaths finally starting to slow, when you saw him turn to you out of the corner of your eye. "Wanna go again?"

The sounds of the water pulsing below is all you can hear for a long time. You're so focused on the sound that you almost don't hear it when Rafe speaks again.

"I don't have an answer for you," he murmurs, his voice carrying just barely above the breeze whistling by your ears. "You said you wanted to understand me, but I don't even know what's going on inside my head half the time."

Your brow furrows and you place your hand on the couch between you two. His movements seem unconscious as he slides his fingers over so that they press against yours.

"Do you regret it?"

"Regret what?" you ask, turning to look at him.

"That night," he says, stumbling over his words. "Our night."

It would be so easy to lie, just like at Midsummers, but this time feels different. Lying now feels like a betrayal, and even after everything he's done, you can't bring yourself to cross that line.

"No," you sigh, pressing your hand on top of his. "I don't regret it."

***

When you get back to the chateau, Sarah is sitting on the porch.

"There you are," she pouts, standing up and giving you a hug. "Everyone's asleep inside, and JJ's sprawled out over the whole floor, so there's nowhere to step."

You laugh lightly, hoping the night's exploits aren't written all over your face. "I was just out looking for you, actually."

"Huh, weird," she frowns. "You'd think I would have ran into you on the way here then."

You shrug, hoping she'll drop it, and walk past her to get the door. You haven't even reached the knob when she grabs your arm and pulls you back, somewhat forcefully.

"Y/n," she whispers, her voice low and warning, "why are you wearing Rafe's sweatshirt?"

Your eyes widen and you yank it over your head. "Sarah-"

"What have you gotten yourself into?" she asks, her voice sounding genuinely concerned.

You look at the hoodie for another second, before tearing your eyes away from it and handing it to her. "It was nothing. It was stupid, and it won't happen again."

She takes it and ties it around her waist before shooting you a sidelong glance. "This is different. I've seen you around guys you hooked up with. This isn't like that."

You open your mouth to speak but she lifts her hand up, cutting you off. "I won't tell Kie or the guys, but you need to figure out what the hell is going on in your head."

Tears flood your vision. "I'm sorry, Sarah. I can't even imagine what you must think of me."

"Hey, don't apologize to me," she whispers, taking your hand. "I mean, I still love him after everything...what does that say about me?"

You blink the tears away and let Sarah Cameron loop her arm through yours. Maybe everything would be okay again.

***

You don't see him again until he and Barry ambush your friends at the airplane hangar. The altercation turns violent too fast and before you know it, Pope and JJ are on the ground, throwing around punches faster than you can keep up.

When Barry goes for JJ, you rush into the action, but Rafe manages to snag your arm, shoving you out of the way. You stumble back, bumping your hip painfully into the boxes beside you.

Anger and hurt fills your vision and before you can understand what you're doing, your hand flies up to slap him across the face.

He barely flinches, his teeth gritting against the pain. "That the best you got?"

Tears sting your throat, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction. "I don't even know you anymore."

Your whispered words are harsh, but Rafe is having a hard time focusing on anything other than the fact that the stinging in his cheek means you're here. But your hair is disheveled, and you have a nearly feral look in your eyes, so when Barry comes flying out of nowhere, he rushes forward to grab you.

Wrapping an arm around your waist, he lifts you up easily, even as you claw at his back, before walking out of the hangar and throwing you onto the ground. 

Your palms hit the grass hard, and you smack the ground with an angry yell as Rafe rushes back inside. He knows you're going to hate him, and he knows he didn't have to be so harsh with you, but lately he hasn't been able to stop himself. 

"Stay down!" he orders as you clamber to your feet. "If you come back inside, I won't be so gentle."

He thought it was bad when he wasn't able to see you, but now that he has, it's somehow worse than ever. Every time you're within reach, he has to fight between the urges to rip you apart and crush you into himself, so you never leave.

Later, when he talks to his father about what he's been feeling inside of him, the response isn't what he wants or needs. When he finally admits that he may not be okay, that he doesn't think he can control the thoughts in his head anymore, Ward's instructions to "man up" go straight to his head, where nothing is truly safe anymore.

He thought he was obsessed with getting the gold, but when it was actually in reach, something still felt missing. The more he thinks about it, the more he finds himself fixating on one person.

***

"What happened earlier?" JJ asks you when the whole group returns to the chateau that night. "When Rafe carried you out?"

The question catches you off guard and you feel Sarah's apologetic gaze on you as you open your mouth to respond. "I have no idea."

JJ doesn't look convinced, and when Sarah tries to change the subject, he bulldozes over her. "I just don't get what's going on between you two. First, he's talking to you at the boardwalk, and then he's pulling you out of fights?"

It's not a question really, but the implication is startlingly clear. 

"What are you asking, JJ?" Pope warns, his eyes glancing between you two. "I don't think you're thinking this through. It's fucking Rafe we're talking about here. He's a monster, why would she have anything to do with him?"

His words ring through your ears like alarm bells and you can barely hear their argument over the noise. The sound gets louder and louder until you have to resist the urge to cover your ears.

"He's right."

It takes you a moment to realize those words came from you, but now that it's out, there's no going back.

Sarah says your name cautiously, but you shake your head, silencing her words.

"The guy I hooked up with my first summer on the island was Rafe," you say, your voice slowly growing in strength. "He's the guy I was talking about. And it wasn't just then."

Everyone except Sarah is looking at you like they've never seen you before. The shock and disgust on their faces mirrors what you felt the first time Rafe tried to hurt your friends, but with it being thrown back, you can't handle the pressure.

Tears blur your vision and you stalk out of the house, your feet taking you anywhere but here. The sound of voices yelling gets louder behind you, but you keep walking, your destination slowly becoming clearer the farther away you get.

Rafe is pulling into his driveway when you step onto the Cameron's property, and he throws his door open as soon as he notices you walking up.

"What's going on?" he asks as he slams the door shut and ushers you into the house. "Are you okay?"

You can't help but laugh, even as a few tears slip down your cheeks. "They know."

He knows what you're referring to without you having to explain, and he hesitantly steps forward, pulling you into a hug when you don't flinch. Your face presses into his hard chest and you glide your hands up his back, clutching the fabric of his tee shirt as you let out a small sob.

"They think I'm a monster," you whisper with a sniffle when you finally let go of him. 

He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. "They're wrong. You have to know they're wrong."

"What if they aren't?"

He looks at you then, and that spark in your eyes starts to flicker again. "What are you trying to say, Boston?"

"I'm saying..." you start, dragging your words out, "that if they think I'm a monster, I might as well prove them right."

He frowns, following you into the living room. A large part of him is ready and willing for whatever piece of yourself you will give him, but a new, even larger part wants something else for you. Something better.

"Y/n," Rafe warns, his voice dangerously low, "I don't know if that's such a good idea."

Something akin to betrayal flashes across your eyes and your mouth presses into a line. "I thought you liked- I mean, I thought you-"

"I do," he states simply. "But you're so much better than me. You know that."

"I'm not," you shake your head, stepping forward. Your hands come up to rest on his chest and his breath hitches. "So shut up and fuck me."

He considers it for a moment but his mind makes the decision for him. His hands tangle into your hair and pull you forward, his lips attacking yours harshly.

He glides his tongue across the seam of your lips, but you pull back before he can go any further.

"Upstairs," you order, before pushing past him and heading up to his room.

You get to his bedroom right before he does, but when the door shuts behind you, he shoves you onto the bed, a snarl curling his lips. "You think you can order me around in my own house?"

You shrug as he climbs over you, his hands pressing into the bed beside your face. "Watch me."

Before he can lean down and kiss you again, you latch your legs around his waist and flip him over, so you're straddling him. He lets out a breathy chuckle that dies in his throat as soon as you begin grinding onto his lap. His cock has already started to harden, even with layers and layers of clothing between you two, and you use this momentary lapse in concentration to push him back onto the bed.

Before he can stop you, you undo the button on his pants and yank them down to his ankles. Reaching onto his bedside table, you grab one of the embroidered bracelets sitting on top and use it to pull your hair back into a ponytail.

His eyes darken with lust as you sink to your knees and take his cock in your hand, your fingers unconsciously gliding up and down the shaft.

You can't help but smile as you watch him lean back, his eyes already falling closed. "My turn."

His cock is sturdy in your hand, and you run your tongue up the shaft, taking your time now that you finally get to taste him. You loosen your fingers around him, swirling your tongue over the head, before slowly taking him into your mouth.

You can feel his eagerness as Rafe's hand runs over your hair, gathering it in his fist.

When he starts to push your head down, you lift your lips off his cock and shake your head. "Look who's impatient this time."

He snarls, tightening his grip on your hair. "Just fucking take me like a good girl."

"I thought you wanted me to be bad."

You slowly run your tongue up the thick vein on the underside of his cock, fluttering your eyelashes up at him, and he almost passes out from the sight. You look so innocent beneath him, and he wants to commit this image into his memory forever, but then you hollow your cheeks around him and every thought leaves his brain.

Your mouth is so warm and wet and he only opens his eyes again when he feels you moaning around him. Glancing down, he sees your hand disappear into your shorts, and he curses, his cock twitching between your lips.

He knows he won't last another minute like this, so he pulls back up, his hand letting go of your hair. He lifts you onto the bed, taking his time to take off your tank top and unbutton your shorts.

"You're beautiful," he states when you're finally bare in front of him, as though it's simply a fact.

His eyes meet yours in the darkness and you are suddenly struck with the desire to make this night last. You know this is the last time you will get to do this, and it doesn't escape you that he's been trying to savor each moment as well.

You take your time as you undo the buttons of his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders once you've reached the bottom and laying it gently on the floor.

Rafe leans you back down and grins as he presses a kiss to your jaw. "Aren't you sweet."

"Shut up," you snipe, running your teeth over his lip as he comes back up to steal a kiss.

"So that's how you want to play this," he smirks, sucking a bruise into your neck.

His fingers still feel soft and gentle against your skin, and you wish you could get it into his head that even though this is probably the last time you will get to have him like this, you don't want it to be sweet. You want it to hurt. 

"I thought I told you to fuck me."

He chuckles into your skin, before sliding his hand under your knee and lifting your leg off the bed. Without any warning, he thrusts into you, forcing you to grit your teeth to avoid making a sound.

"You're so ready for me," Rafe smirks, his calloused hands gripping your waist, "and I've barely even touched you."

You gasp, your head falling back as the pressure becomes almost too much. "It's been a while."

"No, that's not it," he taunts, his body leaning down as his lips find yours. "You just haven't been fucked right since last time."

You hate that he's right. You had tried to get your fix by hooking up with the tourists during the summers, but it had done nothing to assuage the growing frustration in your gut. Because the only person on this island who can make you feel good is the one who brings out the worst in you.

He continues thrusting into you with a pace much faster than you're used to, bottoming out each time. He reaches down to sling an arm under your waist, lifting you up off the bed to change the angle, and a sharp cry escapes your throat against your volition.

"You gotta be quiet," he grunts, lifting you further to press his forehead to yours, "or you don't stop finishing until I say so."

Your brow furrows in confusion, but then he uses his other hand to grab the headboard and starts thrusting into you even faster than before. You tilt your head up, pressing a harsh kiss to his mouth in an effort to quiet the noises trying to escape, but when your release slams into you, you can't help the gasp that flies out.

Your legs clamp around him and he uses his strength to hold you up as your body melts from the pleasure overcoming you.

Your aftershocks haven't even slowed before he spins you around, so you're straddling him, and starts pounding up into you again. Your sensitive cunt spasms helplessly around him, but he doesn't stop, even as you hiss between your teeth.

"Rafe, please, it's too much," you gasp as he holds you up so you don't back onto the bed. "I can't-"

"I told you to stay quiet," he teases, his voice growing darker as he ups his pace again. "You knew the consequences."

Even as the bed shakes from the force of his motions, the pain eventually turns to pleasure again, and you can feel your next release sneaking up on you.

He wraps your hair around his fist, giving it a quick tug for good measure, but the way your pussy squeezes around him makes him pause. "You like that, don't you?"

His grip tightens and you nod slowly, bringing your eyes back to his. His pupils darken and you feel another gush of wetness start to drip down your thighs. Your scalp stings, but you relish the pain, letting it mix in with the pleasure between your legs.

Rafe can already feel you tightening around him again, and he lifts his head to watch as your eyes screw shut, overcome by the feeling of his cock driving into you.

You look heavenly as you near the edge of the abyss, and he slides his hand down between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit. It only takes a few tweaks before you fly off the edge again, your mouth falling open with a silent scream.

Your body shakes from the force of the second orgasm and he can't hold off any longer. Pressing his face into the crook of your neck, he lets out a gasp as he finds his own seemingly never-ending release. All of the energy leaves his body as he watches you fall apart under him, and he finds that he can no longer lie to himself about how he feels.

Reality quickly comes crashing in, and you realize that you don't have any idea how to move forward. Whatever you feel for him will never be enough, no matter how hard you may try to convince yourself otherwise.

Rafe watches you get dressed, his eyes trailing over the bare expanses of your skin, as if committing it to memory. He wasn't raised like his siblings, and the voice in the back of his mind that tells him to never let you leave reminds him of a childhood he never quite managed to unlearn.

He never did learn how to do what was right, but if he is going to do right by one thing, that might as well be you.

[half-life-citizen]

digby: if you had to live elsewhere in the neath, where would you pick?

As soon as the question is uttered, he quickly says

"I don't want what I'm about to say to leave this room, and this is a purely hypothetical scenario, yes?"

He takes your silence as an answer, and begins to talk,

"The khanate, if I had to choose. They are the only ones down here other than London that seems to have any modicum of sensibility, mutton island is mad. Port carnelian is too humid for me, and I've stayed at the colonies, it's just not for me."

[putschki1969]

2024/06/10 Blog post by Wakana おしゃべりガーデン第10回目‼︎〜みんなのお父さん話と梅雨対策！横須賀ジブリ編その１〜

❗This is Fan Club EXCLUSIVE content❗ ❗PERSONAL USE ONLY❗ ❗Do NOT SHARE on other sites❗ ❗Join her FAN CLUB! Check out my detailed TUTORIAL ❗

Talk Garden Vol.10‼︎〜Stories About Your Father/Rainy Season Precautions! Yokosuka Ghibli Edition Part 1〜

Vol.#10 of Wakana's Talk Garden has been uploaded~😊We have successfully reached a big milestone, the 10 episode mark‼︎ It's all thanks to everyone who always listens and sends submissions…✨I am very grateful😊 I would like to continue posting my podcast at a leisurely pace, so please look forward to future episodes‼︎‼︎＼＼\٩( 'ω' )و //／／

One of the topics for this episode was "Measures against the rainy season". Here's my favourite umbrella which I talked about in the podcast☂️💕It's very cute. I want to use it a lot during the upcoming rainy season🙄Someone mentioned in their message that "the air pressure during the rainy season is tough." I feel the same. During this time of year, the air pressure and humidity are likely to make you lose your energy. Don't forget to stay hydrated and it's best to do some light exercises to get through the rainy season in good health! 🥺

And since it is also Father's Day, I wanted everyone submit "Stories about your father" as a second topic for the podcast. By the way, I had completely forgotten, but my father was really into magic 😅He liked to do magic tricks with cars ♧♤♡♢Here is his very own card set. He would always bring out playing cards and perform some tricks wherever he was. He would even do little performances in front of my friends 😂He never let me in on the mechanics behind his tricks but he was definitely really good. Now I really want to see my dad's magic again 😊One day when I get to see him again, I'll ask him to show me~💫

So, for the next episode of "Wakana's Talk Garden" on July 10th, there will be no specific talk topic. You are free to submit anything you want me to talk about or you want to ask me･:*+.(( °ω° ))/.:+ The deadline is June 30th!! Please send your submissions!! ＼＼\٩( 'ω' )و //／ Thank you so much to everyone who sent messages this time!!!

Now, I would like to talk some more about my trip to Yokosuka‼️⛱🏄🌊I already talked about it in my podcast so in this blog post I want to share some photos from the first big part of my trip when I visited the "Toshio Suzuki and Ghibli Exhibition" held at Yokosuka Museum of Art! (I'll post about my experience in Sarushima=Monkey Island in a few days!!) Speaking of Ghibli, some people were curious if I had gone to the Ghibli exhibition so yes, you finally have your answer😊 You are greeted by Chihiro at the entrance. My excitement skyrocketed right from the start😊The curtain leads to an exhibition of 8,800 books displayed in a huge bookshelf. Each book is believed to have influenced Suzuki in some way. Another source of inspiration is his collection of movies which contains a whopping 10,000 films. I was surprised at the number of movies, he must have absorbed so much information from all these works. I want to become a part of the Suzuki family. It's cut off, but at the top of the photo there is Teto's beautifully drawn paw. I also really liked the drawing at the bottom center signed with "Miya-SAN on the Cliff by the Sea". Then I I met Totoro and his friends surrounded by a starry sky♡ I should have taken this photo with an umbrella~😭Here I am looking up at The Bathhouse with Chihiro. While I was there, I imagined Haku getting mad at me and telling me to get back right away because I shouldn't have come! Next I got myself one of Yubaba's fortune telling slips. What an impact😂 You pull out a numbered tag from Yubaba's mouth and then take your fortune slip from the drawer according to the number. It looked like I was trying to floss Yubaba's teeth. I got a half-blessing related to tidying up and becoming clutter-free. Last but not least, I enjoyed the wide and open sky on the rooftop 😂

This time, I bought a file, a letter set, a keychain, and postcards at the souvenir shop 😊 I love the keychain of San's mask😍 I will send one of these postcards to everyone whose messages I've read during the podcast😊 ...And with that my Ghibli story comes to an end. Or not!! Actually, my Ghibli adventure isn't over yet😇 I still have a few Ghibli photos and stories left so I will post a Part 2 some time soon!! I also have a story about a crazy stamp rally that felt like a sports competition😂

All right, I'll leave it at that for today!! Until next time~☆( '▽')/

＊＊＊Wakana＊＊＊

2024/06/07 Instagram post by Wakana 2024/06/09 Intagram post by Wakana

Wakana’s Talk Garden #10

❗This is Fan Club EXCLUSIVE content❗ ❗PERSONAL USE ONLY❗ ❗Do NOT SHARE on other sites❗ ❗Join her FAN CLUB! Check out my detailed TUTORIAL ❗

Episode #10 »»—— CLICK ME 🎁 CLICK ME ——««

・Stories about your father ・Measures against the rainy season

For next month’s episode which is scheduled to air on July 10th, the following topic has been chosen:

・Anything you'd like to ask Wakana/Anything you'd like Wakana to talk about

The submission deadline is 06/30.

[disco-elysium-via-polls]

🎵 The Insulindian Miracle

Our new level is going into Rhetoric.

2. "The workers should have the harbour."

JOYCE MESSIER - "Do you think it's within my authority to give it to them? Do you think I can control the board and the shell-shocked mercenaries they've sent?"

AUTHORITY [Medium: Success] - It is. It is well within her authority. It's been clear for some time that this woman is more than she lets on.

"So, what are you going to do?"

JOYCE MESSIER - "What will I do..." she says slowly looking around.

COMPOSURE [Medium: Success] - Her arms fall to her sides, her spine relaxes.

JOYCE MESSIER - The wind blows, waves crash in the distance. She crosses her arms and asks: "Did I ever tell you how they discovered this isola? During our... reality low-down?"

"No, ma'am."

"You said you would. One day."

"You said I'm uneducated, remember?"

JOYCE MESSIER - "Typically arrogant of me.... Absent-minded as well. Interisolary travel has left holes in my consciousness, I'm afraid."

"Do we have the time?"

"Tell me."

KIM KITSURAGI - "We do for this, lieutenant-yefreitor."

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - His arm rises for a second, as if he's about to put it on your shoulder. He doesn't, but the intention was there...

JOYCE MESSIER - "It may be the only *break* we've ever caught as a species. The last one for four hundred years."

"Why?"

JOYCE MESSIER - "The nations who colonized this isola called theirs *Mundi*. The World. It was all they knew, all they thought would be. That there would be something more was a gamble. Akin to another world -- or life after death."

"The pale was thought to be impregnable, perpetual." She points northwest. "Irene La Navigateur, the Queen of Suresne, sent *eight* expeditions, one after the other, into the mass at the edge of the world. Five of the crews did not return. Two did, but had lost their minds."

RHETORIC [Challenging: Success] - Each of those expeditions would have been led by an admiral. Sounds like a purge. Like she was purging her political rivals.

"Sounds cruel."

"Sounds *political*."

JOYCE MESSIER - She nods. "There was no precedent for such an undertaking. People thought she was punishing the admirals, or had gone mad, or both..."

"Until after *years* of trial and error -- and the development of a *strict* psychological regime imitating the creation process of poetry…"

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Medium: Success] - Called Volta do Mar, or Return from the Sea.

JOYCE MESSIER - "The eighth expedition returned, sane and intact. They told of a new continent of matter. They told the queen and her councillor, Dolores Dei, that the pale had begun to condense, day after day, hour after hour, minute after minute."

"Slowly raining down until it formed a vast ocean."

PERCEPTION (SMELL) [Medium: Success] - The air is cold and scented with petrichor.

SHIVERS [Medium: Success] - There are rain circles on water all around, humidity crawls up your back like a piano trill.

Put your hand in the rain.

KIM KITSURAGI - So does the lieutenant. His mouth is slightly open as he looks to the sky.

SHIVERS - The droplets feel warm. Like spring rain.

"This ocean?"

JOYCE MESSIER - She nods. "The phenomenon has never again been encountered. For a time the crew thought they were experiencing a hallucination. The mast-hand proclaimed 'L´Insulinde! L´Insulinde!' -- the signal to wake up."

"But they could not. They were sane and conscious, as islands began to appear on the horizon... There are 78,000 uninhabited islands in the Insulindian archipelago, officer. The freckled face of god," she smiles.

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Medium: Success] - You've thought it a million times.

"'After life, death -- after death, life again. After the world, the pale -- after the pale, the world again.'"

Say nothing.

JOYCE MESSIER - "A total shift," she nods. "In human comprehension of reality. On the second day, a great skua was shot down, above the flagship Lysergique. The bird was preserved and brought back. Along with pollen."

"Four years later the queen’s councillor was proclaimed Her Innocence Dolores Dei, the elected world spirit. The age of humanism, internationalism, and parliamentary rule followed. We were *high*..."

Thought Gained: The Insulindian Miracle

"Leaving us *here*."

"The great skua was the first bird they saw?"

"And this was the last break we got?"

"It's raining."

"What will you do?" (Proceed.)

JOYCE MESSIER - "On Caillou..." She studies your reaction. "The Pebble, the largest of the fertile, uninhabited islands of the northeast Insulindian archipelago. Four centuries and two revolutions later."

2. "The great skua was the first bird they saw?"

JOYCE MESSIER - "The first living, autonomous organism. Proof of reality. It's the symbol of Insulinde, detective, the coat-of-arms of the Suzerain and the wings on the crest of the Commune."

"I seem to have it in for it. Or it for me. I broke one."

JOYCE MESSIER - "In your defence -- it is a nasty creature, who plucks food from the throats of lesser birds. Yet much like Revachol, it is also magnificent. And rare. Imagine the suzerain of seagulls."

INLAND EMPIRE [Medium: Success] - There was a sting in your heart at the mention... before. When she said its name.

3. "And this was the last break we got?"

JOYCE MESSIER - "The nations of Mundi proceeded to discover five more isolae -- or they discovered us -- all in the rush of the great interisolary reconnection..."

"But these others weren't uninhabited. We had to kill people there, wipe out indigenous populations, gunboat economies. Or they came to do the same for us. Or had done to each other. But here…" she spreads her arms.

"There was no one but the skua. The Liliacea. And the blood beech and the River Esperance. It was the New New World. The Mondials used it to amass the greatest concentration of wealth mankind has ever seen -- Revachol the Suzerain."

"What happened?" (Look around.)

"Well done, Suzerain!" (Nod.)

JOYCE MESSIER - "Revolution, poverty, and the mercurial rise of capitalism," she nods.

4. "It's raining."

JOYCE MESSIER - "It is." She pulls the hood over her head. "Soon it will be spring and everything will blossom."

KIM KITSURAGI - "The gangs will run wild." The lieutenant keeps his hand in the rain. "Jacking motor carriages, ferrying amphetamines through Coal City. Spring is tough in Revachol."

5. "What will you do?" (Proceed.)

JOYCE MESSIER - "I will take your advice, lieutenant-yefreitor. I will surrender Terminal B to the Union.""

"I thought it was not within your means."

JOYCE MESSIER - She puts her hand in the rain. She's silent for a second.

"We will see."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Ma'am... This may well unravel property law this side of the river. If that occurs, we may never see the end of this kind of confrontation. The next time there will be two strikes..." He looks toward the harbour. "Then four, then a hundred."

JOYCE MESSIER - "What happens will happen." She takes the end in her rain-slick hand and starts untying the knot.

"The age of capital has only begun. I will talk to my employers in person. We will amputate and cauterize Martinaise -- if you handle the situation on the ground."

"You're going *now*?"

[Rhetoric - Medium 10] *We*? She generally avoids that term with her employers.

"Understood." (Let her go.)

JOYCE MESSIER - "Yes. Mr. Claire has a two-month head start. I can't let it grow any bigger. And I've exhausted all my options from here."

2. [Rhetoric - Medium 10] *We*? She generally avoids that term with her employers.

+1 More than she seems.

RHETORIC [Medium: Success] - There are no employers. She's a member of the board. Probably a partner.

"You *are* the Wild Pines. There are no employers."

JOYCE MESSIER - "You *are* the Citizens Militia. There are no superiors." She turns to you, rope in hand.

"What? Of course I have superiors."

"I am." (Nod.)

KIM KITSURAGI - "You're wrong, detective. And next time you should confer with those superiors before you go setting events in motion."

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - Despite his words he's not really sure whether to be annoyed with you or not.

LOGIC [Medium: Success] - Events are already in motion. Whether your actions accelerated or momentarily retarded their progress, even the lieutenant cannot really say.

"Even after all this time I still don't really understand who you are or what your angle is."

"I answer for my own actions. I don't hide behind some faceless organization."

JOYCE MESSIER - "I have not deceived you. I told you who exactly who I was -- Rejoyce Leyton."

3. "Understood." (Let her go.)

JOYCE MESSIER - "Keep the peace -- and I will keep my end of the bargain."

KIM KITSURAGI - "How far along is Krenel's *investigation*?"

JOYCE MESSIER - "A confrontation is imminent. They have followed in your footsteps..."

"As your investigation reaches a climax, so does theirs. They are your shadow. Arm yourselves. Armour yourselves..."

"Protect their targets. Violence may be unavoidable, but we can limit the casualties."

"When will they make their move? Where?"

JOYCE MESSIER - "Soon. I do not know precisely. They have cut off all communication, you see. They know I've been feeding you information."

"One last thing, Lieutenant Du Bois." She starts the engine. "I've given the matter much thought and come to this conclusion: You're not an amnesiac. You're *insane*."

"I know -- because I, too, am insane. I just hide my illness better. And I'm rich."

"Isn't *everybody* a little insane?"

"You're over-radiated?"

"How do you keep it together?"

"Goodbye, Joyce L. Messier." (Conclude.)

"Goodbye, Rejoyce Leyton." (Conclude.)

"Goodbye, nether creature of the forbidden swamp." (Conclude.)

JOYCE MESSIER - "No, detective -- no one's as insane as you."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Don't worry madam. I am very sane."

2. "You're over-radiated?"

JOYCE MESSIER - "I'm over-exposed, baby. My travels take me through the pale dozens of times a year. I've got the longing -- and I've got it *bad*." She points to her heart.

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - She would die to return to it. The pale. The past. Anything one can return to.

3. "How do you keep it together?"

JOYCE MESSIER - "The same strict psychological regimen the eighth admiral developed when he crossed the pale and discovered this isola -- the *Volta do Mar*. It's used by interisolary travellers and other troubled souls even to this day."

+5 XP

VOLITION [Trivial: Success] - You could use a little of it yourself.

5. "Goodbye, Rejoyce Leyton." (Conclude.)

JOYCE MESSIER - She smiles. "Watch out for yourselves. They will strike soon."

Secret task complete: Find solution to strike deadlock

+70 XP

KIM KITSURAGI - The lieutenant watches her boat grow smaller on the bay, its white sails fluttering.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] - With worry in his eyes. He does not know if it was the right thing to do. But he doesn't say anything.

LOGIC [Medium: Success] - You wonder what Evrart has to say about this...

I guess we're still not *quite* ready to confront Ruby yet.

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Medium: Success] - Slowly, the sails turn a grey blue as more oxygen gets between you.

THE INSULINDIAN MIRACLE

Temporary research bonus: None Research time: 7h 45m

You were reminded of a poem, somewhere deep inside you, the translation of which you don't remember… "Nulla sarà cambiato della luce!” it begins. “Colori come grigio e marrone / Tutti stampati uno sull’altro / Trovai un vuoto / Una macchia Bianca / Gli altri guardarono / “Che bella giornata! Che bel tempo!” / Ma sentii la rotativa." You were reminded of it when you heard about the discovery of Insulinde. But what does it mean? And how do you know it by heart?

...let's go and see Evrart one final time.

CARGO CONTAINER DOOR - The door seems to be locked. Conclusively.

🎵 Evrart's Theme

EVRART CLAIRE - "So, the ship has sailed... did you see it? I know you did." He leans toward you. "Tell me, what did it look like as it grew smaller and smaller? When that mainsail dropped behind the horizon..."

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Challenging: Success] - There's a mean little light in his eyes.

EVRART CLAIRE - "... did it look like a germ? Did it look like a piece of *bacteria*?"

COMPOSURE [Medium: Success] - His tone is totally different now. The jolly man of the people is gone and so is the smile.

INLAND EMPIRE [Easy: Success] - You get a sinking feeling...

LOGIC [Formidable: Success] - Oh my god, you've been played!

"Yes, it sort of did look like that. A bacteria. Growing smaller and smaller."

"No, it looked like a boat sailing away from the coast. No need to be overly dramatic."

"I don't understand. What do you mean?"

"You *wanted* me to deliver that message to her..."

EVRART CLAIRE - "That this is a takeover, that I want a war?" He nods, forcefully. "God, I hope you also told her about the drug trade... They absolutely hate getting their hands dirty with that."

"You can kill a million people, but if you do something the *po-lice* doesn't like... well, then you're out of the yacht-club." A vein on his forehead is pulsating. "Goodbye, you inhuman fuck..."

"Now I know why you've been so forthcoming."

"So this was your plan all along. For me to relay this information to her."

"How do you know she left?"

"You used me." (Proceed.)

"That's *wild* how you got me to do all that stuff." (Proceed.)

"Thanks for letting me play a part, Evrart." (Proceed.)

EVRART CLAIRE - "No, no, Harry, what we have is real. We're working men. This here..." He taps his chest, then points to you. "... is *real*."

2. "So this was your plan all along. For me to relay this information to her."

EVRART CLAIRE - "Harry..." He exhales slowly. "I can't see into the future. We are all playing *by ear* on this planet. I had no idea she'd react so strongly."

"But you did want me to relay info to her?"

EVRART CLAIRE - "I did. I knew the negotiations would go better with police officers telling her horror stories from inside the harbour. It's scarier this way. Turns out it was a magnificent strategy. I never thought it'd so fundamentally fuck her up."

+5 XP

Level up!

This point will be going into Electrochemistry.

3. "How do you know she left?"

EVRART CLAIRE - "Harry, I bugged her cabin. I bugged her whole boat. I had cameras surveying her boat. Hell I even wanted to bug that thermal cup, but my boys advised against it."

SAVOIR FAIRE [Medium: Success] - They must have done it while Joyce was busy questioning the locals.

"So you've been listening to our conversations all the time?"

EVRART CLAIRE - "Not me personally..." he stretches his arms like a discus thrower. "I had guys recording and processing this information for me."

"The Hardie boys?"

EVRART CLAIRE - "Hell no!" he exclaims. "They'd fuck it up. They can't do anything right. I mean my *real* boys. My special task force boys."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Where are these boys?"

EVRART CLAIRE - "They sure as hell aren't hanging out in the open with beers in their hands for the cops to question." He bursts out laughing. "They're pros, Mr. Kitsuragi."

4. "You used me." (Proceed.)

EVRART CLAIRE - "Harry, you made a conscious decision to relay that information to her. You could have kept it for yourself."

"You used my intellectual curiosity against me."

"But she told me a beautiful story about the discovery of the Insulinde."

"But she said she's insane. Like me."

"So what's going to happen now?" (Conclude.)

EVRART CLAIRE - "Against you?" He's taken aback. "Oh, Harry, I'd like to think I used it *for* you."

2. "But she told me a beautiful story about the discovery of the Insulinde."

EVRART CLAIRE - "Of course she did. Rich people have the best stories. About all the interesting things they've done and seen, all the beautiful places they've been to. It's just sentimentalism. She can afford to be sentimental -- and she can afford to lose as well."

EMPATHY [Challenging: Success] - It saddens him -- that she can. Sours it, but only a tiny bit.

3. "But she said she's insane. Like me."

EVRART CLAIRE - "She's not insane. What did she tell you?" His expression betrays extreme scepticism.

"She told me she's over-radiated from pale transit."

"She has this sentimentality and longing about her..."

EVRART CLAIRE - "No, she's not," he scoffs. "She's a sentimental alcoholic, they all are. Never take a drop and you'll be eight laps ahead of those upper-class winos, just like old Mr. Claire here. Try it, you'll be a real superdetective."

"I've actually walked the path of sobriety for a while now."

"Oh, fuck off… I don't drink more than everyone else!"

"That's actually... good advice. I might."

"If that's what it takes, I'll do it -- for the working class."

We *do* have Waste Land of Reality.

EVRART CLAIRE - "I can see that, Harry." He studies your face. "Alcohol has left its marks, but you're doing better than when I first saw you. Rich-man is shitting himself -- the working class, sober!"

4. "So what's going to happen now?" (Conclude.)

EVRART CLAIRE - "What was always going to happen. We take the harbour and she fucks off to Ozonne, uncorks a bottle of wine, calls her partners and says they need to distance themselves from this nasty business before the big shit spinner splashes everyone."

"Only difference is the Union doesn't have to lose 2,000 men to machine gun fire."

[iamarealkat]

SECOND COURSE - KITCHEN

(or at least the main parts i recognized)

mads mikkelsen and lydia hearst for "euroman", april 2010 by kenneth willardt.

1. GE Monogram 36" Rangetop

First up, the rangetop. Unlike a cooktop, which sets into a pre-cut space in a counter or island, a rangetop overflows the sides and extends beyond the boundaries of the counter with front-facing knobs. This unit in particular is the GE Monogram 36" Rangetop (ZGU366NPSS), with an MSRP of $3400, reversible grates, and six 18,000 BTU power boil burners.

2. 30" GE Monogram Tri-Zone Counter Depth Integrated Refrigerator

Next, a dual installation of 30" GE Monogram Tri-Zone Counter-Depth Integrated Refrigerators (ZIC30GNHIl, shown with optional custom panels for seamless appearance). With an MSRP of $6999 each, these units are made more shallow, known in the industry as counter-depth, to integrate properly with standard cabinetry. Featuring fridge, freezer, and convertible middle-drawer climate zones, this unit has a capacity of 14.09 cu. ft. overall, per unit. It has two separate sealed systems for constant temperature control, and uses the first HFC-Free refrigerant, which has a lower global-warming impact.

3. 30" GE Monogram European Convection Double Wall Oven

A 30" GE Monogram European Convection Double Wall Oven (ZET2SHSS). An MSRP of $5300, with two 5.0 cu. ft. capacity oven cavities. With easy-to-clean all-glass interior door panels, both self-clean and steam-clean options, ten-pass baking elements, and two True European Convection ovens, these units boast convection bake and roast features with closed-door broiling as to not overheat a kitchen, and a built-in temperature probe for perfectly cooked roasts. It also offers a proof mode to assist dough-rising for avid bakers, convection conversion as to not overcook standard recipes, can be monitored remotely with use of a smart phone and GE's WiFi Connect app, and is programmable in both Celsius and Fahrenheit.

4. GE Monogram 240v Built In Oven with Advantium Speedcook Technology

Behold, the GE Monogram 240v Built In Oven with Advantium Speedcook Technology (ZSC2201JSS).

This bad chicken has an MSRP of $3200 and has settings for Speedcook, microwave, convection, and warming. What the hell is Speedcook? It's a combination of microwaves and convection, delivering results up to eight times faster than conventional cooking, and without the need for pre-heating. This thing can reheat, microwave, toast, brown, bake, and gently warm to your heart's content, and has the ability to remember custom recipes.

5. 30" GE Monogram Warming Drawer

Next up, the 30" GE Monogram Warming Drawer (ZW9000SJSS). With an MSRP of $1600, this drawer has a 1.9 cu. ft. capacity, and has variable temperature settings of anything from 75*F to 230*F, and humidity controls from crisp to moist. Gross. It also has a half-rack so you can store more on the inside, and has ball-bearing glides so it pulls out and closes smoothly while making that soothing whoosh noise.

6. 24" GE Monogram Undercabinet Wine Reserve

We also have the 24" GE Monogram Undercabinet Wine Reserve (ZDWR240HBS). With a cool MSRP of $2000, undercabinet wine refrigerators are notoriously tricky because of their front-facing venting needs. If you suffocate refrigerators, even small ones, (like humans) they die.

This fridge features cooling settings suitable to red or white wines, full-extension sliding racks with both horizontal and vertical storage, and has a capacity of 5.5 cu. ft, or 57 bottles.

Hannibal also, apparently, does not believe in dishwashers-panel-ready, drawer-style or otherwise.

What he does believe in? Is coffee, apparently:

7. Royal Paris Vacuum Balancing Coffee Siphon by Royal Coffee Maker

This, dear Fannibals, is a Royal Paris Vacuum Balancing Coffee Siphon, specifically noted by Bryan Fuller to be crafted by Royal Coffee Maker.

Handmade by artisans with affordable materials such as genuine Baccarat Crystal, malachite, copper, obsidian, azurite, and plating of silver and 24k gold, these start at the low, low price of approximately $15,500.

Hannibal's model is the Royal Classic finished in silver, on a Piano Black base. It is, perhaps surprisingly or unsurprisingly, the most tasteful and least ostentatious of all available models.

This brings the approximate total of all Hannibal's kitchen appliances, plus or minus a few of the minor ones, to $45,000.

8. Additionally in his stolen borrowed home in Florence: La Cornue 43" CornuFé Range

In 1908, in the heart of Paris, Albert Dupuy ignited the flame of elite cuisine. It was there that Dupuy premiered the world's first convection oven. At the time, most ovens were mere flat-topped cavities that held racks suspended over a fire. The majority of people simply considered cooking to be heating food to eat. But Dupuy pondered: "What does it really mean to cook?" He developed his oven with a vaulted ceiling to usher heat around the food, rather than trapping it to burn beneath. To enable optimum precision, the oven drew upon the city gas lines that were winding their way to homes and street lamps throughout the City of Light. Dupuy christened the oven La Cornue after the French term cornue - the system for refining the gas that warmed the new creation.

Each range is made by hand and the labor is intensive. Each worker is a specialist, understanding the greater goal.

However they are not just craftsmen, but companions to each range along its journey from inception to crated final product. They are experts in steel, copper and brass, inspired by great design, working as a team to create an inspired tradition.

True excellence can only be achieved when every step in the process is in pursuit of perfection.

For over 100 years, La Cornue has continued to build upon Albert's initial convection innovation and they've expanded the designs and introduced new styles. As a result, the name La Cornue is supposed to represent a renowned spirit.

Hannibal's version runs about $10,000.

[darkwing-katy]

Lost in the Jungle - Oneshot

Pairing: Henry Gale/Ben Linus x Reader (non-romantic)

Word Count: 2,523

Summary: You’re lost in the massive jungle of the Island at night when you run into a stranger who may or may not want to kill you.

Just a short oneshot that wouldn’t get out of my head. I figured I’d post it today, 8/15, because, well, that’s a fun little LOST date right there. It’s been forever since I posted a reader insert. Good golly. Enjoy!

Tagging: @primosflowergarden

——————————————————————————-

You mutter a curse to yourself as you stumble over the fourth tree root of the night. “This was a dumb idea.” 

The trees tower above you, and though your eyes have long since adjusted, you can’t see beyond the trees that don’t immediately surround you. A breeze rustles the enormous leaves surrounding you and you freeze, unsure whether you actually heard something or imagined it. Your strained ears pick up no strange sounds, and, to be fair, there’s no way in hell you’re gonna see something that isn’t immediately in front of you, so you decide to continue in your attempt to find the camp.

“Just had to go on an adventure, didn’t you, (Y/N)?” you whisper as you reach a small clearing. It’s maybe fifteen, twenty feet across, but it’s a straight stretch where you’re probably not gonna be accosted by roots. That’s a bit of a relief, even if you have no frickin’ clue where you’re supposed to be going anymore. “Multiple people offered to go with you but noooooooo. ‘I can do it by myself’, you told them. Idiot. Moron. Imbecile. The absolute most stupid-ass decision you’ve ever made in your life, and that includes getting on the plane in the first place.”

You pause a step into the clearing in an attempt to reorient yourself. Idiot, you think. You’re just so tired of walking. You want to get home, you want to sit by the fire and be surrounded by people again. You want food that isn’t fruit. You want—

Your skin prickles uncomfortably despite the humidity. The sensation doesn’t pass, and you begin to wonder if there’s a wild animal nearby, watching you. What the hell are you supposed to do if another polar bear or boar charges at you? You don’t have a gun—and you wouldn’t know how to shoot it if you did. All you have is your backpack with two water bottles and a couple of bruised mangoes and bananas. Oh, and an extra pair of clothes, just because you never knew what was gonna happen on this godforsaken island. You suppose that if push came to shove, you could try to swing your backpack like a sling, but it’s liable to hurt you more than any animal.

Oh, shit, what if it’s the Monster? you wonder, and wish you hadn’t even thought of that because now every sound is the Monster—every breath of wind, every creak of the tree trunks, every crunch of footsteps—wait.

You stare ahead of you. You swear you heard something this time.

You wait, inhaling through your nose and breathing out your mouth as quietly as possible, even as your heart thuds in your ears. The longer you wait, the more you begin to wonder if you’ve finally gone crazy, if the steady diet of fresh fruits and fish mixed with constant fear of, well, everything, has made you hallucinate. You wouldn’t be the first of the survivors to do so. Everyone had seen Charlie’s madness with baby Aaron, and you’d heard rumors of others seeing things that weren’t there. No matter where people were, one thing held true, always: people loved to gossip.

You take in another breath, hold it for a moment, exhale it out. Probably nothing, you think, and you’ve almost convinced yourself of that. ‘Almost’, because right as you’re about to start walking again, a man stumbles out of the trees. 

You’ve never seen this man before, and that detail alone makes your stomach twist in apprehension. He’s wearing a torn shirt that exposes his right shoulder, where a white patch of gauze glows in what little light there is. There’s a dark splotch on the gauze that appears to be spreading, though not fast. He’s breathing fast, like he’s running from something. He doesn’t even notice you until he’s halfway through the little clearing, and then he freezes. His head tilts in your direction, and though you can’t see the color of his eyes, you know that he’s fixed them on you. You can feel them.

“Are you okay?” you ask without really meaning to, your eyes bouncing between the gauze and his face, which remains carefully blank. 

The man says nothing.

You lift your arm to point at his shoulder. “You look like you’re hurt. Do you need help or something?”

Still nothing, and the silence is filled with something ominous. You can taste it in the air between you.

He’s still staring at you, but he straightens, like he’s making himself taller, more intimidating. You catch a glint of something in his left hand. When you realize it’s a gun, you yourself become very, very still.

You don’t recognize him, and he has a gun. 

Jack had mentioned something about a prisoner in the hatch, someone that they were sure must be one of the Others. He’d given you all very little information about this supposed captive, but even without any identifying traits, you know this must be him. This is the man from the hatch, the Other.

Why is he out?

More importantly, how did he get a gun?

He hasn’t looked away from you since the moment he saw you, his eyes tracking every movement you make. He is still panting, but he looks like he’s working hard to steady his breathing, like he doesn’t want you to think he’s weak.

Your eyes adjust to him in the darkness, and you can see just how beaten up this man is. He has little cuts all over his face—his lips, his nose, his forehead. He might have a dark eye, but you can’t tell in this lighting. 

He must be so scared, you think, then chastise yourself. He must be scared? Hell, I’m scared! But as scared as you are, as afraid as you are of the gun in his hand, you find yourself feeling some sympathy for the poor man. Sure, the Others had attacked you. Sure, the Others had stolen Claire and killed Scott. Sure, they were a constant threat that hung over the entire group, but how would you feel if you were in his place? How would you feel if you’d finally escaped from the people you saw as villains and then you had the misfortune to run into one in your escape?

Slowly, as if trying to show the man that you weren’t about to do anything to hurt him, you take your backpack off of your shoulders. “Hey. You’re the guy from the hatch, right? The one Jack told us about?”

He neither nods nor shakes his head. Just stares, his eyes digging deep into you.

“I have water in my bag. Do you want it?”

He blinks, but that’s it. You take that to mean yes, so you drop the bag to the ground. You keep your chin pointed at him as you unzip it and rummage around for the full water bottle. “I don’t have any weapons in here, in case you’re afraid of that,” you say in a soft voice. “Just food, water, and extra clothes.”

Silence. But he hasn’t lifted the gun to you, which has to count for something, right? You feel the plastic of the large water bottle and lift it up, holding it out to the man. He looks at it, finally taking his eyes off of you, but he doesn’t make any move to accept it.

Maybe he’s scared of you, you think to yourself. Maybe he thinks you’re about to attack him.

With what? you counter mentally. What am I gonna do? Throw mangoes at him? That’d be a waste of good mangoes!

You feel around until you touch the cool skin of a banana. Slowly, you lift that out as well. It’s a little bruised from the bottles, but it’s still edible. You leave the backpack opened on the ground as you get back to your feet, palms out to show him that you have nothing in hand. He watches as you pick up the water bottle and the banana, watches as you inch forward until you’re halfway between him and your bag. You set the items down on the ground and back away equally as cautiously. “In case you’re hungry,” you say. 

“Why?” he asks, and there’s a sharp edge to his voice. In that single word, he’s cut into you, but hey! at least he hasn’t shot you.

You shrug as you feel for your backpack with your heel. “Because you look like you need it,” you reply.

His gaze is still suspicious, but he puts the gun in his waistband as he steps forward and bends down to pick up the water and the banana. He twists the cap off and lifts it to his lips. As he guzzles the water, he keeps those eyes locked on you, and you know that if you do anything he doesn’t like, he’ll have no hesitation in shooting you.

He’s chugged half of the water when he puts the lid back on. He doesn’t peel the banana but puts it in the pocket of his cargo shorts. “Keep your hands where I can see them,” he commands, and you obey.

Oh, shit, is he gonna capture me now? That would be just my luck, you think with some bitterness.

The man takes a wary step towards you, then another, and another. It’s like he’s checking to make sure you’ll listen to him. You keep your hands out, palms open, fingers splayed wide like a high-five. He reaches you, and you hold your breath, certain that he’s going to try and knock you out or something, and you notice that his shirt is an orangish color because you’re so close to him, but then he’s passed you by. His head turns as he walks so that he’s keeping you in his line of sight. When he reaches the opposite side of the clearing, the direction you’d just came from, he pauses. He turns his entire body towards you, and you tense.

This is the moment where he shoots me, you suddenly realize in despair. This is it. This is how I die. Showing kindness to one of the Others.

Man, this is such a stupid way to go.

You squeeze your eyes shut and wait for the gunshot. There’s no use in running—if he’s one of them, then he probably knows how to chase you, how to kill you, how to hide the body so no one will ever know. You’ll just have disappeared, another victim of the wild jungle. 

“Why?” you hear.

You open one eye, then the other. The man is looking at you, his head once more tilted at that curious angle like he’s not yet decided what to do about you.

“Uhm,” you say, confused. “Why what?”

“Why are you helping me?”

“Uhhhh. Because you’re hurt? And because…” your eyes flick to the gauze, now shadowed but still visible on his shoulder. “Because I’d want someone else to do the same for me if the situation was reversed.”

“Hmm,” is all he says, but he’s still looking at you. You feel the weight of his gaze, some strange unspoken bond forming between you two. “I suppose that’s as good a reason as any.”

He turns away from you, his hand never once reaching for the gun at his waistband. You’re still waiting with bated breath, unsure if he might abruptly change his mind, but he’s almost vanished into the darkness by now.

“Wait!” you call.

You see his dark form stop, his shoulders tensing, but he doesn’t look back at you. 

“I hope you find your people.”

His shoulders relax.

“Thank you,” you hear him say. His voice is less strong now, but then again, he’s not facing you and he’s a few feet away. He’s not speaking loudly, either.

And then he’s gone, a ghost that was never there. The only proof you have of his existence are your memories and the fact that your backpack weighs less than it had before. You exhale a sigh of relief—you’re not dead. It’s possible this is a cruel trick, but you’re going to choose to believe otherwise. You can’t stand here all night worrying that he’s gonna suddenly pop out and shoot you; you need to get back to the camp. Back to your people.

You turn, though your ears are straining to hear anything that might indicate the man’s return. You pull your bag back up and cross to the opposite side of the clearing, the direction he’d come from.

At least now you have a good idea of where you need to go to get back home.

It’s about an hour later when you run into John Locke and Mr. Eko. John is hobbling along, trying his best to keep up with the other man, but it’s clearly difficult for him, from the way you see the sweat trickling down his face in their torchlight. “(Y/N)!” he exclaims. 

“Hey, John. Mr. Eko.” You give them a nod in greeting. “Nice night for a trek through the jungle.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve seen Henry anywhere recently, have you?”

“Who’s Henry?” you ask, even as you understand that this must be the name of the man you’d encountered.

“He’s, uh, our man in the hatch.”

“The one Jack told us about the other day?”

“Yeah. He, uh, he escaped about an hour ago. I don’t suppose you’ve seen him, have you?”

“John, we do not have time for this,” Mr. Eko warns, his voice deep and rumbling. He steps towards you with purpose and gives you a nod as he passes by. 

You look back at John and shake your head. “Nope. Sorry. I’ve been lost in the jungle for the last few hours and I’m just now finding my way back. Haven’t seen anyone aside from you two.”

You’re not sure why you’re lying, but it’s too late now to do otherwise. You’ve committed to this. As John sighs in dejection, you think back to the man—Henry—and his shoulder, the cuts and bruises all over him. You didn’t think he deserved to be beaten up or even killed. You’d been bothered enough when you’d learned that Charlie had killed one of them, even if Ethan had been a horrible, horrible man.

John staggers past you, following Mr. Eko. “Sorry,” you say to him. 

He holds up a hand. “It’s fine, (Y/N). It was a long shot anyway.”

“Good luck looking for him.”

“Thanks.”

And then they, too, are gone into the jungle. You can recognize where you are now, even though it’s still dark. You’re close to the hatch, which means all you have to do is turn a little bit and keep walking and then you’ll be back at camp.

You gnaw on your lips as you walk. I really hope I don’t regret this, you think.

You’re surprised to find that you don’t, even when you learn the next morning about Libby and Ana Lucia’s deaths.

Henry might be a killer, but he didn’t kill you, and that’s gotta mean something, right?

[snugglylime]

Isla Sorna AU Snippet

Based on this post

Miraculously, no one dies.

Not so miraculously, they don’t shipwreck on a Costa Rican beach. The vegetation and humidity here are similar enough to that of Isla Nublar that for a moment Ben wonders if they somehow managed to make one big circle and end up right back where they started. 

But the beach is hopelessly vacant of docks and stretches on for miles, lined on one side by a smattering of jagged rocks and on the other by a bright green spill of jungle. Beyond the jungle is a fold of mountains bulging against the sky, a stark contrast to the lone peak of Mt. Sibo on Isla Nublar. 

Which means this can’t be Isla Nublar. 

As he scrambles up the sand and away from the harsh surf, he tries to remember the maps he’d studied before the trip. Jurassic World, Isla Nublar, a lone island off the coast of Costa Rica. There’s nothing between Isla Nublar and Costa Rica to the North or East and going too far West would strand them in the Pacific. They must’ve gotten turned around and gone South, in the exact opposite direction of Costa Rica. 

“Kenji!” Ben shouts half mad, half wild.

It’s unfair of him to pin the blame on Kenji rather than whoever put Kenji in charge, but he’s the one who lost the compass and got them turned around. So much for yacht experience. 

Kenji’s head pokes up from where he’s sprawled on the sand looking like a dead starfish. “Look man, I know this isn’t great-”

“Isn’t great?” Ben laughs mirthlessly. “Isn’t great? We’re going to die because of you!”

“Ben,” Sammy rushes forward on her hands and knees and grabs his shoulder. “It’s not his fault. It was an accident.”

“He was careless,” Ben insists. “And now we’re shipwrecked on an island we definitely won’t survive on.”

Everyone goes silent. Even Sammy, who usually braves things with a smile, turns ashen. It’s an unspoken fact that Ben is the survivalist of the group, and if he sees the situation as hopeless, then it must be so. 

“We can’t just give up,” Darius says. “If we can just get our bearings-”

“You don’t get it,” Ben groans in exasperation. “There were supplies on Isla Nublar. Food, shelter, weapons. We survived because InGen tamed the island. Here we have nothing.”

“That’s not true,” Sammy says. “A few cans washed up-”

“That’s not enough!” Ben snaps. 

“Ben,” suddenly Yaz is at his side. “Cut it out. I’d rather not spend my last few hours alive listening to you babble about how screwed we are.”

That shuts him up. He hadn’t expected anyone to agree outright with his pessimism. He’s used to their exhausting optimism and refusal to believe that things won’t turn out all right in the end. But when he turns to look at her, all he sees is the slight tremble of her lips. 

Oh. 

He glances around. Everyone is waterlogged, downcast, and exhausted. They certainly don’t need him to tell them what’s already glaringly obvious. 

They’re going to die. 

[fairy-verse]

What's the fairies' opinion about hybrids? Are they ok with them or do they see them as weird and hard to accept in their community?

The season fairies try their best at accepting hybrids within their communities, but sometimes they’re unable to properly hide their feelings for them. It’s not that they inherently dislike them, it’s just that hybrids are sometimes a little odd, with strange behaviours and moods, that sort of thing. Some hybrids are good at playing pretend and ignoring the part of themselves that is the weakest, but for some, this becomes difficult to impossible, and they struggle with finding a place to fit in. Often, they’re left on the outside. Some become guards near the borders and keep to themselves, others leave the land of the Firstborn altogether and find themselves a new home on the island. What happens to these hybrids is rarely documented.

There are two hybrids I may mention that have similar, yet different life experiences. One has equal parts of two seasons within himself, whilst the other has more from one side than the other. So, let’s take a look at both Cross and Killer.

Cross struggles. Summer is too hot; winter is too cold. His mother was a summer fairy who gave birth to him within Error’s Mountain halls, but even so he never fully adapted to living there. The mountain felt claustrophobic, and when he tried to go back with her to Dream’s valley, then he found himself somewhat uncomfortable with the heat and humidity, not to mention that the moss-clad forest felt confusing and dizzying. His parents didn’t stay together either, so he’s never felt the comfort of living in a nest where two loving caregivers coddle him until he’s old enough to fly. His mother tried her best to give him what he needed as a young faerling, but when she tragically passed from an unexpected troll attack to their nest, then he was instead forced to go back and live with his father, who in contrast to his mother wasn’t quite as nurturing.

He is an example of a hybrid who doesn’t quite fit in anywhere, and these hybrids tend to not live for long, as loneliness and grief tend to make their Souls weak. It is only because he found a home in Dream that he began to flourish and grow stronger.

Unknown to Cross, and everyone else for that matter, is that his father is not a pure-born winter fairy but is instead also a hybrid of his own. Cross’s soul is much stronger than he believes, thanks to the magic that intertwined perfectly with what he got from his mother and father.

Killer thrives. He is a hybrid who has more from one side than the other, and therefore he’s able to pretend and fool other fairies into believing that he’s just a quirky spring fairy with a knack for grace and elegance, when he wishes it. His mother was an autumn fairy who chose to make a nest with his father at the border separating Nightmare and Ink’s domains. There they raised Killer in loving comforts, and although his mother tried to teach him the slow ways of the autumn fairies, he was much more inclined to follow his father to cause mischief. He loves to play and tease, and there is nothing more he enjoys than pestering the Big Folk and drinking their blood; laughing as he sees their paranoia settle as his painful bite causes their Souls to become more open to the magic of the world around them, though they believe they’re hallucinating and growing mad.

Killer was still young when his mother was tragically caught by the Big Folk, and while he acts like it never bothered him that much, it is clear in the way he began to fully distance himself from his autumn side that it secretly pained him. He became so used to acting like a pure spring fairy that he himself began to think that he was one. By the time he caught sight of Nightmare, he’d nearly forgotten everything his mother had taught him, but to properly court the Firstborn of autumn, he knew he had to incorporate that long-neglected side of himself, and well… It felt good to be graceful and slow in the way he danced, and it was with this rediscovering of himself that he was able to catch Nightmare’s eye.

[starseeeed]

precipice

kitty cat says meow!

wrote something on a03, and i'm postin her here cuz i like the duality (cue sunglasses emoji)

synopsis: levi is ur roomie and ur horny. boom. no character description, purely reader insert. : )

The air outside on a Saturday afternoon is hot and sticky, sun beating down causing a bead of sweat to trickle down your temple. You shut the door with a huff, the same newfound sense of relief as the AC cools your cheeks.

Stomping down the tile hallway, you drop the brown, paper bag onto the kitchen island, reaching up to wipe your brow in one fluid motion.

A sigh leaves you. Not only because of the humidity and pure heat in August, but because of the unshakeable twitch in your gut that simply won’t fade.

All of your laundry is washed, folded, and put away. Dishes scrubbed and dried to perfection. Room vacuumed, sheets anew. You even dusted your blinds. And finally, three painstakingly boring orgasms later did you go get groceries. In your prettiest, sage green sundress. Music blasting from your car to your wireless headphones, twirling about in Trader Joes as you pick up both you and your roommate’s favorite snacks, eyelids twinkling with glitter.

And yet that throbbing tick in your gut won’t leave.

You might as well be a bear, with all of the itch but no good tree in sight to scratch it.

Dating apps are boring, all of your hookups’ phone numbers in the garbage (even the good ones, too). Your vibrator’s highest setting can’t settle you.

The contemplation of taking a risk for a potentially good fuck on Bumble, or Tinder, maybe even Hinge plays on your mind. But the boys are so boring. So abrupt. Annoying. There is nothing to them that relieves that itch in the slightest through the screen of your phone.

And you don’t plan on taking an risks anytime soon.

So your favorite juice, favorite frozen meal (yes, the TJ’s version of Bagel Bites) and a pint of banana pudding ice cream with chocolate sauce on the side to drizzle onto each layer while you watch Fast and Furious: Tokyo Drift is your only option left.

The dress stays on. If you’re going to be sexually frustrated while eating and watching the most unrelated sequel, you might as well look like a fairy while doing it.

One can of sparkling seltzer, an opened and displayed plate of off brand Bagel Bites, and one spoon, banana pudding ice cream, and chocolate sauce on the side later, and you’re curled up on the couch. Lights dimmed, curtains closed from the sunset, and blanket wrapped tightly around you, the screen plays. It’s bright in your face, loud and bouncing from the surround sound system as you shove the first circle of cheese and sauce into your mouth.

“Don’t get any crumbs on the couch.”

Your neck twists towards the kitchen, one of your cheeks full of yet to be chewed baby pizza, eyes wide.

Levi’s face twists at the sight.

“Hey hey.”

His lip curls ever so slightly as you greet him through your mouth full of whatever the fuck you’re eating. You cheese at him sheepishly after you swallow.

Levi, your roommate, takes a cautionary step forward, looking at your setup.

Levi, your roommate.

Technically, you’re his roommate. It’s his apartment, you simply signed the lease agreement and funnel expenses his way so long you have a play to eat, shit, sleep, and lounge about in.

The two of you don’t chat much, albeit for simple small talk, confused, disgusted glances shot back and forth (as in he makes weird faces when you do you things), or on the rare occasion, sit and watch a few movies on the weekends.

Based on the way he’s in those pair of sweats, that black t-shirt, and sits on the other end of the sectional, tonight is one of those rare nights. And you might not be so mad about it if it wasn’t for the way the fringe of his hair falls just above his brow, how his undercut is newly faded, or how the tight, dark fabric clings to his chest- not soothing your escapism attempt in the slightest.

He looks you up and down, eyes hard and focused. You pretend it’s because you look pretty and not because you know he sees the small speck of processed pizza dough on his charcoal grey couch.

Even though you know the truth, a shiver kisses your spine nonetheless. You welcome it, praying it’ll soothe that ache in your gut, between your legs.

It doesn’t.

“Again?” He asks, motioning to the movie playing upon the screen. A shrug is thrown his way, chewing another baby pizza angrily and swallowing it with fervor. His voice is so gruff, but so soft and smooth. The way it makes your thighs clench has you wanting to wring his throat.

You hum, taking a sip of the seltzer that has way too much bubble in it.

“Unless you want to watch a cringe compilation?”

His silence says it all. No.

Sinking into a comfortable silence, Levi watches the movie with that same, bored complexion while you gobble the rest of your rip off Bagel Bites and gulp your little seltzer. Left is the banana pudding ice cream, you always save the best for last.

You uncap it, drizzling a copious amount of chocolate sauce on top before taking a spoonful and shoving that into your mouth, too. Mouthful after mouthful, you fail to notice the furrow in your brows, the redness in the apples of your cheeks as you go through the layers of chocolate sauce and creamy, banana goodness. Not until you hear a scoff of a laugh from the end of the couch.

Shooting Levi a gaze, you mumble a little what through another spoonful of ice cream.

He shrugs in that nonchalant way, a ghost of a grin on his lips.

“Are you stressed, or just starving?”

A purse of your lips in contemplation, a sigh later, you nod. “A little stressed.” You say with a tiny shrug of indignation.

At the admission, he turns himself to you. And internally, you groan at the sight of the skin-tight material dangling the tightness of his abdomen at you, like a fish with a worm gorily stabbed and wrung onto a hook.

He’s waiting, he knows you. Well, not a lot, but Levi is a scarily perceptive person. Like that time you were crying in the kitchen and all his did was look at you, the phone in your hand, and wearing that pretty little dress before asking who exactly just canceled on you. Or that time when you mentioned your favorite color and he stoically described what type of person enjoys that color to a T.

“It’s nothing, really.” It’s not nothing. He knows that. You of all people inside of your body (hopefully it’s just one person) know that it’s nothing.

Levi hums in anticipation.

It sounds like silk. And you about reel your head back and slam it into the couch cushion because of the way it has your core kissing the nerves aligning and swirling between your legs.

Usually, you can ignore these little bites of attraction you feel for Levi. Or go cum to it and feel embarrassed enough to not look him in the face for the next couple of days.

But right now, your cheeks are heated and your toes are curling in your purple cow socks because of the way his gaze is pointed towards you, those little noises fluttering passed his lips.

The bass of the music masks your heartbeat and sharp intake of breath as he leans forward, angling himself towards you more. He’s five or so feet apart, but his stare rests on the prickles of your neck, as if he was blazing a trail of imaginary kisses there himself.

“Well.” Levi’s gaze follows the way your dart your own around the living room, causing you to let out a hot breath of air.

“You know when like,” your lips purse as you tiptoe, “you do something and it still doesn’t fix the problem?”

The bass booms, and Levi reaches towards the remote to mute it.

How can someone’s face be so bored yet so intense and aligned at the same time? His eyes are slanted, lips flat into a natural frown, and yet he is turned and tuned into you fully. It has a crackle of fire lighting in your stomach, and you physically shuffle to accommodate the feeling.

“Mhm.” He eggs, waiting. Levi is natural with power, morphing and holding such a thing on the tip of his finger. He sucks you in, wanting you to lean forward and just simply beg. Just beg.

You let out a shaky sigh, shooting him a glare you can hardly muster. Can’t he just figure it out? Why do you have to speak under his stare like that?

“Like,” you huff, frowning, “you try all the things to extinguish something but it’s still there?”

His brows furrow as he tries to decode your words, and you relish the way his lips dip and the small wrinkle on his forehead comes into light.

“Okay?” Levi says expectantly. He wants you to spell it out, to spit it out. It annoys you, but continues to ignite the electricity cackling in your core all the same.

With a little groan, you give him a look. His expression doesn’t change, letting the silence fall over the two of you.

The cars on the highway outside your apartment complex beep, honk, and skirt, the fridge hums and the AC blows into the living room. But the goosebumps aren’t from the cold air.

It wouldn’t be so hard to rant about it if it simply weren’t Levi. It would be like talking about your problem to the problem.

You say it anyway.

“It’s just been a minute.” Your voice is so soft it might as well have come from a mouse, the crumbs of cheese and bread on your plate much more interesting than the grey of Levi’s eyes had been just moments ago.

When you look up, you get to see his face change for the second time tonight (it’s a record, you think). His eyebrows are raised in the slightest, eyes widening a fraction as he puts two and two together.

Then he snorts, and your mouth gapes in mortification at the sound.

“You’re binging ice cream because you’re horny?”

After the bubble has been popped, you outwardly groan, letting the back of your head fall into the cushion of the couch.

“It sounds dumb when you say it like that.”

His scoff is his language for saying Well? It is dumb.

You wave your hand in dismissal, praying the warmness in your face and neck chill soon.

“Fuck off and unmute the movie.”

He does, and silence falls over the two of you once more.

Levi stands, and your stomach sinks.

After he walks away, you crush yourself into the couch as you let the rounds of gunfire on the speaker pummel into your brain in hopes that your humiliation will dissipate. Maybe he thinks you’re stupid and superficial now, all strung up on sex and orgasms and ice cream and-

Oh, fuck.

The seat of the couch dips, and your head boops against Levi’s godly sculpted shoulder.

Your head sharp shoots to him, but he’s staring at the screen as if his hips weren’t mushing next to yours.

Levi hates this movie. But his eyes are twinkling as he gazes forward, raising his arm and placing it atop the cushion behind your head. It tingles as the pads of his fingers barely brush across the top of your head.

The air is thick, confusion plastered to your face as your gaze settles upon the screen in synch with him.

You can’t breathe when you feel the matter in space dip, his facing leaning close to yours as he tilts himself to whisper into your ear.

By god, whoever created you, it’s been a year and a half living with this enigma and now you get to hear him whisper?

“Do you want some help?”

Want? Some?

You need to take whatever- all he gives you with a smile, a nod, and his dick down your throat in thanks.

The little nod isn’t enough for Levi, no.

“Hm?” It’s patronizing, the way he hums to you. He has to know you want it. That you’ve wanted it.

“Yes, please.” You preen, finding the strength to stare up at him with slanted, pleading eyes. They glimmer like stars in the bleak living room, you like to think. A perfect match for that pliant, barely visible pout on your face.

Levi nods once, satiated.

His other hand grabs ahold of your cheeks, turning your head to face back at the TV screen. He leans back, settling that hand down onto his thigh, letting his other arm resting atop the couch cushion come down and wrap around your shoulder, yanking you closer.

The little squeak doesn’t go unheard as your face mushes against the side of his chest, the fabric of your dress rising up on your thighs as Levi molds your body against his. You shuffle to adjust, resting against him with a newfound, booming heartbeat nestled into your core.

Once you settle, you hear the upturn of his lips as he murmurs, “There we go.”

Your nervous system might as well be singing your gut is clenching so hard from the subtle praise. How is he so calm right now? You guess because he has the upper hand. Part of you is psyched, that internal bet as to whether he was more controlling or pleading to be controlled working in your favor.

Perhaps he’s both. There isn’t an ounce of courage to muster within you to take the lead, though. It’s his game, you’re just a happy player following the rules.

A few heavy beats of your heart later, and his hand is sliding from his thigh to yours. Levi’s fingers toy and twiddle with the fabric of your dress, soft as silk as it weaves between his digits. They feel as though they’re planting kisses to your inner thighs, and you choke a breath with each teasing motion. The thumb that rests on your shoulder brushes against your bare skin, the gentle swipe having you on fire. You must be hot to the touch.

The sounds of heavy engines and ego cock fights resound on the screen, your cheek still mushed against Levi’s chest. You’re still, short circuiting at the revelation that he’s next to you, leaning against you, touching you.

Levi probably has a shit eating expression on his face. Maybe that’s what it takes for him to smile- a girl at his disposal to toy around with as he pleases while she sputters and warms beneath him like a freshly poured potion. You don’t look up at him, too afraid to shiver and soak the couch at the sight of such a face.

“You’re so quiet.” He observes, the pure smugness in his tone as you hitch a whine once his fingers stop toying with the hem of your dress and push his hand under it, searching for the lace lining your cotton panties.

His index finger hooks the outlining fabric at your inner thigh, running through it until he reaches the apex of a prominently damp spot on the crotch of your panties. You can’t contain the mewl that bubbles your throat as his finger taps it not once but twice, teasing the bundle of nerves.

“That’s why,” Levi muses. You want to bottle up the way his voice sounds and keep it on a jewel encrusted pedestal.

Your legs shift, parting in the slightest for him to do as pleases. The sage green material of your dress hikes up further, presenting your delicious inner thighs for Levi to ogle at. And naturally, you shift under his gaze.

Two of his fingers happily press down onto your clothed clit, meandering a slow, deliberate circle around it. And Jesus Christ, Gods above, the way you casually twitched at such an innocent touch has Levi barking a soft laugh.

He does it again, and a third time. Pressing down into the soft, damp fabric and tracing languid circles against your clit. And you mewl each time, on of your legs up and foot resting into the couch as the other one dangles off of the couch for his access.

Levi hums, content as you press yourself further into his chest. He’s practically caging you, reaching across to play with your clit through your panties. It’s all you need.

“You’re wet just like that, hm?”

The daydreaming, absent googly eyes and hearing his voice for the last year and a half was enough foreplay for you, so yeah, you’re going to get wet and cum just like that. By the baritone in his voice, he knows it, too.

“Yeah,” you whimper, moving your hips up to meet his fingers. Levi doesn’t have to play nice, you want to tell him. But when you do that, having the pads of his index and middle finger push further, press harder, against your clit, he knows that, too.

Another hum vibrates your ear that is intently listening to his steady heartbeat, a lullaby combined with his soothing, borderline scarily-accurate precision of touch, and he’s complying, pressing harder into the cotton fabric to give you a more pressured swirl.

You sigh, eyes hazy and dazed as you continue to fixate on the screen while pressure builds in your gut. It’s a scarily quick build, as if this were some sort of wet dream where a man touches you and you come undone just like that.

If you’re being real, Levi is a wet dream disguised as some stoic asshole who makes you get up at 7 in the morning to wipe down a coffee stain from the previous night.

But this isn’t a dream. This is your hot, broody and nonchalant roommate rubbing firm circles into your clit that preens beneath the fabric of your panties. Those panties. A soft cotton white with the cute, pink bow at the top. Levi likes them, you think, by the way he traces the lace hem with his eyes. You still don’t look at him, but his gaze is fixed from the corner of your eye.

It’s tantalizing, focused. You feel like a painting, Levi mixing the colors just right before slathering them onto an open canvas. There’s a feeling in your gut, just as your orgasm ripples through your gut, that this right now is just the base layer of oil paint.

Slightly damp, willing, ready, and made to be messed with and tweaked later.

“There you go,” he murmurs, the softest quirk of his lips showing that he sees your inner thighs twitching in just the slightest.

Your breaths are shaky, whimpers and mewling tumbling out into thin air as Levi brings you to the precipice of release, fingers rubbing gently against your clit to work you through your orgasm.

Pleasure seethes through you, feeling the sweet feeling bubbling and expanding through your nervous system. Your shoulders slump, cheek pressed and mushed against your roommate’s chest as you fall gracefully from your high.

A few moments later, Levi’s fingers pull back, letting them lay back on his clothed thigh.

“Better?” He asks, picking up the remote and turning up the volume. He’d turned it down, you guess. There’s no move to make you get up, so you nestle yourself there, eyes fluttered but mouth agape.

You can only nod. The soft vibration of his chuckle sounds has your cheeks glowing, heating once more.

“Yeah, better.”