#it started out about life and then somehow in that stream of thought I wanted to remember this specific quote I read in a fic once

[coolemmasulivan2]

A Beautiful Mess | 1

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Two neighbors who can’t stand each other, until an accidental kiss changes everything.

Word count: 2846

You can read part 2 here, part 3 here and part 4 here.

But close ain't close enough 'Till we cross the line So name a game to play And I'll roll the dice, hey

You and Lando Norris had a problem with each other. There was no denying it. Something about the other person made your skin prickle with irritation, like an itch you couldn't scratch.

You were a Monegasque kindergarten teacher, a job that suited you perfectly. You adored kids. Their joy and innocence made your life simpler.

Monaco had always been your sanctuary: peaceful, elegant, yours. But that changed the moment Lando moved in next door a few years back.

You got along with everyone. It was just who you were. Friendly, patient, easygoing. But him? He was the exception. Loud, cocky, and an absolute menace of a neighbor. Even if he spent most of the year traveling, when he was home, he made sure you knew. The roaring engines, the late-night laughter, the endless stream of people coming and going. It was chaos wrapped in luxury.

He could've lived anywhere. He had the money. But somehow, out of all the places in Monaco, he chose your building.

"I guess Lando's back?" Your sister said, raising an eyebrow as loud music blasted from the apartment next door.

You let out a deep sigh, chopping vegetables with more force than necessary. "He's been back for a while… unfortunately."

A smirk tugged at her lips. "Let me guess, he did something already?"

"Oh, just parked in my spot today. Again." You shot her an exasperated look before slamming the knife against the cutting board. "Someday I'll kill him. I swear."

She chuckled. "Maybe he's running out of places to park his collection."

"I don't care!" You huffed. "He's a billionaire, he can buy a garage. Or better yet, move to a bigger place and stop being my problem."

"You know he does all of this just to piss you off, right?" Your sister said as she sat at the dining table, watching you set down the salad. "You should just ignore him."

"I know!" You groaned, sinking into the chair across from her. "But I can't. He's impossible to ignore. He knows exactly how to push my buttons."

Lando and Max were deep into a racing simulator session, music blasting through the apartment as they waited for their food to be ready.

It was Max's turn on the sim, but the pounding music was messing with his concentration. "Dude, the music... turn it down." He grumbled, eyes locked on the screen.

Lando barely glanced up from his phone. "Why?"

"Because I can't focus! It's too damn loud." Max tried to keep his attention on the race. "Someone's going to complaine about the noise." Then a thought struck him. He paused the race and shot Lando a knowing look. "Wait a second… You want this, don't you?"

Lando shrugged. "No idea what you're talking about."

Max scoffed. "Bullshit. You're trying to piss her off. You want her to came here. That's why the music's so loud. What's your problem with her?"

Lando smirked, eyes flicking back to his phone. "It's fun watching her all worked up."

Max shook his head, half amused, half exasperated. "You know, she's actually really nice."

Lando snorted. "To you and everyone else. Not to me."

"Yeah, because you're an asshole."

Lando finally dropped his phone onto the desk and leaned back in his chair. "She's been like that since day one. She started it."

"And instead of finding out why, you just decided to make things worse." Max said, shaking his head. "Classic you!"

Before Lando could fire back, a knock on the door echoed through the apartment.

His smirk widened. "Told you, she can't stay away." He pushed up from his seat, heading for the door.

Max groaned, calling after him, "Dude, be nice, please!"

You bit your nails, pacing as you waited for Lando to answer his door. Normally, you were a calm and patient person. But Lando Norris had a talent for bringing out the absolute worst in you. And the worst part? He enjoyed it. You knew he did.

Inside your apartment you heard the door finally open.

"Hi!" Your sister's voice rang out, soft and sweet, just like she always was. Unlike you, she had never raised her voice in frustration, not even to assholes like Lando.

"Oh, hi!" Lando's voice dripped with warmth, and you immediately rolled your eyes. Of course, he could turn on the charm when he wanted to.

"Sorry to bother you…"

"No problem!" He said. You nearly gagged.

"Could you turn the music down a little?" Your sister asked politely.

"Yeah, of course. Sorry about that, I didn't even realize it was that loud. Really, I'm so sorry."

Your jaw nearly hit the floor.

You had stood at his door countless times, asking the same thing, and every single time, he would gave you a cocky remark, or worst of all, he'd turned the music up louder just to spite you. But with your sister? He was suddenly the picture of politeness.

You were seconds away from storming out of your apartment to tell him exactly what you thought of his two-faced behavior, but your sister's voice stopped you.

"I appreciate it. Goodnight."

"Goodnight!" Lando replied smoothly. You let out a deep breath, leaning your head against the wall in frustration. Your sister had just started pushing the door open when Lando added: "Oh, and say hi to your sister for me."

That was it. You clenched your fists, shoving past your sister, ready to wipe that smug grin off his face, but before you could get a single word out, his door clicked shut.

"I hate him so much."

From the other side of the door, Lando grinned like an idiot, watching you through the peephole as you stomped away in frustration.

"There's just something special about pissing her off." He mused, clearly enjoying himself.

Max, standing behind him with his arms crossed, let out a sigh. "You're an idiot."

Two days had passed since your sister left for Rome, where she lived with her boyfriend. You were alone again, not that it bothered you. Your parents still lived in Monaco, in the house you grew up in, and you saw them almost every day.

One of the things you loved most about Monaco was being so close to the ocean. Every morning, as soon as you opened your bedroom window, you would close your eyes and breathe it in—the salty air, the gentle breeze, the familiar scent that made you feel at home. It was the perfect way to start the day, making your morning run that much easier.

Like always, before heading to work, you laced up your shoes and stepped outside. Today was no exception.

You had been running for a while, sweat clinging to your skin as your breath fell into a steady rhythm. The music playing softly in your ears didn't drown out the sounds of the city.

Lost in thought, you instinctively turned toward your building, crossing the road without a second glance.

The loud sound of tires screeching against the asphalt snapped you out of your trance. A rush of air whooshed past as a sleek car came to a sudden stop just inches from you. Your heart leaped into your throat, your body reacting before your mind caught up. You stumbled back and before you could stop yourself, you were on the ground.

The driver's side door swung open, and before you even looked up, you knew exactly who it was.

Lando stepped out, his expression a mix of worry and frustration, but before he could speak, you were already pushing yourself to your feet, your hands shaking slightly from the adrenaline.

"Are you insane?" You snapped, ripping your airpods out. "You almost ran me over!"

His brows shot up. "Me? You're the one who ran straight into the road without looking!"

You opened your mouth to argue, but the truth of his words sank in. Still, there was no way you were letting him win this. "Maybe if you weren't driving like a lunatic--"

Lando scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "Driving like a lunatic? I was literally pulling out of the garage."

You huffed, brushing the dirt off your leggings. "What if it was a kid crossing instead of me?"

"Then I would've stopped, just like I did now." He shot back. "But you... You didn't even look before stepping onto the road! What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that I wouldn't have to worry about being flattened by my obnoxious neighbor before eight in the morning!"

Lando shook his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You're unbelievable."

"You're infuriating."

"You're dramatic."

"You're--"

"Y/n?" A new voice cut through the tension, making both of you turn. Standing a few feet away was your kindergarten director. Dressed in his usual grey suit, he raised an eyebrow at the two of you. "Is everything alright?" He asked.

You cleared your throat, suddenly aware of how ridiculous this must have looked, standing in the middle of the street, flustered, sweaty, and arguing with a F1 driver.

"Yes, everything's fine!" You said quickly, forcing a polite smile.

Monsieur Bernard nodded, then glanced at Lando. "I didn't realize you knew such a famous driver, Y/n!" He stretched his hand and Lando shook it.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. "We're just neighbors."

Lando grinned. "Very close neighbors."

You shot him a glare, but before you could say anything, Monsieur Bernard continued. "You know, our little ones love racing. It would be wonderful if you could visit the school sometime, talk to the kids about it."

"Oh!" You forced a polite chuckle. "I'm sure Lando is far too busy. I wouldn't want to take up his time."

Lando, to your absolute horror, shrugged. "Actually, I think it's a great idea." You snapped your head toward him, eyes wide. "Yeah, why not? I've got some time before the season starts again. I'd love to come by."

Monsieur Bernard smiled. "That's wonderful! Y/n, can you please set everything up?" You smiled and nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Norris. It was nice to meet you."

"Likewise." As Monsieur Bernard walked away, you groaned, rubbing your temples. Lando chuckled, slipping his hands into his pockets. "See? I can be a good neighbor."

You exhaled sharply, turning on your heel toward your building. "I hope the kids throw paint at you."

Lando chuckled, watching you storm off, clearly frustrated with how the day had started. His gaze lingered for a moment longer than necessary and not even he could deny that your ass looked good on those leggings.

"Stop it, Lando!" He muttered to himself, shaking his head as if it would physically shake the thoughts away. "Don't go there."

With a deep breath, he slid back into his car, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary. Without another glance at the building, he drove off.

You lay in bed, scrolling through your phone, hoping to lull yourself to sleep. The soft glow of the screen was the only light in the room, your thumb moving lazily over the screen, until something in your feed made you pause.

Your eyes narrowed as you clicked on the reel. A fan edit of your annoying neighbor filled your screen, all set to a song that did nothing to make him look innocent. Quite the opposite.

Your breath hitched slightly, your eyes locked on the video as if trapped in some kind of trance. The way he carried himself, the confidence, the effortless charm-- No. Absolutely not.

The reel restarted, snapping you out of whatever trance had just taken over you. With a horrified gasp, you jolted upright, tossing your phone onto the bed like it had burned you.

"Ugh-- no. What the hell?" You threw a pillow at your phone, like the device was alive. "Even on my phone?" You groaned, burying your face in your hands.

This man was infiltrating every corner of your life. And you hated it.

The day had arrived.

The kids had been buzzing with excitement all week, their energy doubling ever since they learned that Lando Norris was coming to visit. It didn't matter that half of them were too young to understand F1, but the mere idea of someone fast and famous coming to their school had them bouncing off the walls. You, on the other hand, were bracing yourself for chaos.

You had done your best to keep the kids calm, but by the time the morning rolled around, they were practically vibrating with anticipation. What car does he drive? Will he let us race? Can he do drive in the playground?

And then, Lando arrived. Dressed in his McLaren clothes, sunglasses and wearing that signature smile.

The kids lost their minds. "Landoooooo!" The group rushed toward him, bombarding him with questions before he could even say a word.

"Whoa, whoa, one at a time!" Lando laughed, crouching down to be at their level.

You stood at a distance, arms crossed, watching as he handled the chaos with surprising ease.

"Can you drive faster than Batman?"

"Can we race you?"

"Do you get scared when you go super fast?"

Lando hesitated for a second, then grinned. "Sometimes! But that's what makes it exciting."

You rolled your eyes. Still, you couldn't deny that the kids adored him. They hung onto their seats, eyes wide with fascination as he described what it felt like to race at over 300 km/h, how he trained, and even how he sometimes got nervous before big races.

Somewhere in the middle of the chaos, you realized that Lando was actually good at this. He had their full attention, something you usually had to work twice as hard for.

And then, as if sensing your thoughts, he caught your eye from across the room and winked, making you gag.

Unfortunately for Lando, someone else caught the moment.

A little girl sitting nearby tilted her head curiously, her big eyes flicking between the two of you. "Is Miss Y/n your girlfriend?" She asked innocently.

Lando, who had just taken a sip of water, immediately started coughing. He nearly choked, hand flying to his chest as he struggled to recover. "What?"

You, on the other hand, wanted the earth to swallow you whole. The rest of the kids, now very interested, turned toward you both with excited expressions.

"Is that why you're here?" Another girl asked, eyes wide with curiosity.

"Do you live together?" A boy asked before Lando could even recover from the first question.

Lando, still slightly choking, looked horrified.

"Nope!" You cut in quickly, clapping your hands together in a desperate attempt to redirect the conversation. "Who wants to show Lando their artwork?"

A chorus of Me! Me! Me! erupted, and just like that, the kids forgot all about their matchmaking attempts, eagerly rushing to grab their drawings.

You let out a slow breath, glancing at Lando, who was still lightly hitting his chest.

"What the hell just happened?" He asked, his voice still uneven.

You crossing your arms. "They're kids, Lando! If you wink at their teacher, this is what you get."

"A vision of a nightmare?"

You shot him a glare. "Asshole!"

He smirked. "Such a dirty mouth for a kindergarten teacher."

Your jaw clenched. You took a deep breath, forcing a smile as sweet as honey. "And yet, still more mature than a F1 driver."

Lando grinned, leaning in just a little. "Debatable."

Before you could walk away from Lando, chaos erupted.

"Me first!"

"No, me!"

Two of the kids appeared out of nowhere, each clutching their artwork, too focused on their battle to notice where they were going. Straight into you.

You barely had time to react before they crashed into your legs, making you lose balance.

"Oh--"

Lando was sat in a chair right in front of you, and before you could steady yourself, you stumbled forward and fell right into him.

His hands instinctively came up to catch you, but it was too late. Your lips brushed against his. It was barely a touch, but enough to make the world stop.

The kids were still yelling, the classroom still buzzing with energy, completely unaware of what had just happened, but all you could register was the way your lips were still touching.

You quickly pulled back, eyes wide, heart racing. Lando blinked up at you, looking just as stunned, his lips slightly parted as if he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words.

You straightened, feeling warmth creeping up your neck,

"This is my drawing." One of the kids said, tugging at Lando's sleeve. "It's a boat and this is my dad."

That snapped Lando out of it. He cleared his throat and looked away from you. "Wow, that's amazing! You're so talented."

You turned away quickly, your pulse still hammering as you focused on the children, pretending like nothing had happened.

Lando rubbed the back of his neck, still looking anywhere but at you.

For once, there were no smirks, no teasing, just the feeling that something between you had just shifted.

[soldiersgirl]

— 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝟏-𝟖𝟎𝟎-𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐦𝐞 .ᐟ

summary — ben isn't willing to learn a lot about new, modern society and it's "made-up" words, but when it comes to you? he wants to finally give it a go.

cw — fem!reader x soldier boy, 18+ smut (mdni / wrap it up), phone/facetime sex, masturbation (f & m), fingering, jerking off, dirty talk, degradation, name calling (slut, whore, good girl, sweetheart, love, angel), daddy kink, self-tasting, swearing.

word count — 2,580 words

during your time babysitting the infamous supe, who had also somehow become your boyfriend, you had fallen into a comfortable routine of teaching each other things about your eras. his lectures talked about the high-roller parties and the actresses he got into scandals with, the golden age of cinema (aka the movies he starred in) and the high passion of a war-torn america. however his lectures soon progressed into how to properly enjoy a good aged whiskey and an assortment of pills.

whilst you diligently spent your time trying to educate and update him on everything he had missed over the past 40 years, or so, in the company of the russians. everything from slang, fashion and popular culture to the most important; how to use the phone and internet. no modern man could function without that and despite how stubborn soldier boy was, to his dismay, you were more. and no matter how much he denied loving it, he really did.

after weeks of pestering him, begging him to let you give him a crash course, he finally agreed. or rather yelled that "if it got you off his fucking case, then he would." so, you started off gently with a flip phone, which you thought couldn't be easier to use. no one breaks a flip phone. except for ben. he grunts and curses as he presses the keys multiple times, his attempt at typing before swiftly breaking the phone in two and chucking it into the corner of his living room with precision.

"the buttons were too fucking small." he defends himself before settling back into the couch and stared at the tv, ignoring the dumbfounded look painted across your face. the next day you skip into the living room with a new gift and smile widely at him as he rips open the packaging and scowls at you as he pulls out the newest smartphone.

"the fuck is this? portable tv? can't watch shit on this fuckin' thing! where would i put in the vhs?" he mumbles as he examines the device before haphazardly throwing it on the kitchen table, where you scramble after it. good thing you had gotten that deal on screen protector and hunters green phone cover, matching ben's suit.

"adapt or die, grandpa." you scoff. "this thing is gonna become your life after i've shown you how to use it." you wave it in his unimpressed face. "you can stream shit on netflix, watch your movie clips on youtube, listen to that awful shit you called music on spotify and, most importantly, order anything right to your door with amazon and uber eats." you pat his head and he swats your hand away before grabbing the phone and frowning at it. he sighs and looks up at you with those puppy eyes that harden under your hopeful grin.

"i don't know fuck about shit or shit about fuck, but what i do know is that those are all made up words." he lowly chuckles, brushing away his bangs.

"oh beeeen..." you sigh and sit down next to him. "listen, you'll be able to call or text me whenever you want." you flutter your eyelashes at him. "send videos... pictures." you trail off, tracing your finger over his veiny arms, hoping he'd get the message. but as he always does, he understands it at face value and just grimaces at you.

"why the fuck would i want that? not some snivellin' pussy who needs to talk to his girl all the time." he scoffs. with that, you snatch the phone away, stuff it in your bag and look back at him with a frown. the rest of the evening, unfortunately for ben, was spent with you giving him the silent treatment as he slowly grovels his way back into your good graces and begrudgingly accepting the smartphone all while you snuggle up to him and explain the ins and outs.

despite your best efforts and loudest protests, you were stuck at home as ben had decided for you that you weren't allowed to put yourself in harms way, not now that you were his girl. thankfully, teaching ben how to use a phone significantly eased your heavy heart when he went away on missions, now you didn't have to rely on butcher to tell you whether or not he was alive, and that prick barely checked his phone to begin with.

you lounged around in ben's signature blue new york giants button up alongside your go-to order for sushi and new girl, your favourite comfort show, blaring on your tv before you settled in for another uneventful evening; whilst ben and the boys got to have all the excitement and fun. as the evening dwindled on after watching god-knows how many episodes and doom scrolling on your phone, you found yourself reaching a new height of boredom and loneliness. you had gotten so used to ben that whenever you had a moment alone, your thoughts wandered to him immediately.

his distinctive earthy scent as he towers over you. your fingers graze over your white cotton underwear as you tease yourself. his cocky smirk as you whine and moan underneath him, at his mercy. you push against your bundle of nerves and you can't help but let a small whimper escape you. the way he fills you like no one else and fucks you like his hunger can't be sated. you slip your fingers under your waistband and lose yourself in the feeling of your fingers delicately rubbing over your needy clit. you hum in pleasure as you let your imagination take over and allow your fingers to explore yourself as you bite into your lip to quieten your whimpers when you quickened your pace.

PING!

"fuck." you groan in annoyance as you pull your hand away from your aching pussy and reach out for your phone. you had been waiting to hear how the mission went from ben and finally, it seemed he had a second to spare for you. you scoff inwardly as your eyes glance over his message, as if you hadn't been waiting anxiously for hours to hear from him and this is what you get.

bennie boo<3: wyd

you: why are you texting me like you're a horny teenage boy and not my boyfriend??? you: try again and maybe i'll actually talk to you

as the grey tick turned to blue, indicating that ben had read your message, you can picture the theatrical way he would roll his eyes and huff at your tone of message and you can't help but giggle.

bennie boo <3: my beautiful princess with a disorder bennie boo <3: talk to me, wyd

"asshole." you whisper to yourself as you knew that ben sent that message with a smug smile plastered across his face, anything to get you riled up. you don your own sly grin as you type truth about what you were doing.

you: touching myself and thinking of u, ofc???

"bennie boo <3" flashes across your phone and you laugh out loud, that man never denied himself of any pleasures and you knew he'd be desperate to see you fall apart for him. you let him suffer for a few seconds, keeping him on his toes as you laid down in your bed, readjusting your top so the valley of your breasts peeked out underneath his top and checking your makeup before answering.

"what took you so fuckin' long?" his rough voice floods your ears and your smile automatically widens.

"i miss you too, ben." you sigh.

"yeah, yeah. whatever, you know i miss you. blah blah." he sighs on the other end. you can hear his bed sheets rustle as he gets comfortable in his motel bed, still wearing his supe-suit trousers and his usual white, tight wife-beater. his shield, guns and supe-suit top were strewn around the room and a 6-pack of warm beer stood unattended on his nightstand.

"how did it go?" you sigh as you mindlessly twirl your hair, imagining your big, tough boyfriend lazily lay on his bed, his strong hands wrapped around his phone and the other around him.

"cut the bullshit." his voice was strained. you had him exactly where you wanted him. it was almost too easy. you shook your head and giggled into your shoulder before feigning ignorance.

"what do you mean, babe? i'm just aski–"

"don't fuckin' make me repeat myself." he interrupts. "touchin' yourself without my permission? you're in some fuckin' trouble, you know that, don't ya sweetheart?" you heard the familiar sound of his zip being pulled down and a soft sigh followed swiftly. "what were ya doin', love? huh? touchin' your pretty pussy and thinking of me?" his tone softens as he coaxes your sins out of you like a trained priest at confessional.

"mhm." is all you can manage as ben's shallow breathing is all you can think about.

"yeah? want to show me how, baby?" he chuckles darkly. before you can answer, you hear him swear and furiously tap on the screen before whispering to himself "which fucking button... motherfuckin' technology." you cover your mouth to hide your laughter, but ben hears and breathes out a tirade of curses as he struggles. you press the camera button and there he was. tired, frustrated and as handsome as ever as he lets his eyes glide from your face down to his top that practically swallowed you up and let out a loud groan. "fuuuuck, baby." he runs his hand over his face, freshening himself up.

"i'm wearing those cute panties you got me, you know. the ones with the lil bow on front." you admit as you tilt your phone down and teasingly pull up the top and reveal them to him. so white and so pure; a contrast to the wet patch that was pooling in them as you watched his tortured face. your fingers dance over the top, fiddling with the bow and circling your clothed clit. you keep your eyes focused on him as you notice his composure falter and his phone slightly shake as he slowly jerks himself off.

"take them off. now." he dictates, his tone rough and his voice hushed. you waste no time in peeling them off, pulling them down your legs and revealing a string of cum between your slick folds and damp underwear. ben sighs heavily as his eyes rest on your needy pussy as it begs for your attention, for your touch. "fuckin' touch yourself for me. show me what you did. be a good girl for daddy, c'mon." you lick the tip of your middle finger before connecting it your yearning clit and rub it in swift and quick circles as you watch ben's lip twitch and his eyes widen with desire. he furiously taps his screen again. tap, tap, tap. followed by a harsh whisper of "how the fuck do i turn this shittin' camera around?!" suddenly, a filter appears over ben's face and a groan, that came from a place of utter exasperation, pulls you out of your pleasure. a loud laughter erupts from you as ben's face had been transformed into a dog's and his anger was only escalating by the second.

"babe," you say through gritted teeth to contain your laughter. "press the left button and then the middle one." you calmly explain, only getting a grunt from ben in return before he turns the camera around and you stop in your tracks. his muscular hand wrapped his already-leaking thick cock, each vein prominent and the tip a deep shade of pink. his experienced fingers graze over his tip and he shudders at his own soft touch before he leisurely rubs it and resumes his iron grip at the base.

"yeah, that fuckin' shut you up, didn't it? cock-hungry whore." he sniffs as he jerks himself off, each stroke slow and calculated. "touch your pussy for daddy, baby. wanna see." your fingers return to your clit and in unison, you both let out pained whimpers as you wish it was one another's hands on your bodies. "how does it feel baby, hm? wish it was daddy's hands instead, don't you?" he spoke with a playful lilt before spitting into his hand and continuing his lazy pace as his piercing gaze watches you toying with your swollen clit.

"yes, daddy. i wish you were here, filling me up. fucking me like the good girl i am." you whine as you unconsciously buck your hips and apply more pressure to the frantic pace on your glossy bundle of nerves.

"good girls don't touch themselves." ben states matter-of-factly.

"daddy," you huff. "i was always thinking of you, though." you snivel as your fingers slowly glide down and slide with ease into your weeping cunt. with a loud moan you push them all the way in and curve them to hit the spot. a tirade of curses tumble past your lips at the sensation.

"so fuckin' dirty, oh my god," ben mutters through a soft exhale. "fuck yourself on those fingers, slut." you thrust them into you at a feverish pace, searching for your much-needed release as ben urges you on, encouraging you. "c'mon, show daddy how much you miss him. show me how wet you are, show me." you pull out your fingers and he marvels at them, covered in your slick. "yeah, baby. put them in your mouth, tell daddy how good you taste." you flip the camera and obediently wrap your lips around your glossy digits, batting your eyelashes at the camera as you suck on them, moaning at the taste.

"god, i taste so good, daddy." you hum around your fingers as your tongue dances over them. "wish you were here to taste me." you pout.

"when daddy comes home, he's gonna fuckin' devour you, baby. just you wait, you won't be able to think straight when i'm done with you." a soft groan tumbles past your lips as your fingers find their way to your entrance and massage themselves against your soft, velvet walls. bens pace picks up and all you can both hear on the line is your muffled whimpers and ben's shallow breathing. as your peak finally draws closer, you throw your head back in pleasure and grimace as your muscles tighten and clench.

"i'm so close..!" you whine.

"cum for me, bab–" ben's voice suddenly cuts off and you whip your head up in surprise. you freeze immediately and drop your phone in disbelief. he forgot to charge his fucking phone, again. you curse under your breath, clean yourself up and grumble in frustration as you turn your attention back to your tv show, unsatisfied. ben, on the other hand, had lost his shit, chucked his phone into the wall and sending it through to the neighbouring room. hughie peeked his head sideways and stared through the phone-shaped hole in his wall at a fuming, half-dressed ben.

"give me your cock-suckin' phone!" ben yells as hughie just stares before slowly nodding and handing it to him through the hole with a hidden smirk. "wipe that smirk off yer fuckin' face, asslicker. i swear to god." ben growls before settling into his bed, typing in your number and waiting impatiently for you. finally, after the third ring he hears your soft voice. "let's finish what we started, angel." he murmurs with a shit-eating grin as you giggle on the other end.

a/n: this is kind of the second part to perv!reader x soldier boy that you guys loved so much <3 HUGE shoutout to @emeraldcrs (ily!!) for the idea, i had so much fun with this and enjoyed making it a bit funny too, hehe -`♡´- tag list: @bluemerakis @legalmente-loca @faiszt @vmiina @emeraldcrs @briiverse @figthoughts @sl33pylilbunny @jasvtsc @silverwoodlynx @kayleighwinchester @bejeweledinterludes @yooyieu @nperoconelcositoarriba @lanasgirlfr @velvetdandeli0n @iluvdeanwinchester @cowboysandcigarettes @daylighted @valjy @dulcescorderitas @mostlymarvelgirl @syrma-sensei @rositaslabyrinth (comment or inbox me to be added)

[ardienothesieno]

taking notes on the hermitcraft charity livestream for my friend @pookapufferfish and also just anyone else who had to miss it 👍

these are going to be all over the place lol

i started my note-keeping like an hour or so into the stream so i dont have a lot of stuff from the beginning...

but: grian and scar opened the stream, showed off some of the items up for auction (like real wild life snails. i want one so bad but they're MASSIVELY out of my price range...)

POST-POSTING EDIT: I FORGOT THERE WAS AN IMP AND SKIZZ PODCAST. it wasnt really a traditional podcast though, martyn was asking them questions, a group of hermits would vote on who they thought had the best answer, and whoever lost got shocked by grian.

my most notable takeaway from the shock-cast is that if impulse could have any superpowers he'd want control over time, and skizz would want the ability to heal people. mmm yes food for the superhero aus

and then ren busted out this custom hermitcraft guitar that's also up for auction and played a song by green day

and then we got treebark content.martyn and ren ran the main stream for like 20 minutes

also we hit ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS really freaking fast. and they spun the wheel of chaos and it landed on ✨hermit boxing✨

ROBO-CLEO

okay now all that follows is liveblogging

i keep recognizing people in chat. like not even from mcyt spaces ive seen like three people who i know from skurry streams

martyn using they/them for cleo pog!!

THERE'S A JELLIE MURAL IN THE MINECRAFT OFFICE AWWW

irl guess the build / drawing... drawing things on whiteboards or building things and then guessing

cub is wearing a bob ross wig.

jimmy has built skizz's giraffe...

SKIZZ GIRAFFE REDEMPTION ARC GOES HORRIBLY WRONG

pearl has gorgeous handwriting

grian has obtained a cat keyboard and jimmy is beatboxing along

GEM GIRAFFE REDEMPTION ARC GOES INCREDIBLY RIGHT

they're gonna auction off the terrible drawings. i want one.

round two of guess the drawing / build has the most unhinged prompts ever. including the cursed creature mumbo built in the last permitmaster

it has gone off the rails incredibly fast

grian is just torturing everyone with nerf guns and whoopie cushions

jimmy is left handed

martyn's doing a dollar drive and it's not letting me donate because it doesnt take debit cards. now i need to somehow convince my dad to let me use his credit card... i'll pay him back but. gah. the hassle.

pearl and some person fighting in the background (who was apparently karn, her partner!)

TWO HUNDRED THOUSANDDDDDDDDDDDDD

joe and cub are boxing!! cub is still dressed like bob ross

it's been like 20 minutes and martyn is still going strong with the name reading. and about 30,000 dollars have been raised in that time alone

dimension 20 reference!

martyn's free from yelling names for now... in half an hour we raised SEVENTY THOUSAND DOLLARS

zed and tango hosting the QUIET GAMESSSSSSS. 3 teams of two, imp and gem, ren and skizz, GRIAN AND JIMMYYYY. basically just a bunch of weird minigames where you have to be as quiet as possible. scored on how quiet you are and how well you do

first minigame is moving marbles with spoons but the spoons are attached to a cowbell

gem and impulse did good. skizz and ren did better then i expected. jimmy and grain instantly dissolved into anarchy. jimmy and grian had the most marbles, skizz and ren were surprisingly the quietest

okay the next game is so weird. knocking around ping pong balls with party popper blow kazoo things. but you hold the kazoo for your partner so it's weirdly intimate

someone in the chat described it as nightmare blunt rotation and that the most accurate description yet

someone else in chat has named skizz and ren team rizz and i hate everything

also i realize now that if theyd have done this with commonly shipped pairs the fandom would never shut up

despite the absolute chaos that was happening grian and jimmy won that round on both number of balls and quietness. grian may have slapped jimmy at one point. (he totally did)

the last one is EVEN MORE COMPLICATED. one person blindfolded navigating a minefield of bubblewrap and rubber chickens. another with jingle bells on their ankles and a big stick to smack their partner around.

gem immediately has grabbed the big stick with an evil look on her face

impulse is INCREDIBLY clumsy and gem is just whaling on him

"IT'S ALL BUBBLES!!!?!?" -- impulsesv

ren and skizz have a STRATEGY

ren is doing adorable little shuffley step-steps. "Robo-penguin Ren... Renguin" -- Zedaph

JIMMY IS MOUTHING "HELP ME" OMG.... GRIANS GOING TO BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF HIM...

but theyve got the best strategy yet actually grian's only kinda beating the shit out of jimmy... they might win this...

GRIAN AND JIMMY TAKE THE WHOLE THING HOME!!!!!!!! SKYBLINGS VICTORY!!!!!!! THE ONE NO ONE EXPECTED!!!!!!

wheel spin for 200,000 landed on "tortilla slap challenge" whichll be weird

the artworks from guess the build have gone up on the auction site and scar is very horrified over something skizz drew... a "sentient sock" that looks very... sus.

speed TCG time!!!!!!! i dont know much about TCG so im gonna try and maybe try and study a bit during this part (also also every 1000 dollars donated each player gets an extra item card)

joe is doing live TCG sound effects

neither joe or ren cant flip a coin to save their lives

pearl v cub. ren v joe. ren v cub.

TCG IS TOO CHAOTIC I CANT FOCUS ON TRIGONOMETRY LIKE THIS

also i need to learn how to play this it looks so fun

this is HEATED. and ren keeps getting armor stands and is so pissed about it

REN TAKES THE VICTORY!!! and they raised like 20,000 dollars in the process holy cow "THIS IS THE MOST EXPENSIVE GAME OF TCG EVER TO BE PLAYED" -- Joe Hills

ONE MILLION DOLLARS RAISED FOR GAMERS OUTREACH IN TOTAL

THREE HUNDRED THOUSANDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

300k wheel spin has unlocked NERF GUNSSSSS

also it's "donate x amount of dollars get your name on a sign on hermitcraft" time

cleobot is back!

scar is having a fantastic time running the main stream

GRIAN HAS COME IN AND BARRAGED SCAR WITH BULLETS.

it's tortilla tiiiiiiiiiiime

twich has a personal vendetta against me. it gives me ads right when the exciting things are starting.

scar is apparently on the board of directors at gamer's outreach now!!

IMPULSE V JIMMY. a draw. they are both invulnerable to tortillas.

TANGO V ZED. tango loses through laughter

IMPULSE V ZED. zed didnt get a single slap on impulse. a draw.

also all the hermits really really like to play scissors. in rock paper scissors.

"she removed both of my heads from my body..." -- RentheDog

THE GIRLIES ARE FIGHTING (ren and false)

SKIZZ V GRIAN TORTILLA FIGHT. skizz wins lolol

...im buying a sign

gem signed pearl's ankle.

OKAY I GOT REALLY DISTRACTED FROM MY LIVEBLOGGING. THERE WAS WAR. THERE WAS A MASSIVE NERF GUN WAR. IT INTERRUPTED THE SIGN PLACING.

and yeah... i bought a sign <3

but i dont even know how to cover the half of the nerf war. but there was a lot of hotguy and cuteguy action

grian was even using two pistols instead of a bigger nerf gun... just like cuteguy in ddvau... omg...

at one point scar became a tank. and jimmy wheeled him behind enemy lines and he sniped four people and won the round

and theyre starting to wrap up now, martyn's doing another dollar drive. we're at $375,000...

everyone is signing the pc in the background of martyn's mad line-spitting

TEN HOUR MARK

we need 10,000 dollars... then we'll hit 400k and martyn can rest his vocal cords...

SPARKBIRD GOT MENTIONED

since it's been brought up like 13 times on the stream today. hey. you. you, the person reading this. you just lost the game :3

FOUR HUNDRED THOUSANDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

holy cow. that wraps up day one!!!!

im gonna reblog this post in a bit with all the screenshots i took. because i took a lot of them lol.

link to my day two liveblog

[cressidagrey]

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Epilogue (The End)

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes: 

Mention of epilepsy and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose.

And with that, we have reached the end. I could, as always, write a lot more, (And maybe eventually I will, but for right now, that's where we will leave Lando and Lizzie.)

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Twitch Stream Transcript – Max Fewtrell & Lando Norris

[Stream starts]

Max: Right, chat. I know we’ve been through a lot together. We’ve seen things. We’ve survived things. But I don’t think any of you are ready for what’s about to happen.

Max: Because, somehow, defying all expectations, defying all logic—Lando Norris is actually here.

Chat: 

LIAR.

NO WAY.

PROVE IT.

MAX THIS BETTER NOT BE A PRERECORDED AI CLIP.

OH SO HE DOES EXIST.

IT’S BEEN 84 YEARS.

Lando: [over voice chat, deadpan] I hate you.

Max: Gasp. He speaks. It’s real. It’s happening.

Lando: You’re so dramatic.

Max: No, mate, I’m just telling it like it is. The last time we saw you, you were escaping the internet at full speed. Thought you retired. Went off the grid. Became a monk.

Lando: Yeah, well. Things got messy.

Max: Understatement of the year.

Chat: 

YEAH NO KIDDING.

THE INTERNET WAS A NIGHTMARE.

LIZZIE DESERVED BETTER.

MARAAA OUR QUEEN.

THE ABLEISM WAS SO BAD.

LANDO DEFENDING HER >>>

Max: So, how’s Lizzie?

Lando: She’s good. Writing, mostly. And making sure I actually sleep.

Max: A saint.

Lando: Obviously.

Chat: 

PROTECT HER AT ALL COSTS.

SHE NEEDS TO KNOW WE LOVE HER.

I WANT TO SEND HER FANMAIL BUT I’M SCARED.

MARA POST WHEN??

TELL LIZZIE SHE’S A QUEEN.

Max: But mate, you really should’ve warned me before hopping on. Nearly had a heart attack.

Lando: Didn’t think it was that big of a deal.

Max: Didn’t think it was—oh my god. Chat, back me up.

Chat: 

IT IS A BIG DEAL.

HISTORIC MOMENT.

LORE DROP.

WE THOUGHT LIZZIE LOGGED YOU OUT FOREVER.

DO YOU EVEN REMEMBER YOUR TWITCH PASSWORD??

SHE PROBABLY DRAGGED HIM BACK HERE.

Lando: Actually, she’s in the kitchen right now.

Max: Oh, is she? What’s she doing?

Lando: Giving Mara peanut butter.

Max: …Oh no.

Lando: Yeah.

(And then, as if on cue, absolute chaos erupts in Lando’s mic—loud licking, snuffling, something knocking against furniture. A thump. A very happy dog making a complete racket.)

Max: WHAT IS HAPPENING.

Lando: [muffled laughter] She’s going feral.

Max: CHAT, DO YOU HEAR THIS?

Chat: 

MARAAA.

SHE’S EATING LIKE SHE HASN’T BEEN FED IN YEARS.

DOG ASMR STREAM WHEN.

THAT’S THE SOUND OF A QUEEN ENJOYING LIFE.

SHE DESERVES EVERY BIT OF THAT PEANUT BUTTER.

Max: Mate. Your dog is losing it.

Lando: She loves peanut butter.

Max: Yeah, no kidding. It sounds like she’s wrestling it.

Lando: Wouldn’t surprise me.

Max: I swear, chat’s gonna riot if you don’t post a Mara video soon.

Lando: I’ll think about it.

Max: Think about it? No, mate, you don’t understand. Mara is the people’s princess.

Chat: 

MARA FOR PRESIDENT.

SHE DESERVES THE WORLD.

THE WAY SHE’S JUST EXISTING AND WE’RE ALL LOSING IT.

THIS IS NOW A MARA FAN STREAM.

GIRLBOSS.

Max: You could literally disappear again for months, but if you drop one single Mara clip, all will be forgiven.

Lando: Huh. Good to know.

Max: Don’t even pretend like you won’t exploit that.

Lando: [grinning] Wouldn’t dream of it.

(Mara, still licking peanut butter, lets out an extremely content sigh.)

Max: Oh, that was adorable.

Lando: Yeah, she’s great.

Max: I can feel chat melting over this.

Chat: 

SHE’S SO PRECIOUS.

LIZZIE AND MARA HARD CARRYING THE CONTENT RIGHT NOW.

MARA POST WHEN.

WE DON’T DESERVE HER.

SHE’S SO REAL FOR THIS.

Max: Right. Now that we’ve all had our emotional moment over Mara’s peanut butter obsession, shall we actually play the game?

Lando: Probably.

Max: But just so we’re clear—this stream peaked the moment Mara showed up.

Lando: Yeah, I figured.

(Chat spams heart emojis as the game finally begins.)

***

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car PrinceBy June Shepard

Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton has built an empire on love stories—intoxicating, sweeping, heart-stopping love stories that have made her one of the most successful romantasy authors of the decade. Her Seasons of Fate series, a four-book saga filled with magic, intrigue, and forbidden romance, has captivated millions worldwide, cementing her place as the reigning queen of the genre.

But even her most devoted readers could never have predicted that she was living out a love story of her own. And certainly not with one of the biggest stars in motorsport.

When Lizzie Treshton walked into the Silverstone paddock in July 2025, hand-in-hand with McLaren’s Lando Norris, social media imploded.

No one had any idea they were together. No rumors, no leaks—just an earth-shattering confirmation that sent both F1 and romantasy Twitter into collective cardiac arrest.

"It wasn’t supposed to be a big thing," Treshton says now, curled up on a sofa in her Surrey flat, a steaming mug of tea in hand. "Lando was racing at Silverstone. I wanted to be there to support him. I didn’t think the world would explode."

Perhaps that was naive. Because if there’s one thing the world loves, it’s an unexpected crossover. And this? This was the ultimate crossover event.

Lando Norris has spent the last six years in the high-pressure world of Formula 1, balancing blistering lap times with an ever-growing fanbase that adores his mix of raw talent, easy charm, and chaotic humor. He’s no stranger to public scrutiny. But even he was caught off guard by the sheer scale of the reaction.

"I knew Lizzie was a big deal," he says, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. "But I didn’t fully grasp it until people started calling me ‘the romantasy book boyfriend of the year.’"

He grins. "I think my sisters are still mad I didn’t tell them who I was dating."

That particular detail has only added to the legend of "Lizzie & Lando." While Norris’s family knew he had a girlfriend, they had no idea it was that Lizzie Treshton—the very same author whose books they had lined up at midnight to buy. His sisters, self-proclaimed romantasy fanatics, took approximately thirty seconds to forgive him before launching into full-scale fangirl mode.

But not everyone has been as welcoming.

Almost immediately after Silverstone, the backlash began. While plenty of fans celebrated the unexpected pairing, others turned vicious. Some called Treshton “undeserving.” Others dismissed the relationship entirely, claiming Norris would eventually move on.

And then there were the ones who went after her health.

Treshton has always been open about living with epilepsy, discussing it occasionally in interviews and social media posts. But being open about something and having it dissected by millions of strangers are two very different things.

Some reactions were cruel—questioning Norris’s commitment, making sweeping judgments about Treshton’s ability to “keep up” with the fast-paced, jet-setting lifestyle of an F1 driver. Others were outright ableist, using her condition as a reason to doubt her place at his side.

Norris, uncharacteristically sharp in his response, took to Instagram. “The way some of you have spoken about Liz—the woman I love—is disgusting. There’s no other way to put it. You’ve taken something she has no control over and used it as an excuse to dehumanize her, to insult her, to act like she isn’t worthy of me.” 

McLaren issued a formal statement condemning the backlash, while much of the grid rallied behind Treshton, with drivers like Lewis Hamilton and Charles Leclerc publicly voicing their support.

“It was disgusting,” Treshton says bluntly. “But not surprising.”

"I’ve lost people because of my epilepsy," Treshton says quietly, her fingers tightening around her mug. "People who couldn’t handle it. People who didn’t want to try."

Her mother was one of them.

Treshton doesn’t often talk about her mother, but when she does, it’s with a detachment that speaks of wounds long since buried. "She left when I was young," she says. "Said she couldn’t deal with it. So she didn’t."

She exhales slowly. "I learned early on that some people see epilepsy as an inconvenience. Like it makes you fragile. But it doesn’t make me less. And it sure as hell doesn’t make me unlovable."

Despite the backlash, Treshton and Norris remain unfazed. Their relationship, built away from the public eye, is stronger than the noise that surrounds it.

"Lando makes me feel safe," she admits. "Not in a way that makes me feel like I need protecting, but in a way that reminds me I don’t have to do everything alone."

For Norris, it’s simple. "She’s incredible," he says. "And I’m lucky to have her. End of story."

There’s something almost cinematic about the two of them. The bestselling author who spins love stories for a living. The racing driver who defies speed and gravity every weekend. It’s the kind of pairing that shouldn’t make sense. And yet, it does.

At the end of the day, theirs isn’t just a love story. It’s a story about resilience. About belonging. About choosing each other in a world that constantly tries to tear people down.

When asked what’s next, Treshton shrugs. “I have a book to finish. He has races to win. And beyond that?” She tilts her head, thoughtful. “I think we’ll just keep surprising people.”

One thing is clear: the queen of romantasy and her race car prince are far from a fleeting fairytale.

They’re just getting started.

****

8 December 2024, Yas Marina Circuit, Abu Dhabi

The moment Lando stepped out of the car, the world blurred around him. The cheers, the McLaren team swarming in orange, the fireworks—none of it felt real. He had won Abu Dhabi. He had won the Constructors’ Championship for McLaren. After years of dreaming, of heartbreak, of being so close yet so far—he had done it.

His mother reached him first, arms tight around his shoulders, holding him like she never wanted to let go. “Lando,” she breathed, pulling back just enough to look him in the eyes. “You’ve made so many people happy today.”

His father clapped a firm hand on his back, pride evident in his expression. His team, his engineers, Zak Brown—everyone was celebrating around him. But Lando was already searching for someone else.

And then he saw her.

Lizzie stood off to the side, wrapped in one of his McLaren jackets, Mara sitting dutifully at her feet. She looked exhausted, and he knew why. Just last night, she had suffered a seizure. He had been with her through it, waiting for the worst to pass. He had told her she didn’t have to come today, that she should stay at the hotel and rest.

But Lizzie was nothing if not stubborn.

Her gaze found his, and her face lit up like the fireworks lighting the sky outside.

He could see how tired she was, though, in the tightness around her eyes, the way her body was still a little stiff.

But she was here.

His feet moved before his brain caught up, and suddenly, she was in front of him, her hands reaching up to his face before he could say a word.

Her fingers traced over his skin, her tired eyes taking him in with a familiar, almost reverent look. It was as if she couldn’t believe he was real. Lando knew the feeling.

“Like I ever would have missed this,” she murmured before he could scold her for being out in the chaos of the paddock. Her thumbs brushed his cheekbones, her voice thick with emotion. “Lando, you did it. You actually did it.”

"You didn't need to come," he whispered. His hands came to rest on her waist, grounding himself. “I was worried about you.”

“And I was never going to miss watching you win,” she said simply, smiling up at him. “I am so proud of you.”

Lando let out a shaky breath.

Then, with the whole world watching, he kissed her.

It was soft, careful—his hands tightening on her waist like he was terrified she might disappear, like he still wasn’t sure if any of this was real. When he pulled back, her eyes were shining, and for the first time since he crossed the finish line, it hit him.

He had everything he had ever wanted.

****

Dedications of The Seasons of Fate: 

A Spring of Secrets and Thorns

For Mara—

My steady ground, my quiet guardian, my fiercest protector.

For every unseen battle you’ve helped me fight, for every moment you’ve kept me safe, and for always being by my side—this book, like so much of my life, is possible because of you.

A Summer of Blood and Bloom

For Dad—

For every doctor’s appointment, every sleepless night, and every time you carried the weight of the world so I wouldn’t have to.

You taught me that love doesn’t walk away—it stays, it fights, and it endures. This book is a testament to that, and to you.

An Autumn of Fire and Stone

For Tasha and Aunt Lou—

For the sister I chose and the woman who made us family.

For every page read, every dream encouraged, and every time you reminded me that I was more than my worst days. I am who I am because I had you both beside me. I couldn’t have done this without you.

A Winter of Ash and Starlight

For Lando - 

Who taught me that love, like speed, can take your breath away in an instant. You’ve turned the pages of my life in the most unexpected, beautiful way. 

Thank you for showing me that sometimes the best stories are the ones you never saw coming. 

Ours is my favourite one. 

Acknowledgments – A Winter of Ash and Starlight

Writing this book, and really this entire series, has been one of the greatest joys of my life. I never imagined that a story I started one summer in my dad’s garden would turn into this, but here we are. I couldn’t have done it alone, and I wouldn’t have wanted to.

To my dad—thank you for everything. For the late-night talks, the endless encouragement, and the way you always made sure I knew I was enough, just as I am. You’ve been my rock, my biggest supporter, and the reason I never stopped believing I could do this.

To Aunt Lou—you are proof that family is about love, not blood. You didn’t have to be a mother to me, but chose to be anyway. I don’t have the words to properly thank you for that, but I hope you know how much I love you.

To Tasha—my sister in every way that matters. For always having my back, for every chaotic adventure, and for making sure I never forget who I am. You are my favorite person to cause trouble with.

To Mara—my best girl, my constant companion, my real-life guardian angel. You have been curled up beside me through every late-night writing session, every deadline panic, every high and low.  There is no version of my life, or this book, without you in it.

This book marks the end of Astrid and Ciaran’s journey—the last chapter of their love story. And in a way, it closes a chapter of my own life, too. Love has a funny way of finding you when you least expect it, and just as I was bringing Astrid and Ciaran home, someone walked into my life and changed everything.

To Lando—who came into my life just as I was closing this chapter and somehow became the best story of all. I don’t know if fate is real, but if it is, I think it was always meant to bring me to you. You walked into my world when I wasn’t sure I deserved something good, and you have never let me forget that I do. 

Thank you for every quiet moment and every inside joke. Thank you for the dino nuggets, the peanut butter and the Ferrari Dog Bandanas. Thank you for making me laugh, for making me feel safe, and for proving, every single day, that love isn’t about grand gestures, but about showing up, time and time again. 

You have been the greatest plot twist of my life. I love you. 

And finally, to the readers—thank you for taking this journey with me. Thank you for believing in Astrid and Ciaran, in fate and magic, in love that defies the odds. This world, this story, exists because of you.

Here’s to new stories, new adventures, and finding our own kind of magic. Always.

With love and endless gratitude, Elizabeth Louise Treshton

The End

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Dirty Secret (18+)

Bayverse!Leonardo x reader x Bayverse!Michelangelo

A/N: Just a little something I’ve had in my Docs for months, so I thought it was time to get it out there for you. Hope you’ll enjoy💙🧡

All characters are aged up.

Warning: Voyeurism, masturbation, groping.

It was not something Mikey was proud of, but at this point, he had stopped trying to restrain himself. If it stood to him, he would never let anybody know what he was doing, especially neither you or Leonardo.

It started by total accident. Mikey had gotten out of bed one night, and decided to go to the kitchen in order to get something to eat, while the rest of his family was sound asleep - or so he thought. Had he known, Mikey might not even have gotten out of bed, staying in his room until his snack hunger was over. But of course, Mikey did not know. He could not tell the future, and he did really want a snack. So to the kitchen he went.

There Mikey stood there in the kitchen, enjoying a poptart that Donnie hadn’t yet gotten a hold of - one of the simple pleasures in life, when you lived in a sewer - when he suddenly heard it. A low stream of sounds coming from Leo’s room. Looking back, Mikey should have known what he was hearing, but his curiosity and innocence got the better of him, and soon he found himself in front of his oldest brother’s bedroom door, looking through the keyhole, wondering what weird kind of training his oldest brother had gotten himself into.

There he saw you and Leo naked on Leo’s bed, your legs as far over his shoulders as they would go, while he slowly buckled his hips against yours, watching your face, studying your reactions, taking in your small sounds with each and every move he did against you.

Mikey almost dropped his poptart, stopping his chewing with wide eyes, feeling himself getting flustered. He was not supposed to see that. He was definitely not supposed to see that. Never in his life had he ever thought he would accidently get a view of his big brother, fucking his own girlfriend in the comfort og his room.

Mikey knew it was wrong. This was just not a thing you did. It was wrong. So wrong. Mikey told himself to get a hold of his poptarts, and turn around and leave for his bedroom, and not come out until he was sure you were gone. Yet Mikey kept standing there in front of Leo’s door, watching through the keyhole, even taking a bite of his poptart as he did so.

Slowly chewing his poptart, he watched how you held onto Leo’s arms for dear life, as Leo started to speed up his thrusts into you. It didn’t take long before the sound of your hips slapping together started echoing throughout Leo’s room, and just through the keyhole Mikey was still looking through. At first, Mikey kept watching, stickley out of fascination. He had never had sex before, and this was definitely not something you would get to see very often. Sure, Mikey had seen porn several times, but never before had he seen a mutant turtle go to town on a human woman. It had always been hard, imagining himself in the place of all those human men, on that orange and black website, but this made it a lot easier…

Mikey stayed outside of Leo’s bedroom, until the two of you were finished (at least with that round), where the two of you started to engage in some soft and sweet aftercare. At that point Mikey really felt like he was pushing it, and made a quick dash back to his bedroom with the poptarts he still had left. But unfortunately for Mikey, he had a very hard time falling asleep after what he had witnessed. It did not matter how many poptarts he tried to eat, hoping that they could take his mind off of it, or somehow make him sleepy. And he just couldn’t stop thinking about it. And the more he thought about it, the more did Leo seem to disappear from that memory. It didn’t take long before Mikey’s mind had replaced the leader in blue, with the thought of himself, being the one ramming into you, causing you to moan out in pleasure and ecstasy.

And as the thought of Mikey being the one, fucking you into the matterass underneath you, he could not fight the effect that it started to have on him. He felt his senses grow stronger, along with a pressing feeling in his nether region. But Mikey did not want to admit his body’s own reactions to himself. Not even has he felt his member, slowly make its way out of the slit of his cloaca. It wasn’t until he dropped straight into his own pants, that Mikey allowed himself to pull his shorts down, letting his hard member spring furth, already leaking with pre-cum, begging for him to give it some attention. And so, that night Mikey wrapped his hand around himself, to the thought of you being the one enclosing him with your warm and wet cunt.

The next day, Mikey did everything in his power not to look at either you or Leo. He simply couldn’t face you, knowing that he hadn't just shot one load, while thinking of you moaning and whimpering with joy beneath him, but two. Mikey had two, toe curling, eye rolling and hip thrusting orgasms, at the mercy of his own hand while thinking of you. And for just a moment, last night, Mikey had forgotten that you weren’t his, and that you were in fact together with Leo. So to see you and Leo emerge from Leo’s bedroom together, before heading for the kitchen for something to eat, was like a slap of reality to Mikey’s face. It reminded Mikey of just how wrong his own actions in his own bedroom were. What a betrayal it was to his brother, to think of his girlfriend in such a way.

As Mikey sat there at the kitchen table, deep in thought, trying his best not to look in you and Leo’s direction, mentally berating himself for what he did, he suddenly noticed something out of the corner of his eye. You and Leo stood at the kitchen counter with your backs turned to him, and you cooking something, with one of Leo’s arms wrapped around your shoulder, talking about something Mikey didn’t fully understand. But it was here that Leo’s arm slowly dropped from your shoulder, his hand slowly sliding down the curve of your back, before coming to a rest on your pants-covered ass. There Leo’s hand did a groping motion, before slowly grabbing a fistfull, causing you to giggle and shake your head with a smile, before leaning in against him, saying something along the lines of; “you can’t wait for tonight, can you?”

Mikey froze for a moment, realizing what your words to Leo meant. And with that, Mikey realized that you and Leo most likely were going at it again that night. And it was at that moment - no matter how wrong Mikey knew it was - that Mikey decided that he was going to get another pack of poptarts, and see if he could get some more material of you to enjoy himself with.

[dixons-sunshine]

Tears Stream Down Your Face | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

(GIF isn’t mine)

Summary: A fateful doctor’s visit years before the outbreak shattered your dreams of starting a family with the man you loved. After a long time of trying to push the sadness you felt away, it all hit you like a freight train after one afternoon of babysitting little Judith.

Genre: Angst.

Era: Alexandria, pre Saviours.

Warnings: Talks of infertility, probably a lil’ ooc Daryl.

Word count: 1k.

A/N: Requested by an anon. This was sad to write but I hope you all like this!

You could remember that one fateful day like it happened yesterday. The day you found out that you would never be able to conceive, that you would never be able to have kids of your own. You could remember the sadness, the disappointment, the anger you felt. And more than anything, you could remember the look on your husband’s face when the doctor broke the news to the two of you.

Heartbreak.

You sighed to yourself as you observed Daryl entertaining baby Judith, her giggles and babbling filling the air. She was so happy to be in her uncle Daryl’s arms, and the man in question was thrilled to be holding her. He had a soft, tender smile on his face as he handed her over to Rick, exchanging a few words with his found brother, but you paid it no mind. All you could think about is how you’d never be able to give him that experience with a child of his own.

Despite what the man said, he was a natural with little kids. He would have made the best father. You knew he would have been great at it, but you would never be able to give him that. You’d never even been given a fair chance to try, and that pissed you off. What made you so undeserving of something you wanted so dearly? What did you do in your life to have that opportunity stripped from you?

“You’re thinkin’ awfully hard over there.”

The sound of Daryl’s voice reached your ears, effectively snapping you from your thoughts. Blinking a few times, you looked at your husband, realizing that he no longer stood by the door, but instead, he was in front of you, gently taking the bottle of water you had been death gripping from your grasp.

“What’s wrong, Sweetheart?” Daryl inquired, his tone and his face soft, something only you got to see on the regular.

You wanted to lie. That’s what you had intended to do. Daryl had such a good day taking care of Judith, all smiles and laughter, so the last thing you wanted to do was ruin the remainder of his day. You didn’t want to be a dark cloud over him.

However, what you said next came out like word vomit.

“You could have left me.”

Daryl’s eyes widened in surprise, before furrowing his eyebrows together. “What? What do ya mean?”

You suddenly felt silly. You wanted to tell him that it was nothing, that you were fine and to drop the subject, but you knew he wouldn’t. Daryl Dixon could be persistent if the situation called for it, and you knew he wouldn’t let you off the hook after a comment like that.

“All those years ago,” you began, vaguely motioning around with one of your hands, “when I found out that…” You swallowed. “...that I couldn’t have kids…”

Realization dawned on Daryl. “Oh…”

“You could have left me,” you reiterated, looking down at your shoes. “Why didn’t you?”

“Because I love ya.”

Daryl said it so easily, with so much certainty, that you felt like you wanted to cry. “But back then, when we talked about having kids—”

“Back then,” Daryl emphasized, stepping towards you and gently grasping your face in his rough, yet somehow soft hands. “This s’now, and now, with the world a goddamn shit storm, there ain’t nobody I want by my side more than you.” Daryl inhaled sharply, before continuing, “I ain’t gon’ lie, hearin’ the news back then hurt like a bitch, but m’serious when I say that there ain’t nobody I wanna be with except you. S’me and you, yeah?”

You were crying by now. Daryl was a man of few words, especially regarding feelings, but now? Hearing him say those words with such certainty? It made you happier than you could ever express with words.

“C’mere,” Daryl whispered softly, pulling you into his arms. He held you to him tightly, slowly rocking you from side to side as he whispered sweet, reassuring words into your ear.

“It’s just not fair,” you whispered brokenly, the topic shifting slightly. “Why can’t I be a mom? What did I do wrong?”

Daryl’s heart shattered at your broken admission. He was mentally kicking himself for not realizing that this ran far deeper than you were letting on. He knew how badly you wanted a family, and that got ripped from you. You were so happy for all of your friends who were having kids of their own, even already offering to babysit for Glenn and Maggie when their baby arrives in a few months, but there was that underlying sadness that you fought to push away. A sadness that Daryl should have realized hadn’t just disappeared.

“I know. It ain’t fair at all,” Daryl whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “But it ain’t your fault. It ain’t your fault at all.”

You were a sobbing mess at this point. You tried to talk, to say anything. To say thank you to him for soothing you, to voice all the feelings you had been trying to push back for the sake of not wanting to come across as bitter about other people having kids—because you weren’t. You were so unbelievably happy for all of them—but you couldn’t. All you could manage was to cry. To let all the pain out that way.

Daryl closed his eyes as he continued to hold you. He didn’t say anything, just allowed you to cry, not caring at all that his shirt was getting stained with your tears. He rubbed his hand across your back in soothing circles, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. He would hold you for as long as you needed him to.

And if that was forever, then so be it. Daryl loved you. He couldn’t imagine a life without you in it, and now he knew that he had to make that clear. But first, he would be a shoulder to cry on. The rest could come later.

[ijustmissyouraccenths]

Sick as a Dog

Where Harry is sick and y/n just wants to help him.

Word count: 3,833

Content warning: cursing, mentions of being sick (no throwing up).

I wake up to the soft warmth of sunlight streaming through the curtains, casting a golden glow on the room. The familiar scent of him—clean, woodsy, with just a hint of his cologne—fills the air. For the first time in what feels like ages, Harry’s here. Really here. Not a FaceTime call, not a text, not a fleeting thought as I drift off to sleep alone. His arm is draped lazily over my waist, his chest rising and falling steadily next to me.

I shift slightly, careful not to wake him, but the movement stirs him anyway. His eyes flutter open, green and warm like spring after a long winter. A soft, sleepy smile spreads across his lips as he tightens his hold on me, pulling me closer.

“Morning, love,” he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep and that raspy undertone I adore.

“Morning,” I reply, tracing lazy circles on his forearm.

For a while, neither of us says much. Words feel unnecessary. He presses a kiss to the top of my head, then my temple, and finally my lips, slow and unhurried. His stubble grazes my skin, a reminder of how real this is.

Eventually, the world outside our cocoon of blankets starts to intrude. My mental checklist of errands creeps in, and I know his does too. But for now, we linger, soaking in the quiet intimacy of the morning.

“You know,” he says, breaking the silence, “I could stay like this forever.”

I laugh softly. “You say that, but we both know the list waiting for us today.”

He groans in mock protest, burying his face in my neck. “I just got home. Can’t we just…not?”

I want to agree. I want to cancel the errands, turn off the world, and spend the day exactly like this. But life has other plans. I kiss him one last time before sitting up, dragging him reluctantly along with me.

“Alright, Mr. Styles,” I tease, “up and at ’em. Groceries won’t buy themselves.”

With a dramatic sigh, he stretches and finally rises, his hair a tousled mess that somehow still suits him perfectly. The day awaits, but in this moment, everything feels right. He’s home, and that’s all that matters.

Harry’s standing at the dresser, pulling on a simple white graphic tee that hugs his chest just right. He pairs it with light-wash jeans and his trusty white Vans, and I can’t help but stare. His hair is still a little messy from sleep, and there’s this ease about him that makes him look so effortlessly… Harry.

He notices, of course. He always notices. Turning to catch me mid-stare, he smirks, tilting his head slightly.

“Take a picture, Y/N. It’ll last longer,” he teases, his voice dripping with that cheeky charm.

I roll my eyes, trying to fight the grin tugging at my lips. “Maybe I will,” I shoot back, grabbing my phone and pretending to snap a photo.

“You’re ridiculous,” he chuckles, stepping closer to press a quick kiss to my forehead before grabbing his wallet and keys.

I pull on my own pair of jeans, a plain tee, and sneakers. Comfort over style today—though Harry always insists I look good no matter what. As we make our way to the kitchen, he hums softly under his breath, a tune I don’t recognize but know I’ll ask him about later.

Breakfast is simple: toast, eggs, and coffee. Harry insists on making the coffee, declaring himself the “king of the French press.” I don’t argue; he really does make it better than I do.

As we finish up, he grabs his sunglasses and tosses me a lopsided grin. “Ready, love?”

We head out to his car—a sleek black Range Rover that feels way too fancy for a trip to the market, but that’s Harry. As he starts the engine, he glances at me with a playful glint in his eye.

“Do you remember the last time we went to the market?” he asks as we pull onto the London streets.

I laugh, shaking my head. “Not specifically, but I’m sure you’re about to remind me.”

He grins, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “You tried to convince me we needed three different types of cheese for one dish.”

“Because we did,” I argue, crossing my arms.

“And we forgot the bread,” he counters, his laugh filling the car.

The easy banter flows between us as the city passes by outside. It’s moments like these—simple, mundane, yet filled with so much warmth—that make me realize just how much I’ve missed him while he’s been away. He reaches over to squeeze my hand, and for a moment, everything else fades away.

The market is alive with the hum of people, the scent of fresh produce, and the clatter of carts. As soon as we step inside, Harry grabs a cart and immediately veers toward the snacks aisle.

“We don’t need that,” I laugh as he tosses a jumbo bag of crisps into the cart.

“Don’t we?” he counters, feigning offense. “I’ve been deprived of proper snacks for months, love. Let me live a little.”

I roll my eyes but can’t help grinning as he starts piling in more things—chocolates, biscuits, and a random jar of pickles. “Harry,” I warn, trying to keep a straight face.

“What?” he says innocently. “Pickles are essential. You can’t deny it.”

We wander through the market, switching off who pushes the cart while the other roams the shelves. He sneaks in a box of cereal I’m pretty sure we already have at home, and I add a bottle of wine, pretending I didn’t see the outrageous snack haul he’s created.

As we pass the fresh pasta section, he stops, holding up a package of tagliatelle. “What do you think? Pasta for dinner?”

“Sounds perfect,” I say, reaching for a jar of marinara sauce. “What should we do for a side? Garlic bread?”

He nods enthusiastically. “And maybe a little salad. Gotta stay balanced,” he jokes, throwing in a bag of pre-washed greens with exaggerated flair.

By the time we’re at checkout, our cart is an eclectic mix of essentials, indulgences, and things we absolutely don’t need but couldn’t resist. As he loads the bags into the back of the car, he turns to me, a sly smile tugging at his lips.

“What do you think about a movie night tonight?” he asks casually, though there’s a twinkle in his eye that tells me he’s up to something.

“I’d love that,” I reply. “I’d love to do anything with you.”

His grin widens, and he leans in just slightly. “Anything, huh?” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a suggestive tone.

I shove him playfully, trying to fight the blush creeping up my neck. “Don’t start.”

He laughs, the sound warm and infectious. “What? I’m just saying we could… expand the agenda.”

“Let’s focus on dinner first,” I quip, climbing into the passenger seat.

As he starts the car, he shoots me one last cheeky glance. “Dinner and a movie, it is. For now.”

As we drive back home, the city whizzes by outside the windows, but my attention is completely fixed on Harry. His hand rests casually on the steering wheel, the other drumming lightly to the rhythm of the music playing softly on the radio. The late afternoon sunlight filters through the windshield, casting a soft glow over his face.

I take in the details—the way his tattoos peek out from beneath the rolled-up sleeve of his tee, the way his hair curls just slightly at the ends, looking perfectly imperfect. It’s all so him. Effortless, magnetic, entirely Harry.

My chest tightens with a wave of emotion I can’t suppress. For months, I’ve been waiting for this—to have him home, to watch him do something as simple as drive, to just be with him.

“I love you,” I say softly, the words spilling out before I even realize it.

He glances over at me, his green eyes warm and a little surprised, like he wasn’t expecting it but loves hearing it all the same. “I love you too, Y/N,” he says, his voice gentle but steady, like it’s the easiest truth in the world.

I shake my head, smiling as I try to find the right words. “No, I mean… I really love you. I missed you so much, Harry. I missed this. Us. You.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just reaches over to place his hand on mine, squeezing it gently as his thumb brushes over my knuckles.

“I missed you too, love,” he says quietly. “More than I can even put into words.”

The car falls into a comfortable silence, but it’s filled with so much more than quiet. It’s filled with the weight of everything I feel for him, everything I’ve held onto while he’s been away.

As I look over at him again, I realize just how deeply he’s woven into every part of me. The sound of his laugh, the warmth of his touch, the way he knows exactly what to say to make me feel like the only person in the world—it’s all part of why I love him.

As we pull into the driveway, Harry shifts the car into park and turns to me with a smirk. “Alright, love, get those muscles ready. It’s time to show me what you’re made of.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Excuse me? I’m a delicate flower. I shouldn’t have to carry groceries,” I tease, fluttering my lashes dramatically.

He rolls his eyes, playing along. “Right, how could I forget? Well, I guess I’ll just do it all myself then,” he says, feigning exasperation as he climbs out of the car.

“Good plan,” I call after him, though I follow and grab a couple of bags because I’m not that cruel.

Between the two of us, we manage to carry everything inside, though Harry insists on making a show of flexing his arms every time he brings in another load.

“Impressed yet?” he asks, winking as he sets the last bag on the counter.

“Totally,” I say, deadpan. “Your talent for grocery-hauling is unmatched.”

He grins, leaning against the counter while I start unpacking. As I’m putting things away, I notice him setting a few things aside on the island—the pasta, marinara, garlic, and salad mix.

“Getting a head start on dinner, are you?” I ask, glancing at him over my shoulder.

“Just being efficient,” he replies, pulling out a cutting board and inspecting it like he’s about to perform surgery. “Also, you know I’m starving.”

“You’re always starving,” I tease, but my words are muffled as I reach into a bag and pull out a pack of cookies.

Harry spots them instantly, his face lighting up. “You’re a genius,” he says, grabbing the pack from me and tearing it open.

“Hey! I was going to do that,” I protest, but he’s already popped a cookie into his mouth, grinning as he chews.

“Too slow, love,” he says, holding the pack out to me.

I take one and lean against the counter next to him, snacking while we chat about nothing and everything. The kitchen fills with the sound of our laughter, the clinking of jars and cans as I finish putting the groceries away, and Harry’s occasional commentary about how he’s “the true mastermind behind dinner.”

Harry hums softly to himself as he moves around the kitchen, a wooden spoon in hand as he stirs the pot of simmering sauce. It’s a sight I’ve missed—his ease, his focus, and the way he somehow makes cooking look like an art form.

I sit on one of the barstools, resting my chin in my hand as I watch him. He glances over his shoulder and smirks. “You’re staring again.”

“Can you blame me?” I reply, grinning.

He shakes his head, chuckling as he dips the spoon into the sauce. “Alright, taste test,” he says, walking over to me with the spoon held out.

I lean forward and take a small sip, the tangy warmth of the marinara spreading across my tongue. “Mmm,” I hum, nodding in approval. “That’s really good.”

Harry grins proudly, but his expression turns playful as he tilts his head. “Really good, huh? Just ‘good’? Not ‘amazing’ or ‘out of this world’?”

I roll my eyes and lean in, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “Amazing,” I say, teasingly.

He whines dramatically, turning to face me fully. “That’s all I get? A cheek kiss after slaving away over a hot stove?”

Laughing, I reach up and pull him down for a proper kiss, his lips soft and warm against mine. He hums in satisfaction, pulling back just enough to look at me, his green eyes sparkling.

“Much better,” he says, his voice low and content. Then, with a grin, he gestures toward the living room. “Now go on, find us something good for movie night. I’ll finish up here.”

I linger for a moment, watching him as he turns back to the stove, stirring the sauce with one hand and tossing pasta into a pot with the other. He looks so at home, so effortlessly himself, and I feel a wave of love wash over me.

“Anything in particular you’re in the mood for?” I ask, heading toward the couch.

“Something good,” he calls back. “No pressure, though.”

I laugh, flopping onto the couch and scrolling through the streaming options, already knowing whatever I pick, he’ll make it perfect just by being there.

A few minutes later, Harry walks into the living room, balancing two bowls of pasta with garlic bread perched neatly on the side. His careful concentration makes me smile, and he lets out a dramatic sigh of relief as he sets the bowls on the coffee table.

“Dinner is served,” he announces with a grin, plopping down next to me and handing me my bowl.

“Thank you, chef,” I say, nudging his shoulder.

“Only the best for you, love,” he replies, leaning back into the cushions and taking a bite of his pasta.

We settle in, the familiar hum of a rom-com filling the room as we eat. Every so often, Harry sneaks a piece of my garlic bread, and I swat at him in mock protest, though I don’t really mind. It’s comfortable.

When the credits roll, Harry stretches with a groan, his head tilting back against the couch. “I hate to admit it,” he says, his voice laced with playful regret, “but I think I’m officially an old man.”

I laugh, resting my head on his shoulder. “What are you talking about? You’re a spring chicken.”

He shakes his head, smiling. “As much as I’d love to expand the evening and, you know, do naughty things, I’m absolutely knackered.”

I giggle, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “That’s fine, Harry. Go on, get some rest. I’ll clean up here.”

He gives me a grateful smile, standing up and stretching again. “You’re too good to me, you know that?”

“Don’t forget it,” I tease, watching him as he heads upstairs, his steps slow and tired.

Once he’s gone, I take my time cleaning up the kitchen and living room. I rinse out the bowls, wipe down the counters, and straighten up the cushions on the couch. It feels good to take care of the space we share, to know he’s upstairs waiting for me.

When I’m done, I slip into the shower, letting the warm water wash away the day. The quiet hum of the house wraps around me, and I feel an overwhelming sense of contentment.

After drying off and pulling on a cozy t-shirt, I head upstairs and crawl into bed next to Harry. He’s already half-asleep, his arm draped across my side as I settle in.

“Night, love,” he mumbles sleepily, his voice muffled but full of warmth.

“Goodnight, Harry,” I whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his temple.

The next morning, I wake up to the soft glow of early sunlight streaming through the curtains. I glance over at Harry, expecting to find his side of the bed empty like usual—he’s always the first one up. But this time, he’s still there, lying on his stomach with one arm draped over the pillow.

It’s rare to catch him sleeping in, but he looks peaceful, his face relaxed in the quiet morning light. Not wanting to disturb him, I carefully slip out of bed and head downstairs.

Once in the kitchen, I decide to make breakfast—something simple: scrambled eggs, toast, and some fruit. The rhythmic sounds of the whisk and the faint sizzle of butter in the pan fill the kitchen as I work.

I’m almost done cooking when I hear slow, shuffling footsteps behind me. Turning around, I see Harry leaning against the doorframe, his hair sticking up in every direction. His face looks pale, and there’s a groggy, pained expression in his eyes.

“Morning,” I say, but before I can say more, he groans softly, running a hand through his hair.

“I feel like absolute shit,” he mumbles, his voice hoarse and scratchy.

Concern washes over me as I set the spatula down and walk toward him. “What’s wrong?” I ask, scanning his face.

He rubs his temples, leaning heavily against the counter. “Head’s pounding, throat feels like it’s on fire, and I’m pretty sure I’ve got a fever,” he mutters, his tone laced with irritation at his own body. Then he waves his hand weakly at me. “Don’t come near me. I don’t want you to catch whatever this is.”

Ignoring his warning, I step closer, my brows knitting in worry. “Harry, I don’t care about that. Sit down,” I say firmly, guiding him to a chair at the kitchen table.

He doesn’t argue, letting out another groan as he sinks into the seat. His head drops into his hands, and I can tell he’s trying to push through it, but it’s clear he’s not feeling himself.

“I’ll get you some tea and medicine,” I say softly, already moving to put the kettle on.

He glances up at me, his green eyes heavy with exhaustion but still filled with affection. “You don’t have to fuss over me, love,” he says, his voice cracking slightly.

“Of course I do,” I reply, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You always take care of me. Now it’s my turn.”

He smiles faintly, leaning back in the chair as I set about getting him what he needs, determined to nurse him back to health.

I set a mug of tea in front of Harry, the steam curling up in delicate clouds. “Tea with honey,” I say softly, sliding the plate of scrambled eggs and toast next to it. I make sure to add two Tylenols, placing them neatly on the napkin.

He looks up at me, his face still pale but his expression grateful. “Thanks, love,” he murmurs, his voice raspy.

I sit across from him, watching as he takes a sip of tea and winces slightly. “It’s the post-tour crud,” he says with a small, tired chuckle. “Happens every time. My immune system’s just catching up after weeks of running on adrenaline.”

“Well, it’s catching up hard,” I reply, leaning my elbows on the table. “But it’s okay. I’ll take care of you.”

He shakes his head slowly, frowning. “I feel bad, Y/N. You shouldn’t have to deal with me like this. And I don’t want to get you sick.”

I reach out and cover his hand with mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Harry, I don’t care. You’ve taken care of me plenty of times when I was sick. Remember when I had that horrible flu last year? You didn’t leave my side.”

“That’s different,” he says, his lips tugging into a weak smile. “I’m supposed to take care of you.”

I laugh softly, brushing my thumb over his knuckles. “Well, now it’s my turn. You’re always looking out for me, Harry. Let me look out for you this time, alright?”

He doesn’t argue further, just looks at me with a mix of gratitude and affection, his eyes slightly glassy from the fever. “I don’t deserve you,” he mutters, shaking his head.

“Yes, you do,” I say firmly, standing to refill his tea. “Now eat, take your Tylenol, and let me fix you.”

Despite his groans of protest, I can see the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

After breakfast, I set to work transforming the couch into a fortress of comfort. I grab every blanket I can find, piling them up alongside a collection of fluffy pillows, creating a cozy little nest. I pick a lighthearted show—something easy to watch, the kind Harry loves to have on in the background when he’s feeling off.

“Alright,” I say, standing back to admire my work. “Your throne awaits, Mr. Styles. Sit down, relax, and get comfy.”

He shuffles over from the kitchen, looking every bit the part of someone who’s feeling under the weather. As soon as he sinks into the pile of blankets, a sneeze erupts, followed by a series of coughs.

“Bless you,” I say, walking over to him. I lean down to press a kiss to his forehead, but he holds up a hand weakly, stopping me.

“Y/N,” he warns, his voice hoarse. “I’m sick. You shouldn’t—”

I ignore him, leaning in anyway to kiss his warm skin. “I really don’t care,” I say softly. “You’re stuck with me, germs and all.”

He shakes his head, clearly too tired to argue further, as I wrap my arms around him and pull him into a hug. His head rests against my shoulder, and I can feel the heat radiating from him. He’s definitely running a fever, but I don’t let go.

Once he settles, I sit on the couch and tug him gently toward me, guiding him to rest against my chest. He lets out a tired sigh, letting his body relax into mine as I drape a blanket over both of us.

I start running my fingers through his hair, smoothing it back from his forehead, and rub his back gently. “You’re burning up,” I whisper.

“I told you not to get close,” he mutters, though his voice is soft and grateful.

“Well, I told you I don’t care,” I reply, pressing my cheek to the top of his head.

He shifts slightly, snuggling closer, his hand resting lightly on my leg as the show plays quietly in the background. I keep stroking his hair and tracing light patterns on his back, hoping the touch soothes him.

For the first time since he woke up, he seems to relax fully, his breathing evening out as he watches the screen. Even though he’s warm to the touch and clearly miserable, I can feel the tension in his body melting away.

“I love you,” he mumbles sleepily.

“I love you too,” I whisper back, holding him a little tighter.

[sirenedeslily]

── 𝓟icture 𝓨ou ( jackie taylor ) ּ 𓂅 ⋆

・❥・ ─── 𝓢𝗬𝗡. a quiet love story between a shy photographer and the untouchable girl she’s captured in secret.

( pairing ) — jackie taylor x female!reader 𝜗𝒞 ; fluff / college au ℳ. based off this request !! hope it didn’t disappoint 𓂃 ( 1k )

jackie taylor is the kind of girl people write songs about.

you knew it from the first moment you saw her, golden and untouchable, stepping onto campus like she owned the sidewalks. like the world belonged to her, or maybe just wanted to. she was the kind of girl you kept your distance from, because you weren't the type to belong in her orbit—just an observer, a passerby, someone with a vintage camera slung around their neck and untied laces on their worn-out converse.

your roommates, lottie and nat, always tease you about it. "there she goes again," lottie would say, watching you grab your camera before heading out. "off to capture another moment of the unattainable jackie taylor." but they don't understand. it's not about attainability. it's about preserving something beautiful, something real.

then came that night in late september, when the air was still warm but carried hints of autumn's approach. you were driving home from a photography club meeting when you saw her standing on the curb outside some frat house party, arms crossed, jaw tight, alone. the streetlight caught in her hair like a halo, and without thinking, you pulled over.

"need a ride?"

she looked at you for a long moment, mascara slightly smudged, vulnerability written in the set of her shoulders. you learned later that jeff had left her there after an argument—something about him being controlling, about her being "too much."

"yeah," she finally said, voice softer than you'd ever heard it. "that'd be great."

the drive was quiet at first, just the low hum of your car's heater and the occasional direction from jackie. but then she started talking—really talking—about her dreams beyond being the perfect preppy girl everyone expected, about how sometimes she felt like she was playing a role in her own life.

"i don't think i've ever told anyone that," she admitted as you pulled up to her dorm.

"your secret's safe with me," you promised, and something shifted between you that night.

after that, jackie started appearing in your world more frequently. she'd find you in the library, sliding into the seat across from you with a coffee and a smile. you'd run into her between classes, and somehow those brief encounters would turn into hour-long conversations. she'd text you random thoughts at 3 am, and you'd respond with photos you'd taken that day.

the camera became your bridge. "show me how you see things," she'd say, and you'd let her peer through your viewfinder at the way morning light filtered through leaves, or how raindrops collected on spider webs. you never told her that most of your photos were of her—captured in quiet moments when she thought no one was looking.

until today.

she's curled up in your bed, legs draped over yours, head resting on your shoulder. the afternoon sun streams through your dorm window, casting everything in honey-gold light. she's scrolling through your phone, casual and comfortable in a way that still makes your heart skip.

"wait—where do all your saved photos go?"

your stomach tightens. it's a casual question, but it carries the weight of all your unspoken admiration, all the moments you've collected like precious stones.

before you can answer, she's already in your gallery, thumb swiping through image after image. you watch her face as realization dawns.

"these are all of me."

not a question. a soft, stunned observation.

you watch as she takes in each photo: jackie laughing during a soccer game, hair flying wild and free. jackie asleep in the library during finals week, textbook pressed against her cheek. jackie in the passenger seat of your car at sunset, profile gilded by dying light. jackie in the rain, in the sun, in shadow and light—always beautiful, always real.

"you took all of these?"

you nod, suddenly feeling exposed. "i like capturing moments. real ones."

her eyes find yours. "why me?"

the question hangs between you, heavy with meaning. you take a breath, choosing your words carefully.

"because you're most beautiful when you're just being yourself. not the jackie everyone expects—just... you."

she's quiet for a moment, then reaches for your nightstand where your photo album sits. before you can stop her, she's opening it, discovering more pieces of herself through your lens.

the album is filled not just with photos, but with pieces of your shared history. a pressed flower from the day she picked a daisy and tucked it behind your ear. a coffee stain on a napkin from your first real conversation. concert tickets, dried leaves, small moments preserved like insects in amber.

"this is..." she trails off, fingers tracing a photo of herself reading poetry on the quad, completely unaware of the camera. "this is how you see me?"

you nod, heart thundering. "that's how you are."

jackie closes the album gently, setting it aside. when she looks at you again, her eyes are soft, touched by something deeper than surprise.

"no one's ever seen me like this before," she whispers, shifting closer until her forehead rests against yours. "like i'm worth remembering."

"you're worth every photo," you murmur back. "every moment."

she kisses you then, soft and slow, like she's trying to capture this moment too. when she pulls back, there's a smile playing at her lips.

"you know," she says, "for someone who spends so much time behind the camera, you're pretty terrible at hiding how you feel."

you laugh, warmth spreading through your chest. "maybe i wasn't trying to hide it."

jackie's smile widens. "good," she says, pulling you closer. "because i think i like being seen by you."

the late afternoon light paints everything gold, and you think about reaching for your camera. but some moments, you realize, are better lived than captured. so instead, you kiss her again, memorizing this feeling with something deeper than film and paper.

after all, the best pictures are the ones we keep in our hearts.

𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻, @carvedtits @et6rnalsun @wovenribbons @waitforyrlove @ncm9696 @marrykisskilled @maggot3647 @ifwdominicfike @honeymoonchem @ch6rm @freshloveee @theapollochronicles @mattsdolll @jetaimevous @secretlocket

[oldsoul007]

7 summers

joel miller x reader

summary: After seven years apart, you see Joel Miller again, and what once felt like a fleeting teenage fling comes rushing back, forcing you to confront the love you never truly let go.

a/n: suggestive scenes, kissing, angstyish, fluff

joel miller masterlist

The summer I was eighteen, I fell in love with Joel Miller.

Not that I ever admitted it—not to him, not to myself, and certainly not to Tommy. Joel was Tommy’s older brother, and Tommy was my best friend. He was the one person in my life who knew everything about me, who’d always been there when I needed him. The last thing I wanted to do was ruin that. So, when Joel and I started sneaking off together that summer, I convinced myself it was just a fling, a secret I could lock away and never think about again.

But it wasn’t.

That summer was everything. Stolen kisses by the lake, his rough hands trailing down my arms, the way his voice turned soft when he called me “darlin’.” He wasn’t just my first love; he was my whole world, even if I couldn’t say it out loud. I wanted to. God, I wanted to tell him. But every time I opened my mouth, the fear of what would happen—the fallout with Tommy—kept the words stuck in my throat.

By the end of the summer, I was gone. Off to work, off to whatever life waited for me outside of our small Texas town. I swore to myself I’d move on, forget him, and never let myself feel that way again.

But some loves don’t fade.

Seven summers later, I was doing just fine—at least, that’s what I told myself. Then I ran into Tommy at a bar. Same grin, same easy laugh. For a second, it felt like we were kids again, back when everything was simple.

“y/n l/n,” he said, pulling me into a hug. “Where the hell have you been hiding?”

We talked for hours, catching up, reminiscing about all the trouble we used to get into. By the end of the night, he’d convinced me to come over for dinner. “It’s been too damn long,” he said. “You gotta come by. I’ll cook, just like old times.”

I didn’t think twice about it. I should have.

When I walked into Tommy’s house two nights later, I saw him. Joel.

He was leaning against the kitchen counter, a beer in his hand, looking exactly like I remembered—but somehow more. Broader, older, rougher around the edges in a way that made my stomach twist. The second he saw me, he froze, his eyes locking onto mine.

“Y/n,” he said, my name soft on his lips.

“Joel,” I whispered, my heart hammering in my chest.

Tommy, oblivious as ever, waltzed into the room and clapped a hand on Joel’s shoulder. “You two know each other, right? Y/n used to hang out all the time when we were kids.”

Joel glanced at me, waiting, and I knew he was asking me to hold the line. To keep the secret we’d buried all those years ago. Somehow, I found my voice. “Yeah,” I said, forcing a smile. “We’ve met.”

seven summers ago

The room was dark, the only light coming from the soft glow of the moon streaming through the thin curtains. It painted faint shadows across the walls, moving slightly with the breeze that didn’t quite reach us. The night was warm and heavy, the air clinging to my skin, and the constant chirp of crickets outside filled the silence. I lay flat on my back, my head sinking into the flat pillow of the old, creaky bed in my family’s lakehouse.

Joel was beside me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him. His shoulder brushed against mine every time one of us moved, a gentle reminder of how little space there was between us. We hadn’t spoken for what felt like hours, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was heavy. Dense with the weight of things neither of us wanted to say.

I turned my head slightly, just enough to look at him. The moonlight caught the angles of his face, his jawline sharp and his dark eyes fixed on the ceiling like he was trying to untangle some thought that wouldn’t let him go. I swallowed the lump in my throat and fidgeted with the frayed edge of the blanket resting around our waists, trying to quiet the thoughts spinning in my head.

“What do you think you’ll be doing in ten years?” I asked, my voice soft. It felt like the kind of question that belonged in a moment like this, one that could break the silence without shattering it.

Joel’s brow furrowed slightly, like I’d caught him off guard. He turned his head to look at me, the corner of his mouth tugging up in that small, shy smile he did so well. “I don’t know,” he said, his voice low and easy. “Probably still workin’ construction, maybe startin’ my own business if I’m lucky.”

I smiled at the thought of it—of Joel running his own business. It felt so… right. “You’d be good at that,” I said, meaning it. “You’re good with your hands.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head like he didn’t believe me, but his gaze lingered. “What about you?” he asked, his voice quiet but steady. “What’s y/n gonna be doing in ten years?”

I bit my lip, my smile faltering as I stared at the ceiling. “I don’t know,” I said after a pause. “Just something far away from here.”

I felt Joel shift beside me, his voice hesitant when he repeated my words. “Far away?”

“Yeah,” I said, keeping my eyes on the ceiling. “I just… I’ve always felt like there’s something out there, you know? Something bigger. I don’t want to stay stuck in one place forever.”

There was a long pause, and I could feel his gaze on me even though I didn’t look at him. Then, slowly, I felt his hand brush against mine. My breath caught as his fingers tentatively laced with mine, his palm warm and a little rough.

“You won’t be stuck,” he said softly, his voice sure but carrying something else—something deeper.

I turned my head to look at him, our hands still tangled between us. “How do you know?” I whispered, my voice unsteady.

His eyes didn’t waver as they held mine, dark and steady. “’Cause you’re different, y/n. You’ve got somethin’—a spark or somethin’. You’re meant for more than this little town.”

His words hit me in a way I wasn’t prepared for, filling me with equal parts hope and fear. I wanted to believe him—to believe that I was different, that I was meant for something more. But the thought of leaving, of leaving him, made my chest ache.

“What if I don’t want to leave everything behind?” I asked, my voice so soft I wasn’t sure he’d hear it.

Joel’s expression softened, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of my hand. “Then don’t,” he said simply. “But don’t let anyone hold you back, either. Not me, not Tommy… no one.”

His words settled over me, heavy and full of meaning. He was giving me permission, I realized—not that I needed it, but it still felt like he was handing me something. Something I wasn’t sure I could take.

I turned my gaze back to the ceiling, my throat tight and my heart pounding. There were a thousand things I wanted to say to him, things I couldn’t untangle from the knot of feelings twisting inside me. I didn’t want to leave him. He was the one thing that made staying feel worth it.

But I didn’t say any of that.

Instead, I squeezed his hand, letting the silence take over again. It stretched between us, thick with everything we weren’t saying, everything we might never say.

Joel didn’t pull away, and neither did I. We just lay there, our hands still tangled together, the weight of the moment pressing down on us as the warm summer night carried on.

The smell of grilled steak and warm buttered rolls filled Tommy’s kitchen, a scent so familiar it made my chest ache. It was the kind of meal I’d had a hundred times at the Miller house, back when summer nights were spent on their back porch, laughing over cold beers and fireflies.

I hadn’t expected to feel so at home here after all these years. But I also hadn’t expected Joel to be sitting across the table from me, looking at me like I was some kind of ghost from his past.

It had been seven summers since I last saw him—since I left. Seven years of growing up, of moving on, or at least trying to. But sitting here now, it felt like no time had passed at all.

“So,” Tommy said, leaning back in his chair as he nursed a beer. “Y/n, what the hell have you been up to? Feels like forever since we’ve seen you.”

I smiled, shrugging slightly. “Oh, you know. Work, life. Moved around a little, but I’m back now.”

Joel, who had been quiet most of the night, finally spoke up. His voice was lower, rougher than I remembered, like time had left its mark on him. “Didn’t think you’d ever come back.”

His words weren’t harsh, but there was something underneath them—something I couldn’t quite place.

“Neither did I,” I admitted, meeting his gaze. “Guess life doesn’t always go the way you think it will.”

Joel scoffed, shaking his head as he cut into his steak. “Ain’t that the truth.”

Tommy grinned, oblivious to the tension thickening between us. “Well, now that you’re back, maybe we can finally convince you to stick around for good this time.”

I gave a small laugh, but before I could answer, Joel spoke again. “Surprised you ain’t married yet.”

I blinked, caught off guard. His tone wasn’t teasing—if anything, he sounded genuinely curious.

“Yeah,” Tommy chimed in, smirking. “I figured some poor guy would’ve snatched you up by now.”

I rolled my eyes at Tommy’s comment, but it was Joel’s reaction I was focused on. His fork was still in his hand, his knuckles just a little too tight around it, his eyes steady on me like he was waiting for an answer.

“Guess I just haven’t found the right guy,” I said finally, keeping my voice light.

Joel’s jaw tightened slightly. He looked like he wanted to say something, but instead, he just nodded, his gaze flickering away as he took a slow sip of his beer.

I felt my stomach twist. There were a hundred things I wanted to ask him, a hundred things I wanted to say, but none of them felt safe—not here, not with Tommy sitting between us, completely unaware of the unspoken history filling the room.

“So what about you?” I asked, tilting my head. “Married yet?”

Joel let out a breath of a laugh, shaking his head. “Nope”

I waited for him to say more, but he didn’t.

And just like that, the conversation moved on, Tommy rambling about something from work, and I forced myself to laugh along, to pretend like my heart wasn’t pounding, like Joel’s words—and the look in his eyes—hadn’t completely thrown me off balance.

But I could feel it.

That pull. That thing between us that had never really gone away.

And by the way Joel kept sneaking glances at me across the table, I knew he felt it too.

Dinner stretched on, filled with Tommy’s easy conversation and the occasional laugh, but I barely heard any of it. My mind was stuck on Joel—on the way he kept glancing at me, on the weight behind his words, on the tension that hummed between us like a live wire.

It felt like the past was pressing in on us, slipping through the cracks of time as if the last seven years had been nothing more than a breath between moments.

When the plates were cleared and Tommy started rambling about a game he wanted to watch, Joel stood, grabbing a beer from the fridge. He hesitated for a second, then looked over at me.

“Come out back with me?” His voice was casual, but his eyes told a different story.

I shouldn’t have gone. I should’ve made an excuse, said my goodbyes, and walked out that door before I let myself slip any further into something I wasn’t sure I could handle.

But I nodded anyway.

I followed him through the screen door onto the back porch, the night air thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and warm summer air. The old wooden planks creaked under our weight as we stepped out, the sound familiar in a way that made my chest ache.

Joel leaned against the railing, taking a slow sip of his beer as he looked out at the yard. I stood beside him, hands gripping the edge of the wood, waiting for him to speak.

After a long pause, he exhaled and said, “Didn’t think I’d ever see you sittin’ at our dinner table again.”

His voice was softer now, quieter—just for me.

I swallowed, staring down at my hands. “Didn’t think I would be, either.”

He was quiet again, then he asked, “Why’d you come back?”

I let out a slow breath, watching the way the fireflies blinked lazily across the yard. “Needed a reset,” I admitted. “Life didn’t exactly turn out how I thought it would.”

Joel hummed, like he understood that better than he wanted to admit. “You runnin’ from somethin’?”

I hesitated before answering, because maybe, deep down, I was. But not in the way he thought.

“Not running,” I said carefully. “Just… trying to figure things out.”

Joel nodded like he got it, his fingers tapping absently against the neck of his beer bottle. He looked over at me then, his eyes dark under the dim glow of the porch light. “Seven years, y/n. That’s a long fucking time.”

I met his gaze, my throat tightening. “Yeah,” I whispered. “It is.”

Another pause stretched between us, thick and heavy. Then, so softly I almost didn’t hear it, Joel said, “I missed you.”

The words knocked the breath right out of me.

I turned to fully face him, my heart hammering in my chest. “Joel…”

He shook his head, setting his beer down on the railing before rubbing a hand over his jaw. “You don’t gotta say anything. Just—” He exhaled sharply, like he was fighting some internal battle. “Hell… It’s just… weird, you know? Havin’ you here again.”

I nodded, because it was weird. It was terrifying. It was everything I hadn’t let myself feel in years rushing back all at once.

“I missed you too,” I admitted, my voice barely more than a whisper.

Joel’s eyes flickered with something—something deep and unreadable. His fingers curled around the railing, his knuckles flexing like he was holding something back.

I should’ve walked away then. I should’ve let the moment pass before it became something bigger, something neither of us could take back.

But I didn’t.

Because the truth was, I didn’t want to.

And judging by the way Joel was looking at me, like he was seconds away from breaking, neither did he.

The night stretched thick between us, heavy with words we weren’t saying, with memories pressing in like ghosts we couldn’t shake. Joel was still gripping the railing, his fingers tightening and loosening like he was trying to talk himself out of something.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to.

“Feels like a lifetime ago,” he finally murmured, eyes still locked on me. “You and me. Sneakin’ around, swearin’ we weren’t—” He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “—feelin’ things we both knew damn well we were.”

His words hit deep, settling somewhere behind my ribs. Because that was the truth, wasn’t it? We had never admitted what we were, never spoken those words out loud, and yet, we both had known.

I swallowed, forcing my voice to stay steady. “We were just kids.”

Joel turned toward me then, slow and deliberate. “That what you tell yourself?”

I didn’t answer, because we both knew the truth. We hadn’t been just kids. Maybe we were young, maybe we didn’t know how to say it back then, but it had been real. As real as anything I’d ever felt.

Joel took a step closer, not enough to touch me, but enough that I could feel the warmth of him, could smell the mix of beer and cedarwood that clung to his skin.

“You happy?” he asked, his voice quieter now, more careful.

The question caught me off guard, not because it was unexpected, but because I wasn’t sure how to answer it.

I looked up at him, at the way the years had settled into him—lines at the corners of his eyes, a little more weight in his stance, a quiet kind of tiredness in his gaze. But underneath it all, he was still Joel. Still the boy who once laid beside me on a summer night, our fingers laced together, talking about the future like it was something we had all the time in the world to figure out.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Are you?”

Joel exhaled, his jaw clenching just slightly before he shook his head. “No”

The word settled between us, bare and unguarded.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The sounds of the night filled the silence—distant laughter from inside, the low hum of crickets, the creak of the porch as Joel shifted closer.

Then, softly, like he wasn’t sure he had the right to ask, he said, “You ever think about it?”

I knew exactly what he meant.

I wet my lips, my heart pounding so loud I was sure he could hear it. “Think about what?”

Joel’s gaze dipped down to my mouth for half a second before coming back up. His voice was lower now, rougher.

“Us.”

I swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

Joel took another step, and this time, he was close enough that I could feel the heat of him, could see the way his breathing had slowed like he was holding something back.

“I think about it all the damn time,” he admitted. “What it would’ve been like if you stayed. If I—” He stopped himself, his hand flexing at his side before he finally met my gaze again. “If I hadn’t let you leave without sayin’ somethin’ real.”

I felt my breath hitch.

seven summers ago

The morning air was crisp for late August, the kind of cool that hinted at the coming fall. The sun hadn’t quite broken through the haze yet, and the lake behind Tommy’s house was still and gray, like it was holding its breath. My car was packed, the trunk stuffed to the brim with clothes, books, and the small reminders of home I couldn’t bear to leave behind.

Tommy leaned against the side of my car, his arms crossed and his usual cocky grin nowhere to be found. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen him look this serious. His dark hair was a mess, like he hadn’t bothered to brush it, and his shirt was wrinkled from where he’d probably pulled it off the floor.

“You sure you’re ready for this?” he asked, his voice low and unusually hesitant.

“Yeah,” I said, though my voice wavered. “I think so.”

He shook his head, a small smile breaking through. “You’ve been talking about leaving since we were ten. If anyone’s ready, it’s you.”

I tried to smile back, but my chest ached too much to manage it. “Doesn’t make it any easier,” I admitted.

Tommy’s grin softened, and he stepped forward, pulling me into a hug that was tighter than I expected. He smelled like summer—grass, lake water, and a hint of the cheap cologne he always overused.

“Don’t forget about us little people when you’re out there changing the world, alright?” he said, his voice muffled against my hair.

I laughed, but it came out watery. “I could never forget you, Tommy. You wouldn’t let me.”

“Damn right,” he said, pulling back. His eyes were suspiciously shiny, but he blinked fast and didn’t let it show. “Call me, okay? I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night. I wanna hear about everything—college parties, classes, annoying roommates, all of it.”

“Promise,” I said, my voice thick.

He stepped back, giving me a mock salute before wandering toward the house. And that’s when I saw Joel.

He was standing on the porch, leaning against one of the wooden beams like he’d been there the whole time. He wasn’t smiling, wasn’t moving, just watching me with an expression I couldn’t read. His dark eyes locked on mine, and for a second, it felt like the whole world had gone still.

I hesitated, my chest tightening as I took a shaky breath and forced myself to walk toward him. The porch creaked under my weight, and when I stopped in front of him, he straightened, his hands shoved into the pockets of his worn jeans.

“Didn’t think you’d come say goodbye,” I said softly, my voice catching in my throat.

Joel’s jaw tightened, and he glanced away, staring out at the lake like it held the answer to whatever he was struggling with. “’Course I’d come,” he said after a long moment, his voice low and rough. “Wouldn’t let you leave without it.”

I swallowed hard, my hands curling into fists at my sides to keep from reaching for him. “I’ll miss you,” I said, the words barely above a whisper.

His gaze snapped back to mine, and for a second, I thought he might say something—something I’d been waiting to hear for what felt like forever. His mouth opened, but then he closed it, his shoulders stiffening as if he’d talked himself out of it.

“Don’t let anyone hold you back,” he said instead, his voice steady but distant. “Not me, not Tommy… no one.”

The words hit me like a punch to the chest. They were the same ones he’d said to me that night at the lake house, the same ones that had stayed with me long after the summer ended.

I wanted to scream at him, to shake him, to tell him that he wasn’t holding me back—he was the only thing making it hard to leave. But I couldn’t. The words stuck in my throat, too tangled up in everything I felt for him to come out right.

Instead, I nodded, blinking hard against the tears threatening to spill. “Take care of Tommy for me,” I said, my voice trembling.

Joel’s lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Always.”

There was a beat of silence, the kind that stretched so long it felt unbearable. Then, before I could second-guess myself, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around him.

For a moment, he didn’t move, and I thought he might pull away. But then his arms came around me, strong and steady, holding me tighter than I’d expected. I buried my face in his chest, breathing him in—sawdust, sweat, and the faint trace of cologne he only wore when he had to.

I wanted to stay there forever, to let the rest of the world disappear, but I couldn’t. I pulled back, my hands lingering on his arms for just a moment before I let them fall to my sides.

“Goodbye, Joel,” I said, my voice barely steady.

He didn’t say anything, just nodded, his dark eyes heavy with something I couldn’t name.

I turned and walked to my car, my chest aching with every step. As I slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine, I glanced in the rearview mirror. Joel was still standing on the porch, his hands shoved in his pockets, watching me drive away.

I didn’t look back again. If I had, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to leave.

“You think it would’ve changed anything?” I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.

Joel’s throat bobbed. “I don’t know. Maybe.” He ran a hand over his face, letting out a breath like he was fighting with himself. “But I do know one thing.”

“What?”

He lifted his hand, hesitant at first, then finally brushed his fingers along my arm, his touch featherlight but enough to send a shiver up my spine.

“I ain’t ever felt nothin’ like I felt with you,” he murmured. “Not before. Not after.”

I sucked in a shaky breath, my body swaying toward his before I could stop it.

“Joel…”

He shook his head, his hand trailing down my arm until his fingers barely skimmed mine. “Tell me you don’t feel it,” he said, voice rough and strained. “Tell me you don’t feel like we lost somethin’ we weren’t supposed to.”

I wanted to lie. Wanted to say that I had moved on, that whatever we had back then was just young and reckless, something that wasn't meant to last.

But I couldn't.

Because I did feel it.

I felt it in the way my chest ached just looking at him, in the way his touch still sent a shiver down my spine, in the way every moment we spent apart felt like time wasted.

I swallowed hard, my fingers curling slightly under his. "I can't tell you that," | whispered.

Joel's breath caught, his fingers tightening ever so slightly around mine, like he was holding onto something he wasn't ready to let go of.

For a long moment, neither of us moved. The air between us was thick, humming with something too strong to ignore, too real to pretend wasn't there.

The air between Joel and I crackled with so much unspoken tension, it was almost unbearable. My heart pounded against my chest, every nerve alight with the pull between us, but neither of us moved. We were so close, I could feel the warmth of his breath on my lips, his hands lingering on my waist as if he were just waiting for me to make the next move. And I almost did.

But before I could, the sound of the screen door creaked behind us.

“Hey, you guys coming back in?” Tommy called out from the doorway, his voice loud and clueless as ever. “I got that game on, and I’m not drinking alone out here.”

I froze, every muscle in my body locking up, and for a split second, it felt like the world had just stopped. Joel pulled back, almost imperceptibly, his hands still resting on my waist but no longer holding me so tightly. We both turned toward the door, where Tommy was standing with a grin, completely unaware of what had almost happened.

Joel cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly as he took a half step back. “Yeah, we’ll be right in,” he called back to Tommy, his voice rough, like he was trying to hide the tension that had just exploded between us.

Tommy, oblivious to everything that had just passed between us, gave a lazy wave and turned back inside. “Don’t take too long, man! You know I need company for the game.”

I watched him disappear into the house, the door swinging shut behind him with a soft thud. A long, silent moment passed between Joel and me, and I could almost hear the words that neither of us was willing to say. But we both knew it—what had just happened. What had almost happened. It hung between us like a heavy fog, and yet, neither of us moved to bridge the gap.

Joel was the first to break the silence, his voice low and rough. “Guess that’s our cue.”

I nodded, my throat tight as I tried to process everything. The heat between us hadn’t gone away, not even with Tommy’s interruption. If anything, it only made it stronger. But now, standing here with Joel so close, with everything hanging in the air, I wasn’t sure where to go from here.

“Yeah,” I managed to say, my voice shaky. “Guess it is.”

Joel let out a breath, running a hand through his hair, the familiar gesture that always made him look like the same guy from years ago. He didn’t seem as certain as he had just moments before. There was hesitation now, uncertainty.

He gave a short nod, turning toward the door. “Come on. Let’s not keep Tommy waiting.”

I followed him back inside, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on me. The door swung shut behind us, and we both slipped back into the routine of being around Tommy, pretending like nothing had changed.

But it had.

I could feel it in the way Joel’s eyes lingered on me when he thought I wasn’t looking, in the way my chest tightened every time he spoke, like I was trying to hold myself together while something deeper, something real, threatened to spill out.

I wasn’t sure how we were going to handle this. How we were supposed to go back to the way things were. But for now, we were both content to pretend. Pretend that everything was fine, that Tommy hadn’t just unknowingly interrupted something that could change everything.

I stepped out onto the porch, the cool night air brushing against my skin, but my body still felt warm from the tension that lingered between us. I hadn’t expected things to go the way they had tonight—especially not after so much time had passed. But there was no denying it. The pull I felt toward Joel had never truly gone away.

“Let me give you a ride home,” Joel said, breaking the silence as he stepped up beside me. His voice was low, a little gravelly, and there was something in his eyes—something that made my heart race.

I hesitated for a moment, looking back toward the door, knowing I should just leave and get some space to clear my head. But the desire to be close to him again, even just for a little longer, was stronger than any of the reasons I told myself I should go.

“Yeah,” I said, finally giving in, “okay.”

We walked to his truck, the soft crunch of gravel underfoot the only sound between us. The night felt different now, charged with something neither of us wanted to acknowledge—at least, not yet. When we got to the truck, Joel opened the door for me, his eyes never leaving mine as I climbed in. The truck door shut with a soft thud, and I settled in, trying to steady my breathing.

The drive was quiet, the only sound the hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. But the air between us was thick with everything unsaid—the years apart, the memories we couldn’t forget.

When we finally pulled up to my place, I felt a lump form in my throat. I didn’t want to say goodbye—not yet, not like this. But what else was there to say?

Joel’s truck rumbled to a stop outside my house, but neither of us moved immediately. The air felt thicker now, heavier, charged with all the things we hadn’t said. My heart was racing in my chest, the silence between us louder than any words could’ve been.

“Thanks for the ride,” I said quietly, trying to force some kind of normalcy into the situation. But my voice trembled, betraying everything I was trying to hide.

Joel didn’t answer at first, just stared at me for a moment. His brow furrowed, his jaw tense, like he was struggling to keep control. Without another word, he climbed out of the truck and walked around to my side, his movements slow but purposeful.

I froze for a second, wondering what he was doing. But when he reached the passenger door, he opened it, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity I couldn’t ignore. “Let me walk you to your door,” he said softly, as though it was a question, though neither of us needed permission.

I nodded, my throat tight, and stepped out of the truck, trying to steady myself as I moved toward him. His presence was magnetic, pulling me in as we walked together, side by side, toward the porch.

The night was quiet around us, but everything felt loud—our footsteps echoing, the rush of my pulse in my ears, the space between us that felt far too small for both of us to be standing in. My mind raced, but my body seemed to know exactly what it wanted, gravitating toward him with every step.

When we reached the front door, Joel stopped, turning to face me. There was something in his eyes, something raw and desperate, like he couldn’t stand to let go of this moment. The weight of the unspoken hung between us, and for a split second, I almost thought he would say something, but he didn’t. He reached out, his fingers brushing against mine, a quiet, gentle touch that sent a shock through my body.

“Y/n…” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. His hand lifted to my face, his thumb brushing over my cheek as he took another step closer. My breath hitched in my throat as I looked up at him, barely able to hold his gaze.

The moment felt too fragile, and I couldn’t make myself say anything else. Slowly, I turned toward the door, my hand reaching for the handle. “Goodnight, Joel,” I said, my voice barely audible.

He didn’t speak as I opened the door, stepping back just enough to let me through. I kept my gaze focused ahead, not trusting myself to look back at him, afraid of what I might see, afraid of what I might feel.

The door clicked shut behind me as I walked into my house, the weight of the night settling around me. I wasn't sure what to do with myself. I'd told myself I wasn't going to give in, that I was going to walk away and let things be, but Joel's words, his touch, had made it impossible to ignore the truth l'd buried for so long.

I slipped out of my shoes and made my way into the living room, my heart still racing from everything that had happened. As I sank into the couch, the silence in the house felt suffocating. I closed my eyes, but all I could see was Joel-his face, his hands on me, his kiss.

I was trying to talk myself down, to convince myself that I could move on. That I should. But just as I was about to stand, I heard a knock on the door.

I froze. My heart skipped a beat.

I walked slowly to the door, trying to calm the rush of emotions flooding my chest. When I opened it, there he was— Joel. Standing in the dark, his posture tense, but his eyes searching mine like he had to say something, like he couldn't leave without it.

“I can’t walk away from you again,” he said, his voice shaking ever so slightly.

Before I could even respond, his hand reached out to gently tug me closer, and his lips crashed onto mine. The kiss was fierce, urgent, as if he was trying to make up for the years apart, as if he couldn't stand the space between us anymore. I gasped, my hands coming up to clutch at his shirt as I kissed him back, my body pressed against his, needing him as much as he needed me.

He pulled me fully into the doorway, his hands moving to my waist, guiding me backward into the house. The door closed behind us with a soft thud, but neither of us paid attention to it.

All that mattered was the way his lips moved against mine, the way his touch made me feel like I was finally coming home.

Joel's kiss deepened, his hands sliding up my back to tangle in my hair, pulling me closer until there wasn't an inch of space between us.

I felt the heat of his body, the way his muscles flexed as he held me, the way his breath caught when I tugged him.

When we finally pulled apart, I was breathless, my heart pounding in my chest. His forehead rested against mine, both of us struggling to catch our breath, to make sense of what had just happened.

My fingers curling into his shirt as I pulled him back to me, not wanting to let go, not wanting to fight this anymore. Neither of us was ready to say goodbye—not yet, not when the night was still young and the truth was finally out in the open.

The world outside disappeared, leaving only us in this moment, the only sound the rush of our breathing, the pounding of our hearts in sync.

He pulled away briefly, his forehead resting against mine, his breath shaky.

"I can't pretend anymore," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I never stopped wanting you, y/n. Not for a second."

My heart twisted in my chest, and I didn't care anymore about what we had to lose. "Neither did I," I whispered, before closing the space between us again, kissing him with everything I had left to give.

This time, there was no holding back. We were finally done running from the truth.

[bytemee]

GOT HER OWN. — karina (part two)

"𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝗶𝘁. 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗶𝗻 𝗶𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵, 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗶𝗻 𝗶𝘁."

in which — y/n is a valorant streamer who loves trolling and chasing a spot on the top 10 valorant clutches list. when katarinabluu, a high-ranked player, takes the #1 spot, y/n throws shade during their stream only for katarina to clap back online.

pairing ! - streamer!karina x streamer!gn!reader

genre ! - smau w a little bit of written text, enemies to lovers, comedy

warnings ! - flirting, kys/kms jokes, swearing, this is very bad x2, readers really down bad but like… can u blame them

featuring ! - aespa, yunjin (le sserafim), keeho (p1harmony) minji (newjeanz), and more

a/n: part one. also this is kinda rushed

the day finally came.

after multiple tweets from both sides, begging from fans, and you-mostly you, karina had finally caved. you'd tweeted, she'd tweeted. you'd both been talking so much shit, and now, it was finally time to back it all up. fans were waiting, the chat was ready, and you were grinning at your screen, barely containing the excitement.

"alright, alright," you muttered, adjusting your headset. "we're just waiting for karina to join the discord call."

username i'm so scared for you y/n. jenaissante if you lose don't think about coming back home. jenaissante you have to stay out on the streets. username yunjin pls. username💀💀💀💀 username i never seen you smile so much in my life.

you glanced over at your chat, and before you could complain about the constant teasing, you heard the familiar ding—the sound of karina joining the call.

"hello?"

your hand slapped over your mouth at the sound of her voice, and it was like she hadn't just spent weeks publicly trash-talking you online.

"uh, hello? is anyone there?" karina's voice came through again, this time, with a bit of confusion.

"yeah, i'm here," you managed to say, your voice cracking slightly. you winced. great start.

she hummed softly, like she was assessing you already, you tried to not focus on that, but your mouth started moving before your brain could stop it.

"your voice is so..." you trailed off.

"sexy, right?" her confidence made your stomach flip. you could almost hear the smirk in her tone.

"can you tell me to kill myself?" you blurted out, eyes widening as you covered your mouth.

username OH MY GODDDD WHAT username i want to die rn username WHAT AM I WATCHING. jenaissante i jenaissante WHAT jenaissante ARE YOU FLIRTING RIGHT NOW???? username PLEASE STAND UP

"what?" karina sounded half-shocked, half-amused.

"i said, can you tell me what map," you lied quickly, tryina to cover.

there was a pause, then a soft laugh. "oh. ascent."

username IM FUCKING DYINGGGG username UR NOT SLICK AT ALL Y/N. username THAT SOUNDS NOTHING ALIKE

you side-eyed your webcam before trying to focus on the game, not her nor your chat.

that failed.

as the match started, you locked in iso, confident you could at least win the first round and set the tone. but confidence didn't count for much when karina absolutely destroyed you within the first 30 seconds.

"already?" she teased, and your jaw dropped. "i thought you'd at least make me work for it." you tried your best to get into the game, really you did. but with her taunting and teasing, it was hard not to get distracted.

"relax," you shot back, gripping your mouse tighter. "i'm warming up."

the chat was enjoying it though.

username Y/N YOU STILL HAVE TIME TO FAKE A POWER OUTAGE jenaissante "warming up" LMFAOOO username she's embarrassing you and she's not even trying.

round after round, it became painfully clear that karina wasn't just good-she was better. the first game on ascent ended with you losing 13-3.

"damn," karina said, a smile in her voice. "you got three rounds? that's cute.

you groaned, pulling at your headset. "you can shut up, y'know."

next up was icebox, and you swore you'd turn it around. except, somehow, it got worse. every time you thought you had the advantage, karina would outplay you, peeking angles you didn't expect, and her aim was perfect.

"are you even trying?" she asked, voice light.

you frowned. she didn't need to know how much it bothered you that you weren't performing as well as you wanted.

well, karina didn't just stream with you because it's what the fans wanted (and you), you two had actually made a deal. whoever won gets 100 gifted subs from the loser. and while the stakes were relatively low, you couldn't imagine losing, not with your pride on the line.

"i am trying," you muttered, frustrated but also... kind of impressed. "can you chill for like, two seconds?"

"nope," she replied casually.

icebox ended with an even worse score: 13-2.

username GOODBYE Y/N YOU'RE EMBARRASSING US username i want her to step on me username why do i actually feel bad for you rn. username WHATS HAPPENING username THIS IS SO PAINFUL TO WATCH

finally, you decided to switch things up. different agents, different strategies-something. you didn't care about pride anymore; you just wanted one win. but even then, karina still had the upper hand, winning every round like it was nothing.

your frustration hit its peak after another humiliating loss. "alright, new deal," you announced, crossing your arms.

"oh? another excuse?" karina sounded far too amused, and you hated how it made your heart jump.

"no," you shot back. "if you win the next match, i'll gift you 300 subs instead of the 100 we agreed on."

her tone instantly changed. "really? and if you win?"

your heart pounded in your chest, and for a split second, you considered backing out. but screw it-you'd already embarrassed yourself enough tonight. what's one more risk?

"if i win, you have to let me take you out on a date."

silence.

username Y/N IS INSANE jenaissante OMG username WHAT ARE YOU DOING??. 

jenaissante DO YOU HEAR YOURSELF RN??? username Y/N I AM ON THE FLOOR SCREAMING username THIS IS NOT HOW IT WORKS. username OH MY GOODNESS VALENTINE?????

finally, karina broke the silence, her laughter light and breathy. "a date?"

you swallowed hard, gripping your mouse tighter. "yeah. a date. unless you're scared you'll lose."

"oh, please," she scoffed, and you couldn't help the grin tugging at the corner of your lips.

this was it. this was the last game. you weren't going down without a fight, and honestly, you couldn't deny how fun it was. it had been a long time since anyone challenged you like this, and you found yourself enjoying getting your ass beat.

but all of a sudden you could swear karina wasn't playing as aggressively as before. there were moments where she'd miss shots she'd normally hit, giving you openings you knew weren't just luck.

"are you—" you blinked at your screen, the kill notification popping up after you managed to finally clutch a round. "are you throwing on purpose?"

karina laughed, the sound casual but somehow still flustering you. "what? no. maybe you're just getting better."

your jaw dropped. "karina. are you seriously—"

"what? i'm just saying," she interrupted.

username SHE'S LETTING YOU WIN RN I KNOW IT username Y/N DON'T SELL username OMGGGGGGGGG SHE LIKES YOU username АААААААННННН.

"karina, play seriously," you grumbled, your face burning.

"i am," she replied innocently. but when the next round started, you caught her hesitating just long enough for you to land a clean shot.

you couldn't hold back the grin spreading across your face. "you're so throwing."

"maybe i am," she admitted softly, and you nearly choked. "but you better make this date worth it if you win."

[amxritt]

Stay

Rafe Cameron x f!reader

Summary: inspired by Stay by Gracie Abrams

Word Count: 4.4K

Warnings: angst (lots of it), brief mentions of addiction, uhh more probably idk

“You told me something when I left but I don’t remember. Maybe ‘cause all I could do then was stare at the floor”

The fight had been brewing for weeks. Rafe had been spiraling—late nights, glazed eyes, erratic moods. Y/n felt the weight of it all pressing down on her. She had known something was wrong, had seen the signs, but she had hoped he’d stop before things got this bad.

Now, they stood in his bedroom, the air thick with tension. Rafe paced back and forth like a caged animal, his voice rising with frustration. He shouted about how she didn’t understand, how this wasn’t her problem to fix. Y/n flinched at the sharpness in his tone, staying rooted to the edge of his bed, her gaze fixed firmly on the carpet beneath her feet.

She hated when he yelled. Wrapping her arms around herself, she tried to shield herself from the storm brewing inside him.

“You don’t get it, Y/n,” Rafe spat, his voice breaking. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. This is my life.”

“And I care about it!” she shot back, finally looking up. Her voice wavered, but her resolve didn’t. “I care about you, Rafe. But I can’t keep watching you destroy yourself.”

He froze mid-step, his back to her. For a moment, she thought he might actually listen. But then he shook his head, muttering something under his breath she couldn’t quite catch.

Y/n exhaled shakily, her nails digging into her palms. She wanted to scream at him, shake him until he understood how much this was breaking her. But all she could do was sit there, staring at the floor as the words she wanted to say died in her throat.

“I held myself ‘cause you wouldn’t, all wrapped in my sweatshirt Wonder if you even noticed that that one was yours”

The room was chilly despite the summer heat outside. The Camerons always kept the AC cranked up, and the breeze from the window only made it worse. Y/n pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms tightly around them. She was wearing a hoodie—one of Rafe’s, though she doubted he’d noticed.

He had given it to her back when they were sophomores, one night after a bonfire when she’d forgotten to bring a jacket. She’d meant to return it, but somehow it had become hers. Rafe never seemed to mind; he used to say it looked better on her anyway.

Now, as she sat there clutching the fabric like a lifeline, she wondered if he even remembered that it was his. Probably not. Not with how high he was right now. His eyes were glassy, his movements erratic. He didn’t seem to notice much of anything anymore.

“And maybe I should’ve, but I never told you, ‘I’m sorry.’ Know that I tried, but my words always got in the way.”

That night was the breaking point. Y/n had stood in his doorway, tears streaming down her face as she told him she couldn’t do this anymore.

“I can’t watch you hurt yourself, Rafe,” she had said, her voice cracking. “I love you too much to stand by and do nothing. But I can’t save you. You have to want to save yourself.”

He didn’t say anything. He just stood there, his jaw clenched, his hands curled into fists at his sides. She waited for him to stop her, to say something—anything—that would make her stay. But he didn’t.

As she turned to leave, he muttered something under his breath. She couldn’t hear it over the pounding in her ears.

Now, months later, she replayed that night over and over in her head. She wished she had stayed longer, had said something different. She wished she had told him she was sorry—for leaving, for not being enough to make him stop. But the words never came out right, no matter how many times she rehearsed them in her head.

“Could you hold me without any talking? We could try to go back where we started ”

Y/n’s day had been hell. Her parents had been on her case all morning, snapping at her for things that weren’t even her fault. By the time they told her to “go stay at a friend’s house” for the night, she felt like she was about to break.

Typically, when stuff like this happened, she just went to Rafe’s, but she hadn’t talked to him since that night a few months ago.

She ended up at the beach—their beach. It was a quiet, secluded spot they had discovered years ago. It had always been their escape, their sanctuary. Now it was just another place that reminded her of him.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, she pulled out her phone and stared at his name in her contacts. She shouldn’t call him. She knew that. But the weight of the day was too much to carry alone.

She had called him a few times since that night, and each time he picked up right away and stayed on the line, even though she would never actually talk to him. She just needed to hear his breathing. She needed to know he hadn’t overdosed, that he was okay.

Her fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before she pressed call.

He picked up on the first ring.

“Y/n?” His voice was rough, but there was a softness to it that made her chest ache.

She didn’t say anything for a moment, struggling to find the words. Finally, she whispered, “Can I come over?”

“I don’t even have to stay”

Rafe didn’t say anything when she showed up at his door, just stepped aside to let her in.

They didn’t talk as she changed into one of his t-shirts and climbed into bed beside him. He hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering over hers, before she turned to him and whispered, “Can you just hold me?”

He nodded, pulling her close. She felt the tension in his body slowly melt away as they lay there in the dark, their breathing syncing.

“Don’t worry, I won’t stay,” Y/n whispered, breaking the silence.

“It’s okay if you do,” Rafe whispered, but Y/n cut him off, “I won’t.”

For a little while, it felt like nothing had changed. Like they were still the kids who spent their summers on the beach, dreaming about a future that didn’t seem so far away.

But morning always came too soon.

When Rafe woke up, she was gone. Her side of the bed was cold, her clothes neatly folded at the foot of his bed.

“I don’t remember the last time I heard from your sister, Didn’t expect to, but I sorta thought that I would.”

Y/n had always been close to Wheezie, even when she and Rafe were arguing. They spent countless days together shopping, watching movies, having spa nights, and talking about everything and nothing. She was like the little sister Y/n always wanted.

Rafe would sometimes barge in, rolling his eyes at whatever ridiculous movie they were watching, but Y/n would catch the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Those nights felt safe. Whole.

After Y/n left, she half-expected Wheezie to text her, to ask if she was okay or if they could still hang out like they used to. But weeks turned into months, and the silence stretched out between them.

Y/n thought about reaching out herself, but every time she opened her phone, the weight of what had happened with Rafe stopped her. What would she even say? That she missed her? That she wasn’t sure if she could face Rafe’s family without falling apart?

Sometimes, she’d scroll through old photos of them together, her heart aching for the easy sister-like bond they had. Wheezie’s smile stared back at her from the screen—bright, carefree, and untouched by the storm that had torn everything apart.

“Wish I could tell you by now that i felt more indifferent”

Y/n sat with her knees to her chest on the beach, their beach—the one where they had spent countless evenings watching the sun melt into the ocean. The waves stretched out before her, their rhythmic crash and retreat, a cruel reminder of the ebb and flow of her relationship with Rafe.

She always knew walking away would be hard, but she thought she’d feel more indifferent by now, that the ache in her chest would dull over time. Instead, every day felt like a battle against memories that refused to stay buried.

She closed her eyes and exhaled deeply, trying to ground herself. But the moment she did, images of Rafe flooded her mind: his lopsided grin when he teased her, the way his hand lingered on hers, the quiet moments when his walls came down, and he let her see the man he could be.

“Why can’t I let you go?” she whispered, her voice trembling. The wind carried her words out to the sea, where they dissolved like everything else she’d tried to hold onto.

A seagull called overhead, snapping her back to the present. She ran her fingers through the sand, letting the grains slip through them. She wanted to feel indifferent. She needed to feel indifferent. But how do you stop caring about someone who was your whole world? She would give anything to have him back, but not until he quit the drugs.

“Catch myself thinking about you more than I should”

Y/n stood in line at the coffee shop, waiting for her order, when a man with Rafe’s build walked through the door. Her breath caught, her heart skipping a beat before logic kicked in. It wasn’t him.

But for those few seconds, her mind betrayed her, painting a picture of what it would be like if it were him. Would he smile at her? Would his eyes light up the way they used to when they saw her? Or would he look past her, as if the memories they shared were as distant to him as they were vivid to her?

Even in moments like this, she caught herself thinking about him. She wondered what he was doing now, if he was happy, if he ever thought about her too. It had been months since they’d spoken, and yet he was still there, lingering in the corners of her mind.

“And maybe I should’ve but I never told you I miss you I almost said it but don’t know if you feel the same.”

The fluorescent lights of the grocery store buzzed as Y/n walked down the produce aisle, her list in hand. She was focused on selecting the ripest lemons, reaching on her tiptoes to get them off the top shelf, when a familiar hand reached past hers and plucked one off the shelf.

She looked up, and her heart stopped. It was Rafe.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. His presence was like a punch to the gut—familiar and painful all at once. He looked healthier, steadier, but his eyes still held that same quiet sadness she knew too well.

“Hey,” he said softly.

Y/n swallowed hard, her mind racing. She wanted to say something, to bridge the gap between them. I miss you, she thought. The words sat on the tip of her tongue, heavy and unspoken.

Instead, she managed a weak smile. “Hey.”

They stood there, awkward and unsure. She wanted to ask how he’d been, if he was happy, if he ever thought about her. But the fear of what his answers might be kept her silent.

As he walked away, her heart ached with all the things she wished she had said. He was respecting the boundaries she had set, and she was grateful for that, but she couldn’t stop thinking about what she could’ve said. Maybe I should’ve told him. Maybe it would’ve changed something. Or maybe it wouldn’t have mattered at all.

“Could you hold me without any talking? We could try to go back where we started I don't even have to stay”

Y/n sat cross-legged on her bed, absently scrolling through her phone when it buzzed. Rafe’s name lit up the screen.

She wasn’t expecting it, but her thumb hovered for only a moment before she answered. “Rafe?” she said softly.

The line was silent except for the sound of his uneven breathing. Her heart sank. “Rafe, are you okay?” she asked, her voice tight with worry.

Finally, he spoke, his voice strained and shaky. “I…I need your help.”

Y/n sat up straight, her pulse quickening. “Where are you?”

A pause followed before he replied, “I’m at Topper’s.” His words were slurred, and she could tell he’d been drinking. “Listen, Y/n/n, you… you don’t have to do this.”

“Rafe, it’s fine. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

She didn’t hesitate. Throwing on her shoes and grabbing her keys, she was out the door.

When she arrived, Rafe sat slouched on the front porch, his head in his hands. As she pulled up, he stood slowly and made his way to the car. Sliding into the passenger seat, he looked at her with tired, bloodshot eyes.

“Thank you… for coming,” he muttered.

“Of course,” Y/n said softly. “You called.”

Her voice was calm, steady—exactly what he needed. Rafe didn’t respond, but the corner of his mouth twitched, almost a smile.

The drive back to Tannyhill was silent. When they arrived, Rafe hesitated before opening the car door.

“Can you… come in?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/n nodded. “Yeah, I can.”

Inside, as he opened his bedroom door, she noticed his hands—bruised, scratched, and swollen knuckles.

“Rafe!” she gasped, reaching for his hand. Her heart raced as they touched. She hadn’t felt his touch in so long. “What happened?”

He pulled his hand back, avoiding her gaze. “It’s nothing. Just… got into a little disagreement,” he mumbled, dropping his keys on the dresser.

“Rafe…” she began, her tone firm, but she stopped when she saw the exhaustion in his eyes. “Here, let me clean it up.”

In the bathroom, she sat him down on the closed toilet seat and retrieved the first aid kit. Quietly, she began tending to his cuts.

He didn’t flinch when she dabbed rubbing alcohol on the wounds, but she noticed the way his jaw tightened. Neither of them spoke as she worked, her touch gentle and precise.

When she finished, she stood and said, “Go get in bed. I’ll clean this up and be right there.”

By the time she returned to his room, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders slouched. He glanced at her as she walked in, shifting to make space for her beside him.

Y/n slid into bed, and they lay there in the dark, the faint hum of the air conditioning the only sound. Rafe wrapped his arms around her, holding her like she was his anchor to the world. She held him just as tightly, resting her head against his chest.

No words were spoken. None were needed.

“If I woke up with you in the morning I’d forget all the ways that we’re broken I don’t care if you’ve changed, I don’t even have to stay”

Morning light filtered through the blinds, painting golden streaks across the room. Y/n woke slowly, her senses adjusting to the warmth of Rafe’s arms wrapped around her. For a moment, she forgot the heartbreak, the arguments, and the nights spent crying herself to sleep.

She stayed still, savoring the rare peace. His breathing was steady, his chest rising and falling against her back. It felt like old times, like they were still those carefree kids.

Quietly, she slipped out of bed and made her way to the kitchen. She brewed coffee, cooked eggs, and relished the grounding normalcy of it all.

When she returned with a tray of food and Advil, Rafe was awake, propped up on one elbow, watching her with an expression she couldn’t quite read.

“I thought you’d left,” he said, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

She set the tray down and sat beside him. “I just wanted to make sure you had food and Advil,” she said softly.

“Thank you.” He reached out and took her hand, his touch hesitant. “Look, Y/n, I-I know you said you wouldn’t…” His voice faltered, as if the words were too heavy. “Until I… Until I stopped. But do you ever think we could—”

“Don’t,” she cut him off gently, her voice steady. It hurt to see him like this, a shadow of the confident man she remembered. “Rafe… I meant what I said. But that doesn’t mean I won’t be here for you. Even if you haven’t gotten better yet… I’ll still be here when you need me.”

Her voice trailed off, and he nodded, understanding despite the hurt. For now, they had this moment—fleeting, imperfect, but theirs.

She didn’t stay much longer, not wanting to overstep. As she walked to the door, Rafe stopped her. “Will you ever stop leaving?”

Turning to face him, she gave a sad, genuine smile. “I’ll stop leaving when you get better, Rafe. I promise.”

With that, she walked out of the Cameron house. Leaving him was never easy, but she knew it was the only way for him to heal.

Authors note: Long story for my first post, I hope you like it! I take requests but I'm not sure how to set that up yet so messages, comments, or whatever works if you want to send one in. I am tempted to make a part 2 to this, so if anyone is interested lmk!

[sweetkpopmusings]

mingyu best friend headcanons <3

a/n: posting his bestie headcanons next as requested !! mingyu is my babygirl and whenever i think about him i just want to gently hold him and give him a lil kiss on the forehead <3 he is absolutely the best of friends to the people he loves :,-) what a precious boy ! pics not mine~

content: fluff | wc: 0.8k | warnings: none! | pairing: bestfriend!mingyu x gn!reader | requests: open

mingyu’s the kind of friend you can’t remember your life without

not only because he has become so embedded into your support system, but also because you immediately went from not knowing each other to being the best of friends

your first impression was “how does this man look like a greek god” and, after having a brief conversation with him, you realized “this is my golden retriever and i will protect him at all costs”

mingyu is the silliest, most precious, dorkiest, loving guy

obviously you can’t be around him without him breaking something and/or endangering his life

so you watch out for when he drops things, runs into things, trips over himself, etc

for his birthday, you bought him a first aid kit that you decorated so it matched his style

it’s 100% his favorite thing in the world, so naturally, he has to have someone else carry it for him whenever he leaves his place so it doesn’t get lost <3333 

he refuses to use supplies from any other first aid kit because “it would be disrespectful to y/n” :,-)

somehow, when it comes to you being clumsy, he's got cat-like reflexes ???

if you stumble a little bit, his hand automatically balances you before you realize you could've fallen

whenever your phone slips out of your hand, he catches it and then laughs at you for having butterfingers 

if seventeen sees this happen they will be completely dumbfounded because how is MINGYU not the klutz in this situation

you assure them he is still the clumsiest person alive and recount, in detail, how he bumped his head on a wall while laughing, dropped his phone while holding his head, and spilled his drink while reaching for his phone...all within 45 seconds

cut to the members crying from laughter and mingyu whining because “y/n is exaggerating!!!!!!!” 

like this is just a classic situation of mingyu trying to roast you but ending up roasting himself lmao

laughing with mingyu is the best thing in the entire world !!!

sometimes you two just make eye contact and he starts giggling which makes you laugh which makes him laugh harder which turns into both of you silently cracking up with tears streaming down your faces

and the rest of the people hanging out with you are like ???? neither of you said a single word ??? nothing funny happened ??? are you two okay ???

the answer to that is no we’re clearly losing our minds but also yeah we’re totally fine LOL

he loves to annoy you

very big fan of the whole “i’m not touching you” bit while pointing his finger alarmingly close to you

if you try to ignore him, he’s going to do everything in his power to get you to notice him

he’s sighing, clearing his throat, calling your name, exclaiming “OH MY GOD WHAT WAS THAT?!” just to get you to turn your head

every time, it ends one of two ways

you turn your head and he smiles victoriously, no longer annoying you because he got your attention and can now talk your ear off about whatever silly thought was in his head

OR

you ignore him for so long his finger/arm starts cramping and he whines about being in pain and won’t stop whining until you acknowledge his pain 

even if you just say “gyu, put your arm down so the cramping stops”

he’s over! the! moon! because “awwwwwww so you DO care about me???” 

mingyu’s such a big baby but he's YOUR big baby i love him so much 

despite his puppy-like nature, he is also your #1 protector

if anyone hurts your feelings, he is on attack dog mode as soon as all of your tears have been wiped <33

he will NOT let ANYONE make fun of you. like you’re HIS bestie and only HE can do that >:-(

one time hoshi took an impression of you a little too far and BOY did mingyu give him an earful

poor hoshi was apologizing to you for WEEKS after

mingyu would’ve had hoshi doing your laundry for months as reparations but you promised him it actually wasn’t even that bad like you just didn’t like how hoshi imitated your voice but according to mingyu “it’s the principle of it all >:-(“

he will do anything and everything in his power to reduce your stress and take care of you when you’re feeling less than your best <333

low on energy? mingyu’s coming over to clean your place for you!

have a massive to-do list before you go on a trip? mingyu has divided the tasks between you two so you can finish everything in enough time to get some rest before you leave!

truly he’ll put everything aside to make sure you’re okay :-(((

overall, mingyu is the most dependable, heartfelt, and hilarious best friend to have :,,,,-) 

if you tell him this, it will feed his ego and he will bring it up constantly LOL 

don’t worry though–he tells you all the time how you are a rock for him and that he loves you so so much and that his life has become a million, billion, trillion times better since you entered it <3

he’s just so endearing please give me a mingyu to protect and be protected by PLEASE!!!

[leahrintarou]

✩₊˚.⋆ TOP DONATOR ! - toji fushiguro / 10.05 / kinktober

CW: voice kink, camboy!toji x reader, fem reader, female anatomy, pet names, fingering, teasing, toji might be ooc.

Word Count: 4.1k

Author's Note: welcome to the third post of kinktober! i hope you guys enjoy reading this chapter :) leave a like or reblog to show support!

the flicker of a dim screen lit up y/n’s darkened bedroom as she watched the live stream roll on. her eyes were glued to the muscular figure lounging against a bed, his deep, gravelly voice filling her headphones as if he were right there beside her. he was shirtless, as usual, wearing nothing that left her to wonder what his body looked like.

it wasn’t just the way he looked. no, it was something about the way he spoke, the lazy arrogance in his tone, the deep rumble of his voice that seemed to vibrate down her spine. every word he said, no matter how mundane or explicit, had a hold on her. and when he spoke directly into the mic—spoke directly to her—it felt like she was the only person in the world he was performing for.

y/n had been following him for months. he was a stranger, really, but the kind of stranger who had somehow worked his way into her life. her days were filled with waiting for the next notification, the next live stream, the next time she could throw some money his way just to hear him say her name. the way he drawled it out with that husky voice, like he knew exactly what it did to her.

but lately, something had started to gnaw at her. she’d lost track of how much she’d spent—hundreds, maybe more—on someone who didn’t even know her beyond a username. it was thrilling, sure, but it was also starting to feel... hollow. he wasn’t real. not to her. not in the way she wanted him to be.

y/n sighed, pulling her knees up to her chest as she watched him on the screen, casually teasing the chat. she knew she had to get her shit together. this wasn’t healthy. this wasn’t real. he was just a guy on a screen who got her going with a voice and a body that was too perfect to be true.

she stared at the screen for a long moment, fingers hovering over the donate button one last time. but then she stopped. it was time to let this go.

that night, she deactivated her account for one month.

the next few weeks felt strange. she tried to distract herself, downloaded a few dating apps to fill the void, but nothing compared to the thrill of his voice. the apps felt clinical, and everyone she matched with felt like a watered-down version of what she’d been craving.

still, she stuck with it. it was time to meet real people, not hide behind a screen and let her fantasies run wild. after a string of bad dates and awkward conversations, she finally matched with someone who caught her attention. his profile was vague, just a few pictures of him at the gym and some casual shots with friends, but there was something about his way of speaking that seemed familiar, even though she couldn’t quite place it.

his name was toji.

after a few dates with toji, y/n found herself growing more comfortable around him. there was something about his presence that drew her in—the easy confidence, the way he spoke with a lazy sort of charm. but what caught her attention the most was his voice. every time he spoke, there was a nagging sensation at the back of her mind. it was familiar. way too familiar.

they had been talking for a few weeks, and the more time they spent together, the more certain she became. his deep, gravelly voice—it reminded her of him, the guy she used to watch on those late-night streams. the one whose videos she used to spend way too much money on. it was too much of a coincidence, right? she had tried to push the thought aside, convincing herself that it was all in her head. but now, it was almost impossible to ignore.

on their latest date, after a casual dinner, y/n invited him over to her place. they’d been hanging out for a while now, and things felt comfortable between them. she didn’t think twice about letting him into her home. they settled in her living room, the conversation flowing as easily as it always did.

“i’m just gonna run to the bathroom,” she said after a while, setting her phone down on the coffee table. she shot him a smile before heading off, leaving toji alone on her couch.

toji leaned back, glancing around her living room. he liked hanging out with her, but right now, something else had been on his mind. he had been hiding his growing arousal ever since they got here, the tension building from the moment they stepped through the door. part of him wanted to stay casual, keep things going at their pace, but another part of him couldn’t help himself. it had been a few hours since his last post on his private account, and he needed to stay active, keep the followers coming back for more.

he pulled out his phone, checking his feed for a second. the temptation was too much. maybe he could sneak in a quick post—something simple, just enough to keep things interesting. he glanced down at the bulge in his pants, feeling his length twitch at the thought. why not?

toji shifted slightly, pulling down the waistband of his pants just enough to expose his erection. he held his phone up, angling it so that the shot captured the fabric of his jeans and the hard-on he’d been hiding for the past half hour. with a smug smirk, he snapped the picture, uploading it to his account before y/n came back. no caption. no explanation. just the shot. pulling his pants up, he felt a sense of satisfaction.

just as he hit post, y/n’s phone lit up on the table beside him. he heard the soft ping of a notification and turned his head, curiosity getting the better of him. his eyes flicked to her screen, and what he saw made his heart skip a beat.

his username. his notification.

toji froze for a second, his mind racing. there, on her lock screen, was the same username he had just posted under. it was unmistakable. she was still following him.

he quickly put his phone away as he heard the sound of y/n coming back down the hallway. his pulse quickened, the realization settling in. she had been watching him. donating to him. his top donor. it had to be her, afterall, her username just above the notification was the exact same one he grew to find familiar.

when y/n stepped back into the room, she noticed the look on his face. something had shifted. “everything okay?” she asked, her brow furrowing as she glanced between him and her phone.

toji didn’t say anything at first, just gave her a slow, knowing smile. he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked up at her, his eyes glinting with amusement. “look familiar, angel?”

y/n blinked, confused for a moment. then, her eyes flicked down to her phone, still lit up with the notification. her breath caught in her throat. the username—the same one she had been following for months—was staring back at her. her heart dropped as she realized what he meant.

her gaze shifted to toji, and then to his pants, which were still slightly hanging off his hips. she reached for her phone to oppen up the notification and her eyes widened as she took in the sight, her mind racing. the photo. the pants. the background. she glanced around her living room, the realization crashing over her like a wave.

“oh my god,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. toji chuckled softly, leaning back against the couch. “surprised?”

her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, a mixture of disbelief and shock washing over her. all this time, she had been watching him, donating to him, and now he was sitting right in front of her, smirking like he had known all along.

“i—i didn’t know,” she stammered, her heart racing in her chest. she felt exposed, vulnerable, like her secret obsession had just been laid bare in the most unexpected way possible.

“seems like we’ve got a little more in common than you thought,” toji said, his voice low and teasing. he glanced at her, his smirk widening as he watched her try to process everything. y/n swallowed hard, her mind spinning. the familiar voice, the cocky smile, the way he moved. it had all been there, right in front of her, and she hadn’t even realized it.

“so... what now?” she asked, her voice shaky.

toji shrugged casually, his gaze never leaving hers. “that depends on you, angel. i’ve been here this whole time. maybe we can stop pretending."

"this is actually so crazy." she let out a nervous laugh. "it is, but i can't believe i was able to meet my top donater. it got pretty lonely without your message during every livestream." smiled, sitting up when y/n took a small step towards him. "yeah well spending all of that money probably wasn't the best habit to get into."

"you didn’t need to spend money for me to notice you." he let out a small laugh, almost as if it was obvious.

"you've always stuck out to me."

his voice. that was all she could focus on. its like she was drawn to it. literally. she took a step closer to toji and he reached his hand out, his fingers grazing hers before he pulled her towards himself she stood just between his legs and y/n analyzed everything on his body. seeing and hearing him from behind a screen was one thing and actually experiencing those things in real life was another.

"what were some of the things you used to say?" he questioned, making her eyes dart to his. yeah she did say quiet a lot of things and felt no shame at all, but it was different in person.

toji’s smirk deepened as he leaned back, tilting his head slightly. "you remember, don’t you?" his voice was smooth, almost taunting. "what was it you typed that one time..." he paused, narrowing his eyes as if recalling something.

"'i bet your you'd sound even better in person.'"

y/n’s eyes widened in shock, her heart skipping a beat. she took a step closer despite her gowing embarrassment. her face was heating up as she shook her head. "oh, and then there was that other one..." his voice lowered to a near whisper, "‘i’d let you ruin me any day? was that it?’"

"toji, stop." y/n muttered, her face burning with embarrassment as she quickly stared anywhere but his eyes.

toji chuckled, clearly enjoying how flustered she was becoming. he reached out, his fingers lightly gripping her wrist as he pulled her closer, until she was standing right in front of him, pressed between his knees. "oh, don't get shy now, angel," he teased, his deep voice sending a shiver down her spine. "you said it, remember?"

his hand slid up her arm slowly, possessively, until it rested on her lower back, bringing he down to straddle his lap. he leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. "all those nights, all those messages... and now here you are. in front of me."

y/n’s heart pounded in her chest, her pulse quickening at the heat radiating from him. she had fantasized about this for months, but nothing could’ve prepared her for how real it felt now, being in his presence, his grip firm but careful. she swallowed hard, her body responding to his closeness, to the way his voice seemed to vibrate through her entire being.

“i—” she tried to find her words, but they stuck in her throat. she had always felt so bold behind a screen, her messages flowing freely without the pressure of being seen. now, under his gaze, every word she had typed felt like it was coming back to haunt her, each one echoing in the space between them.

"you don’t have to say anything," toji murmured, his voice low and soothing, yet still carrying that edge of dominance she recognized so well. "i already know."

she leaned in close, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "i remember everything, angel. everything you wanted to say, everything you wanted to do." he leaned back a little, his eyes locked on hers, watching the way she reacted to him. “i wonder if you're ready for it now. in person."

y/n’s breath hitched, her body instinctively leaning into him. it was almost impossible to resist the magnetic pull he had over her. all those nights she spent alone, listening to his voice, imagining what it would be like to touch him, to be touched by him—it was all unraveling in front of her now, every fantasy inching closer to reality.

"toji," she whispered, her voice shaky, as she finally met his gaze. her cheeks were burning, but there was a new flicker of something else in her chest—anticipation. "i could've never in a million years expect—"

"expect what?" he interrupted, his smirk widening as he brushed his thumb against her jaw, tilting her head slightly so she couldn’t look away. "to meet me? to have me here, with you?"

she bit the inside of her cheek, nodding slightly, the words caught in her throat again. "well, here i am," he said softly, his tone dropping even lower, making her skin tingle. "so now what, angel? are you going to make good on all those promises?"

his question lingered in the air between them, heavy with implication. her mind raced, every thought clouded by the closeness of his body, the heat of his touch. she could feel the tension between them rising, the space shrinking as she fought between her nerves and her desire.

"you talk a big game when there’s a screen between us," toji continued, his lips ghosting over hers as he spoke, their breaths mingling in the tight space. "but can you follow through when it’s real?"

y/n’s breath hitched again, but she didn’t pull away. instead, she leaned into him, her body responding instinctively to the pull of his presence. the tension between them snapped as he closed the distance completely, capturing her lips in a slow, deliberate kiss. it was everything she had imagined—his touch, his taste, the roughness of his hands as they slid down her sides, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them.

she let herself melt into him, her hands tangling in his hair as the kiss deepened, the world outside of them fading into a blur. for once, it wasn’t just a fantasy. this was real.

toji’s lips pressed firmly against y/n’s, his hands moving down her body with a deliberate slowness that made her shiver. the heat between them was palpable, the air thick with tension as she melted into his touch. he pulled her closer, his fingers grazing the hem of her shirt before slipping beneath the fabric, the warmth of his skin against hers sending a spark through her.

his lips trailed down her neck, leaving a burning path in their wake. y/n let out a soft gasp, her fingers curling into his hair as his hands moved lower, tugging at her waistband. her heart raced, her breath coming in short, shallow bursts as the anticipation built between them.

"any change in mind, angel?" toji whispered, his voice low and rough, making her shiver again. he paused, giving her a moment, his gaze searching hers for any sign of hesitation.

y/n shook her head, her fingers gripping his shoulders tightly as she pulled him closer. "just don't tease. you might actually kill me that way."

with a smirk and no verble reply, toji’s hands worked their way over her skin, his touch firm and confident. every movement was slow, deliberate, designed to drive her wild as he slowly peeled away her clothing, piece by piece. each brush of his fingertips left her skin tingling, her body arching towards him, craving more.

when there was nothing left between them, toji’s eyes roamed over her, dark with desire. he leaned in, pressing his lips to her collarbone, moving lower with every kiss. his hands were everywhere at once, mapping every inch of her body with a careful precision that made her let out a breathy sigh.

his movements were swift and deliberate, as though he knew every intricate detail of what he was doing—and he did. there was no hesitation, no uncertainty in the way his fingers moved, as though they had learned her body long before he even touched her.

y/n quickly discovered this for herself when his fingers slipped beneath the fabric of her panties, their touch sending sparks along her skin as they found their way to her entrance. her breath hitched, and a low, involuntary moan escaped her lips, her fingers instinctively tangling into his hair, pulling harder as the tension inside her built with each of his deft movements.

"look at how messy you already are," he murmured, his voice a low hum of satisfaction, his slick-coated fingers flexing against her. the words were playful, almost teasing, but there was an underlying intensity in his gaze that made her pulse quicken. "i don’t need that, toji," she protested, her voice thick with impatience as she ground herself against his hand, chasing more of the friction she craved. she knew, despite the taunt in his words, that toji wasn’t just someone who reveled in her desperation for the sake of it. he wasn’t cruel, even if he enjoyed watching her unravel. he wanted to prepare her, to make sure she was ready for what was to come.

"come for me once," he whispered, his voice a dangerous promise, "and i’ll give you everything you need. all the ways you want me."

there was no resisting him—not that she wanted to. y/n couldn’t even muster the energy to be upset by his teasing anymore. instead, she leaned down, letting her lips brush against the column of his neck, the salty taste of his skin grounding her as her body responded to his touch. toji’s fingers were skilled, relentless in the way they worked her, bringing every ounce of pleasure to the surface as though he had memorized the map of her body.

and for the next few minutes, the world seemed to narrow down to the sensation of him, the delicious friction as she ground down against him with as much pressure as she could manage, every movement pushing her closer to that first high she so desperately needed. it wasn’t long before her mind began to blur, her breathing shallow and erratic as the pleasure built to an unbearable intensity. toji noticed the shift in her, of course, and he couldn’t hide the amusement in his eyes as he watched her struggle to maintain control.

even as her body moved on its own, it wasn’t just the physical sensation driving her to the brink—it was his voice, smooth and unhurried, like silk, guiding her with an ease that sent shivers down her spine. the low timbre of his words seeped into her skin, wrapping around her like a vice as he spoke softly, describing all the ways he would push her higher, all the things he would do to her if she just let go.

it wasn’t like before, when they had been separated by nothing but screens and voices through a device. here, with him right in front of her, she could feel the full weight of his presence, and the sound of his voice alone was enough to make her stomach clench with anticipation, her body responding to him as though she had no control over it. his voice had always held power over her, but here, it was almost unbearable, the way it turned her insides molten and had her trembling just at the sound.

toji knew how much his voice affected her. the way her breath hitched every time he spoke, the slight tremor in her hands whenever he uttered something filthy—it was all intentional. he knew exactly what he was doing. he could see the evidence of his effect on her; the damp fabric of her panties clinging to her, soaked through with arousal. his erection strained against his pants, hard and throbbing, and with a low, satisfied groan, he used his free hand to release himself from the confines of his clothing, the cool air hitting his exposed skin, sending a shudder through him.

y/n’s eyes widened at the sight, a small whimper escaping her lips, her hand moving instinctively toward him. toji shook his head, his hand gently cupping her jaw as he tilted her face up to meet his gaze. "i told you," he said softly, his voice firm but affectionate, "you come for me first." there was no room for argument. his fingers shifted inside her, curling in just the right way to hit that sweet spot that made her vision blur at the edges. hope surged inside her as the tension coiled tighter in her core. if he kept going like this, she would fall apart in no time, and then, finally, she could have him the way she wanted.

his other hand wrapped around his length, fingers curling tightly around himself, not moving, just resting there, almost as if to taunt her with what she couldn’t yet have. her moans grew more frantic, the sound filling the room as her hips rolled instinctively against his hand, seeking release. but then, suddenly, he paused, stopping the delicious in-and-out movement of his fingers.

"you really gonna make me do all the work, angel?" he asked, his voice teasing, a brow arched in mock disbelief as he watched her with a smirk tugging at his lips. she let out a frustrated huff, her body betraying her as it took control, hips grinding down against his hand, desperate for friction. her moans became breathy, each sound a different pitch as he teased her, giving just enough to keep her on the edge but never enough to let her fall over.

the sight of her was intoxicating. her head tilted back, eyes closed, completely lost in the sensations he was drawing out of her. she wasn’t focused on anything but the feel of his fingers inside her, the occasional groan that escaped his lips, and, of course, the low, sinful murmur of his voice as he taunted her with every slow movement.

"come on," he whispered, his voice heavy with amusement. "you’re starting to make me feel sorry for you." his words sent a shiver through her, but before she could respond, her body betrayed her, coming to a halt as she panted, frustration etched into every line of her face.

"wear yourself out, angel?" toji asked, his voice dripping with false sympathy. "toji, please," she whimpered, her voice cracking with need. she had long since abandoned any sense of shame, her singular focus now on the release that seemed just out of reach. her body burned with the ache of denied pleasure, and she was willing to beg if that’s what it took. toji’s lips curved into a knowing smile, his eyes gleaming with something dark and dangerous.

"i guess you deserve some lighter treatment," he mused, his voice low and teasing, "considering you were my top donator and all."

her breath caught in her throat as his words sank in, her eyes widening slightly as he shifted her position, pulling her to lie down on the couch beneath him. his lips brushed against hers in a soft, lingering kiss, the taste of him sending a jolt of electricity through her veins. and then, finally, his fingers moved again, pushing deep inside her, filling her, the force behind each thrust just enough to drive her mad. his opposite hand rested firmly on her thigh, holding her legs apart, preventing her from wrapping them around his wrist as her body strained for more.

"relax for me, angel," he whispered, his voice a dark promise, "let yourself go. you know my fingers aren’t going to satisfy you, even after you come."

those words alone, combined with the commanding tone of his voice, were enough to send her spiraling. her walls clenched around his fingers as she fell apart, a loud moan tearing from her throat as her entire body trembled with the force of her release. but toji didn’t stop, his fingers continuing their relentless rhythm, dragging every ounce of pleasure from her body as he watched her unravel beneath him.

tears welled up in her eyes, her chest heaving with ragged breaths as her climax ripped through her. and the moment he finally pulled his fingers free, her body went limp, exhaustion settling into her bones. but even as she panted heavily, her body still recovering from the high, her hand reached out, desperate to wrap around toji’s length that still stood at full attention, throbbing and aching for release.

"that's what you're really after, huh, angel?"

♤ likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

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[astrologanize]

pick a card : what making out with you feels like for them ᡣ𐭩…

could be someone you're already seeing or your future person, whatever it is...whoever you are asking about...this is what it feels like for them (: *please take a moment to take a deep breath and choose the image you are most drawn towards*

for pile 1 ✩˚

well, hello there. while trying to channel and synthesize this spread i thought about how this pile has something very instinctive going on within the makeout sessions, there's viscera, and cillian murphy came to mind somehow?? he does have a very mars look imo so maybe that's why, but it reminded me of a gif that i believe is from peaky blinders (never seen the show but i exist on tumblr so...) that i will add (it's a lil nsfw i guess?). anyhow. when it comes to your makeouts with this person, it feels like a nice balance of release and control for them because on one hand they do feel very disarmed while making out with you but at the same time they're acting deliberately - which is why instinct is coming through...it's like having a flow of reflexive movement. i'm not seeing you two going crazy and having vigorous kisses, there is a slowness to it, there's a building of inertia. making out with you makes them feel like their life is in their hands, their free will is palpably felt, and it brings out a sort of self-discipline in them

for pile 2 ✩˚

this person looooooves making out with you, they feel like they're having a movie moment when you guys are kissing, and the connection itself is what is at the forefront when they're kissing you. this seems like someone who hasn't had great experiences with romance and making out with you imbues them with so much hope. it's like if this person had a horribly messy breakup a couple years prior, they were with someone for quite a while and it ended up turning into a nightmare that left an ugly mark and they became jaded by it. making out with you feels like a rebirth - they don't feel afraid, they feel uninhibited, their cup is wonderfully full. they are not in the slightest bit doubtful of how they feel for you and they are certain that they want this; when they kiss you it will feel like a sweet plead - please love me back. there is no ego when it comes to kissing you because they are happily willing to give their all. making out with you does help them to move on from any residual gunk they've been dealing with

for pile 3 ✩˚

what is wanting to come through strongly is that this person is the one somehow taking the lead in the makeout session because when they're making out with you they feel firm, they feel empowered, they're like 'i got this'. lol...funnily enough though, whatever it is about making out with you...they don't expect it to go the way it does and it throws them off their game. something about making out with you is new for them, there's a notable oscillation happening within them, an internal battle of hot n cold energy. the makeout session itself won't be all over the place, once you start making out you guys just keep going at a constant and indefinite pace. this person is probably used to getting what they want/doing what they want/being reckless, this person is hardened - they keep their feelings in check and like being in control. & even though they feel in control while making out with you and do like feeling as such, there's something about making out with you that wakes them up and brings out a softer side. making out with you feels like a stream of consciousness for them

for pile 4 ✩˚

this is my fun makeout sesh pile 😛

what you guys say to each other before/during making out is being highlighted so maybe there's some steamy words being exchanged, some sweet talkin' perhaps. y'alls makeout session(s) involves experimenting, it's messy, it's sloppy, there's coloring outside the lines, it's an indulgence and you guys change things up during it. it does seem like this is more casual and that this person might be hesitant to take things further. this may be someone who is really attached to their independence and/or is perpetually single so even though they're having fun with it, they are holding back and not giving their all. making out with you is going to make them try to consider and factor feelings into the equation, they may just take the leap for once

love this song for pile 4

[imshymorph]

So, new story! Death!Ghost x Life!reader. It’s a longer one, there’s much more to their story if everyone likes it an wants to see more. Update: Here's Part 2 and Part 3

You’re sitting by the edge of the water, fingers lightly dipping in the creek and moving around. The ripples that form from your movement making tadpoles, small fish and spurts of water plants come to be.

It felt natural, with the longer hours of sunlight and the rising of temperature, to start using your abilities once again. To take your side of the mantle once Death had taken the grunt of the work in the colder months. Spring was only nearing closer, and that meant you’d have to start adding spirits back to the Earth, it was your time to keep balance.

- - - - -

You looked up from the stream, from the trail of tiny creatures that gladly followed the movement of their creator’s hand, when you felt the breeze cool a little. It could only mean one thing.

Your lips pull up into a soft smile, your lively eyes crinkling lightly at the edges as you see him stand on the other side of the creek. His own eyes shift under the skull mask, and you know he’s smiling back even if his eyes are covered by the shadow of the bone. It doesn’t surprise you that within barely a few seconds he’s instead sitting beside you, the wavy reflection of the water in front of you confirming his presence.

It always felt like that, peaceful and comfortable in each other's presence. You had gotten used to Death long ago, or Ghost, a name that had come from a joke once made aeons ago. You couldn’t help yourself, lightly teasing him when you had seen how pale his skin really was the one time he had taken a glove off. And somehow, it just stuck.

The both of you stay in silence for a bit, admiring the landscape around you, how slowly your power took over the terrain to give him some rest. You worked in harmony, the switching in seasons never feeling like a competition or betrayal, but like an acknowledgment of the other’s importance and significance.

“Haven’t seen you in a while. How have you been?” He’s the first one to talk, giving you a short look before his attention was pulled to the birds that filled the sky. Most of them nesting, feeling in some way that your power would welcome them soon before giving them tiny ones to look after.

“Good, busy with the new blooms that come with spring.” you reply with a small smile, your hands running through the grass below, making new blades appear, greener and more luscious. “You must’ve been busy.” You tack on, your eyes following the trail of growing plants until your eyes find him.

“Hmm, you have some work ahead of you.” he concedes, tilting his head back, feeling what sunrays managed to filter through the holes in his mask. He let out a soft sigh before giving a light nod, “Been taking care of my duties, but it’s been good.”

“You’ll be able to rest a bit more. Now that the warm months are coming in.” You say, that smile still on your face. It definitely was what fascinated him most about you. He knew the amount of power you beheld, all the things you could make appear out of thin air. Yet there was something about that smile, that soft and kind smile that you always seemed to gift him with.

Or at least that’s how he wanted to see it, like your sweet smile was specially directed at him, for him. If there was one thing that he pictured on his mind whenever he thought about you, it was the upturn of your lips. Not even your mightier creations could ever compare to the one of your smile.

“I suppose I did, yes.” He says with a light nod, his tone low and gravely but really calm as well, like deep calm water. His head then turned, your view of his mask turning from the profile to a full fronted one. His cold and cloudy almost-grey eyes finding yours. “Are you enjoying your creations?”

The corner of your eyes crinkled a bit more as they landed on his, your smile brightening, reminding him of the golden hues the sun gets when it starts to set behind the horizon. Your hand moves, fingers trailing through the dirt beneath you. Tips passing just enough power to the small buds that were starting to grow to make them fully bloom. “Always do.” Your tone sounding sweet and golden like honey.

A smile took over his lips and he mentally thanked the skull covering them, although the amused glint your eyes got told him that you had definitely noticed. “I’m glad to hear it.” He says, tone as cordial and gravely as ever, hiding the small embarrassment of the knowing tilt your smile gets.

The both of you seeped into comfortable silence once again, you looking at the vast forest around you, the light hints of it filling with your creations again after a cold winter. Meanwhile he busied himself as he looked over his scythe, his gloved finger lightly trailing the sharp edge.

“Do you mind if I ask you something?” He murmurs, almost making you wonder if he had actually spoken as his eyes stay trained on his tool.

“You know I never do.” You reassure, your eyes only staying on him for a moment before going back to the light ripples on the water source in front of you.

“I was wondering…” he starts before cutting himself off. You don’t say anything, don’t pressure him as he leaves the scythe back on the floor beside him. Nor as he tilts his head back to look up at the sky once more. And he doesn’t think he could ever find the words to express how thankful he is about it.

He clears his throat, daring to give it another chance. His head tilts a bit to the side, only enough to see you from the corner of his eye. “I was just wondering, we’ve worked together for so long…” he fully turns his head now, his eyes meeting yours. “And yet… you’ve never asked to see me? See what’s under my mask.”

For someone who was the personification of Death, Ghost couldn’t understand how his heart could beat so fast. How it felt like it could leap out of his chest at any moment, how fast his blood pumped through him.

And it feels like it instantly stops when he sees you lightly shaking your head, “It’s not my place to ask, I'm sure it’s there for a reason.” your soft voice explains. And he lets out a shaky breath that he didn’t know he was holding, his heartbeat slowing a bit but the tension still in his body as he gives a light nod back.

The both of you go back to the silence, but this time your eyes stay on each other's. His hand slowly reaches up, his fingers feeling the edge of the worn out bone. His voice is barely perceptible when he talks next, “What if I wanted to show you?”

[romeoandjulietyouwish]

Rain pounded down, drumming on the roof and the metal hood of the cars sitting parked in front of the house.

Darry sat on the porch, sipping at the beer in his hand. It was one of those spring nights, humid but not hot, that heralded the coming summer. The air was thick with the petrichor scent of the rain.

Thick streams of water rushed towards the drains, inevitably stopped up with dead leaves and sticks. What little grass the yard had was completely covered by the never-ending water.

Though he sat under the cover of the eaves, Darry still found himself getting damp. But he didn’t go inside.

The power inside kept flickering, making it impossible to watch anything on the tv so the gang had settled in for a Hold ‘Em tournament. Darry didn’t usually participate in their card games, tonight was no exception. A strange melancholy came over him, driving him to the solitude of the porch.

Darry took another sip of his beer. It was his dad’s favorite brand. They’d all grown up seeing him drink it and when he and Two-Bit started partaking, they drank it too. Any other beer just didn’t taste right to him.

There came an uproar from inside, causing Darry to look over his shoulder in time to see Soda bursting outside, yells following after him. Darry leaned back in his chair, raising an eyebrow at his little brother.

Soda just rolled his eyes, “They said I was putting queens in my sock.”

“Were you?”

Soda grinned and tore off his left sock. Two cards fell to the porch, one queen of diamonds, the other a joker with the words QUEEN OF CLUBS written on it in marker. They’d lost the original card years ago.

Darry laughed, “That’s what I thought. You wanna sit until they let you back in?”

Soda nodded eagerly and took the chair beside Darry. Soda didn’t drink much, but he took a sip of Darry’s beer then, for once not gagging at the taste. Soda let his eyes fall closed as he inhaled the thick air.

“This is my favorite time of year,” Soda said.

Darry scoffed, “Yeah? See if you say that on laundry day. I bet there’ll be about a gallon of mud in the hamper.”

Soda shrugged, “I don’t mind.” He kicked his feet up on the railing, immediately getting his other sock soaked with the overflow from the gutter. Soda didn’t move them.

There was a time when Darry was jealous of Soda, of how he could walk through life so care free. It seemed like his heart was so light, that nothing could ever weigh him down. Darry should have known better; he didn’t really know how wrong he was until after they lost their folks.

The rain always made Darry think too hard.

The brothers were silent, letting the rain fill the space between them. Soda kept his feet sticking in the rain until the water started dripping down his legs. As Soda rid himself of the second sock he asked, “Dar, are you happy?”

“What?”

Soda shrugged, “I dunno.” He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. He was strong, nearly as strong as Darry now. “I’m almost eighteen, if you wanted me to take Ponyboy so you can go to college or move or somethin’, I would.”

And wasn’t that a thought?

After so long of feeling like he was drowning in responsibility, Soda was giving him an out. The smallest part of Darry wanted to take it, but the rest of him knew that he would never put Soda through the stress on his shoulders.

Darry squeezed Soda’s shoulder, “Nah, I’m happy.”

Soda looked at him with disbelief, his eyes somehow always able to slip past any mask Darry put up. Sometimes Sodapop was really annoying like that. “You don’t seem happy most of the time.”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Darry began. He took a long drink to pull his thoughts together. “Most of the time, I’m stressed and I’m scared. But I’m also happy because me feeling like that means that you and Ponyboy don’t have to.”

“Oh.”

“I decided to put the two of you first for the rest of my life and that’s how it’s gonna stay.”

Soda clearly didn’t like that, “But you should be happy too. You should get to hang out with your friends and-and find a girl and-”

Soda was getting himself all worked up. It was something the three Curtis boys had in common. Their dad would say they were full to the brim with emotions and trying to release them but only tying themselves in knots.

Darry put a hand on the back of Soda’s head, “It’s okay, Pepsi. It’s not like I hate my life.” Not anymore at least. “I love you and your brother and our weird ass friends.” Soda laughed a little. “You’re acting like I’m an old man, I’m only twenty one, asshole.”

Soda laughed heartily then, looking over at his brother. Darry gave him a soft smile. Soda’s heart was too big for his damn chest. “You get me?” Darry asked.

Soda nodded, “I just don’t want you to look back at your life and regret this.”

That made Darry laugh. Seeing the hurt look on Soda’s face, Darry kissed his head. “Honey, I ain’t ever gonna regret taking care of you and your brother. Yeah y’all piss me off sometimes and Ponyboy is real good at getting under my skin and if you leave your wet towel on the floor of the bathroom one more time-”

Soda shoved Darry’s shoulder, “Yeah, yeah, I get it.” Their laughter died down, the silence filled again with the pouring rain. “Would you tell me if you weren’t happy?”

“Yeah.”

Soda rolled his eyes, “Liar.”

Before they could keep talking, the front door banged open again and Ponyboy stood there, pulling at Soda’s shoulder, “Come on, we’re doing teams now and I don’t wanna be stuck with Ace again.”

“Hey!” The girl in question shouted from inside. “You would be lucky to have me!”

Soda laughed and let their baby brother pull him to his feet. Soda looked back at Darry, “Sounds like Ace needs a partner. Let’s go.”

Darry smiled and stood up, “Ace girl, we gonna hustle them or what?”

“Pretty sure you ain’t supposed to announce when you hustle,” Ponyboy pointed out, earning himself a cuff on the back of the head from his big brother. Darry couldn’t help but smile. Yeah, he was happy.