#it's not my fault i'm younger than literally all of my friends

[seagullcharmer]

augh. still haven't recovered from being called the baby mutual btw

[inkskinned]

100,000 dollars is not a lot of money.

it is also a lot more money than i will ever have. my student loans make up half of that - they're coming back, i'm told, like we all bounced back recently. the other day while paying for gas to go to work, i overdrew my account without knowing it.

i sat in the car and looked at the charge and tried to do the math. where the fuck is the money even going? i don't live extravagantly. i live in a hole in the ground, in an apartment the size of a sneeze; covered in ants. yes, i wanted to live close to a population center. maybe that's my fault. i've downloaded the apps and i've spoken to the experts and i've cut back on excess. i can't help the pharmacy bills or the medical debt.

i have a good, well-paying job. when i googled it to see if i was getting a fair salary, i found out i'd be making "upper middle class" money. which doesn't make sense - is "upper middle class" now just "able to afford a one-bedroom without a roommate". when i was younger, upper-middle meant a nice big house and a backyard and vacations and not flinching about eating at a resturant.

i was talking to my friend who is a realtor. he said 100,000 dollars is extremely cheap for housing. he's not wrong. 100,000 dollars would change my life. 100,000 dollars also won't really buy you anything. it could get you out of debt, potentially, if you were lucky and had a certain amount of scholarships to tack onto your degree. you could pay off the car and then have enough left over for "spending" money. how fucking amazing. one vacation, maybe two if you're thrifty. and then - like magic - the money would evaporate into nothing. people would sigh and tell you see, you should have put it into savings! like "upper middle class" people can't afford to value "actually living" over squirrelling wealth. you should spend your life only in scarcity. like that is what made the rich people all their real "actually a lot of money".

100,000 dollars would literally set me free. it also would just set me back to "earning normally" instead of paying down debt into infinity. god, do you know how many of us just want that? that our first thought is we could stop scrambling and just be free of debt if we won the lottery? that we don't even necessarily need to stop working - we just wouldn't have to worry about failing or falling?

and. at the same time. 100,000 dollars is next to fucking nothing.

[taeyongdoyoung]

intro (infected)

summary: your attempts to find out the identity of your stalker lead you right where you least except... characters: reader, heeseung, sunoo and sunghoon genre: thriller, dark romance(-ish) warnings: themes of stalking, non-consensual photography, blood-covered dolls, stealing clothes, invasion of privacy, breaking in, toxic characters, betrayal, knife, drugging, kidnapping, etc. please PLEASE read at your own risk author's note: the title is inspired by this amazing song and the story itself is strongly influenced by my dreams and insta/tiktok edits of enha lmao; also this is the first part in a trilogy part two & part three word count: 2.3k

You feel like you're losing your goddamn mind. The last month has been the worst of your life. You literally dread coming home to another one of your stalker's "surprises". Sometimes it's photos of you taken from afar. Sometimes you return to your apartment only to find clothes of yours missing. Sometimes you receive little "gifts". Like creepy dolls covered in blood. So sweet.

Why haven't you called the police, one may ask? Well, you've heard of similar cases and the truth is, the police never take women's complaints seriously. They always make up some bullshit excuse about there not being enough proof. Or they try to make it seem as if the woman was somehow "asking for it" by leading some guy on or whatever.

So, you're stuck in this situation, being horrified of returning to your home every fucking evening. You can't afford to move out right now so, there goes nothing. However, you honestly don't imagine continuing to put up with this any longer. Therefore, you decide to take some action.

There are only two people other than you who have a key to your place. Thus, there are only two suspects you can think of.

Suspect number one. Your loving, doting, precious boyfriend Heeseung. You cannot possibly imagine him doing something so vile. Plus, he already has you. There would be no motive for him to stalk you and send you weird stuff and steal your clothes. True, he can be kinda possessive sometimes but nothing that would raise any red flags. He cannot be your stalker, you are pretty much convinced.

Suspect number two. Your adorable, sweet, younger best friend Sunoo. Once again, you cannot picture him being behind this. And yet...sometimes he has this resting psycho face clouding his usually adorable features. You don't wanna judge him hastily and without any proof. But sometimes he looks kinda dangerous. You know it's not his fault, he was just born like that. You have to investigate somehow and get to the bottom of this.

So, like the fool you are, you share your concerns with suspect number one.

"I have a stalker," you admit to your boyfriend one afternoon while you're watching a movie on the couch.

"What?!" Heeseung exclaims in shock.

Okay, his reaction seems surprised enough. There's no way he's acting.

"For the past month I've been receiving pictures of myself, as well as some creepy dolls covered in blood. Oh, and some of my clothes have gone missing."

"That's crazy! Why haven't you reported it to the police yet?" Heeseung asks, holding your hand, deeply worried about your well-being.

"Ugh, as if the police will do anything to take my case seriously. I'll figure it out myself. Well, with your help, hopefully."

"Of course, anything you need, I'm here for you," Heeseung promises.

"So, actually, you're suspect number one," you chuckle, not at all concerned Heeseung is behind this. He cannot be.

"I am?" he laughs. "Darling, I hope you know I would never-"

"I know," you cut him off with a trusting smile. "But you're one of the two people, other than me, who has a key to my place. And there was no sign of a broken door or window, so, whoever it is, obviously owns a key."

"Who's the other suspect, then?"

"Sunoo," you confess.

"Sunoo?!" Heeseung can't help but laugh again. "There's no way. He's a total angel. I just can't see it."

"Yeah? I lowkey see it, he has this creepy face every once in a while. He could totally pull this off," you reason.

"Well, what are you going to do?"

"I'm gonna confront him. Judging by his reactions, I'll be able to determine if it's him."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Heeseung immediately offers.

"Nah, that might intimidate him and he may not be as honest as I'd like him to be. Don't worry, we'll meet in a public space, just in case."

"Uhh, I'm not sure if you feel better but sure. Call me rightaway if you need help."

"I will, I promise," you smile fondly and kiss your boyfriend on the cheek.

The following day, you are sitting in a café with your best friend Sunoo, sharing mint choco ice cream that is a favourite of you both.

"So, I have a confession to make," you blurt out, mouth still full. "I have a stalker."

"Oh my God!" Sunoo exclaims dramatically.

"Yeah...I keep receiving weird objects and photos of myself. Also, some of my stuff have gone missing in the past month."

"The hell?! That sounds terrifying, why haven't you contacted-"

"The police?" you snicker coldly. "They won't help me, I'm on my own."

"Well, you've got me!" Sunoo replies enthusiastically.

"That's funny, because you're one of my suspects."

"Me?" Sunoo pouts adorably. "Y/Nnie...I wouldn't do something like that to you."

"I'd really like to believe that, Sunnie, but you kinda scare me sometimes, not gonna lie."

"Hey! It's not my fault my face does that thing when I'm not smiling. I promise I'm not your stalker!" he gets a little too passionate in convincing you.

"To be honest, I don't really think it's you."

"Who's your other suspect, then?"

"Heeseung," you shrug. "He's the only other person who has a key to my place."

"It's not him," Sunoo responds confidently.

"That's exactly what he said about you!" you cry out.

"Why are you not suspecting him, though?" Sunoo eyes you suspiciously.

"Well, if it was him, he would be quick to place the blame on someone else, you, for example. Therefore, it cannot be him."

"Ooor, he's only defending me to mislead you into thinking he's the good guy."

"I'm not sure that's the case," you shrug it off.

"Okay, then, are you confident we are the only two people who can access your place so easily?"

You try to think deeper about it. And suddenly it hits you. There was one other person who used to have a key to your place. But he gave it back. A week after you broke up with him for punching your friend (at the time) Heeseung for "staring at you" and "flirting" all the time. A week would have given him plenty of time to make a copy of said key.

"Sunghoon used to have a key to my place," you say out loud.

"Your ex?" Sunoo's eyes widen in shock.

"But he gave it back...a week after we broke up."

"He could have made a spare, that's really easy nowadays."

You nod in agreement.

"What are you going to do? Now that you have your primary suspect?" Sunoo asks.

"I'm not going to sleep. One of these nights he'll show up and I'll be ready to confront him."

"That sounds dangerous. Wouldn't you feel better if Heeseung and I were there with you?" Sunoo suggests warmly.

You shake your head.

"I have you guys on speed dial. If something bad happens, I'll call you rightaway."

"You have us on speed dial and yet we were your two suspects. The loyalty is dead," Sunoo tsks disapprovingly.

"Hey! It's not my fault you'd make a good psycho character in a kdrama," you try to joke to alleviate the tension.

"Damn right, I would."

Three nights later and you've drunk more coffee than is probably normal. You're so stoked there's no way you'll fall asleep. But you are tucked under the covers on the couch, pretending to be sleeping. Honestly, it'd be kinda disappointing if no one shows up. You must be crazy. Are you seriously looking forward to confronting your stalker, whoever he is? It's probably Sunghoon. You'd be pretty shocked if it was Sunoo or God forbid, Heeseung. You love them too much to expect something so creepy coming from them.

After what feels like forever, you finally hear it. The sound of the front door being unlocked. Slowly, almost impossible to notice. You curse yourself for being such a heavy sleeper. If you had been awake some of the previous nights, you would have caught him sooner. You wouldn't have had to put up with this for an entire month.

Your heart is beating so rapidly you feel like you're going to die any moment now. In retrospect, this probably wasn't the greatest idea. You probably should have notified the police just in case. Oh well, it's too late now.

Steps. Approaching. Slowly. Then, faster. Fuck. He's not gonna...Is he? The sheets you're hidden under are removed in one swift movement. He is.

"Miss me, princess?" Sunghoon asks, his voice as velvety as you remember.

You can't find the strength to say anything, let alone scream. You were right! It was Sunghoon all along!

"Missed me so bad you waited for me on the couch?" he teases you, running a gloved hand down your cheek.

Sooo far from the truth. You just wanted to know who was tormenting you. You didn't miss him at all. All he ever did was bitch about you spending too much time with Heeseung. He was a jealous, insecure wreck and all of that somehow manifested into the current predicament you found yourself in.

"Nah, just wanted to see who's been leaving me all these presents," you try to keep your composure.

"I'm surprised it took you so long to figure it out," Sunghoon chuckles darkly. "I thought you were smarter than that. Did you seriously think that dork Heeseung would be capable of something so wicked?"

"That dork is a much better person than you are," you spit out. Okay, probably not the best idea to confront him right now. Stupid Y/N...

"Hmm, is that why you cheated on me with him?" Sunghoon sighs wistfully.

"I never cheated on you, I started dating Heeseung three months after our breakup."

"Three months. Couldn't even wait a year. You're so cruel," Sunghoon pouts and sits next to you on the couch, making himself at home.

"I'm not the cruel one, terrifying my ex-girlfriend. Move on, Sunghoon. I have."

"Have you? Then, why haven't you thrown away the little gifts I gave you?"

How did he know they're safely tucked away underneath your bed? How many times has he been here without your knowledge?

"As evidence," you reply dumbly.

"Evidence you don't plan to submit," Sunghoon teases you.

"I will submit it if you don't stop."

"Why are you even giving me a chance? Obviously, you haven't moved on. Obviously, you wanted to see me again, didn't you?" Sunghoon caresses your cheek and you want to push him away, you really do. But it feels so nice, the coldness sending chills down your spine. Maybe you're just as sick as him.

"Obviously, you are delusional," you roll your eyes. You just have to keep talking to distract him.

You remind yourself that your hand is stuffed in your pocket, clutching your phone tightly. You could easily call Heeseung or Sunoo without Sunghoon noticing. They could be here in minutes as they live nearby. The question is who to call? If you call Heeseung whom Sunghoon is so jealous of, you are afraid that Sunghoon might be carrying some kind of weapon and Heeseung might get hurt. You are fairly certain that Sunghoon wouldn't hurt you physically but you are worried about your boyfriend.

Sunoo, on the other hand...Though he doesn't look physically threatening, him showing up might be a better idea. His angelic demeanour may lead to a diplomatic dialogue. Besides, Sunghoon's always had a soft spot for Sunoo. He wouldn't hurt him, right? So, without thinking too much into it, you call him.

"Am I though?" Sunghoon tilts his head to the side in a way you used to adore. Fuck. "Admit it, if I wanted to really hurt you, I would have. And if you wanted me out of your life, you would have filed for a restraining order or something. Since neither of us did any of those things, that means there's still a chance you crave me in your life, isn't there?"

"You’re fucking crazy if you think I’m going back to you."

Sunghoon grits his teeth angrily, but doesn’t say anything. You really should stop saying things that will make him mad but then again, your biggest flaw has always been excessive honesty. When you broke up with Sunghoon, you were explicitly clear why his behaviour was making you upset and that his jealousy was in the core of it all. At the time, you really viewed Heeseung only in friendly light so Sunghoon’s anger towards him appeared unfounded. Now, however…you were, in fact, dating Heeseung. So, clearly, Sunghoon would believe he’d been worried for a reason.

"Oh, princess, what makes you think you have a choice?"

Moments later, your strained conversation is interrupted by Sunoo who just lets himself in as Sunghoon conveniently left the door wide open.

"Sunoo, thank God, you’re here!" you exclaim even though you are perfectly aware that Sunoo wouldn’t be able to defeat Sunghoon in a physical fight. You just hope that his precious smile is enough of a weapon to get Sunghoon to leave you alone.

"Hi, sunshine," Sunghoon greets him calmly as if his arrival comes as no surprise. Wait a second…

"Hey, hyung," Sunoo responds and instead of being comforted by his appearance, you feel sudden dread upon seeing his angelic features slowly transforming into psychotic ones.

"Since when were you two so friendly?" you try to rack your brain. Back when you were dating Sunghoon, you never noticed anything. Did Sunoo like him?

"Since we share a common goal," Sunoo smiles softly at you, making you even more creeped out, as he pulls a blade from his pocket. What the fuck?!

"Aww, Sun, don’t scare her just yet," Sunghoon scolds the younger man gently. "We’ll have plenty of time to play with her later."

Sunoo is working together with Sunghoon?!?!

You try to make a run for it but you’re too slow so Sunghoon and Sunoo capture you quickly. Sunghoon’s holding you strongly from behind, while Sunoo is caressing your neck with the blade, not drawing blood, just messing with your head.

"Are you gonna be a good girl or do we have to drug you?" Sunoo asks sweetly.

You struggle against them but it is of no use. They’re too powerful and you were too foolish.

"Bad girl, it is," Sunghoon answers coldly and presses a piece of clothing against your mouth and nose, making you feel dizzy and sleepy. Fuck.

You really should have called Heeseung.

To be continued…

[that-starry-freak]

Yknow what? I have to rant about this this has been eating me up for forever. Fuck confessions I'm going to do this here.

I fucking hate old moon

Do I love his sass? Yes. Do I love how Reed plays him most of the time? Yes. Do I love how he interacts with other characters? Yes!

Do I like him as a "person" and for what hes done? Absolutley not. He abused Sun, and when he found out the daycare exploded his first reaction was to be upset because THE STICK HE WOULD ROUTINLY HIT SUN WITH was fucking destroyed. I'm sorry bitch what??? That's disgusting Moon I wish you burned in hell <3

I also absolutely hate that no one saves Nexus

Do I think it was Sun's fault? Absolutely not, he has had way too much shit to deal with. Do I think its Earth's fault? While I think Nexus was absolutely right for calling her out for not being a therapist, she has every right to be upset for him saying he'd kill her. Do I think its the families fault in general? No, Nexus pushed them away and hurt them, they did try.

You know who I do blame? Who should understand Nexus better than anyone? Who even admits partial responsibility for it, and pretty much denies any sort of redemption for Nexus?

Mother fucking Old Moon.

Old moon committed arson. He abused Sun routinely (forcing him to go to dangerous dimensions. Hitting him. Calling him stupid. Having a clear power difference between the two and abusing it). He put his killcode in Sun and is literally the reason Eclipse exists and terrified their family.

But no, Nexus is the one in the wrong. He's the one that will have to do soemthing huge and grovel to be redeemed. Because he threatened the family after having hallucination and literally going insane and mourning his best friend, and feeling like he wasn't good enough and spiraling cause he couldn't bring Solar back, and then joined Dark Sun whos known to be exteemly smart and manipulative. Not Old Moon, who did so much worse. No, he gets to rejoin the family after apologizing and promising to do better (and yes, he is doing better) sure, Sun doesn't forgive him (and im proud of him for admitting that <3 that's very strong of him), but still.

Plus, Nexus is literally the youngest family member. He's a lot younger than Earth and Sun and Moon and Lunar. He isn't Sun's twin, and he isn't Earth's older brother. He is the youngest. And that should be addressed, because that means he is much more immature. He hasn't had all the time to grow up like the rest of them have. Moon has had years to grow as a person. Nexus has had a year.

Anyway, tldr. I dont blame the family for what happened to Nexus, I blame Old Moon

Also sorry for bad spelling or grammar or autocorrect or whatever, I'm not rereading this

ALSO THIS IS NOT FOR DEBATE. I AM RANTING ABOUT MY OPINION, IF YOU DO NOT AGREE, PLEASE JUST SCROLL PAST I DONT HAVE THE ENERGY TO ARGUE. YOU ARE ENTITLED TO YOUR OWN OPINION AND SO AM I ♡♡

[vegaseatsass]

So the way I assume at least some number of people felt about Pit Babe ("not sure this is hanging together narratively, but OMG THIS SHIT IS CRAZY! I HAVE TO GO TELL TUMBLR!") is the way I feel about Blank the Series. Well, I was right that the younger Nueng (who I will call Anueng) is named after the older Nueng (who I will call Nueng), because Anueng's mother was in love with Nueng. HOWEVER! Fah named her daughter after Nueng as an act of SPITE. Nueng didn't reciprocate her affections, so Fah ended up fucking Nueng's fiance - maybe as a way to feel close to her unrequited love ?? - and getting pregnant at age 16. Nueng encouraged her to abort the child for the sake of her future. So 20 years later, Fah tells Nueng YES I named my daughter after you: because you RUINED MY LIFE! By 1) breaking my heart when we were kids 2) almost causing me to miscarry my daughter, whom you are now in love with!!!! So both of Anueng's parents were and probably are in unrequited love with Nueng. They produced a baby who has decided her only mission in life is to get with this older woman... who both her parents are/were in love with. Now if that is not enough melodrama for you, Nueng left her fiance at the altar but he is still like, into her and likes hanging out with her. As soon as she told him he's Anueng's father he wanted to become a part of his daughter's life. So Nueng becomes like the gatekeeper of time with Anueng. Fah is like "help me bond with my estranged daughter (who wants to fuck you just like I do)". Chet, the father, is like "will you allow me to see my daughter (who wants to fuck you just like I do)?" as if it's Nueng's call... So in response to the epic guilt Nueng's feeling about Anueng's almost-miscarriage (it wasn't actually her fault btw, Fah is lying to chain Nueng to her out of guilt), Nueng arranges an amusement park date between her two exes, their daughter, and a guy who likes their daughter, even though the daughter in question only wants to be there with Nueng. There's one hilarious scene where Nueng tries to set both mother and daughter up on an age appropriate heterosexual date through a haunted house while she fades into the background, and they both rush through while the men jump and gasp in fear, because the women only want to get back to Nueng waiting outside. I just don't think I can express how weird this is. Nueng sets up a birthday party for the girl who has been professing her love for her since they met, where all the attendees are intended to help Anueng move on from her, but there is NO distinction between "people who can parent you instead of me" and "person who wants to fuck you instead of me". Nueng makes a sincere comment about how easy it is to fall in love with Anueng, TO HER FATHER. Anueng's MOTHER is jealous that her daughter likes Nueng better than her. It's just all sooooooooooo fucking weird and psychosexual. 20yo Anueng's babyishness remains incredibly offputting to me, but my friend has pointed out she only does that when she's around Nueng, so it's very obviously a performance. When she's around literally anyone else she kind of just looks like she's dissociating 24/7. Plus her abusive grandmother has kept her so sheltered and isolated and abused that it's not surprising she doesn't really know how to socialize authentically. So even if it's not my bag I'm like, narratively compelled by whatever the actual fuck is going on in this GL. And did I mention: Mon and Sam are there, too!!!! There's a whole plotline where Anueng is jealous of Sam because she thinks Nueng and Sam are girlfriends. When she finds out they're actually sisters (and she double-checks onscreen: ACTUAL, biological sisters? This isn't a pseudocest situation?), she's like oh! So you like beautiful rich women! All I have to do is replace your sister by becoming a beautiful rich woman myself!!!

[wosoluver]

Trying hard

Andrea Medina x Teammate!reader

TW: suggestive content

Andrea Medina Masterlist

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

"Why are the both of you fighting so hard to hate eachother?" - Asked Lola.

No one on the team understood where all that came from. And seemingly not even you or Andrea seemed to know.

"She started it."

You were all doing warm ups in training

"Literally when?" - Lola insisted knowing her friend very well. And Andrea just huffed at her.

You were new on the team, arrived in the beginning of the season. You were a forward, she was a defender, you naturally clashed a lot during trainings.

But still there was never an event to cause your constant bickering at each other.

"Everyone dividing into teams." - Yelled the coach.

As usual the two of you were in opposite sides. But twenty minutes in Medina started to get frustrated. She couldn't manage to stop your attacks, that led her to commit a bunch of fouls, this one had been particularly hard.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!" - you screamed out as you got up. You were in pain but in the moment you saw red. And you pushed her back. - "You aways pull this shit! Try to learn how to manage your anger issues. It's not my fault you suck at your job."

And that's all it took for her to stand up and try to start a physical fight.

But thankfully you were separated by your teammates.

"You two are staying late as punishment." - That's the only thing coach said before starting the game once again. You stayed on the sidelines trying to cool down.

You couldn't help but watch her every move. How the sweat glistened over her muscles as she gave her all on the pitch.

"Alright we're done for the day. Not you, Medina and Y/L/N, you two are working on your 1 v 1 and if you start another fight we'll have a problem."

"Fuck!" - You let out under your breath.

You grabbed the ball closest to you.

You two did some drills, but when you tried to pass her once again she pulled you down, but you managed to trip her with your legs, and soon she was on the ground too.

"Your not gonna yell at me?" - she asked.

"I'm too tired for that." -

"Why do you do it?"

"You're the one who keeps attacking me! But I apologize for saying your not good at your job. You're actually pretty skilled."

"Yeah, just not enough to stop you."

You looked over at her watching how the sun made her eyes look, their prettiest.

"Sorry for being harsh, I just- it's frustrating."

You got up and offered her a hand up in the process, which she took.

"Let's go."

You both went into the locker room, and went straight to shower. But she accidentally slipped on the wet floor right in front of you, this time taking you down with her.

"This one was not intentional I swear!"

"I'm so going to get bruised." - you said trying to help each other up. But failing miserably. But taking the situation in comically.

When you two finally managed getting up, you finished showering and getting changed.

"Can you give me a ride home? I came with Lola this morning."

"You'll owe me one."

"Fine."

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

Next day everyone was shocked when the two of you started joking around.

"Oye, I'll go easy on you today!"

"No, you can't!"

You left for the gym, as Andrea stayed behind.

"I knew it!" - Said Lola.

"Knew what?"

"You two liked each other deep down."

The younger girl only rolled back her eyes. Leaving the room. She didn't want to admit to anything.

She stared at you the whole day. Now that she couldn't blame it on the hate, she realized that maybe those feelings she had, were more than frustration. It was a mix of admiration and longing. It felt somewhat like a crush. And the realization made her cheeks red.

"Y/N! Can you stay and train with me for a little longer?"

"Yeah of course."

Lola simply looked suspiciously at her friend. - "Don't you need me to give you a ride home?"

"Y/N can take me."

"Okay." - She didn't want to insist too much. But she knew something was up.

After spending another hour training you decided to call it a day. Heading inside.

"You're doing better at blocking me."

"You're still winning though."

"Give it some time, you'll get there."

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

That week during the derby, between the team and Real Madrid. You were being ferociously taken down. Probably for the same reason as aways. But that was working you up, and Andrea as well. Even if she wasn't personally getting hurt.

But when they took Wifi down, as she was about to enter the penalty area, Andrea was so annoyed, she started running from the other side of the pitch to start a fight with Oihane. But before she could you intercepted her, pulling her away the best you could.

"Hey, stop if you get another card, you're out of the game."

"I don't care!"

"Well, I'm not letting you."

"You can't boss me around like you do to everyone else!"

You thought you were past this stage of fighting for no reason. She thought so too, but right now she couldn't deal with the pressure of the game, her hot headed need to bite back and the way your arms held her back with force against yourself.

Once the game was over and you were ready to leave, you walked towards the car without saying goodbye to anyone.

But unfortunately Andrea was able to catch up with you.

"I'm really sorry."

"I thought we were on good terms!"

"I can explain, can we please get into the car?"

"I'm not giving you a ride."

"I'm not asking for one. I just want to talk privately."

You huffed as you unlocked the doors.

You both sat respectively in your seats. You waited for her to start talking.

"My head was spinning out of control. The way they were making so many fouls, and we were struggling to keep up, was getting to me and when you held me back in your arms, I just exploded."

"You keep throwing your frustrations on me again and again."

"I know, but I've been trying to fix it, since I realized where they came from."

"Which is what? Your anger issues?"

"I don't have anger issues, it's you!"

"I don't have any anger issues!"

"No, I mean I have a crush on you.

That's what has bothered me from the start!"

By now you just stared at her, mouth agape.

"You're not going to say anything?"

But before she had barely ended her sentence, you kissed her passionately. This led her to pull you from the driver's seat to seat on her lap. And when you pulled away to breathe, she decided to pull you to the backseat to blow off all the steam you had build up during the game.

And you thanked god you were parked so far from everyone else that day.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

[daimyosprincess]

WORTH THE RISK

—PAIRING: Dad's Friend!Boba Fett x F!Reader

—SUMMARY: Pushing your luck has its rewards.

—WORD COUNT: 10.8k

—RATING: Explicit, 18+ only — MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

—TAGS & WARNINGS: second person narration, no use of y/n, explicit sexual content, alternate universe, dad’s friend!Boba, reader has parents mentioned in the story, age gap relationship between an older man and younger woman (reader is an adult), secret relationship, dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, oral sex (m receiving), throat fucking, unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up irl), light choking, this is straight up filth y’all I’m not even joking, if the previous things are not your cup of tea this will not be the fic for you 🥴

Please let me know if I missed anything!

—AUTHOR'S NOTES: I'll post this fic in a couple weeks! literally a month later here we are besties, the dad's friend Boba fic inspired by @maybege's post!! this fic ended up taking waaaay longer than I expected since the story took a turn I didn't plan for, but I'm really happy with how it turned out in the end! big shout out to Moss for betaing and all the besties who sent me incoherent emoji scrambles for my snippets along the way 💖 enjoy y'all!

Read on AO3 — Masterlist — Taglist

Setting out the last of the dessert trays on your parents’ patio table, you swipe a hand over your forehead. A delightfully cool breeze ruffles the hem of your dress, signaling the coming summer evening and carrying the pleasant mixture of laughter and music from the backyard. Satisfied with the arrangement of treats, you look out over the party of family and friends gathered on the lawn: neighbors, coworkers, and family of all sorts gathered together for your parents’ annual cookout, which your father fondly calls the “Bar-bo-polooza” (and which your mother decidedly does not). 

Scanning the crowd, you spot her bouncing their neighbor’s baby girl on her hip while your father diligently lectures her partner on proper grilling techniques over his beer. A swarm of kids darts around the party in what appears to be a high stakes game of tag, while a gaggle of your aunties and Uncle Steven are clumped together in tight conversation over the latest gossip. A smile curls up your lips—nothing bridges the generational or cultural divide quite like a juicy piece of insider knowledge.

Giving the yard a final skim, you give up on locating your boyfriend and head for your chair by the fire pit. You’re no sooner settled when you feel your phone buzz.

<boba 🖤🧸🧋: Better give me those panties now, princess>

Your cheeks heat immediately reading Boba’s message. You still can’t see him from your seat, but you know wherever he is, he can certainly see you. Crossing your knees, you make sure your hem rides just high enough to still be considered appropriate for a family setting. Your phone vibrates again and your eyes dart to the new message on your screen.

<boba 🖤🧸🧋: I’m not going to ask twice>

A heated shiver snakes down your spine, pooling in the dampness already nestled between your thighs. Your plan to tease Boba to the edge of insanity is already taking its toll. 

Logically, you know you shouldn’t be riling him up like this at a family function, but you can’t seem to stop yourself after he’s been out of town. You’ve missed his bone deep comfort, his small touches, and the safety of his arms. Hell, you’ve even missed the smell of him, breathing in that balmy spiciness that’s all his own. 

Of course, you’ve also missed his keen knack for making you black out with pleasure. But who could possibly blame you for that? The man is nothing short of a god when it comes to making you feel good, so it’s not your fault you rubbed him half hard in the driveway or brushed up against him in your flirty new sundress during the party set up. Besides, you’d been an absolute angel in his absence: texting him that you remembered to take your meds, drank enough water every day, and not touched where you wanted him most just like he asked.

Really, you’d been a complete saint. You only texted him those two dirty pictures because he asked for them. If anything, Boba should be rewarding you for your restraint instead of making you survive this cookout aching and desperate before he took you home and made good on all his filthy promises. Just the thought of what he said he’d do has your thighs pressing together. So, with a sly grin sneaking over your lips, you tap out a response.

<Or what? You can’t do shit with all these people around, old man>

Adrenaline pumping hot in veins, you hit send and click of your screen. You make a show of stretching so your tits press together, sure Boba’s got a laser focus on you after that message. 

Feeling supremely pleased with yourself, you chuck your phone into the seat you’re saving for your cousin, Ari. You search for their telltale blue hair and catch it over by the drinks table. No surprise there, of course.

“My, my, my, such a dirty little mouth on such a pretty little girl.”

A hot shock of electricity shoots down your spine. Boba’s sinful voice races across your skin deceptively gentle, like a blade wrapped in dark velvet: sheathed, but no less dangerous. 

Your pulse jumps under the thin skin of your throat. You don’t need to look up to know you’re in treacherous waters. His tone alone tells you everything you need to know—your “good” deeds never went unpunished with him, especially when you acted like you could get away with them. Putting your most dazzlingly innocent smile, you turn your face up to him, acting like you’re making pleasant conversation. “Wanna find out how dirty it can get?”

The corner of his lips twitch up. “Careful, princess.” His umber eyes burn with the unspoken magnitude of his threat. “You already owe me those pink panties of yours… don’t make me add to that list.”

Something hot and dangerous spikes in your core. You can practically feel his lips on your overheated skin, the scrape of his teeth down your neck. Luckily for your rapidly evaporating self-control, however, you catch Ari waving at you and you signal at their saved seat. The reprieve gives you a moment to swallow back the well of desire pressing against your throat. You’re already playing a dangerous game with your relationship—you really shouldn’t be adding to it by tempting fate, or Boba, in your parents’ backyard.

After moving to town two years ago, Boba and your dad had become fast friends, bonding over their love of classic cars and good whiskey. Freshly cut in your former employer’s downsizing, you had come home just after they had started spending weekends drinking and working on the old Chevy in your dad’s garage. It was over for you the second you saw him: broad shoulders, tanned, and impossibly gorgeous, Boba Fett was everything you ever wanted, wrapped up in a tight black t-shirt and well-fitted jeans. You never stood a chance.

For a torturous year you danced around your simmering mutual attraction, months filled with “accidental” touches and excuses to see each other more than strictly necessary for a daughter and her father’s friend. He gave you rides when your poor 2003 Toyota finally met its end, helped you move in with Ari, and even let you drunkenly cry on his shoulder at last summer’s cookout when you were sure your life was a failure. You really fell for him then. Hard.

Always teasing you with winks and flirty smiles, things finally came to a head at your parents’ New Year's Eve party. Scrabbling down the stairs for the countdown, you’d crashed right into him, his arms wrapping around your waist to halt your fall. By the time the voices outside yelled “Happy New Year,” you already had your hands (and mouths) all over each other.

The instant chemistry between you has only become more explosive since. In the almost six months of your relationship, you’ve orgasmed harder, louder, and more often than you thought was possible for a human being. But more importantly, you’ve also grown and learned a lot about yourself, with Boba coaxing you to embrace your needs without shame, both sexual and not. Mentally, you’re in a much better place than you were after you were let go from your dream job; and physically, well… you’ve never been more satisfied.

Of course, you’re not nearly ready to reveal all this to your parents. 

Boba has respected your choice to keep your relationship a secret, despite his desire to claim you as his own every time your mother introduced you to some nice boy from her temp agency. Her mentioning that she invited “Kevin from Jimenez Landscaping” today is partially what made you decide on wearing the particular little sundress you had on. Not for him of course, but to drive Boba wild while you humored your mom and talked to the guy. The rest of your scheme—putting your hand down Boba’s pants behind his truck and digging yourself into a very deep hole over text—had been more or less spur of the moment.

Staring up at him now, dead serious with little patience left for mercy, has your insides twisting in tight, needy knots. Boba is a man of his word and not above leaving you unfulfilled when he thought you deserved it. Maker did he know how to make you squirm.

“Okay, okay,” you relent, doing your best to tamp down the need leaking into your voice. “I swear I’ll take them off when Ari gets back.” 

You might be a brat but you’re not stupid: you know when you’ve flown too close to the sun. 

He smiles then, smug and shining, leaning down to plant what appeared to be an unoffending, fatherly kiss on the crown of your head. “That’s more like it. Not so hard to be a good girl, now is it, darling?” 

The sensual rasp of his whisper calls forth memories of love made sweet and long, making your stomach flip and tighten. Praying for the heat to leave your face, you clench your thighs together to ward them off.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Your head snaps up to see Ari’s freckled face plastered with a sardonic expression. Your confidant since childhood, your cousin is the only person who knows about your relationship—and isn’t afraid to give you shit about it.  

“Of course not,” Boba answers breezily, patting your shoulder, “we were just commenting on how perfect the weather turned out.”

Ari scoffs, dropping down next to you. “Yeah, sure. If anyone else here actually had eyes, they would see right through the two of you.”

You grin and accept the offered lemonade. “What? Can a young lady and a handsome older gentleman not talk at a party?” 

Boba’s hand squeezes your shoulder in a silent warning to behave. Still glowing with his praise of “good girl” echoing in your ears, you opt to stay so.

“Last I checked, they can,” Ari gestures back and forth between you. “It’s just the ‘fuck me’ eyes that make it totally obvious you’re screwing.”

“I myself prefer the term ‘making love’ over ‘screwing,’” Boba chuckles.

Ari immediately makes retching noises, their face screwing up in disgust. “Making love?! What are you, like a thousand years old?” They hold up a hand. “You know what, never mind, I don’t even want to think about that more than I already have to.”

Despite your cousin’s reaction, his words bloom heat in your stomach. As good as Boba is at straight up fucking, he also loves you so tenderly and slowly some nights it nearly brings you to tears. With sweet kisses wrapped in praise and gentle touches laced with assurances that you were his and he was yours, he crafted a devotion more sincere and pure than you thought your heart could hold.

Ari elbows you, pulling you back to reality. “Now unless you got tea to add to this conversation, sir, I’m gonna need you to beat it. Me and your girlfriend have some important information to discuss. Auntie is three margaritas deep and just told me some very interesting things about her divorce.”

Boba’s fingers drift across the nape of your neck in a subtle reminder of delicious possession. He makes a show of sighing in exaggerated defeat and comes around your chair. Sticking out his hand, he nods. “Ari.”

“Fett.” They shake and Boba heads over to where your dad is flipping burgers on the grill. Somehow even his walk made you thrum with electricity.

When he’s out of earshot, Ari whispers behind their drink. “Finally. Now, she said that she was the one who instigated the divorce…”

It’s not until you head inside to pee that you remember your promise to Boba.

<boba 🖤🧸🧋: Clock’s ticking, princess. Panties. Now.> Received 6 minutes ago

Shit. You groan and throw your head back on your shoulders. Why is there always a line when you want to use the bathroom? Especially when you need to get your panties off before your boyfriend reaches up your dress and rips them off for you?

When the door finally opens, you rush in. Clicking the lock, you immediately yank off your underwear, taking the briefest moment to admire them. Pink, cute, and soaked in the middle, you feel deliciously dirty holding up the scrap of fabric in the mirror to snap a pic.

<All yours 😘> 1 image attached

The urge to run and take another picture in his truck is extremely tempting, but a knock on the door has you rushing to finish up. 

Boba’s waiting for you when you step outside, looking handsome as sin as he leans against the deck railing. As casually as you can with a naked cunt and a pair of panties balled in your fist, you slip next to him and press them into his large hand. Maker, the sight of him stuffing the illicit garment into his pocket should absolutely not be as fucking hot as it is.

Seeing the scrunched look on your face, he chuffs a quiet laugh. “I can smell how wet you are, babygirl. Something’s got you all worked up, huh?” His tone is molasses, thick with self-satisfaction. “Brats do always love it when the consequences of their actions catch up to them.”

In an attempt to diffuse his pride, you pout and cross your arms over your chest. “I thought you said I was your good girl.” 

He flashes you that jaw-dropping smile of his. “The two aren’t mutually exclusive.” 

Before you can get any more hot and bothered, you see your mother approaching with a gangly young man in tow. You curse under your breath; you’d forgotten about Kevin-from-Jimenez-Lanscaping. 

Boba snorts. “Speaking of consequences…”

Suddenly you’re very aware that you’re going to have to make polite small talk with your mother and a stranger with your panties stuffed in your secret-boyfriend-who-makes-you-scream-with-pleasure’s pocket. 

You’re also aware that it turns you on an embarrassing amount. Fortunately (or not), you don’t have much time to contemplate the extent of that particular depravity before Kevin and your mom stop in front of you. 

“There you are!” she exclaims happily. “Kevin, this is my daughter I’ve been telling you all about.” The young man smiles and shakes your hand politely and your mom turns to the older man. “And this is Boba Fett, our neighbor and family friend.” She drops her voice conspiratorially. “Now he’s very protective of her, so be careful. Even worse than her father.”

Boba bares his teeth in a sharp-toothed smile, gripping the younger man’s offered hand harder than necessary for the brief shake. The act of possessiveness has your blood boiling even hotter as the poor boy’s eyes widen in surprise. After a couple minutes of tedious conversation that’s mainly Boba glaring over your shoulder, Kevin excuses himself, thanking your mother for inviting him and apologizing for having to leave so soon. 

Watching him dart for his car, she levels a scolding tone at your boyfriend. “How is my daughter supposed to find someone when you stare murder at every single person I bring over?”

Unrepentant, he shrugs and smiles. Your shared secret dances on his lips. “I just want what’s best for her. Surely you can’t blame me for that.” Seeing your mother still unconvinced, he throws an arm around her shoulders and plants a kiss on her cheek. 

He sneaks a wink at you and you make a show of rolling your eyes even as your insides warm at his attention. Morally, you’re sure it’s wrong to enjoy this deception so thoroughly, but in this moment you don’t care; it lights some infernal fire inside you that burns hotter than any desire you’ve ever had.

“I hate to say it, but Boba’s right,” you play along. She still looks skeptical and he looks entirely too smug, so you elaborate. “I mean, what good is a guy that’s too chicken to even have a conversation with this grandpa?”

She bursts into a round of laughter that wipes away the previous exasperation from her face. “Oh, be nice to Boba,” she admonishes, lightly smacking your shoulder. “He’s no older than your father.”

A grin splits your face. “Gosh, you’re right, Mom! Boba’s only what, twice my age? I should really have more respect for my elders.” The words barely leave your mouth before Boba turns out his solo cup of ice water out over your head. Shocked with the sudden cold pouring down your face and neck, you instantly resort to tattling and finger pointing.

“No, ma’am, don’t come crying to me!” she manages through a peal of laughter. “You earned that one fair and square!”

Boba is positively dripping with his own self-satisfaction. “Sure did,” he brandishes a double-edged smile, paternally crossing his arms over his chest, “And I hope you learned your lesson, young lady.”

Your skin burns so hot you can feel the rivulets of water trickling down your neck heat up. Memories of your tits pushed up against the chilled hood of Boba’s truck flash across the backs of your eyes—you had complained you were cold after a skinny-dip in the lake and he wasted no time in warming you back up.

“Careful, princess,” he panted damply against your neck. “You scream any louder and you’ll have people come running. What would they think of a pretty young lady like you soaking an old man’s cock?”

It’s a miracle that you don’t immediately buckle when you catch his hand digging into his pocket to fist your panties. Keeping your eyes decidedly off him, you rush through an excuse to go up to your room to change. Before you can scurry off, however, he catches your elbow. 

“Here, take this.” Boba pulls off his overshirt and wraps it around your shoulders. “Can’t have you catching a cold, now can we?” Your mom nods approvingly before she’s pulled away by another guest. Once she’s out of earshot, he drops his voice low. “Go inside and meet me in the garage. I’m going around front.”

Even as you repress an excited shiver, your heart warms in your chest at Boba’s caution. He never made you feel bad for wanting to keep things private and always structured your affairs so you were never seen going or leaving together. And although you look forward to the day you’ll be ready to hold his hand and steal kisses in front of the world, sneaking around in the meantime did add an extra layer of excitement to your sex. 

Sandals slapping wet against the tiled floor, you race across the kitchen to yank open the door to the garage. Thick, sun-warmed air hits your face with a pleasant staleness, smelling of cardboard and motor oil. The quietness of the space clashes with the clamor of excitement pumping through your veins. Sweeping your eyes from one side to the other, a frown weighs on your lips when Boba is nowhere to be seen. 

No sooner does the displeasure darken your expression than you’re scooped up into a pair of strong arms and whirled around. 

Familiar lips and a suede voice swiftly gentle your startled yelp. “Quiet now, darling,” Boba purrs, practically preening with the pleasure of your surprise, “you don’t want to get us caught now do you?”

Your gleeful giggles of realization are smothered by his barrage of kisses, each one an intoxicating mix of passion and urgency. Boba hooks your legs around his waist, not caring about the water soaking into him as he walks you deeper into the garage.

The intense press of need pushing against your chest melts under his touch, releasing your lungs and draining to pool in your thrumming core. It’s been so long, too long, without him, your body surviving on the mere scraps memory could provide you—nothing in comparison to the sustenance of the man himself. Having him back in your arms, his marred skin beneath your fingertips, his thick torso filling the empty space between your legs… it unhooks the final thorns of discontent left from his absence. 

A wave of relief washes away the tenseness of separation, leaving you pliable and radiant once more; the release has Boba’s lips parting in a gratified groan at the satisfaction of being your sanctuary. You take the greedy opportunity to lick your way into his mouth to savor the way his taste fills yours. Lost to the sensation of your tongue sliding along his, a hiss escapes your lips when the back of your thighs hit the freezer’s lid. 

The chill dissipates quickly in the glow of Boba’s urgent heat. “Fuck I missed you, babygirl,” he pants against your pulse, “Even if you’ve been a karking terror all afternoon.”

“S’not my fault,” you slur, dragging your teeth across the tan skin of his throat, “missed you too much.” His salt seeps into the warmth of your mouth, spurring memories of late nights pressed together under a quivering lake water moon. Seeking that passionate warmth, your heels dig into Boba’s thighs to press him deeper into your eager desire.

Unyielding and unrushed as ever, he pulls back, refusing to let you usurp his control. Bereft, a whine flies from your throat and you keel towards him in a desperate arch. 

Boba catches your cheek in his palm and sharply angles your face to his. Pure dominance radiates off him in the unwavering set of his shoulders and the gleam in his eye, their darkness glinting like two sable jewels in the dim light. His raw power, sanctified by his restraint and your willing submission, shimmers in the air between your bodies—the ephemeral calm before his storm’s consequences. 

He knows that disquieting stillness of his never failed to draw your desire. Without a word, his free hand disappears into his pocket to free your panties.

“Mmm, is that the problem?” His strong fingers dig into your cheeks and he turns your head towards the dangling bit of bows and lace. You can feel how the visual evidence of your arousal affects him. He presses the damp fabric against his nose, sucking in a ragged breath. “Your needy little cunt making you act out?”

Your answer comes out more as a whoosh of air than a word, your insides twisting with the searing heat in his tone. “Noooo…” 

“So you’re just a naughty brat then?” 

You want to protest that you’re nothing but innocent but your throat is too tight with the thrill of his wrath. He balls the frilly underwear into his fist. “Shame. I was thinking about taking mercy on you for your good behavior while I was gone.” He cuts his eyes back to you, smirking. “Too bad brats don’t get that privilege.”

You jolt, panic locking your ankles at the small of his back in an attempt to keep him close. “No! No! That’s not what I meant!” you cry, your voice taunt with distress.   

A dangerous chuckle sounds in his throat. You’d shown your desperation, giving him the easy advantage. “Better start explaining then, princess. Or else I’m just gonna come all over these pink panties and you’ll get nothing.”

You blink up at him with pitiful eyes and a swollen-lipped pout. “It’s because I missed you,” you simper, tracing a finger down his chest. “Seven days is a long time. Too long.” 

Even through the haze of your shared arousal, Boba resists temptation. “Too long? Babygirl, we talked on the phone every night.”

He lets you press your face into the crook of his shoulder and your fingers begin to loop into the soft cotton of his shirt. “It’s not the same and you know it! There was no falling asleep with you, no lap to curl up in…”

“No thigh to get off on?”

You squeak when he pinches your ass, the subconscious roll of your hips halting.

“As cute and sincere as you may be, my darling girl, you still have a debt to settle for your behavior today.”

That’s fair, reasonable even. You had pushed him further than you yourself would have been able to stand. You slip your fingers under his shirt hem to graze your nails over the dark hair trailing into his jeans. “What if I gave you a little apology?” you offer with a fluttering of lashes. “Show you how sorry I am?” 

Boba’s breath hitches but he turns up his chin like he’s uninclined to accept your offer. “You really think a handy is gonna cut it after everything this afternoon?” 

The fevered dream from his absence flares white-hot in your mind. Grabbing his belt buckle, you haul your hips forward to press your slick folds against his bulge. “Not even if that apology is you fucking me into the mattress in my childhood bedroom?” 

Boba curses, his hips bucking into yours.

“Not even if it’s you ruining me in the room where I learned to touch myself? Where I’d cry out into the pillow thinking about what it would feel like to have a real man fuck me instead of stupid, silly boys? Not even then?”

“Princess-”

“I’ve been fantasizing about it for a while, you know… what it would be like to bury my face in those cute flower sheets while you fuck my tight little cunt till I’m sore. Had to take a cold shower while you were gone just to keep my hands off myself.”

In a burst of strength, he forces you flat back against the freezer. “Enough,” he hisses through locked teeth. “For Maker’s sake, enough.”

Despite his protests, he’s rutting his twitching cock into the slick mess at your apex. You grin into his kiss—you’ve got him right where you want him. 

“Awww, pleeeease?” you whine, sticking your bottom lip out. “Pretty please… Daddy?”

The sound that scrapes up from him is so utterly depraved that for a second, you think he might’ve come in his pants.

“Fuck, you’re… you’re…”

“A filthy little princess for a dirty old man?”

Boba pushes his hand over your mouth. “You… you have ten seconds to get in your room before I’m fucking you where you stand. And I don’t give a karking shit who sees. Do you understand me?”

“So, apology accepted?”

“One.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Two.”

“Okay, okay! I’m going!”

“Three.”

You’re flat out running for the kitchen door, wrenching it open without checking if someone is behind it. Luckily, your path is clear as you fly up the stairs up to your room. The lavender paint and neat rows of school awards are nothing but a pastel blur when you fling yourself onto the twin bed. Quickly positioning yourself, you hike your dress up around your hips so you’re completely on display. 

At this point, you don’t even care about the danger; you drop your hand between your legs and delve two fingers between your wet folds. The friction burns delightfully after days without so much as a finger to your clit. The relief is so sweet you have to bite down on your neckline to halt the sounds of delight from spilling out. Imagining just how much better it’ll be when Boba gets his hands on you has you bucking under your fingers.

“Just can’t help yourself, can you, little brat?”

It’s no use snatching back your hand—he’s seen your transgression and is all too ready to add it to your growing list. Grabbing your wrist, he wrenches you up off the bed and whirls you around so your back digs into the door. 

“Oh, babygirl,” he husks in a low, cruel voice. “You’re so fucked.”

He’s pressed so far into you the damp fabric of your dress burns, absorbing his overwhelming heat. Pure, wanton desire floods your brain, drowning any hope of sanity until all that remains is him.

Boba yanks down the ruffled sleeve covering your shoulder and sinks in his teeth, groaning when you buck against him. “But that’s what you like isn’t it? You like it when I put you in your place, when I treat you rough.” His large hand snakes up your chest to grab your throat.  

“Yes-yes, Daddy!” you gasp, writhing with prickling pleasure when he greedily palms your breast. 

He grunts, his hips thrusting into you. “You think calling me that will get you out of trouble?”

“I mean being in my old room… seems kinda fitting, doesn’t it-oh!”

Boba shoves his hand over your mouth. “Now don’t look at me like that, princess. I’m just helping you make better choices,” he grins, his smile sharp with intent. “That’s what daddies do, right?”

Fuck that should not make your clit throb like it does. Just when your knees start to tremble from the sweet friction he’s smoothing over your nipples, he tears himself away. Your cry of displeasure is choked off by a squeeze of his hand. With big, shining eyes, you blink pitifully up at him in a bid for more.

“Don’t bother with the kitten eyes, darling. It won’t save you… and neither will anything else you say.” He rubs his thumb gently over your pulse point, a jarring contrast to the pressure on your throat. “After your little attitude this afternoon, you’re going to have to earn the right to speak.”

Boba just tuts when you pout, a wicked flush of darkness shadowing his expression. “Brats don’t get what they want, especially not such disrespectful ones.” Licking his lips, his voice sinks even deeper. “Still think I can’t do shit with all these people around?”

When you don’t answer, he releases his grip on your neck to run his fingers up your skull and jerk your head back. Taking his time, he kisses you, devouring you until you’re fighting for air. “Little princess, I can do whatever I want to you no matter who’s around, do you understand that? Do you?” 

Your answer is nothing more than a pitiful waver but he takes it all the same. “Good. Now take the dress off before I tear it off. I’m gonna fuck that pretty throat until I’m satisfied you’ve learned some respect.”

You’re out of the offending garment before he even has time to unfasten his belt. Despite the heat in your veins, goosebumps blossom across your skin, heightened by the moisture from your dress. When Boba sees you rubbing away the chill, he smirks and snaps you to his chest. “Looks like you need some warming up…” 

Sliding his hands over your ass, he hikes you up into his arms with a puff, chuckling at your small sound of surprise. When he lowers you gently onto your bed, you wriggle into the position you know he wants: laid out on your back with your head hanging off the edge, ready for atonement. 

It feels almost like relief. This was the reason you tested Boba’s patience with your antics and attitude; you crave the way he gives you no choice but to comply, the thrill of a fantastical danger shaping you into something vulnerable and eager to please.

The fire in his eyes dampens some as he caresses a hand over your cheek. You lean into his palm, nuzzling into the soft gesture. “Look at me, babygirl,” he prompts gently. When your eyes drift up to his, a smile warms his face. “I know you like it rough and I’m going to give it to you, but I need you to promise to mind your body, okay? Let me feel your three taps to stop.”

As you’d practiced many times, you reach up and slap your palm against his thick thigh. His white smile gets even bigger and he bends to plant a quick kiss on your forehead. You glow with his affection. “Boba?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Can you grab a towel for me to lay on? I’m going to soak a spot on the sheets if you keep talking like that.” 

A devil’s grin stretches across his bronze features. “Stay right there and don’t move,” he instructs, his voice already husked smoke, “or I will make you only watch while I jack off with those panties.” 

If he’d waited a second before darting to the adjoining bathroom, he would’ve seen the way your slicked entrance clenched at his threat.

For a fleeting moment you consider sneaking a hand to your peaked nipples, but the threat of him making you watch and not touch is far too distressing to test. Before you can get too tempted otherwise, Boba strides back into the bedroom with a towel in hand. Without a word spoken between you, he bends and you hook your arms around his neck so he can lift you and lay the towel down.

Boba hums in appreciation when you stretch back out before him, biting back your longing under his gaze. He lets his belt loose and his pants slide down his thighs, finally revealing the gorgeous image of his thick cock. Flushed rosy with want and beautifully slicked with desire, it bobs against his belly full and ready for your touch. 

He steps back so you’re forced to crane your neck to see him. The baneful fire has returned to his dark eyes. He pumps his length once and your mouth waters in anticipation. “Hope you don’t think I’m going easy on you just because you finally decided to behave.”

You shake your head. 

“No talking and no hands, understood?” 

Now you shake your up and down. You know far better of him than to disobey.

“Good. Now we don’t have much time before someone comes looking for you, little princess, so open up that mouth and make Daddy proud.”

Thank the Maker for that towel.

Tilting your head back to make your throat one smooth channel, you stick out your tongue wide and ready. Just seeing the way his expression darkens with desire at your obedience has fresh slick wetting your thighs. Hell, your obedience turns you on. Not just any man could make you want to give yourself over to him and you’re sure there are next to none who could possibly deserve it. 

Boba steps forward, cupping your cheek in his rough palm and dragging the slippery head of his length over your lips, coating them in his arousal. You stay still, enjoying his taste and gentle attention; he would tell you when he wanted more.

When he rocks forward to let your tongue slide down the vein that runs the underside of his cock, you claw your fingers into the floral sheets beneath you. Your heart pounds against your ribs and your lungs bellow more air into your chest. He’s so close yet so far from where you want him. Spit begins to dribble from the corners of your mouth and your jaw twinges from its wide angle, heightening your need for him even more.

Boba continues his leisurely pace across your tongue, rumbling a few low, pleasured sounds. He notices your frustration—he always notices everything—and chooses to ignore it. It’s a lenient punishment in light of your behavior but it doesn’t make the waiting any easier or your cunt any less desperate.

The whine that escapes from you when he lets his head graze your front teeth is so small it’s almost silent, but he hears it all the same. “Mmm, is there a problem, darling? Something the matter?” The slow drag of him doesn’t stop. 

You flick your tongue over his frenulum in a wordless response. Although you can’t see him, you know his pretty brown eyes flutter shut at the sensation.

“Aaah hah hah,” he chuckles through a groan, “is this not enough for my princess? Is getting her tongue used while she’s naked on her pretty pink bed not enough for her?”

Again, since he hasn’t given you permission to speak yet, you stretch your head up to capture the head of his cock between your coated lips, lightly suckling his sensitive tip. When he doesn’t stop you, you let your tongue snake up to lick the pearled drop from his slit. 

A faint tremor runs through him, making his length thrum in your mouth. Boba curses and stoops to lay a hand on your throat. No pressure or grip to it, just his hand resting over the exposed column of your neck. 

“Swallow.”

His simple command races through you like a spark up a gunpowder trail, igniting the tinder of aching pleasure between your thighs. Reflexively your body snaps to follow his order, your jaw closing and your muscles pushing him deeper into the wet heat of your mouth. 

“Fffff- that’s it, babygirl. Juuuust like that… let me feel how good you take me.” 

The jagged sound of his enjoyment shoots bright seams of glittering ecstasy into your veins. Conscious of the lack of permission to touch him, you dig your heels into the mattress to push further up his shaft, sucking in a final deep breath before letting his girth slide down your waiting throat. 

The next seconds dissolve into a filmy timelessness where every single one of your senses are his—your every sensation and fiber belonging to Boba. Your breath, your sense of smell and taste, sense of direction, everything is all in his control, all his to direct and decide. Even as the need for air burns through your ribs, you feel impossibly free, weightless and perfect within his care.

Retreating into that protected soft space of submission, your mind goes blissfully blank, your sole happiness being Boba’s grunts of pleasure as he pumps his cock down your throat. Sweat slicks your skin and hungry breath claws at your lungs but they’re none of your concern, all you have to worry about is keeping your jaw open. Though it had taken some time to learn to get there, now you rejoice in finding this quiet place within his storm, relishing the way you fall out of time and into his world. Even with the strain and weight of him pressing down onto you, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

After some wonderful, unknown period of time, air hisses through Boba’s teeth as he retracts from your warmth. Still blinded by submission, you gasp in big bubbles of air, blinking against the tears of exertion pricking your eyes.

You feel the muted thump of him dropping to his knees near your head. His thumbs are brushing away the salty trails as he cradles your head like a fragile flower against the wind, a smile blooming radiant on your damp face.  “Baby… my darling girl,” he pants through seeded kisses, “you did so good for me, took it all… can you believe it? Almost couldn’t stop myself from coming down that perfect throat.”

You’re still hazy, drifting through the fog of your accomplishment, but you manage to pull apart your wet lashes to see his beaming smile. Its luminance turns up your own lips. “I… I did?”

Before now, you’d never managed to get the last thick inch of his cock down your throat—though not for the lack of trying. As oxygen flushes through your system, your head clears. “See,” you croak, buoyed by your success, “doing it in my old bedroom was a good idea.” 

Genuine mirth crinkle up his eyes. “You haven’t seen anything yet, princess.” Boba turns and scoops you into arms, pressing you close to take in your scent. “I still gotta make you scream into the sheets, remember?” he murmurs against your temple.

You happily slide against him, relishing the way he fits perfectly against you. “Pretty sure I said ‘screamed into my pillow.’”

He snorts, caressing his hand along your jaw. “How about I make you do both?”

Taking your wild giggle as confirmation, he flips you onto your back to hover over you. You bite your bottom lip against your laughter as he trails tickling kisses down your neck and over your sternum, your breath hitching when he latches onto a pert nipple.

“Tell me…” he rasps through his mouth’s divine suction, “tell me how you would touch yourself.”

The great, crested wave of fire that crashes through ignites your limbs, making you jerk like a puppet on tangled strings. You never felt ashamed with Boba, he has always been your safety, your refuge; he’d wiped more tears than you’d let anyone else ever see and you’d twisted fantasies into his ear that would make the devil blush. But telling him how you rutted into your hand, sweating and barely keeping in your breathy sounds as you tried desperately to understand why boys your age never turned you on suddenly felt absurdly embarrassing.

He must have felt you stiffen under him because he prompts you again. 

“I, um… I mean…” Why was this so embarrassing? It’s not like he didn’t know you were into the more seasoned male age range. Sucking in a steadying breath, you realize he’s stopped his ministrations to observe you with a keen eye.

It only makes your unforeseen shame bruise darker. You force a chuckle from your gut. “Sheesh, you know how to get a girl to blush, don’t you?” Your words are too high and paper thin—your façade not remotely convincing, not even to yourself.

Boba’s eyes flick over your strained expression, his lips pressing into a thin line before he bows his head to place a small kiss on your stomach. “We can talk about this now, or we can talk about it later,” is all he says. It’s all he has to.

You blow out a weighted breath. His way of making you confront life while still giving you a degree of choice could be as infuriating as it was liberating. If you talk about it now you likely won’t have time for the down and dirty you’ve been craving all week (and, at this point, might shrivel up and die without), but the thought of soldiering on in this cold shadow of shame is utterly unappealing. 

Maker, you’re a buzzkill. 

Boba slaps a smack against your hip and you yip at the sharp sensation. “No apologizing,” he warns. “Just answer the question, princess. Don’t worry about anything else.” His palm opens to rub away the lingering sting.

Feeling your anxiety swarm like wasps, you try to sink back into your warm mental refuge where things were easier. Try as you might, however, your brain refuses to release itself from its nervous confines to slip into that softer shape.

It had been so terribly confusing back then. Watching your friends swoon over boys in your grade or just above, you tried to see what they saw in them: the supposedly hot guys on the basketball team with their burgeoning height or the apparently dreamy, mysterious poet laureate of your high school. You never understood what they saw in these lanky, acne covered boys or why they would cry so profusely over them. A real partner wouldn’t make you cry, you’d thought, he would take care of you, show you the love you were told you deserve.

But oh how you had wanted to understand, to have a believable answer when the subject of crushes came up at the lunch table or someone’s sleepover. Everyone else did. 

You only made the mistake of saying the school’s head coach was hot once—the grossed out looks and “old enough to be our dad” comments made sure of that. Eventually you settled on the safe choice of the football team captain for your obligatory answer whenever the subject came up. Even though it wasn’t true, the pressure was off then.

When you went to college, things didn’t change, no matter how much you hoped they would. You thought maybe it was just the boys at your school you weren’t attracted to, that maybe you were normal after all. 

Tears lodge in your throat at the memory of the guys you’d fucked trying to fix what was surely broken inside you, the nights you spent wishing it wasn’t the kind eyes and visible signs of life experience that drew you to the men you desired. Trying to pursue the older guys at bars and social events never ended well for you either; their kindness always dried up when you didn’t want to go back to their place immediately, followed by cutting comments about “daddy issues” and all the mean things that came with them.

Finding Boba, finding acceptance had been a taste of heaven. A golden slice of peace, the vindication that you weren’t some freak or wrong to want a partner who cherished and cared for you. Your stomach drops at the thought of that pure, devoted love. He gave you all of that, asking for nothing in return but your happiness, and you can’t even bring yourself to claim your relationship in public.

Shame curls in on you like leaden weights. He deserves so much better than you. Someone who isn’t afraid to tell the world they love him and proudly walks at his side—not some scared girl who can’t even bring herself to face her own parents. The wound you thought had long healed rips open inside you, spilling its tainted blood into your heart and a scalding brine down your cheeks. 

Before the first sob can sound from your chest, you’re pressed tightly into Boba’s front, held fast by thick, warm arms that stall your rising grief. A watery stream of words tumble out of you all at once. “Back then, it was-I thought-and I couldn’t, I mean I tried-”

“Shhh, baby, just breathe. It’s okay, everything’s alright… yeah, just like that, princess, that’s my good girl.”

His gentle touch and storm soothed voice has your sobs ebbing under his care. “I-is there something wrong with me?” you whisper in a fragile voice. 

Boba presses his mouth to your temple, pulling you somehow even tighter into his warmth. “Babygirl, why on earth would you think there’s something wrong with you?”

Because I’ve only ever wanted an older man who babies me even though I’m a grownass woman. 

Because I think you fucking me in my childhood bedroom while I call you Daddy is the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me. 

Because I’ll never love anyone else the way I love you but I’m still too scared to tell people about us.

You’re vaguely aware of being pulled under covers and tucked in tight to his side. Despite the furnace warmth of him and the blanket, you can’t seem to stop shivering against some inner cold. Piece by patient piece, Boba pulls out your discontent, wiping away new tears and kissing the old ones from your lashes. Somewhere in the back of your mind you register the darkening sky outside your window but he assures you Ari’s got your absence covered.

Tracing his roughened fingertips up and down your spine, he tilts up your chin to kiss your forehead. “Darling girl, why did you never say anything? That’s all too heavy to have to deal with by yourself. Especially when I’m here to help.”

Why did you? You’d shared so much of your other burdens—your disillusion after losing your dream job, your struggle coping with your life not following your set mental timeline—why had you kept all this to yourself?

“I don’t know…” you whisper, letting your pointer finger trace along the collarbone of his newly revealed chest. “I guess I felt like… like even though what I like isn’t normal, that being with you would make those bad feelings go away… and you make me so happy I thought maybe they would disappear if I never looked for them.” Hearing these half-baked assumptions out loud makes you hide your face in his shoulder. You feel like an idiot. No, worse. An idiot who’s wasted all her sneak-away time crying instead of getting railed by her boyfriend.

Boba makes a sympathetic sound, squeezing you closer to him. “I want you to listen to me, princess. Really listen. Number one, no keeping things from me that hurt you or make you upset. If you need to cry the whole thing out or scream about it until you’re hoarse, that’s fine as long as you tell me. Understood?”

You make a noise of agreement and borrow deeper into his hold. He allows you his comfort for a few more moments before gently unfurling you to run his thumb across your cheek.

“Number two. There’s no such thing as normal. Not a fucking thing. You like what you like just like everyone else likes what they like. Being attracted to handsome men like myself is not anything different than having a preference for blondes or brunettes, yeah?” He kisses you on the tip of your nose and you can’t help but smile up at him. “Besides, you wouldn’t find anything wrong with me being attracted to special princesses who have dirty little mouths and dirtier minds, would you?” 

Heat rises to your cheeks. “As long as I’m the special princess,” you mumble into his palm, suddenly self-conscious under his attention even as you revel in it. Maker, how do you still want him to pound you into the mattress after an emotional breakdown? All his patient love seems to only make you hornier now that your tears have been shed and your fears have been voiced.

“Always.” Boba chuckles and chucks up your chin for a kiss. When you slip your tongue into his mouth and wrap your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss, he pulls back just far enough to murmur, “Still needy, darling?”

How could you not be? Your need for him feels different now, though. Not so much more or less intense but an entirely different kind altogether, like a fire that burns just as hot but with a different fuel than its predecessor. Treading carefully around this new flame, you hold a tentative hand out to test its heat. “We don’t… if the mood isn’t right, we don’t have to… and we’ve been gone for too long already-”

Boba drags his hot mouth over your jaw, positioning you beneath him. “Then a couple more minutes isn’t going to change that, now is it, babygirl?”

You frown even as your hips seek his. “But the whole ‘sexy fantasy’ thing is kinda ruined.”

Taking your hand in his large one, he draws it down his chest and over his stomach until you feel the hardness of his arousal filling your palm. “Does it feel ruined to you?”

Rock hard and fire hot, he leaks into your fingers. Your stomach clenches. Not too distant memories burn bright and vivid behind your eyes: recollections of impossible fullness, banished thoughts, and the generous stretch to accommodate him. 

“Tell me,” he commands, knowing his firm tone always had you melting like silvery mercury in his palm. “Does it feel like I don’t want to be buried in your sweet cunt? Ruining your ‘innocence’ all over again like you want me to so badly?”

His roughness, the obvious tint of desire in licking up his neck and cheeks all have their intended effect: you succumbing to your desires within the paradise of his control. “N-no, it feels like-fuck-it feels like I want you inside me,” you pant, desperate and breathy. You arch up in offering and he bows his head to enjoy the fruits of your desire.

Sliding a hand down your waist, his fingers trail torturously close to your wet heat only to skim over it with the barest of touch. “How did you imagine it back then?” The crackling weight in his voice sinks through your skin to light in your core. “Soft and sweet? Gentle nothings whispered in your ear as you came apart?” 

Without warning, he slaps at the wet flesh between your thighs and covers it with his broad hand, claiming it for himself. Perfect nettles of pain flash across your mind and you jerk against his hold. “Or did you want something a little rougher? Want a man who knew how to treat this pussy like it was all his?”

You can’t help it now. The fire he coached is burning you from the inside out, blossoming from you with slips of petaled flame. “A-all yours,” you manage thickly, twisting against him for more. “Wanted to be taken care of, wanted to be fucked without having to think…”

“Yeah, I know, baby, they didn’t know how to touch you, did they?” Two of his thick fingers push past your lower lips to slide through the slick seam there. Trailing over your slit for a languorous second, the pad of his middle finger circles your swollen hood. “They didn’t know how to rub that cute little clit so you screamed, huh?”

“Not at all,” you sob, your voice quivering as you shake from the electric sensation of his fingers. “Never knew, never knew-”

Boba smothers the rest of your pathetic sounds in a kiss that pushes deep into your pillows. “Awww, my poor princess,” he croons. “So achy and needy with no one to help. No wonder you were all over me that first time, whining and riding my dick like you would die without it.”

Never mind that he had been equally out of his mind, pounding into you that night like a man possessed with adoration. 

He notches a finger at your fluttering opening, ringing it around your flushed entrance just to see you squirm to get him deeper. “Remember how you begged me to fuck you, princess? How you didn’t even want to wait for me to stretch out your tight cunt?” Sinking in an effortless finger, he dips to lap up the beads of sweat from the hollow of your throat.

By the time he’s pressing in the blunt head of his cock, you’re face down and ass up, shimmying your hips back onto his length through a babble of pleas. “Please, Boba, please I want it deep, so fuckin’ deep I cry.”

Huffing out a breath that curls over the dampness of your spine, Boba grips the back of your neck to snap that first delicious thrust into you. Your broken sob is muffled by the rucked bedding, matching the slap of skin in a salacious accompaniment. Never one to do things in half measures, he digs a hand into your hip, anchoring your body to drive into you harder. He hits that divine spot that you didn’t even know existed before him.

The air whooshes from both your lungs in a blurred haze of ecstasy. “Shit, baby,” Boba squeezes your nape, “I’ll always give it to you… always, darling girl. Anything you want, I’m always yours, forever.”

You know it with every breath in your body and hair on your head—Boba loves you with every fiber of his being and he never hid that fact from you. From the way he looks after your safety to the care he takes just to see you flash a simple smile, you never had to wonder if he loved you the way you love him, not even for a second. 

The realization happens suddenly then, tipping your axes so you could center on the one truth that had orbited just out of your consciousness: Boba is worth the risk. He always has been. No matter what you might lose or gain by sharing your relationship, he would always be worth the risk.

You swirl with dazzling vibrancy, this epiphany developing in full splendor within you. “Yes-yes-yes!” you repeat mindlessly, flinging an arm back to search for his tethering touch. His hand disappears from your hip to intertwine with yours. Face crushed into the rose covered sheets of your old bed, breath tearing into your lungs as soon as it’s knocked out again, you smile. It had all led to this: all those years wondering if you were somehow broken, all those loves lost trying to fix what didn’t need repair, that one New Year’s night when you stopped denying what you truly wanted—all of it, everything, had been worth the risk.

Boba pulls on your hand, forcing you to arc farther back so that last sweet, solid inch of him is finally able to press into you. “Ffffffff-that’s it, that’s fuckin’ it,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “You’re better than heaven, babygirl, you know that? Sweeter than anything I’ve ever had.”

You want to tell him the same but your head is filled with hot, sparkling clouds of stardust and your throat is tight with cresting pleasure. “Yes, Daddy, yes!”

“Shit, you calling me… say it again. Say it again and don’t fucking stop.”

You’re chanting now, watching how the room around you shrinks to a pinpoint as you draw higher and higher with him. The prick of light and the chorus of your glass-thin cries shake with impending explosion when he drags his blunt nails down your back, swelling over your hip to find your throbbing center. “Is it as good as you imagined?” he husks, his own voice leaden with delicious strain. “Getting fucked into the mattress you dreamed on?”  

Each snap of his hips sends your clit skating over his calloused fingertips. “Better, so much better!” Crushing your eyes closed, you surrender to the scorching wave waiting to take you. “Please, Daddy! Please fill me up so everyone knows I’m yours!”

Boba jerks forward, breaking the pattern of his thrusts to fold over your back. His sweat dampened skin melds to yours and fuses you into one splendid being. His hand travels from your shoulder to clasp around your throat. “You really want that, darling girl? You really want everyone to know you belong to me?”

Your answer doesn’t waver, solidified by your new-found conviction. “As long as they know you’re mine, too.” 

Muscles rippling to lock at your affirmation, Boba’s head drops to your shoulder. The groan that heaves from his chest rattles through your bones like a welcome spirit charged with animating the last gasps of your union. “C-come for me then,” he chuffs in your ear with his last dregs of restraint. “Come for me so they know what you fucking do to me.”

Would he ever truly know how easy, how intrinsic to your being coming apart for him is? How your world had only ever been ordered by his particular equation, even before your eyes first met? Unraveling to be respun with his thread is your very nature, and you would always yearn to be in his weave, stitched and re-stitched by his expert hand. His fingers press tight against the glowing center of pleasure at your core and you burst into a glorious, unbound tapestry of light. Undulant patterns of pleasure flow through your every inch, anointing your entire body in golden thread from the crown of your head down to each individual toe.

Feeling the hot claim he spills inside you is the final beautiful detail in your joint creation. These final fleeting moments where it feels like your very souls mesh together are always your favorite; Boba’s guard comes down and you rise to catch him, your usual roles reversing as he burrows into your warmth. “Always, baby. Always yours,” he promises, his voice thick and sweet as honey.

Echoing his sentiment in utter bliss, you tighten your grip on his hand, joy taking flight when he does the same. Content and at peace, the pair of you roll so you’re pressed flush together, still joined in the middle when your limbs re-tangle. Boba pushes your hair back from where it had stuck your forehead and plants a kiss in your hair. 

You’re happy to smooth your palms over the scarred bronze of his chest to rest them lazily around his neck, his heartbeat jumping under your touch. How could you not realize this, that he, is worth more to you than any fallout from revealing your relationship? Was this not what you shed all those tears for, what you wished for every single time you tried to fit into another man’s mold? 

A resplendent joy feathers out in your chest, floating down your arms, then your legs with soft announcement. “Boba?”

His finger traces up your spine. “Yes, my princess?” His voice is dense as goose down and packed with comfort. 

You swirl your own shape into his skin. “I meant it, you know. I want… I want everyone to know we’re together. I don’t want it to be a secret anymore.”

He goes silent, his only sound the movement of air in and out of his lungs. Even as you know he always takes time to consider his next move, your pulse still ticks up with a spate of nerves. The lines on your spine continue and you do your best to temper your unease as the long moments inch by. 

Eventually, a rumble reverberates in his chest. Your ears prick up.

“You don’t have to do that, babygirl, not before you’re ready. Just because it slipped out in the heat of the moment doesn’t mean it has to be set in stone.” Boba shifts to wrap his arms around your waist, holding you impossibly closer. “I know there are more risks for you than me in our relationship.”

You hate the far off note of despair in his voice. You hate the way he sounds like he’s resigned himself to a truth that isn’t at all what it has to be. “No,” you sit up on your elbow to cup his cheek, “there’s not. Not in any way that matters to me. You’re-”

“Princess, it’s okay, I-”

You silence him with a kiss, suddenly feeling like you have to get the next words out of your body before they explode. “You’re worth the risk, Boba. You always will be. Every single day since I met you, you have done nothing but prove that to me.” Your pace picks up as your truth spreads its wings. “I was afraid before, not of being with you but of what others would think about my preferences. I didn’t want them to judge me and think I was only with you because I have “daddy issues” or whatever, not because I love you more than I thought people could. And I know my parents will be shocked but all they want is what’s best for me, and you’re what’s best for me. I know this now—and I’m not ashamed of it.”

As quickly as you started, you run out of steam. No longer inflated with the sense of frantic urgency you had before, you sag back down onto his chest. A quiet second flicks by, then Boba’s grabbing you, hauling you up into his arms to kiss you like a man desperate to live. He says nothing, his lips working against yours in fervent passion but you can feel the sentiment he doesn’t speak. Each pass of his tongue and nip of his teeth communicate more than any words could: his joy in your self-realization, the excitement of proclaiming your love to the world at long last. Your only wish is that you could have given him this sooner.

When he finally lets you break for air, his handsome face is lit up with a smile more radiant than any sun. Whispering your name with a reverence of only the truly devoted, he brushes his nose over yours. “Babygirl, I… I’m so proud of you. You never cease to amaze me.”  He sweeps his lips over yours again. “I love you. Always have, always will.”

Besides his love, Boba’s greatest gift is his forthrightness. You never have to guess with him and now, no one else will have to either. They’ll know where his loyalties lay. 

“That’s a good thing,” you tease into a quick kiss. “Because all my aunties, and uncle Stephen, are going to be very jealous that you’re off the market.”

Boba chuckles in that bone-deep way that always makes you warm all over. “I didn’t realize I was in such high demand.”

You push yourself up on his chest. “Oh, don’t lie to me, Boba Fett. I’ve seen the way you flirt and wink at them. They eat it up and you know it!” 

Sitting up with you, he grins. “Just being polite, princess. You’re not jealous, are you?”

Maker, how could you ever be jealous of anyone after the sex you’d just had?

“Oh, not at all. Because at the end of the night, you’re coming home with me.” You smirk up at him. “Speaking of which, we better get back out there before those same aunties start tearing the house up looking for you.”

“Only if you promise not to clean up and put these panties back on for me, darling girl,” he counters with a devilish smirk of his own.

Giggling, you bite your lip. “Anything for you, Daddy.”

He’s worth the risk.  

[pinkhairswagtourney]

i need some serious help/guidance. i feel like a failure. i don't know where to turn – my family is part of the problem and they don't care about helping me, i don't have any IRL friends that i can ask for help from, and i've been so busy dealing with all my IRL shit that i've drifted away from any of my online friends. i've applied everywhere in my town that's hiring, and i mean EVERYWHERE. either i get aired from the jump, or i get a call back, ask for accommodations during the interview, and then never hear back from them. i feel like a lost cause. i can't continue to ask you guys for help forever, but i don't have anywhere to turn to IRL. without donos + commissions, i would actually be dead by now. i'm not kidding. my family doesn't give a fuck if i'm struggling or not, in fact they put me in positions where they KNOW i will struggle. they don't care. my parents never taught me how to do ANYTHING. every practical skill that i know how to do is self taught. they've literally set me up for failure in every aspect. they didn't help me with homework when i was younger, they didn't help me learn how to read or write, they didn't teach me how to socialize and make friends, they didn't teach me how to drive, how to cook, how to clean, how to apply for jobs, how to do taxes, how to do anything at all. and when it comes to the physical aspect, they knew that i was toe walking from a young age and didn't take me to a doctor because it was "cute" and "funny" how i walked on my tip toes all the time and i was so "clumsy" because i had no balance. the window for non-surgical remedies has closed, and now the only thing that can fix it is surgery, that i definitely can't afford, even on insurance, and i'm going to fall off of my parent's insurance next year when i turn 26. the toe walking has led to chronic pain in my feet, legs, hips, and back, and that, coupled with my fibromyalgia, makes just existing feel impossible sometimes. there are days where i don't want to move from my bed because my entire body feels inflamed. even if i were to get hired, how am i supposed to hold a job like that??? i don't know how to file for disability but i know that i need to, as soon as i can. i genuinely don't know what to do. i'm stuck in this house full of people who use me as a personal punching bag, mentally and verbally and physically. i have to keep my room locked at all times or people will steal from me or destroy my belongings. i can't even keep my insulin or food in the public fridge because my brother has destroyed my insulin with a hammer before, and my food will get eaten even if i label it, so i had to buy a mini fridge for my room. my brother shoved me down the stairs last year and my knee is permanently damaged from it, and that was somehow my fault. the only time anyone is talking to me in a kind way is when they want me to do something for them, and if i don't agree to do it, then all hell breaks loose, i've been screamed at, slapped, kicked, had things thrown at me, spit on, belongings destroyed, holes punched in the wall beside my head with a threat that next time it'll be my face. to the point that i just agree to run their errands and do their chores most of the time anymore. in fact, even though i pay my dad car insurance money every month, 9 out of 10 times he won't let me use the car for my personal reasons (doctor, store, pharmacy) unless i'm also doing something for them. they treat me like a child. no, they treat me like an object. but i'm supposed to be an adult. to be honest, i don't feel like an adult. i don't feel like a real person at all. i don't exist outside of this house or these blogs. i could disappear and only a handful of people would actually notice.

i want to do more than just survive by the skin of my teeth. i want to live, i want to thrive, i want friends, i want a sense of community, i want to feel loved and cherished, i want to be hugged. i can't remember the last time i was hugged. i don't know why i wrote all of this. i think it's a cry for help. i need someone to hold my hand through the process and tell me what to do because i have no idea where to turn. i don't know what the next step is. i know the things i need to do, but i don't know how to do them. i need to pay off my court fees, i need to buy my own car, i need to file for disability, i need to file for food stamps, i need to apply for a tax credit apartment so i can finally get out of this house. i'm just too stupid to figure it out on my own. with the constant swath of bills and no consistent income, it feels like i'm drowning and i'm never going to be able to get out of this situation. i can't do this alone. i need help. i'm so tired guys

[neuroprincess]

His Favorite Person - Melissa Schemmenti/Female Reader

Melissa Schemmenti/Female Reader

Summary: The moms are going through a difficult time with LuLu's first teeth and a hero comes to the rescue.

Classification: Fluff

Warnings: Well, some realistic motherhood, it's not all flowers. Also, FRIENDSHIP GOALS

Word count: +2100

Unrevised 

Six months went by in the blink of an eye and with it many challenges of first-time motherhood, the moms could barely breathe properly until the month mark, Luca is very smart and, despite his strong personality, didn't give as much trouble as expected. The redhead is in love with those squeezable cheeks and chubby little doll hands, the loud giggles are the highlight of her days, as well as Y/N's. But the relief and sense of stability has gone as quickly as it arrived, one day the baby is all smiles trying pasta, the next so fussy that getting him to eat becomes a mission impossible. So a week goes by that they would describe as hellish, not only because of the problems with feeding and the understandable irritability due to teething, but also because of the suffering shared with all the pain the boy is going through with the new phase, gums tearing and keeping him awake all night mumbling and feverish, causing general concern. On Friday, they're not sure whether or not to host the weekly couples' dinner; before it can be cancelled, Barb and her husband appear at the door with a pan in hand, worried looks on their faces followed by muffled laughter. At work, Melissa had already been seen with bite marks and obvious signs of not sleeping, the woman just didn't imagine it would be chaotic to the point of leaving her, literally, dishevelled.  

"Where's my handsome little boy?" she greets LuLu excitedly and reaches out to take him from the younger's tired arms "What happened to make you cry, my dear?" and wipes the tears drying on his rosy little face, immediately noticing the high temperature "Poor thing..."  

"Sorry about our condition, I was going to call you to cancel, but we were trying to get the fever down and completely forgot." the teacher whispers, staring at the scene in amazement, the moment her son clings to the friend he stops crying immediately, doesn't seem to be the same little monster who defeated her in exhaustion minutes before "What a sly one! Do you see that?!" she points out indignantly. 

"Well, it's not my fault I'm the favorite." Barbara jokes and walks past them into the house, unsurprised to see a dozen toys scattered around the living room, the kitchen a complete mess, dirty dishes in the sink, open packets and cubes of frozen fruit on the counter, a doctor's recommendation for relief "Kid, was that all you?!"  

"He's a Schemmenti." Gerald jokes, following along, leaving the pie on the nearest surface "How many hours did you sleep today?"  

"Maybe three... or four." the timetables jumble in Y/N's head, she can't remember what time they went to sleep or how many times she woke up in the middle of the night.  

"And it's been the longest night's sleep so far," adds the other, rubbing her eyes.  

"You're clearly not well, why don't you try having a decent bath and getting some sleep while we take care of everything?" he offers, starting to gather up teddy bears and small cars on the carpet.  

Surprised and grateful, the couple exchange glances at this generous offer; the idea of being able to take a bath for more than five minutes, plus a little rest, is tempting, but they are reluctant to let them deal with it instead.  

"Go on, get some rest!" the man insists, shooing them away with a hand wave "We'll take care of everything." 

"Are you sure?" Melissa asks with concern, it seems like a lot to do or maybe she's mentally overloaded to the point where doesn't want someone else to do something she considers an exclusive responsibility "I mean..."  

"Don't be stubborn." Barb interrupts her and goes into the kitchen, putting Luca in the highchair, he doesn't even grumble about not being on lap "Take advantage of our presence until he gets sick of us, this phase is terrible." 

The redhead raises her hands in surrender and Y/N exhales satisfied, tired to the bone, nursing a baby full time takes a lot of time, energy and attention, she can hardly imagine the state of her wife who works all day at school and still tries to give the same support as best she can.  

Looking at Luca, who is calmly sitting down and taking the previously rejected piece of fruit into mouth, Melissa finally gives in.  

"All right, but please call us if anything happens."  

Everything goes very quickly and on autopilot. Before they realise it, the pair find themselves under the shower's hot water, washing each other's hair and sharing non-sexual cuddles, satisfying their longing for quality time together. Motherhood is deep, rewarding and valuable for both, a priority that has guided the small family's decisions and routine, little by little intimacy has been put aside amid the daily demands. They don't blame anyone or anything but the circumstances, they've read that it could happen at a certain point, all the nuances it would bring and they haven't forgotten their promise to stay together, to say "I love you", all the possible clichés to get through the storm without shaking marriage.  

The teacher couldn't hold back a moan on entering the room, every muscle relaxed and the tension drained away, there was a calming sensation, she felt refreshed from the tip of the toe to the last strand of hair. Y/N can say the same, she never thought that a simple shower could feel like a full SPA, even with a massage, she barely lays down on the bed properly and already feels soft hands rubbing damp skin. There are soft smiles, some mischievous, strong fingers squeezing sensitive spots that manage to elicit the happiest sighs, occasionally there are teasing touches and loving bites.  

"Years of relationship and still doves in love." they are surprised by Barbara's sudden appearance, they didn't hear her push the door slightly open "I've brought dinner and some tea."  

She lifts the tray with caprese chicken sandwiches, pieces of pie, red fruit and camomile tea, would offer whisky if it wasn't for breastfeeding, she knows they deserve it when they go through the chaotic teething process, the girls were relatively calm and yet almost destroyed the house when they got their first set of tiny sharp teeth.  

"Get fed and try to rest for a few hours." she put it between the couple "Let's do the same with the little one, he's already struggling to keep eyes open. You deserve a decent night's sleep."  

"So true, I look like a different person now, imagine when I finally get some sleep." the redhead jokes before taking a generous bite of bread, her last meal having been lunch "Delicious!"  

"Did LuLu give you and Gerald much trouble?" the younger smiles fearfully and sips the hot liquid "No crying, no grumbling, no breaking things, maybe we're in a dream."  

"No, he was a little angel... except with Gerard when he tried to give him a piece of cut mango, I'm pretty sure he was trying not to bite him." she confesses the last part in a whisper, they laugh well aware of the implication "He's jealousy incarnate."  

Melissa tosses her hair to side, her expression proud, needless to say he inherited it from her and everyone knows it.  

"Mel once threatened to bite someone." she adds, explaining her friend.  

"And I did." she says even more proudly, the person deserved it.  

"Unbelievable!"  

After all, Y/N still finds herself amazed by her adventures and oddities, she knows half of the stories from others, as the woman hardly ever brags about her achievements. Conversation doesn't last long, minutes later Gerald appears too, Luca agitated in his arms and ready to attack anyone who annoys him, just push at the edge a little. The youngest mother mentions getting up to intervene, only to be stopped by a sign from Barb, who picks him up without a second thought.  

"No, you need a bit of time to yourselves." she reinforces and sets the boy on his feet, kissing the cheeks, leaving a lot of lipstick marks "Today we're going to give them a break, aren't we, cutie?!" 

As if he knew what the topic was, he tries to answer in babbles, all the adults smile at such cuteness. Within seconds he is no longer irritated, an effect that only the one and only Barbara Howard has. She strokes the coppery hair, making him close the eyes immediately, an adorable giggle as he snuggles into her chest, little legs wiggling with joy.  

"I'm starting to be offended by this more than obvious preference."  

"I never tire of saying it, it's not my fault that I'm his favorite person." she shrugs and stands up, stroking the baby's back over the newly laid pyjamas, she inhales the sweet smell, delighting at the contact, her daughters are grown up now and the times when she could lovingly hold them all the time without protest are gone "LuLu and I will see you tomorrow." 

She bends him over so that the mums can kiss him goodbye, but by this point Luca is already unconscious, losing the long and stubborn battle against sleep.  

"Sorry, I'm going to have to say it, I LOVE YOU BARB!" Y/N sighs in pleasure and gives a grateful kiss, then throws herself against the mattress, clinging to the soft blankets "Nothing can convince me that it's not a dream."  

"She needed it too, badly." Melissa reflects and moves closer to the friend, stroking her son's face affectionately "I really appreciate and am very grateful for what you're doing for us, being a mother has been intense and unexpected, we're lucky to have a support like you and Gerald, it's something I never expected in my life. The only reason I'm probably not crying right now is because tiredness overcomes even the tears." she jokes, wrapping her in a tight hug between loving smiles. 

"There's nothing to be thankful for, I love our little prince and that's what friends do."  

The door closes, Howard takes him to the nursery and they wait for a cry or any negative reaction, but the only noises to be heard are footsteps echoing down the corridor and the man humming while doing the housework. They smirk, silence has never been more appreciated than at this moment. The teacher lies down next to her wife, hands running along her robe-covered waist, fingertips brushing exposed skin, mouth meeting the back of neck, leaving a lingering kiss, the younger laughs, turning so that they are face to face, then leans in to bring their lips together.  

"I think we should kidnap Barb." Y/N proposes with a grain of truth.  

"We need to do that, cara mia! I'll take her down and you tie her up, deal?" 

"Deal! But what about Gerald?" she jokes.  

"He can survive without her, we can't."  

"I can't believe we're going to sleep properly, I'm so excited that sleep has fled." she confesses eventually, feeling a new wave of energy coming from nowhere "It's so strange not having anything to do."  

"That's because you're overwhelmed, principessa." Melissa props herself up on elbows so that she's partially seated, the hand that rests on the waist wanders down her curvaceous body and stops at the face she loves so much to see when waking up, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear "But we have this evening to ourselves. God, they're being real heroes today."  

"Yes! I swear that when she took LuLu in the arms I saw her in costume and cape for a millisecond."  

"And he simply stopped crying, it's like she has superpowers."  

"Or she's just his favorite person... in the whole world." Y/N leans over and kisses her, a consolation prize for what she's going to say next "I'm sorry, darling, but that's the truth. You've lost your place to Barb."  

"At least I'm still your favorite?" the redhead makes those abandoned puppy dog eyes, feigning sadness.  

"Always, hottest biter in the world."  

The lights are switched off, they move closer in the soothing darkness and cuddle affectionately, wrapped in the comfort of being in the arms of the one they love. Sleep gradually comes, accompanied by the previous worries about Luca, if he's managed to eat properly, if he's hydrated enough, or if he's lain down in the right position.  

"I can hear your thoughts, Mel."  

"I'm sorry, amore mio." she whispers, a little thoughtfully. Despite her religious upbringing, she's not a fan of most traditions, so baptism hasn't crossed her mind until now, as she watches her best friend and confidant win over her son with her mere presence, creating a beautiful bond "What do you think about inviting Barb to be LuLu's godmother?"  

"Perfect! We couldn't find anyone better than her."

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Schemmenti Family Masterlist

[gracies-baby]

Hey!!! Can you write a Gracie Abrams x female reader. The reader is a couple of years younger than Gracie. She is 20, an actress and comes from a rich family in Italy. The reader is known to be a bad girl and a player. She changes girls like she changes he clothes basically but she is very kind and adorable deep down. and then when she meets Gracie, y/n falls in love with her actually and is not a player anymore but Gracie was only with her as a dare to break her heart as no one has before. Angst with a happy ending.

Begin Again

(Gracie Abrams x Reader)

———————————————————

Breaking! Italian actress Y/n L/n and American singer Sabrina Carpenter call it quits after 3 month relationship! Fans heartbroken after this news

Comments:

We all knew this was coming. Hardly news worthy.

I give her a week before she's got someone new.

She's literally only 20 and she's had like 20 different girlfriends 💀

"They all think I'm a slut" Y/n rants to her friend as she reads the comments on the article.

"Who cares what they think? Your fans love you. These people just need to hate on successful women to feel accomplished" her friend, Jenna replies.

"I dunno, what if they're right? I mean, I do date a lot more than any other 20 year old" Y/n continues, stopping when she gets a notification from instagram, seeing someone had messaged her.

Gracieabrams

Hey, I know you don't know me and we've never spoken at all but I just wanted to see if you were okay? I heard the news. Breakups are hard. I also wanted to see if you maybe wanted to have dinner with me sometime?

"Gracie Abrams just asked me out" Y/n says, showing her phone to Jenna.

"Seriously? Go! Say yes!"

"I just got out of a relationship though. What are people gonna say?" Y/n asks as she nervously stares at her phone.

"It doesn't matter. All that matters is your happiness. Gracie could make you happy. Just try one date"

"..fine. She is really cute" Y/n replies as she types on her phone.

Y/n-L/n

Hi! Thanks so much you're so sweet! I'm okay, thanks for asking. I would love to have dinner with you btw. Let me know when you're free!

"Great! My job here is done! I gotta go now though, I'll see you tomorrow" Jenna says as she walks out of her friend's apartment.

Gracieabrams

Does tomorrow work for you? If not I can clear my schedule

Y/n-L/n

Tomorrows great! Just tell me the time and place and I'll be there

The two girls stay up talking until going to sleep, waiting for the next day.

—

Y/n

She's not here. I think I got stood up

Jenna

You definitely did not get stood up. I'm sure she'll be there soon. Just wait a few more minutes

As soon as Y/n gets the text, she feels someone take the seat opposite her.

"Hey! Sorry I'm late, I slept through my alarm and I had to pick out an outfit and it was a huge thing. I hope you weren't waiting too long" the brunette says as she takes her jacket off and hangs it on the back of her chair.

"No, not long at all. How are you?" Y/n asks with a kind smile as the two order their coffees at the counter.

"I'm great! I'm releasing an album next week, that's going well. How are you?"

"I'm.. okay. You really lifted my spirits though" Y/n says, sipping her coffee.

"That's great to hear. I've seen what everyone's been saying about you. It's such bullshit. I mean, sometimes relationships don't work out, you know? It's not your fault. Well, I don't know what happened, but I can guess it's not your fault" Gracie speaks, smiling at Y/n gently as the two walk out of the coffee shop, spotting paparazzi a few metres away.

"Heads up" Gracie says, putting her head down as she takes Y/n's hand in hers.

"So, how's a second date sound?" Gracie asks nervously.

"A second date with you sounds amazing, Gracie" Y/n replies with a soft blush.

"Great! I'm busy tomorrow but how's Friday sound?" Gracie asks with an excited grin.

"Fridays perfect, I'll see you then" Y/n replies, leaning in to kiss her lips only to kiss her cheek at the last minute, leaving the brunette disappointed.

"Play your cards right and there's more where that came from" Y/n says before gently closing the door, leaving the taller girl on the other side of it.

Y/n turns on her phone when she begins getting slammed by notifications.

Y/n L/n seen with singer Gracie Abrams leaving popular coffee shop hand in hand. New romance brewing?

Comments:

Literally not even a week after Sabrina

Gracie girl get out while you can

She was probably cheating on Sabrina ngl

Y/n reads the comments as tears fill her eyes. She opens her contacts and calls the first person she thinks of.

"Gracie? Can you come back?" She pleads, voice breaking.

A few minutes later, there's a knock on the door. Y/n opens it only to fall into the brunettes arms, Gracie wrapping her arms around her and holding tight.

"I'm sorry, I know we just met but you're the first person I thought to call" Y/n rambles only for Gracie to stop her.

"It's okay. Don't apologise. You can call me whenever you want"

"Everything they're saying about me.. you don't think it's true, do you?"

"Of course I don't! I don't know you that well, but I do know you're not a slut" Gracie replies, guiding Y/n to the couch.

Gracie continues to calm her down, waiting until she falls asleep before leaving the apartment.

The two girls go on a couple more dates before making it official, Gracie asking the shorter girl to be her girlfriend on a late night picnic date.

—

"Gracie? Are you home?" Y/n asks, opening the door to her girlfriend's apartment when she received no answer. She goes to her girlfriend's room but stopes when she hears talking.

"Gracie, she deserves to know. You love her don't you? And she loves you, just tell her" a woman's voice says from inside.

"I can't do that. She would leave me if I did" Y/n opens the door to see her girlfriend standing with Olivia.

"What's going on?" Y/n asks nervously looking between the two.

"I'm gonna go. Gracie has something to tell you" Olivia says before leaving the apartment.

"What do you need to tell me?"

"Okay.. so, uh, just remember that I love you so much. I've never loved anyone the way I love you. And you love me, right?" Gracie asks, holding her girlfriend's hands.

"Of course, what's wrong?"

"Um, when I asked you out.. it was because Olivia dared me to okay? But that doesn't change the fact that I love you now!"

"What? So what was the plan, you were gonna break my heart after getting me to fall in love with you? How could you do this?! I trusted you! I confided in you!" Y/n exclaims, voice breaking.

"You can still trust me! I will still listen to everything you say! This doesn't change anything!" Gracie pleads, tears running down her face.

"No Gracie! It changes everything! You didn't actually want to be with me! You thought I was a slur just like everyone else!" Y/n runs out of the apartment in tears.

"Y/n wait!" Gracie yells but the girl is already gone.

Y/n L/n seen leaving girlfriend Gracie Abrams apartment in tears. Is this the end for the couple?

Comments:

Y/n hit the three month mark 💀

Who tf would break up with Gracie Abrams

If Y/n doesn't want Gracie I'll have her

After days of Y/n ignoring her calls, Gracie decides to go to her apartment. She knocks on the door, only for Jenna to open it.

"What do you want?" She asks coldly as she stares at the girl.

"Please. I just need to talk to her. 5 minutes" Gracie pleads before she hears Y/n's voice.

"Who is it?" She asks her friend, stopping when she sees the girl at the door.

"Y/n please. You're not answering my calls. I just need to talk to you"

"You need to leave"

"No. Let her come in" Y/n cuts her friend off, watching as she steps aside for the taller girl to walk in.

"You have five minutes" Jenna says before leaving the room, giving the girls privacy.

"Y/n. I know I hurt you but that doesn't change the fact that I love you now. I love you so much. Please believe me" Gracie says, taking the girls hands only for her to pull away.

"How can I believe you? Our relationship was built on a lie!"

"If I didn't love you, why wouldn't I have left you sooner? Why would I have stayed with you this long?" Gracie says, watching as the other girl steps away from her.

"I can't continue this relationship knowing what I know now, Gracie" Y/n mumbles in heartbreak.

"So what if we start a new one? You still love me, don't you? We'll have a new first date and I'll ask you to be my girlfriend again and we'll rebuild our relationship and this time, it's not going to be a lie. Please, just one more chance" Gracie says, stepping closer to the girl and hesitantly taking her hands again.

"Okay. One more chance. I still love you so much" Y/n says, wrapping her arms around the brunette.

"Thank you so much! I love you" Gracie says, pulling the girl in for a gentle kiss, Y/n pulling away after a second.

"You're not even gonna take me out first?" She says as the two girls begin to giggle.

[kitorin]

2:59 am - Isagi Yoichi

kind of a part two to this, but can be read as a standalone!

Horror movies are cool.

The plots were fascinating, the acting and CGI were equally captivating. The problem was that they were scary.

It's obvious that they would be, that's the whole point; to evoke thrill and to trigger chemical reactions to simulate what it'd be like to be in danger. But Yoichi can't handle that well. Barely.

He loved all movies nights with you regardless of the genre, wrapped up together with a thick blanket, hours spent staring at the laptop with intrigue. Horror movies were no different since he was with you.

Even if it's a situation that physically cannot happen, like ghost stories or tales of the supernatural, for some reason he now suddenly believes that they exist.

Yoichi knows better than anyone else that he's always been a crybaby, bursting out into tears at the mere change in weather, or whenever his dad changed the channel to anything that wasn't soccer. He even started crying when he was watching his friend play Minecraft, and an Enderman teleported out of nowhere while screeching. Roblox horror games terrified him as a child, and his parents couldn't 'boo!' him because it'd always result in inconsolable bawling. It was obvious that jump scares was never his cup of tea.

But to be this affected, was almost embarrassing.

The clock's about to strike 3 am, the time that's dubbed as devil's hour. Yoichi doesn't even know why it's labelled as that, yet he's still paranoid something will happen, in the middle of your hallway.

There's a light on, for the sake of your younger siblings to feel a bit safer. Yoichi can't believe he's taking comfort in something that was implemented for a literal child to overcome their fear of the dark.

Just don't look left and right, focus on wherever's got light.

If he was thirsty he always could've waited for morning to come, but using the bathroom was a completely different story.

It's not his fault the premise of so many horror movies involved a dark corridor, and a grotesque entity emerging out of nowhere from the shadows. It's a miracle how you're able to sleep peacefully after a whole night of watching horror movie after horror movie.

Yoichi takes a deep breath, quickly striding from the restroom to yours. With a sigh of relief he gently closes the door, ready to join you to sleep again.

"Yocchan?" A groggy voice calls out to him.

He shrieks, loudly, it's so out of character considering his level headed and confident demeanor on field.

An awkward silence fills the room, as he realizes, it was just you.

God please kill me now, is the first thing that comes to mind.

You owlishly blink, still dazed from just awaking from your slumber. "Calm down, you'll wake up my siblings." You groan and yawn. "Did something happen?"

"No, you just surprised me there. Thought you were sleeping." Good, now please pass out so he'll never have to think of this moment again.

"Liar."

"It's true."

"You're a professional soccer player, you've been able to beat that German dude who's the best striker in your age group, and you're scared of me speaking?"

At this point he was praying you'd pass out right at this moment and forget about this by the time morning comes.

"I'm just madly in love with you to the point than anything you do makes me want to scream." It's an embarrassing truth, but far from a lie. "C'mon, you need to sleep, we stayed up really late."

You jokingly scoff. "Fine."

He slowly walks over to your bed, tightly wrapping his lean arms around you, hiding from his irrational frights. When you turn off the night light he's paranoid again, grip around you strengthening.

"Yocchan."

"Yes love?"

"You're clinging onto me, really tightly."

He gulps a bit, weakening his arms. "Sorry." He buries his face into your neck instead, still scared of his own thoughts. Only a few more hours til the sun rises and the day starts, he only has to endure this for a bit more, all he has to do is pass out and he'll be okay.

"You're trembling." You mumble as you're about to doze off. "Are you cold? I'll get you a hoodie and another blanket just in case-" You barely get up before Yoichi pulls you back into bed.

"No, tonight was just scary." No point in hiding it now. "Just stay. Please. I keep thinking that stupid doll from that one movie will appear."

"Idiot." You locked him into your embrace again. " You should've told me, I don't even like horror that much, I just didn't want to watch them alone." Your fingers reach towards his face to give his cheeks a firm yet gentle pinch.

"First you pretend you're good with chili at the noodle place now this?" His mouth almost burns at the mention and thought of the memory. Sure he couldn't handle it and was turning red, but they still tasted amazing and it was worth seeing you enjoy yours.

"Yes yes, I know I'm stupid. Stupidly in love with you." It's cheesy yet it still makes you grin. "I wanna sleep now. G'night. I love you."

He knows he shouldn't go overboard and do the things he doesn't synergise with well just because you like them. But anything's worth it if it's with you, he'll eventually recover from having too much chili and one day he'll be able to sit through a jump scare without his soul leaving his body.

"I love you too." You mumble in response, smile tugging at your lips and feeling the warmth of his proximity.

With the comfort of you and your words, and how the blanket engulfed you two, any intrusive thoughts remaining in Yoichi's mind dissipated that night; though your siblings still can't comprehend why and how that scream happened last night; and who did it.

Tagging : @kiyumiya

[chuckeroo777]

Dungeon Meshi Volume 9 Part 1

Welcome back! I hear you loud and clear. Cover images are fine, as long as they aren't actively spoilery. Now, join me for a very interesting volume!

Today, we go on an ADVENTURE!

It's a good thing you're both so naturally good looking, cause neither of you can style for shit.

As much as I love their relationship, Marcille is definitely pretty controlling, especially early on here. She does improve a lot by the end of the manga though.

Can't really blame them. Between the Asivia disaster, and just, elves in general (Seriously, name a single elf in this story who isn't problematic in some way.), they are right to be wary. I like how each of them has a particular hangup with her. Chilchuck is particularly worried about another Asivia, Shuro doesn't want a total noob, and Namari is a dwarf about it.

They're just such good friends guys.

Thank you random background NPC for agreeing with me.

An important image.

God, I love my two idiot children.

Gosh dang it Dandan, so it was your fault? Also, I have to wonder how medical fraud works in a world with healing magic. Like, what could be possibly be pretending to have that Falin couldn't heal?

You were only mostly dead. And mostly dead, means a little alive.

Lol

Seriously, of all our main characters, she's the only one whose relative age I can't really figure out. Honestly, at this point, I'm starting to suspect she is reletively younger than Falin. Half-elves sure are confusing! While most of the other races have maturity rates proportional to their average lifespan, Half-elves age quicker than elves, but have a much longer lifespan. So who knows.

Three guesses what he does literally two seconds later. The last two don't count.

You know, with how precisely shapeshifters and succubi can extract this sort of information, makes me wonder how easy mindreading would be for a mage. Like, these are scrub-tier monsters wielding some seriously potent telepathy.

It's really sad, isn't it? She's been treated poorly for so long, she's had it drilled into her that she is a freak of a human, when in fact she is a very talented cat.

Izutsumi: Screw you guys. I don't need no one.

Izutsumi two seconds later: Gotta go save my friends!

Moral of the story: Chilchuck thinks the whole party is pretty.

Izutsumi has had just about enough of this nonsense.

Pro tip for all my succubus readers. If you're just mimicking someone's type, like Chilchuck, hordes work great. But if you're mimicking a specific person, the trick stops working if there are multiples. Makes it kinda obvious that it's a trick.

There is something darkly humorous about the fake mothers being defeated by killing their babies.

That's altogether, truly, enough of this nonsense. Actually, the fact that they stayed the same, can succubi only transform once? Or maybe there is just a long cooldown on switching forms?

:3

Presented without comment.

Probably because Kui the dungeon lords are inspired by those old myths. Pity demons aren't real.

Things are getting juicy! Stay tuned for part two.

[maochira]

I think it’d be funny if Shidou’s younger sibling and the Itoshi’s younger sibling were friends. Like the difference between how their brothers act and how they act is just a comical sight.

With Rin and Shidou pointing knives at each other’s throats, and their siblings who literally apologize to each other if they even slightly nudged the other with their elbow.

OMG THAT SOUNDS SO SILLY I LOVE IT

Requests open! - masterlist

Tags: gn!Shidou's younger sibling!reader

-your brother is mostly happy that you're friends with the youngest Itoshi. It gives him a chance to see Sae

-BUT it also means he meets Rin more than he'd like to and. You can imagine how that goes

-Rin doesn't hate you, but he absolutely hates the fact that you're Shidou's sibling. His opinion on you as a person is rather neutral, tho

-it's always REALLY embarrassing for you when your brother starts flirting with Sae in front of you and the youngest Itoshi. You tell him to stop all the time because it embarrasses you so much, but Shidou only continues

-you and your friend have to stop Shidou and Rin from fighting ALL THE TIME. You're the only people who can manage to calm them down like this

-you always apologize to each other like "Sorry, my brother freaked out on yours again" then it's a constant back and forth with "no you don't have to apologize it's not your fault" - "it's not your fault either you don't have to apologize" - "but I'm sorry!!"

-you're the total opposites of Rin and Shidou. Extremely polite with each other all the time!! You're definitely a lot less crazy than your older brother, while your friend has the same calmness as their brothers

-Sae actually wonders how you became friends all the time, but once he realizes you're quite different in personality, he can see the reasons why

[narcissisticpdcultureis]

Hi, so, I made a lil quiz on controversial opinions and one of them was that narc abuse isnt real and someone disagreed and gave a response that I thought was intriguing, however I am an egotypical so I figured I'd go to this blog to see your opinion on it?

The response was "Know a lot about this topic (got really deep into the NPD) and i gotta say it's fine to say narcissistic abuse. The whole pointttt is that we're all trying to help folks with NPD, narcissistic abuse is real and should be talked about but that doesn't make narcissists evil/unredeemable. Individuals w/ NPD greatly affect those around them, unlike stuff with most cases of like, existential OCD since that's most internalized rather than externalized. I don't have any issue with the term narcissistic abuse and y'know, it's like, not something you're gonna care about in 50 yrs."

i do not know a single person with NPD who felt at all "helped" by narc abuse truthers. no, 99% of narc abuse truthers are not "trying to help folks with NPD," i've never met or seen one who wasn't passively ableist at BEST. most narc abuse truthers are not trying to help, they are not trying to understand, they DO in fact think we're irredeemable and a good portion of them wish to actually wipe us off the fucking planet. multiple times i have seen narc abuse truthers just straight up spew eugenics. most narc abuse truthers don't even actually know what NPD is beyond abuser disorder.

it is true that people with NPD can affect the people around them, but that is not at all a trait unique to people with NPD. narc abuse as a term makes it sound like there is something uniquely abusive about people with NPD. all narc abuse describes is patterns of emotional and psychological abuse, nothing more and nothing less, and those patterns are not unique to us. i have been abused in ways that narc abuse describes by people did not have NPD. if you want a term that literally just means "abused by someone who had NPD," you would need to apply that same logic to every single disorder out there that could possibly have an externalized affect.

even if a term like "narc abuse" worked in theory, the communities that are fostered around it are horrendously and disgustingly ableist. it is the nature of a term like that. blaming the abuse you suffered from someone soley on their disorder not only takes responsibility off of them as a person, but also inherently subconsciously creates negative associations with that disorder and everyone else who has it.

i am going to get a bit vulnerable about something i'm not proud of. i have had a very similar mindset narc abuse truthers have about NPD but with bipolar disorder. i grew up knowing my extremely abusive father had bipolar disorder as he was diagnosed when he was younger. i blamed the majority of his actions on his disorder, it made me scared and paranoid of people who had the same disorder. i even had an old friend who was diagnosed with bipolar disorder while i knew him who explicitly told me he was afraid i'd start to hate him or be afraid of him. and a part of me was afraid of him for it. i was miserable and made other people around me miserable. i had to at some point confront the fact i could not blame his disorder for all his abusive actions, i had to make the disconnect, i could not hold innocent people with the same disorder responsible for what he did to me. it was not their fault, and they did not deserve to be held accountable by association of a disorder they did not ask to have.

i could not imagine how much worse it would have been if i had something like a "bipolar abuse" community. i maybe never would have undid my ableist views. these "[disorder] abuse" communities always inherently create an environment that is extremely negative and hostile towards people with said disorder. you can absolutely have conversations about how your abuser's mental illness and trauma affected the relationship you had with them, as mentioned before my father's untreated bipolar disorder absolutely heavily impacted our relationship even outside of his abusive behavior, but these kinds of communities are not the way to do it.

and actually, this is something i will still care about in 50 years if i have to, but hopefully i won't because hopefully it won't still be an issue in 50 years. though that may be wishful thinking.

[damnfandomproblems]

Agreed with most of #6472 until the race, mental disability and height thing.

1. As a POC woman, just do your research if you're making a POC character. I'm not personally offended, but I don't speak for everyone.

2. As someone with autism and anxiety; DO YOUR RESEARCH. PLEASE. Like as long as the portrayal is accurate and research was done, I think a lot of disabled people would appreciate representation but idk. I dont speak for everyone.

3. SHORT PEOPLE EXIST. JUST BECAUSE SOMEONE IS SHORT, IT DOES NOT MEAN THEY ARE A MINOR OR "MINOR CODED" HEIGHT DIFFERENCES SHOULD NOT BE AN ICK.

I think the last three could be rage bait, but idk. Just my opinion.

Posting as a response to a previous problem.

Going to include a few more responses to the same problem below:

Anon:

...is this a parody?

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Anon:

"If your ocs looks young, they are a child." I am 25, last week someone asked me if I was in high school. Some of us just look young idk what to tell you.

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Anon:

Bait used to be believable

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@theofficialkai517:

I'm not a regular OC maker, but I feel like there will be some mixed-bag responses. But in most cases that I've seen "actual [way older than teenager] looks to be way younger than they are" has been a canon thing, not an OC thing. Aang from Avatar and Elena from Elena of Avalor instantly come to mind. It's not just teenage-appearing characters, either, there are several adult characters that don't appear to age past their 30s despite being millenia old, or can change their age and appearance almost as they please. The gods from Percy Jackson (though some of them may not be the best examples to prove a point against you, LOL), many dragons from fantasy & sci-fi novels, vampires, so many different archetypes... I am not standing for or against this-- though the specific ones that I mentioned were trapped at their ages and don't remember much of anything during their times of not aging, and I do ship them both with teenagers they are friends with in their shows; and the archetypes/character designs I listed... Is a mixed bag, to be fair-- but it's not just about OCs, and you can't fault OC designers for following a pattern that has been their for a long long time, whether or not that character has a romantic bond with another character, or has friends who are all the age that the character appears to be.

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Anon:

what the hell does that mean, anyone 5'7 or under is minor-coded and shouldn't be shipped?! lots of adults, females especially (and including myself) aren't anywhere close to that height in real life. and it's okay to ship minors with other minors; there are millions of high-school love stories out there. besides, are we supposed to know a character's height right off the top of our fucking head or something? even if it's an oc. like, most of my ocs if i ever were to create more would probably be closer to my height because that's what i find "normal," or i just want somebody to dump all of my struggles on. it's literally not pedophilia to ship fix-it felix and calhoun together (first ship to come to mind, sorry), despite him being very very short. not much of this shit even happens with ocs, i've seen most of what you're bringing up in the media that's actually put in front of us.

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Anon:

re 6472, specifically this line: "Anyone under 5'7" is minor coded and shouldn't be shipped." What the metric fuck are you smoking? I swear I'm gonna short-circuit.

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

Anon:

Okay, so many things. And I am sure others have probably brought this up too, but hey.

The "1000 year old dragon/immortal being with the body of a child trope" isn't just used by fans and makers of OCs. It is often a "trope" used by creators themselves; if it makes you look like a creep/has inherently pedophilic tones/only creeps are okay with this kind of thing, then call me a fucking creep. So many wonderful medias have characters who are older than they look, even going to J.M. Barrie with Peter Pan. Not many people seem to mind that they don't know how chronologically old Peter is, they just find whimsy in the fact that he will never grow up. The same goes for Avatar: the Last Airbender's titular character, Aang, who is chronologically 112 but has the appearance and mannerisms of a 12-year-old. It is meant to portray his redemption and his friends' hope, not to be creepy or pedophilic.

I can't quite help you there. There are some executions of that trope that work, and some that don't. But please know that most of this was perpetuated by actual creators and authors than us fans and our OCs. If you want to raise a fuss, try and go to Stephanie Meyers first before pointing your finger in our faces.

"if your ocs looks young, they are a child [...] it is simpler that way. You do not need to overcomplicate your ocs." First off... Completely false. I cannot be the only person who still looks 14 but is actually far older than that... If it happens in real life, it can happen in fiction and with OCs. We are not children, those characters are not children. It is not "overcomplicating" an OC. Besides, some people don't want simple with their OCs, they are putting their hearts and souls into them and just having fun.

Nobody should have to ask "approval" to write a character that is a different race than them. Yes, it can end disastrously... But it also couldn't. If people had to ask approval to write a character who is Latino or black or East Asian when the writer is white, or any other variation of one race creating a character of another, there would never be any diversity in anything ever.

There was need for you to elaborate on that. Some of the best ADHD/autism representation I have seen in characters has come from neurotypicals. I have a loved one who has never had anxiety or depression before but can spot-on name most of the signs and symptoms just from watching me live through it. As long as you're not adding harmful traits to one mental disability or another, I have no reason to be offended. Maybe just try and do your research, but even then, nobody is allowed to police you. Again, nobody should have to ask approval or be worried that they're not writing a character good. Also, it's easy for signs of one mental disability or other to slip through in a character without it being openly stated. Sometimes things happen unintentionally, it was never meant as a slight towards someone who has the mental disability strongly hinted at.

"Short characters are basically minors"... Ex-fucking-scuse me? What the fuck? "Anyone under 5'7" is minor coded and shouldn't be shipped"... Just stop. Stop it right here. 5'7" is a major ask, especially in a fictional world where heights often aren't known to viewers/readers, and your OC can be whatever height you wish on them. It's a major ask even in the real world. Because why the fuck are only tall people allowed to be shipped? When hobbits exist, dwarves exist, elves (like, Christmas elves) exist... Some fictional species aren't designed to grow taller than, like, 4'10", let alone 8 inches taller than that. Half of the females I went to school with didn't make it past that height; it is unreasonable to tell people that they cannot create characters to be shorter than a certain height if they want to be able to ship them.

Sorry for the long rambles, but most of that was BS and needed to be called. Yes, there is room for a lot of moral ambiguity when it comes to characters who are coded one way or another... Especially when it comes to age/immortality/disguising oneself as another age/etc. But if someone is doing any of these things and it drives you nuts, either block/mute/ignore them or, in the cases of 4 and 5, maybe gently message them with "hey... I wanted to let you know that I have/am [insert mental disability or race here] and that [character] doesn't quite match up to what they're supposed to be. Can I offer you some guidance in writing them?" and if they say no... Just leave it be. This is fandom, not politics.

[bumblesimagines]

Midnight Beach

Part 3

Request: Yes or No

~~~

"My mom thinks that I did it even though there's no way I could've. I mean, how? It's always my fault, no matter what. She just- she just wants me to be this little robot that just checks her boxes. You know what I mean? SAT prep? Oh, check. Serving food at the shelter? Check. I mean, I literally do everything she wants, and I'm sick of it!" 

If (Y/N) had known he'd been invited to the Thornton household just to listen to Topper rant for half an hour about his mother and her distrust in him, he would've made a million excuses to avoid the hangout. But Sarah had made her wishes for him to get along with her friends clear and to please his girlfriend, he accepted the invitation. And now, he suffered the consequences of that decision with a dumbbell in hand and a random hip-hop song blaring from Kelce's speaker beside him.

"Well, we know who did it, right?" Rafe spoke up with a scrunched face, lifting and lowering the barbell in his hands. His green tank top clung to his sweat-covered body and he was forced to squeeze his eyes shut every few seconds when beads of sweat rolled down his forehead and toward his eyes.

"It was that little geek Pope," Kelce affirmed, setting his own barbell down and swinging a leg over the bench to face Topper.

Releasing a breathless chuckle, Topper nodded and clenched his jaw, eyes darting over to the Cameron. "Pope, right... Hey, Rafe, maybe if you wouldn't have jumped him on the golf course, I'd still have a boat." 

"You jumped Pope? Pope Heyward? The kid who can't even hurt a fly? Why the fuck would you do that?" Setting his phone and dumbbell aside, (Y/N) stood up from the bench and stared at the three with deep frowns. Rafe silently continued his reps though the way the corner of his lips twitched into a smirk made irritation roll over (Y/N). Topper turned his glare onto him and scoffed.

"Man, when the hell are you gonna be on my side? You think you're better than us?" He snarled, shoving past Kelce and nearly colliding his bare chest against's (Y/N)'s if it weren't for Kelce pushing his arm between the two and disapprovingly shaking his head. 

"Sometimes, like now. Last time I checked, Pope only comes here to deliver groceries and you jump him for doing his job?" (Y/N) scoffed. "That's pathetic, Topper."

"They put a fucking gun to my head, (Y/N)!" 

"That wasn't Pope! That was JJ!" (Y/N) snapped at him, raising his voice to match Topper's enraged one. "But you're not gonna go after JJ, no, of course not. JJ knows how to fight. You'll go after the one who doesn't like trouble because you-" (Y/N) jabbed a finger in Rafe's direction. "-know JJ can throw a mean punch." 

"You calling me weak?" 

"You know what, Topper? Yeah, I am-"

"Alright, alright!" Rafe called out, letting the barbell fall to the floor with a loud thud. He stepped over it and lifted his arms, wrapping them around the boys' shoulders and lightly shaking them. "Listen, we're all Kooks here, 'kay? We're brothers! Sometimes that means being honest with each other, even when we don't like it." Rafe said, lifting his brows at Topper. The younger teen huffed softly and childishly looked away from him. "But, it also means sticking up for each other, even when we're mad. Those Pogues disrespected all of us, not only Topper. They put a gun to his head and stole from Ward. And by sinking Top's boat, Pope proved he's just as bad as the others."

"Whatever beef you two got over Sarah, squash it now. The Pogues are the real enemy." Kelce piped in, resting his hand on Topper's shoulder and raising his brows at him. Topper stared at Kelce for a moment, jaw slowly unclenching and shoulders sagging. Exchanging a look, Kelce and Rafe released the two and stepped away, retrieving their bottles and heading upstairs to leave them alone. 

Inhaling deeply, Topper scratched his cheek. "Listen, man... I-I've liked Sarah for a while now and when I heard she wasn't dating Denny anymore... I thought it was my chance. And when she suddenly got with you..." Topper trailed off, pressing his lips together and dropping his gaze down to the ground. Sighing, he stuck out his hand and lifted his head. "Can we be good? For Sarah, at least?"

Part of him desperately wanted to say no, especially after hearing what they did to Pope Heyward. The war between Kooks and Pogues had gone on for too long and the ones who egged it on were always Kooks. But rejecting Topper Thornton could result in him being outcasted as they had done to Kiara. And the last person anyone could ever want to be the enemy of was Rafe. So, swallowing down his opinions and some of his morals, (Y/N) took Topper's hand and nodded.

"We're good." He muttered, dropping Topper's hand as quickly as he had taken it but it seemed to pass unnoticed by Topper. "And sorry to hear about your boat. I'd be fine putting some money in for a new one or somethin'." He added, watching a smile spread on Topper's face at his words.

Wordlessly, he stepped forward and swung his sweat-covered arms around (Y/N), pulling him into his equally sweaty chest. "Thanks, man. I appreciate it."

"Yeah, of course," (Y/N) crinkled his nose and grimaced. "Don't mention it, Top."

                    ✽        ✽       ✽       ✽     �� ✽       ✽

Pressing the power button on his phone and looking down at his lock screen, (Y/N) frowned at the lack of messages from Sarah. While Sarah could occasionally be forgetful, she always responded to texts, especially when she had nothing to do. With a soft sigh, he swiped on the screen, typing in his pin before sending Sarah another text. He stared at the message, waiting for it to be read but when it remained unseen, he shut off his phone and sighed again, noticing Kelce watching him out of the corner of his eye.

"You are so whipped, man." He whispered teasingly, snickering under his breath. 

"At least I have a girlfriend."

The smirk on Kelce's face immediately dropped and he whipped his head toward Topper when the teen cackled loudly. "Focus on the road!" He barked.

"We're already here!" Topper laughed, pulling into a parking spot and shutting off the engine. 

Opening the door, (Y/N) could hear an announcer over the speakers and the chatter of people as they gathered to watch the annual Summer Movie Series. He followed the boys toward the vendors, looking around for any sign of his bubbly girlfriend in the crowd. When he couldn't spot her in the crowds of people, he dug his wallet out of his pocket and approached one of them.

"Can I get a coke?" He fished out some money and slipped his wallet back into his pocket, taking another glance around and spotting a familiar brunette walking toward him. Kiara flashed him a smile and waved.

"Long time no see."

"How have you been, Kie?" (Y/N) asked, looking back at the vendor and exchanging the money for the coke before turning toward her. Kiara let out an awkward chuckle and pushed back a curl, shrugging her shoulders lightly as she looked back in the direction she had come from, likely searching for her posse. 

"Same old, same old." She answered. Before she could throw the question back at him, an arm slipped around his shoulders and he was roughly pulled into someone's side. He didn't have to look to see who had joined them as the irritated look on Kiara's features told him enough. 

"Kie! Good seeing you!" Rafe greeted with a toothy grin.

"Hmph." Kiara took a step to the side, attempting to walk around them but Rafe quickly stepped in front of her, dragging (Y/N) along with him and making him stumble slightly. Kiara clenched her jaw and lifted her head to meet Rafe's eyes, raising her brows in question.

Leaning in, Rafe whispered, "Tell your boy we know what he did."

"Sorry, what boy are you talking about?" 

"He'll know." 

"Alright, come on." (Y/N) muttered and wrapped his arm around Rafe's waist, dragging him away from the girl and toward Topper and Kelce. Upon reaching them, (Y/N) dropped his arm and opened his can, bringing it to his lips and drinking as Rafe pointed out Pope and JJ to Topper. When Kiara sat back down with them, the two boys whipped their heads around to look back at them with wide eyes. 

"We'll get them alone. Eventually." Rafe quietly said, grabbing (Y/N)'s can from his hand and bringing it to his lips. When (Y/N) reached for it, he tilted his head away from him and kept the can out of reach.

"How about we watch the movie and get back at them another day?" (Y/N) asked, digging his fingers into Rafe's side until he doubled over with a grunt and snatched his can back. But his words went in one ear and out the other. 

"Come on, let's grab some seats and wait. They'll have to use the bathroom eventually." Topper pointed out, keeping his gaze locked on the two Pogues. Kelce nodded in agreement and approached some unoccupied chairs, plopping down on one and watching the other three follow suit. (Y/N) sighed heavily and sunk back in his chair, hoping the Pogues were smart enough to remain in their seats until the movie ended.

But after a few hours, the Pogues proved to be less bright than (Y/N) had hoped for. The two stood up and attempted to scurry across unnoticed, heading toward a tree beside the screen. (Y/N) held his breath for a moment when the three Kooks remained seated but when Topper perked up, he released it and sunk deeper into his chair.

"They went off to the screen."

"You and Kelce go around that way," Rafe instructed, pointing to the other side of the screen. "(Y/N) and I will go the other way." He rose from the chair, grabbing (Y/N)'s arm and dragging him up from his seat. His quiet protesting went ignored by Rafe as he pulled him along with an iron grip that would surely leave bruises in the next hour. They reached the tree as the two friends went to return back to their seats. The two flinched and JJ remained in front of Rafe, blocking him from reaching his friend. Pope turned around and hurried over to the other side of the screen, stumbling and nearly falling when Topper and Kelce blocked his path.

"That was some nice work ya'll did on my boat." 

"I-I don't know what you're talking about." Pope stammered, looking between the four of them whilst JJ looked between the four of them with clenched fists.

"Not so burly without a gun now, are you?" Rafe challenged the blonde, finally releasing his grip on (Y/N)'s arm and chuckling.

"Take one more step and I'll rip that prepubescent face off." JJ sneered in return and stepped toward Rafe, his eyes flickering over to Kelce and Topper in case they swung at Pope.

"Let's not do this here, guys. There are kids here trying to have a good time." (Y/N) attempted, stepping between JJ and Rafe and raising his brows at Rafe. The Cameron met his eyes and for a brief moment, (Y/N) swore he saw Rafe considering it. But Topper's voice filled the air with venom.

"Do you feel good about yourself, Pope? Is your mom proud of you? Is your dad-" Before Topper could finish, Pope leaned back and then suddenly lurched forward, headbutting Topper hard enough that he stumbled back. 

"Jesus, fuck my life." (Y/N) whispered with a wince, peeling himself away from Rafe and attempting to check in on Topper. "You good? Let me see, Top-"

"I'm fine!" Topper huffed, straightening himself up with a slowly bruising forehead as Kelce charged at JJ with Rafe. Pope swallowed and faced them, lifting his fists and swinging when Topper went at him. (Y/N) found himself in the middle of a pointless fight. Pope and Topper went at each other whilst Kelce restrained JJ so Rafe could repeatedly punch him in the gut and face. One Pogue very blatantly needed more help than the other.

"Rafe! That's enough!" (Y/N) called, glancing back at Kiara as she quickly got involved in the fight by swinging her backpack at Topper. Letting out an irritated groan, (Y/N) managed to grab a hold of Rafe's collar and pulled him off the beaten teen before shoving Kelce off and catching JJ as he stumbled forward. The blonde groaned in his arms and weakly pawed at him, smearing some blood on his shirt from his nose and bruised lip. Brushing back his messy hair, (Y/N) attempted to get a look at his beaten face. "Hey? You with me?"

"Who's side on you on?" 

"They're fucking outnumbered, Kelce! Why not make it even when John B is around and make it fair?!" (Y/N) shouted back at him, feeling JJ drop his head down on his shoulder and groan again. (Y/N) turned his attention onto the screen when it was suddenly covered in flames, causing Topper to release his chokehold on Pope and jump back. Kiara stepped back from the screen with a lighter in hand, her widened eyes turning to look at the damage done to her friends.

"Come on!" Rafe urged, pushing Topper forward with a laugh and looking back at Pope as he gasped and rubbed his neck.

"Shit, I'm sorry." (Y/N) breathed, grabbing JJ by the shoulders and pushing him back gently to steady him on his feet. When he felt assured JJ wouldn't fall over, (Y/N) released him and scooped his hat off the floor, handing it back to him and glancing at a coughing Pope. Kiara gave him a thankful nod and helped Pope to his feet. 

"Why did you help us?" Pope wheezed, lifting his arm and wrapping it around JJ's shoulder to keep him close.

"Same reason anyone else would." (Y/N) replied, looking back at the Kooks. The three made distance between themselves and the lit screen, glancing back at him every so often. Pursing his lips and letting out a heavy sigh, (Y/N) ran a hand over his face and turned back toward them, already hearing the tantrum Topper would definitely throw at him for helping the Pogues. "Don't do anything stupid again. Rafe isn't exactly someone who cares about putting you guys in the hospital."

"Thanks," JJ muttered, spitting out some blood and snickering when Kiara made a disgusted noise. 

"Don't make a habit of it." (Y/N) replied with a small smile and turned around, heading back towards their seats and getting his belongings. Turning on his phone, he noticed a text from Ward but none from Sarah.

'I've been trying to reach Sarah. Is she with you?'

(Y/N) felt his stomach twist and he dug his teeth into his bottom lip, fingers hovering over the keyboard. 

'Yeah. Her phone has low battery. I'll tell her to call you when it charges.'

With Ward's response, (Y/N) set off toward his neighborhood. The cool air felt nice against his warm skin still flushed from the fight. His thumb ran back and forth over the side of his phone, hoping to feel it vibrate with a message from Sarah telling him she was fine and safe. Bombarding her with texts wasn't his usual go-to, but something felt different. An uneasiness settled in his chest and he couldn't shake it off. A million thoughts raced through his mind, differing from worries about her well-being to suspicion. Infidelity wasn't new to Sarah Cameron. And that knowledge kept him on edge. He tried his best to shake it off and continued on home.

The next day, (Y/N) woke up fairly early into the afternoon to prepare for the annual Midsummer's party. Ward had gotten him a new suit for it and it'd been, in his words, a thank-you gift for keeping Sarah happy. It'd been more than his own parents had ever given him. The suit was a light olive color with a white shirt underneath and a beige bowtie to go along with it. But no matter how much he tried, just looking at the bowtie made his nose crinkle. So, he yanked it off and hoped Ward wouldn't notice. 

Checking his phone, he noticed the messages he'd sent Sarah the previous day had been seen but she'd given him no response. He pursed his lips and sighed, closing his eyes and trying to remember if he'd forgotten any special day or done anything that could warrant being given the silent treatment. Absolutely nothing came to mind. Their anniversary wouldn't come for another couple of months, any birthdays had been celebrated or hadn't arrived yet, and there'd been no holidays to remember. Everything... had been fine. 

"Whatever.." He sighed and tucked his phone away in his pocket, grabbing his keys and leaving the house. He got into his jeep and turned it on, reversing out of the driveway and driving down the street. Most cars on the road headed toward the golf resort where the party would take place, seeing as half of Figure Eight had been invited to watch the Camerons be crowned for another year in a row. The parties typically lasted well into the night and the punch ended up spiked by either Rafe or another mischievous teen. Boring stuff most of the time. He mainly went to please Sarah. Always for Sarah. 

By the time he arrived, the workers were finishing setting things up. Floral designs and decorations hung around showcasing primarily summer flowers. Music played through the speakers and workers invited guests in with their best smiles. (Y/N) took in a deep breath and walked inside the cool building. A few guests greeted him politely, asking about school and his well-being. Their sympathetic eyes only told him they spoke to him out of pity, to feel better about themselves when they treated him kindly to his face and gossiped behind his back. Ever since his parents had left the Outer Banks, everyone either viewed him as a deformity or glass that could shatter at any moment. 

"Hey, man!" Topper greeted him casually, clapping his shoulder and giving him a toothy grin. 

"Top-"

"No hard feelings for yesterday." He squeezed his shoulder. "We get it. You're like a pacifist or whatever, it's fine. It's cute, really." 

"Right. Good to hear." (Y/N) pushed out through gritted teeth, letting Topper guide him outside. The sun shone brightly on the land as it began setting, nearly blinding (Y/N) when he stepped outside. It took him a moment to properly see everything. Flowered vines had been wrapped around the pillars and decorated the small tables. The women all wore flowers on their heads, either through headbands or woven into their hair while the men wore plain suits. Same as every year. 

"There's your girl." Topper shook his shoulder and forced a chuckle. Turning his head, he watched the Cameron family walk through the doors with wide smiles plastered on their faces. Sarah walked alongside her parents, looking stunning in her long white dress. (Y/N) shrugged Topper's hand off and walked forward, catching Sarah's eye. She paused and inhaled deeply, glancing at her family before stepping away from them and approaching him. 

"Hey." She greeted, her smile looking far too fake for his liking. 

"I texted you yesterday-"

"I know. I saw." She raised her brows, a frown tugging at her lips. "It was a lot."

"I was worried, Sarah. If you'd just sent an emoji I would've let it be." (Y/N) replied. Sarah refused to look at him for long, crossing her arms over her chest and looking around the event. She looked upset, irritated even. Maybe he had done something. His shoulders sagged. Shit. "Are you mad at me or something?"

"Why would I be mad? Should I be?" Sarah's eyes flickered back to his. He stared at her and after a brief pause, she looked away from him and shuffled her feet. Her teeth caught her lip and she sighed heavily, taking his wrist and leading him through the crowd into an area more private. Anxiety clawed at his gut. 

"What happened, Sarah? Did I do-"

"We're done. It's over." Her words cut through him like a knife. Her lips pressed into a thin line and she shrugged her shoulders, hand lifting to toy with the ends of her hair. (Y/N) waited for a playful smile and a laugh. A sign that it'd been a cruel joke. Sarah only stared at him. She didn't even look sorry. She didn't even look sorry.

"Why?" A sense of deja vu washed over him. His mother had that same indifferent look in her eye the last time he'd seen her. The day she'd mentioned she'd be getting on a plane and wouldn't be returning for a while. She'd been so casual about it. So unbothered about what it'd do to him. 

"I don't want to be stuck anymore." Anymore. "I feel suffocated by everyone. I-I feel like I need to be with you, to stay with you. Ward and Rose keep talking about marriage and grandbabies a-and I haven't even finished high school yet. I don't want that. I don't want this life. I don't want to be sitting on a couch ten years from now raising babies I don't even like while drinking the rest of my days away. I want the freedom of doing whatever I want, you know? Being with whoever I want." 

"Who is it?"

"What?"

"Who caught your eye now?"

Sarah stared at him, her thin brows furrowing slightly. Her eyes flickered between his, having the audacity to look hurt. Pursing her lips, she looked down at her feet and lightly kicked up her dress. "John B. We... We were out together yesterday. We kissed." 

(Y/N) wanted to laugh. Or cry. He couldn't really tell. Cause of all people on the Outer Banks, she'd chosen John Booker Routledge. The same thief she'd been complaining about only days prior for smacking a bag of lettuce out of her hands and getting in her face. The same guy that ran from the cops on a near day-to-day basis and sat on his ass all day drinking. At least his friends worked. At least they had some moral code. He'd been off mooching a Kook while they got jumped. 

"Okay." He nodded and took in a deep breath. She'd chosen someone already. Fighting it wouldn't matter now. "I'll see you around."

"That's it?" She questioned, blinking in shock when he walked past her and kept walking. She said a few things after that, none that he heard once he slipped inside the building. There was no use searching for beer or wine. None of the workers would let him even walk near the available adult drinks. But he knew where to look.

He found Rafe pretty easily. The eldest sibling made no attempt to hide his flask when he drank from it, only turning his back to the guests when he wanted a sip. (Y/N) made a beeline for him and took the flask from his hands, taking a big gulp from it and wiping his lips as he handed it back. Rafe smirked at him and slung his arm around him, tucking the flask away and tilting his head. Topper and Kelce exchanged equally confused yet amused looks.

"What's the occasion?"

"Sarah broke up with me for John B." The three boys tensed and looked at each other with widened eyes. The oh-so beloved couple of Figure Eight. The high school sweethearts that were supposed to be together forever in some made-up fantasy. Rafe's grip on him softened, fingers starting to rub gentle strokes against his arm.

"Fuck..." Kelce drawled out and stepped forward, patting his back and giving him a tight-lipped frown. "Sorry to hear, man."

"For John B?" Topper repeated with a scoff, the tip of his ears and cheeks flushing. His hands curled into fists and he grumbled under his breath, looking more pissed than sympathetic. Go figure. (Y/N) blew a raspberry and leaned his head against Rafe's shoulder.

"Shit happens. Wouldn't be the first time I got dumped out of nowhere."

"At least Liv dumped you for a Kook chick. Sarah did it for a goddamn Pogue." Kelce cringed.

"Liv was nicer about it too." (Y/N) murmured, watching Rafe slip the flask out of his coat and offer it to him again. (Y/N) shook his head and pushed away Rafe's wrist with a grimace. Getting wasted at Midsummer was the last thing he needed. The last push for Figure Eight to look at him as an outsider. 

"We got you, brother. We're not gonna let this incident slide now, are we?" Rafe looked up at the two and raised his brows. Topper immediately shook his head, finger running over his bottom lip in thought. He muttered a quick excuse and stepped back, disappearing into the crowd. Grunting softly, (Y/N) peeled himself from Rafe's side and shook his head.

"No need for that-"

"On your right, Rafe. 2 o'clock," Kelce said and (Y/N) turned sideways, spotting him in the crowd with ease. JJ Maybank. Dressed up as a servant and slipping a note to Sarah. Rafe chuckled lowly and patted (Y/N)'s arm, tucking away the flask and grinning at him. 

"We got you, (Y/N). We'll show these Pogues who they're messing with."

"Rafe-"

"Dad, hey! (Y/N) needs to tell you something." Rafe called out to Ward and (Y/N) grunted, turning around to face the older man. Kelce and Rafe quickly slipped away, leaving (Y/N) to speak with Ward while glancing back at them. He winced when they blocked JJ's path and called over some other Kooks while backing him up to the building. JJ took his chance and darted into the building, prompting the rest of the guys to chase after him.

"What's up, (Y/N)? You need something-"

"Sarah and I broke up. It was mutual, don't worry. We just decided we'd be better off as friends and everything is okay between us. I have to go now." (Y/N) blurted out and flashed his best smile, but before he could go off to check on JJ and the others, Ward caught his arm and let out a small surprised laugh.

"Wait a minute, son. I... I'm sorry to hear that. I truly didn't see this comin'." Ward shook his head lightly and smoothed out the wrinkles in (Y/N)'s suit. He smiled warmly at him and sighed. "High school has a way of catchin' you off guard sometimes. I'm glad things between you and Sarah are fine. I just hope you know you can still come to me for anything. We're here for you, alright?"

"Thank you, Mr. Cameron."

"You can still call me Ward." 

"Thank you... Ward." (Y/N) returned the smile and slipped away from him, trying to keep his pace quick without drawing attention. Heading inside the restaurant part of the building, he spotted the rest of Rafe's friends slipping into the men's locker room down the hall. When they didn't step back out, (Y/N) quickly flagged down one of the security guards and told him about a fight in the room. The security guard gave him a thankful nod, speaking into his earpiece and heading down to the locker room. Relief flooded him when the security guard dragged JJ out of the bathroom, keeping a tight grip on him as he escorted him outside. 

Slumping down on an empty chair, (Y/N) ran a hand over his face and let out a heavy sigh. So much for having a good summer.