#like i love standing in a corner and looking at things from a distance <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[actualjenna]

If you’re still taking requests! Can you draw the silly bushman (and his swag mullet)

MY MAN

[saintobio]

blank canvas: the epilogue.

pairings. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader

genre. past lovers, angst, opposites attract

tags/warnings. mentions of toxic relationships, purple hearts-ish themes, maybe some heartache

notes. 2.4k wc. i said it’ll come in a few days, but i had free time so here it issss!

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

TWO YEARS LATER

Tonight was Yuki and Choso’s going-away party. 

Their decision to migrate to another side of the world was because Yuki had always talked about wanting to live abroad, and so when Choso was offered a once-in-a-lifetime job opportunity in another country, it became the perfect chance for them to make that dream a reality.

So despite your apprehensions, you couldn’t miss the chance to see Yuki one last time and accepted her invitation to the party.

The evening was alive with laughter and chatter as their families and friends gathered to celebrate their bittersweet departure. Among the crowd, you spotted some familiar faces who exchanged greetings with the couple, as well as some strangers you had never seen before.

But one person was conspicuously absent. 

It had been two years since you had seen Sukuna, and the thought of potentially running into him again filled you with a strange mix of anticipation and dread. However, deep down, you knew he wouldn’t be there. There was no chance of him ever showing up because you hadn’t heard from him since that fateful night. The apartment you once shared together now housed a new tenant, and the tattoo shop across the street had transformed into a record store. Neither Yuki, nor Choso (even Yuuji), had mentioned anything about Sukuna since then, possibly avoiding any mentions of him to you out of his request. He had simply disappeared, evaporated from existence, leaving behind nothing but a fading memory.

As you scanned the room with a forlorn smile, your thoughts were interrupted by Yuki’s cheerful voice. “Y/N! So glad you could make it! I thought you weren’t gonna come, too.”

Your first instinct was to hug her tightly. “Of course, not! You know I can’t not see you before you go.”

“Aww.” She embraced you tighter before pulling away with a sad smile. “I’m gonna miss you so much. You’re like a little sister to me.” 

Indeed, and she was the big sister you never had. Things would feel different without her here, but you supported her decisions and would always wish her the best in her future endeavors. So, despite the distance you two would soon have, you gave her a reassuring pat on the back. “We can still keep in touch. And maybe, I’ll pay you a visit there, too.” 

“Honestly, I would love that!” she enthused, “Please do, even if I have to harass Getou and Gojou about it.” 

You chuckled as she mentioned the duo’s name and spent the next few minutes with you chatting for a bit, catching up with your life, talking about your future plans. It was amazing how much can change in two years, and how some things can also stay the same. Like your friendship. And this bond that you would never find with anyone else.

For now, the night was still young, and you knew Yuki still had many more guests to accommodate, so you didn’t want to take all of her time. Eventually she did excuse herself to greet more guests, and you found yourself standing by the kitchen island, absentmindedly stirring your cocktail.

As you stood in the corner of the room, surrounded by the chatter and laughter of the party, you felt a sudden jolt run through your body as loud voices boomed across the room. They were Yuuji and Choso’s exuberant greetings cutting through the air, drawing everyone’s attention, including yours.

“Nii-san!”

“There he goes, Mr. First Lieutenant!” 

Your eyes widened as you saw the figure they were addressing with playful salute—a man in a crisp military uniform, standing tall and confident. It took you a moment to recognize him, but when you did, your heart skipped a beat.

It was Sukuna.

He looked different, transformed almost, his demeanor more composed, his smile softer yet still retaining the undeniable aura of masculinity. He looked a lot more muscular than the last you remembered. His hair, now dyed back to its natural color, was neatly trimmed. You recognized that the uniform he wore was of the Japan Self-Defense Forces, adorned with badges and insignias that spoke of his achievements. The reckless, wild look in his eyes had been replaced by something steadier, more focused.

It wasn’t just the sight of him that made your heart skip a beat—it was how different he looked. 

“That’s so cool!” Yuuji raved about his older brother’s badges, his starry eyes genuinely intrigued at the sight of Sukuna in a uniform. 

Choso, on the other hand, was pulling him in a hug in an emotional jest. “Dammit. You said you couldn’t make it!” 

“Don’t cry now,” Sukuna teased, patting the younger brother’s back. He seemed to be genuinely having fun teasing his brothers. “Had to pull some strings. I was on duty, but do ‘ya think I’d let you go without seeing you?” 

You felt a pang of nostalgia in their interaction, but also recognized the visible difference in the way your ex-boyfriend spoke to others. He was genuinely happy. He was all smiles. He was the healthiest version of himself, both physically and emotionally.

It was clear to you that Sukuna had turned his life around, and it was evident that he was doing well in his field of work. The man you once knew, who had been consumed by his reckless way of life, was now standing tall and respected as an honorable member of the military.

When you said you had never met Sukuna again in your lifetime, that was true. Because the Sukuna you knew was no longer here. It was an entirely different man, changed for the better, just not for you. 

As if sensing your gaze, Sukuna turned and your eyes mirrored each other’s surprise. For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade away, as if you were characters in a movie screen seeing each other for the very first time. It was as though your eyes were the camera, and he was the actor. You could say you were starstruck, your heart thumping so loud that you could hear it vibrate through your ears. 

Two freaking years, and Sukuna still had that effect on you. 

You didn’t know what to do. You found yourself at a loss, the red cup in your hand now shaking from the sudden surge of anxiety. Your mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts, a kaleidoscope of heavy emotions, a tornado of nostalgic bliss, leaving you feeling adrift in a sea of memories. 

You wondered if Sukuna hated having to see you here. And if so, should you leave to spare yourself—or perhaps him—from any potential discomfort?

Caught in this internal struggle, you felt paralyzed, uncertain of what to do next. But then, you saw a flicker of recognition and regret in his eyes. 

Before you could even contemplate your next move, Sukuna was already excusing himself from his brothers. Their knowing looks exchanged in silence spoke volumes, indicating they were aware of where he was headed. The realization then hit you like a wave. Sukuna, your ex-boyfriend of two years, was coming toward you, and you were suddenly faced with a decision between confronting the past or making a quick escape.

“Y/N,” he greeted with a boyish grin, his voice deeper, more controlled. The bad boy persona he used to carry was completely gone. 

“Sukuna,” you replied, struggling to keep your voice steady, a complete opposite from his confidence.

There was a moment of awkward silence before he spoke again. “You look great.”

“Thanks,” you meekly replied, clearing your throat and gesturing to his uniform, “You, too. Military suits you. I never saw that coming.”

He smiled in agreement, seemingly happy about his current appearance. You had never seen this kind of bliss from him before, like he was filled with content and a sense of self-worth. He was proud, and truth be told, you were, too. 

“It’s been a good change. It gave me structure, purpose,” he paused, taking a red cup from the kitchen island nearby, “I finally got something ‘better’ to do with my life, huh?”

You smiled softly, not missing the implication of his last statement. “I’m happy for you. Really.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” 

“Mhmm.” 

The minutes that followed were some of the most agonizing of your life, not because of Sukuna, but because of the overwhelming awkwardness that enveloped the two of you. It felt as though you had nothing else to discuss, knowing full well that delving into your shared past was a territory you could never comfortably navigate. However, Sukuna, always the more vocal one in your relationship, had finally broken the silence.

“Do you…” he began, leaving you on edge, anticipating his question, “Do you wanna get some fresh air outside?” 

Right. And with a smile, you nodded. “Sure.” 

— —

You were grateful for the opportunity to escape the stifling atmosphere of the party and find some solace in the cool night air. Both of you were at the front porch, sitting over the pavement talking about anything but your past. 

Sukuna excitedly talked about his time in the military, where you learned that he had enlisted two years ago and joined the army. After enlisting, he quickly excelled in the rigorous training required for the Special Operations Group (SOG). It didn’t surprise you that his physical prowess, sharp intellect, and determination made him a standout candidate.

“I actually completed advanced courses in counter-terrorism, reconnaissance, and combat survival,” he shared, his gaze set on the clear starry night above you. “Oh, and last month, I was deployed on a high-stake mission overseas. We extracted hostages from a conflict zone. Remember the action movies we used to watch? It was exactly like that. It was fun, thrilling.” 

You listened intently, an elbow propped on your leg as you absorbed the enthusiasm in his stories. Pride and joy swelled in your heart as you heard him talk about something he was passionate about, because it was a stark contrast to the old Sukuna who wouldn’t have shown interest in these things. And this time around, you felt like you were infatuated again, but with the new him. 

“I’m really proud of you.” Longingness dripping from your voice. “Very proud. And you’re First Lieutenant, too? Wow.” 

The compliment seemingly made him blush, a sight so rare to see that you haven’t seen it throughout your relationship. “I wanted to become a better man.” 

You felt a squeeze in your heart. You recalled the words he said that night at the parking lot, of him telling you that he had his own insecurities, too. That he knew all along that your uncertainties about him were rooting from his way of life. That he was aware that he couldn’t give you the life you deserved. 

“Y/N.” Your name rolled off his tongue in an affectionate manner. He soon rose from his seat, prompting you to follow suit, before turning to face you. “I forgot to mention.”

You swallowed hard. “Yeah?”

His smile was sweet and genuine. “I’m engaged now.”

Oh.

Of course. 

What did you expect?

His words settled in your heart like a suffocating shroud. Despite the ache in your chest, you managed a polite nod, concealing the storm of emotions swirling inside you. But you couldn’t contain it—the damn tears that pooled in your eyes. Please, not now. You turned away, hoping to shield your reaction from him.

But it was all too late. 

He was already pulling you into an embrace, the familiarity in his warmth only making you weaker inside. “You are and will always be my greatest love,” he whispered into your ear, pressing his lips against your temple, “And also my biggest regret.”

Damn it. You covered your face with your hands, feeling ashamed of the tears streaming down your cheeks. What an absurd twist of fate. You could have gone about your day without encountering him again, yet here you were, shedding tears over the same man who had broken your heart two years ago.

“When I say regret,” he continued, cupping your cheeks and smiling at you lovingly. He ran his thumb across your cheeks, wiping your tears away. “I meant regret of not being that man for you. I didn’t treat you the way you deserved, or respected your boundaries like I thought I did.” Sukuna’s charm had you holding your breath still, too enamored by his beauty under the moonlight. He used to be a man of a few words, and now he didn’t shy away from pouring out his raw emotions. “I’m sorry I was two years too late. I’m sorry I had to let you go and be with someone else. But you and I know that it’s for the best.”

You weren’t crying because you wanted to get back together with him. You weren’t crying because he had promised marriage to someone else. You were crying because it felt like he was the one who slipped through your fingers, the one that got away, the one who could have been your forever if circumstances had aligned differently. It was the regret of a lost possibility, the ache of knowing that in another universe, you and him could have shared a lifetime together, untouched by the mistakes of the past.

He had dreams of making you his wife, dreams of having your children, dreams of growing old with you.

But the old Sukuna was dead, replaced by the new Sukuna who was happy and free from love’s toxicity. You realized it was time to let go. Time to bury the past and instead celebrate the future. 

“Congratulations on the engagement,” you offered your well wishes, pulling away slightly to meet his gaze with your tear-filled eyes. “I hope she doesn’t find you a handful.”

He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “No, no. I have to behave or else I’m a dead man,” he joked. “She's in the army, too.”

“Well, I’m glad you met her, Sukuna. You deserve it,” you said, your voice filled with genuine warmth as you wiped your lachrymose eyes. 

Gratitude and comfort shone in his gaze. “And I’m glad you found your peace, Y/N. You always deserved better.”

You smiled in appreciation of his words as he helped you dust off your pants. Just then, your phone buzzed in your pocket, briefly taking your attention away from the current scene. “Uh, I think I need to go,” you hesitated, glancing back at the house. “But I think Yuki’s pretty busy.”

“It’s fine,” he assured. “Do you want me to call you a cab or?”

“No, it’s okay,” you replied, shooting him a grateful expression. “Satoru’s on his way to pick me up.”

He nodded, smiling. “Cool.” You were surprised when he offered his hand, a gesture to finally close whatever remained between you two. “It was nice seeing you, Y/N.”

You shook his hand and gave him a playful salute. “Likewise, First Lieutenant Ryomen Sukuna.”

As he returned to the party, immediately attacked by his friends, there was no hint of yearning or longing in him, as if the poignant exchange with his ex-girlfriend had never occurred. He was back in the scene in a fluid motion, laughing, catching up with his loved ones, telling stories about his life. No heartbreaks, no painful memories.

While as you stood there, knowing you had shared respect and love for each other, you were happy that there was a sense of closure in seeing Sukuna as the man he had become. You had both grown, both changed, and in that moment, you knew that your story, though painful, had led you two to where you needed to be. 

That your love’s canvas, once blank, now held colors to complete the portrait.

[zyafics]

ANGRY GOD | 02

MASTERLIST (Series)

Pairing — S2!Rafe Cameron x (F)Reader

Summary — Rafe always struggled with being the only person in his head. When he meets you on the balcony of Tannyhill, everything changes. As sweet and kind as you appear to be, you turn out to be a reflection of Rafe and his dark thoughts. A burnt soul. A perfect companion. But as much as he wants you, as much as you deserve each other, something stands in the way: your relationship with JJ.

Content — angst, suggestive themes, cheating (not on each other), minor blood kink, rafe does coke, reader smokes cigarettes, toxic dynamic, obsessive and psychopathic behavior, and subtle dubcon.

Word Count — 3.9K

lıllılı Deja Vu and She's Mine Pt. 1 by J Cole

Dedication — to @cybersunnie who read it first and gave me lovely feedback, ily my southeast asian bestie <3

Rafe looks for you everywhere.

Ever since that fateful night, he had searched every room and crowd for a glimpse of your face. Most times, he doesn't find what he's looking for, and a lump of frustration curls up his throat. A wasted effort, he tells himself, to look for someone who isn't his, but he does it anyway.

He's never been good at letting go of things that belonged to him.

Tonight's bonfire is on the beach. The firepit is surrounded by keggers lined neatly along the edges, and the salty tang of driftwood smoke hangs in the air. Flickering embers roared to the sky, while the drunken crowd moved in scattered clusters, their laughter coalescing with the music as they stumble over their steps. Rafe can't help but scoff at the very sight.

He had snorted a couple of lines before his arrival. Nothing calms him down quicker than strips of white powder that substitute for dopamine, but it still isn't quite the replacement he's looking for. It may make him feel lighter, unable to feel the depth of his soul sinking like an anchor to the bottom of the ocean floor, but it's ineffective. Riffled with the knowledge that there's something better for him out in the world, something that mirrors the use of a drug, something that can save him.

You.

Rafe sips on the beer he's been nursing for the past half-hour—coke and liquor are a hangover's bitch—and his eyes survey the mass of people in futile efforts. Everyone has arrived, including those Pogue friends of yours, but there are still no traces of you. Once again, Rafe believes that you've decided to forgo the invite to forget him.

Until he finds you off in the distance.

In the corner of the world, sitting on the shore and counting waves, with your legs drawn to your chest and your arms draped across your knees. Parties have always been a troublesome endeavor for you, rekindling old memories you want nothing more than to forget, but you always find yourself succumbing to one. It's a nasty habit you're unable to break.

You had slipped away—from the masses, from your friends, from JJ—for some peace on the edge of the earth. No one seems to have noticed your missing presence. At least, that's what you believe.

Something settles at your side, darkening your solace with its thick presence, and you turn to discover Rafe. He sinks into the empty space beside you, cold brew in hand, and refuses to meet your gaze. Your heartbeat skips, alarm bells activating and cautioning you to leave, but you choose to stay.

Silence engulfs the air and despite the heavy bass reverberating through the air and the flurries of chatters from Kooks and Pogues alike, none of that seems to matter. As always, with Rafe, it feels like you two are the only people remaining on Earth, spinning on its axis, waiting.

It isn't like this with anyone else.

"You've been ignoring me," Rafe announces flatly. His stare set to the horizon of the coastline, watching waves flatten into the salt-soaked sand inches away from his feet.

"I haven't," you defend, a little too quickly, wincing at the projection of your voice. "We just haven't been going to the same places."

He scoffs dryly, "Because you've been ignoring me."

You shake your head softly, but Rafe doesn't acknowledge the gesture. You doubt he cares. It mirrors you in that aspect, knowing exactly how his mind behaves—believing his version of events to be the only correct reality. Nothing you do, or say, will change it.

It's hard to talk to someone who's stubborn.

It's worse when the person knows you too well.

Because in some ways, he's right. Several invitations to various functions have been sent, but you've opted out of attending any of them. Partly because you don't want to be in that environment. Mostly because you're afraid of facing Rafe. You had assumed it'd be an easy facade to maintain—just as the rest of your friends suspected you simply weren't into parties—but Rafe sees directly through you, like glass.

He resists the urge to look at you. Fearing if he does, he'll never stop. It isn't enough for him to be within your proximity, he wants to have you, and it's a debilitating feeling to know he can't. Blood coats his senses, and he realizes he bite his tongue too hard.

Yet, he feels the heat of your stare on his profile. Your eyes sweep over every feature, every twitch of muscle as if you're committing to memory the days you haven't seen him. Pride finds him in that regard—to know he consumes your thoughts as much as you consumed him.

He begs to be wanted.

He wants you to beg for him.

"Your bruises are healing nicely," you say softly, admiring the faded damning colors of his assault to the healing yellows that smother his skin. "That's good."

His resolve breaks and Rafe turns. The corner of his lips lifts. "You would care, wouldn't you?"

You blink in surprise, but Rafe takes it as some protest of resilience. You won't admit it, as much as you want him, as much as you need him, and the anguish seeps into his bones. unable to detangle itself from skin. "Of course I do," you stutter a reply, "I patched you up."

"But it isn't the only reason," he presses, "Is it?"

His eyes meet yours, and it rivals the first look he's ever given you. Full of scorn and disdain, Rafe had once wanted nothing more than you to be out of his sight. Now, he can't have enough of it.

It evokes honesty in you. "It isn't."

Rafe grins, taking any small victory as a celebration.

You can't take it, deciding to break contact to reach into the pockets of your shorts. You fish out the lighter and a small box of cigarettes before torching the end of the stick and inhaling a sharp breath. Nicotine slithers into your system, calming your raging nerves.

Rafe watches with amusement. He had always hated a woman who smokes. It was unorthodox, dirty, and not someone he sees himself with. But when he watches the way the puff of smoke exits your lips, the calamity smoothening your features, he's never wanted to kiss you more.

“You smoke?” Rafe asks as you lower the cigarette to your side. The butt of the blunt brushes against the grains of sand.

“Yeah.” You say timidly. “It’s a bad habit I can’t break.”

"Interesting."

"What?"

"Didn't take you as a smoker," Rafe confesses, but something in his statement reeks of judgment. As much as you hate the need to be validated by others, something about Rafe leaves you desiring acceptance.

You scramble to form an excuse. “I only do it when I’m nervous.”

“I make you nervous?”

You don't respond, but you're sure the split-second expression on your face revealed it all. Pressing your lips together, you rip your gaze from Rafe to look back to the ocean currents, raging and coursing through the tides as if a storm is brewing. You hoped this respite would dissolve the tension in the air, but it doesn't.

Thick and hot, you can't decide if it's the heat of the firepit against your backside or the idea of Rafe's close—too close—proximity to you. Your truth. The persona you've carefully crafted on the verge of collapsing.

Rafe finally understands why you don't go to parties. Even if you don't explicitly state it; it's him. The way he can read you, understand you, and make you feel. A parallel of himself in you that feels like a reflection against a pond. It scares you. It terrifies him. Yet he can't get enough of it.

You clear your throat, taking another puff of your cigarette, before returning your gaze back to him. "You left your own party again."

Is this what you want to talk about? Rafe would rather push past the small talk, but he entertains it nonetheless. At least it's something to keep you close. "It's not my party."

"Right." You hum, inhaling a nicotine-saturated breath that hisses and chars the end of the blunt. "But you left it all the same. Shouldn't you be with your friends?"

"I could ask the same about you."

"I asked you first."

"Is that how you want to play it?"

Rafe cocks his head in challenge, armed with the mockery and condescension of his dripping tone. But it's not aimed at you, but rather for you. A provocation that asks: one of us is lying here, who will it be?

"You're baiting me," you announce, digging the burnt end of the cigarette into the sand to extinguish it. "It's not going to work."

Rather than take offense from your blatant callout, he scoffs out a smirk. His perfect teeth glistened underneath the moonlight, which can almost be read as fangs.

"Smart girl too," he muses, more to himself than you, before taking a swing of his beer. Directing his line of vision towards the darkened horizon, you watch him swallow with a bob of his Adam's apple. "I was looking for you."

"Me?" You repeat. "Why would you be looking for me?"

"Don't act dumb, princess. It's not cute."

Silence stretches among you, and the only soothing sound of this moment is the cascades of water meeting sand. Your heart doubles its tempo, reconciling with Rafe's words before he pierces the quietude with another confession. "They don't care."

This time, you don't play dumb. You know exactly what he's referring to. Rafe made a bold accusation that his friends don't care about him, and you have a sneaking suspicion that he is right.

From what you heard from your own group, no one is friends with Rafe. Not really. All they want is to get out of his way, to avoid being the receiving end of his wrath. Rapport is the closest method towards that settlement. A falsehood for security. He had come to the bitter realization on his own; that no one is real with him except you.

You don't take the time to be frivolous and reassure him with meaningless consolation. You cut straight to the chase.

"Then why come?" You ask, not knowing if he'll respond. But what you don't know is Rafe would answer almost anything if it came from you. "Why attend something when none of these people care about you?"

The instantaneous reply is a howling wind from the ocean, breezing over your skin and raising goosebumps on your arms. But you remain still. Unsure if Rafe will answer, you wait until he admits, "It's better than being alone."

All the air leaves your lungs.

Your heart pumps like it's about to burst.

Because Rafe confirms what you’re thinking.

And you feel the same way.

You're certain you're in an exact predicament but you don't have the courage to voice it. The Pogues only tolerate you because you're in this relationship with JJ, but you have a sinking feeling that it's just the novelty. Something short and fleeting. Something false.

You entered it under the assumption that JJ understood you—a burnt soul recognizing a companion. But that's proven to be completely untrue. JJ may have faced hardships, but his entire network is built on camaraderie. You never had that. Neither did Rafe.

Maybe that's why you gravitate towards him.

Maybe that's why you're afraid.

"Why are you here?" Rafe prompts, turning the spotlight back onto you.

You lick your lips, suddenly dry. "The Pogues invited—"

"No, don't give me that bullshit," he snaps, but his tone lacks the bite. All it demands is truth. "I mean, why did you come this time? You've been avoiding me for a reason."

You scoff. "You know."

A cruel smirk carves the corner of his mouth, framed with an innocent dimple. "I want to hear you say it."

"And if I don't?"

"Then you're a liar, princess. Just like all of them."

Fire ignites in your chest by his accusation, reminding you closely of that night at Tannyhill, and your hands squeeze into tight fists. Sucking on the inside of your cheek, and licking the residual nicotine sticking to your gums, give you a minor boost of confidence. "I thought if I didn't, they'd stop inviting me."

You exhale a blow of air, similar to your cigarette, but a heavy weight lifts off your chest. You don't turn to meet Rafe's eyes, but you feel the heat of his stare.

Rafe grins, self-satisfaction ripples through his features in unparalleled triumph. "Just like me."

"Don't be a dick," you declare.

"I'm not trying to." He says. "It's just ironic."

"Ironic how?"

He takes a second to answer, lingering on the moment by sipping on the rim of his beer, letting a slow, singular drop fall from the corner of his mouth. "Because every party I've seen you at, you're always escaping it."

You shrink under this observation, nails buried into the sand to find grounding. "I needed a break."

"All the time?" He taunts.

You say absolutely nothing. And Rafe chuckles dryly. "The girl who always leaves the party. The boy who needs it. We'll make a good couple."

You lift your head. "Is that your criteria for a relationship?"

"No. But I'll take any excuse to have you."

Your breath stutters in your throat. From your previous interaction with Rafe, you concluded that he cuts through the drivel. But it's different this time around. Now, it riffled with the knowledge of knowing you, of wanting you.

Rafe always had a single-minded ambition, the type to chase after his goal until he captured it within the palm of his hand. That's you to him.

Morals be damned. As long as he has you.

To be wanted like that terrifies you. With your heart palpitating in your chest, you feel the urge to rebuild your walls. To add that familiar and safe space between you and him. "Rafe..." You trail off in warning.

Instantaneously, as if he can read you, he knows why.

Frowning, Rafe says, "Hm. Forget you're with Maybank."

You don't think that's entirely true.

"I should get back," to him, but that part remains unspoken.

Rising from your seat, you dust off the sheen coat of sand under your thighs before motioning to leave. But Rafe snatches your wrist. His grip is firm but loose enough for you to slip out, only begging you not to.

You look down, however Rafe refuses to meet your gaze. In fact, he avoids it, opting for the dark coastline that rivals the turbulent feeling in his chest. "Why are you with him?" He whispers against the wind, his tone seeping with vulnerability. "Why are you with him when you can be with me?"

You don't know how to answer that. "He was nice to me."

"I can be nice to you."

You shake your head. "It's not the same."

"Why not?" Rafe asks wretchedly, lifting his head to finally meet your gaze and you read how broken he truly is. Your chest tightens. His icy blue eyes warmed with desperation, and his grip around your wrist tightens, like a beggar seeking approval.

For a moment, you considered lying. It's the easiest way out. But there's no one here but the two of you. No one to perform to. No one but an audience who knows you soul-deep. How do you lie out of this one?

"I think you need me," you whisper. "I don't know how to be needed like that."

If you were anyone else, he'd feel insulted. To insinuate he needs someone—anyone—to function implies he's weak. That he's dependent on another. But Rafe hasn't felt this sense of gratification in years. A kinship that emerges from a soul recognizing a burnt soul. He can't lose that.

"Neither do I," he answers, almost pleading. "Let's try it out."

"Try what?"

"Us." He urges. "You and me."

You shouldn't, but you can't help but consider the proposal. It's awful, especially knowing you're in a committed relationship—as committed as you can be—and you try to build excuses and logic on why this couldn't work. Why it shouldn't work. But all of them fell flat.

"You hate me."

"I didn't know you."

"You called me a bitch."

"I'm sorry," he says sincerely.

"You called me a liar," you accuse, unmasking the sting from the label.

"You are," Rafe insists without missing a beat. "But I'll take it."

You chew on your bottom lip, gnawing on the raw, broken skin until you taste iron. "I don't know," you admit, voice low, chest heavy. "I don't know if I can save you, Rafe."

This time, he doesn't have a response. This time, he's rendered speechless. It's a confessional—what he truly desires from you is redemption. To possess a mirror that resolves him of his own sins.

His fingers loosen around your wrist.

"I have to go," you say softly, taking a step towards the exit.

But it isn't quick enough.

Rafe grabs you again and gives you one last tug, forcing you to land on his lap. Before you can move, he grabs the nape of your neck and pulls you close, forehead pressed against his, chest meeting the other.

You feel the rapid thumping of his own heartbeats.

"One taste," Rafe murmurs, his eyes on yours and they're pitch-black, all dissolved of his color. "Just one taste and I'll let you go."

"One?" You ask meekly, your heart threatening to spill.

"One." He confirms, reeking of the same desperation he's always been ashamed of revealing. But he doesn't care anymore. "And you can go back to Maybank and do whatever the fuck you want."

You search his face, trying to read him, but nothing but pure primal instinct coats his rugged features. He wants you—in a way that's so animalistic, he's actively holding himself back from taking more. A sick satisfaction curves up your throat at being desired by such capacity.

"Okay."

Rafe doesn't give you a moment to retract your consent before he drags your mouth down to his, silencing every pounding thought with a kiss.

Instinctively, you steel your spine from the assault before slowly unwinding. From all the venom and vile words spilled from Rafe's tongue, his mouth is surprisingly soft and tender. His kiss is rich with desire, gripped with desperation, and it pours all his silent confessions into one. Your heart has never raced so frantically but has never been this calm.

You want this.

Logic and reason chip away when you feel how warm Rafe is. How he laps over the broken piece of your bottom lip like worship, how he craves you with the depravity of a man receiving his last meal, licking you clean until you're nothing but bones.

It's intoxicating. Where has Rafe been all your life? Why haven't you done this sooner? Your mind can't find a proper answer until a slow, nauseating reminder strikes your drunken and lustful state. It's because you're taken. It answers. You're committed to someone who isn't him.

Pulling away, you breathe, "Rafe—"

"Not enough," he declares roughly, dragging your back and stealing another kiss. It's as if it's the only air he's willing to take. He demands it—it's his.

And yet, for all your stream of moral consciousness, there's little resistance.

You allow him to take you. Devour you. To suck on your bottom lip until a metallic tang is shared between you, and to feel the warm liquid ooze onto your tongue like sacred waters. He tastes so good, and Rafe's hands fall from your arm to your waist, tugging you along until you're centered on his lap. With an automatic roll of your hips, he groans, and you feel the growing erection form in his jeans demonstrating his obsession with you.

It's just one. But one kiss turns into two and three, and suddenly you can't stop. Nothing has ever felt as right as this moment with Rafe.

Pulling back a second time, your murmur against his swollen lips. "This is a bad idea."

"This is the best goddamn idea I've ever had," he breathes into your mouth, his hand straying to cup a handful of your ass under your shorts. "You taste better than I imagined."

"What do I taste like?"

"Mine," Rafe answers breathily, before cupping the back of your neck once again and aligning your mouth to his.

Addiction. Rafe is certain that's what this is. The way you rock against him, the way your body molds into his—like a perfect puzzle finding its match—he can't help but believe in fate. It infuriates him that it took him this long.

But even in a perfect moment, the illusion quickly shatters by a grating voice from the distance. Rafe wants nothing more than to ignore its bugging nuisance, but you can't seem to.

Because it's your boyfriend.

You rip away from Rafe to discover JJ's silhouette approaching the shore, searching for you. Panic zigzags through your chest and you swiftly leave Rafe's lap, brushing away any criminalizing evidence of your infidelity.

"That's one. We're done."

When JJ arrives, Rafe doesn't move. He doesn't even make a gesture to conceal the situation as JJ's eyes dart between the two of you, trying to piece together what you were doing with the Kook in the first place.

But no one reveals a thing. Not even you. You quickly apologize for leaving the party and fumble a flimsy excuse for Rafe's presence. And JJ's birdbrain accepts it, causing Rafe to scoff at the fool you're with.

When he takes your hand, leading you back to the party, you quickly accept—dragging yourself into the same space you beg to break from. And doing nothing but leaving Rafe behind.

He could leave now. After all, he came out to the shores searching for you. But there's a calamity that comes from being out here. Seeing the waters, watching the crashing of the waves. It allows him to truly think—away from the noises, away from the people, away from all the meaningless distractions.

Rafe swipes his thumb across his bottom lip, feeling the buzzing sensation left behind from your kiss, and collects a single droplet of blood. It must've spilled from you, or his bitten tongue, he doesn't know for sure. All he does is slip it right back into his mouth.

And for the first time throughout this entire night, Rafe grins. A real one. A devious one. Because he's coming to a familiar conclusion.

You parade among the people who don't give a damn about you, who don't know a single truth, and pretend you fit in their world. But you don't. You're a liar.

But as Rafe remembers the taste of your hot lips on his, the way your body fits in with his, the taste of your blood on his tongue—he realizes, so is he.

Because there's no way that is the last time he'll kiss you. That he has you. No. He had one taste and it wasn't enough.

Rafe is coming back for more.

Whether you like it or not.

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Navigation — Part 01 | Part 02 | Part 03 / End

[cowboybeepboop]

Temptation

"I’m right here. I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart."

Pairing: Scott Miller x fem! Reader

Genre: Smut, angst with a fluffy ending

Word count: 5.3k

Summary: You have a crush on Scott which leads to a passionate night together, he leaves in the morning and you have to face him at work the next day. 

Warnings: Unprotected sex, p in v sex, one night stand. 

a/n: Idk with this one, I usually write soft and romantic so even when I tried something new it ended soft and romantic. Hopefully you enjoy it, as always send any requests you have my way! I love writing requests, I’m also looking to broaden the characters I write for so let me know if you have anything for other fandoms <3

As the headlights of Javi's pickup truck flickered across the neon sign of the "Easy Sleep Motel," the anticipation of finally seeing Scott again filled the air. 

For the past few weeks, you had been chasing storms together in the heart of Tornado Alley, forming a bond that went beyond the thrill of the hunt. Scott had become more than just a colleague; his piercing blue eyes and strong jawline had sparked a flame of attraction in you that you hadn't been able to ignore. 

He knew about your crush, and while he remained professional, there was an undeniable tension that danced between you like the lightning in the tempestuous skies you both loved so much. Tonight was no different, as you pulled into the motel parking lot, exhausted but exhilarated from another successful day of navigating through the volatile dance of nature's fury. 

The lot was a chaotic symphony of chatter and diesel engines, with teams from all over the country sharing tales of the day's conquests and preparing for the night's rest before the next round of adrenaline-fueled chases. Javi turned to you with a knowing grin, "Looks like we're the last ones in again," he said, cutting the engine. "Ready to face the music?" 

You nodded, your heart racing with excitement, unsure if it was the thought of seeing Scott or the impending storms that lay ahead. The cool evening breeze whispered through the open window, carrying with it the faint scent of rain and the promise of a new adventure waiting just beyond the horizon.

Scott had been waiting patiently in the motel lobby, leaning against the counter and shooting the breeze with the front desk clerk, a young girl with a warm smile and a hint of mischief in her eyes. He had been watching the parking lot, anticipating your arrival, his gaze drawn to the approaching headlights of your truck.

As you and Javi entered the lobby, Scott pushed away from the counter, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. His eyes flicked over you, taking in your wind-swept hair and the flush on your cheeks. “Finally decided to join us, huh?”

You brush away the strands of hair that are stuck to your sweaty skin. Sighing as you lean on to Javi’s shoulder, exhausted from the chase. 

“Yeah, had to stop to get some food.” Javi smiles, wrapping an arm around your waist. 

Scott's eyes flicker to Javi's arm around your waist, a hint of irritation in his gaze. He knows there's nothing more than friendship between you and Javi, but the sight of him touching you in such an intimate way stirs a mix of frustration and possessiveness within him.

He leans against the counter again, folding his arms across his chest. “Good thing you remembered to eat. Wouldn’t want you passing out on the road.” His tone is nonchalant, but there's a hint of an edge to it.

“Guys, I’m gonna head upstairs..” you yawn, grabbing your bag from Javi’s hand. As you bid Javi goodnight and start to head towards your room, Scott feigns indifference, pretending to gather his own things. He watches you from the corner of his eye as you make your way down the narrow hall. 

After a few moments, he follows at a safe distance, his footsteps light and his eyes fixed on your back. He waits until you reach your room and unlock the door before he approaches, clearing his throat.

“Oh, Scott.” Your eyes light up as you catch his gaze, a small smile planted on your lips. 

Scott's heart skips a beat as he sees the smile on your face. He tries to play it cool, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the wall next to your door.

"Hey." He says simply, his blue eyes searching your face. "Got a minute?"

“Mhm, come on in.” You open the door for him, going inside and taking a seat on your bed.

Scott follows you into the room, shutting the door softly behind him. He takes a moment to take in his surroundings, his gaze lingering on the way the dim light casts shadows across your features. 

He sits down on the edge of the bed, his knee brushing against your leg. "So, uh, I wanted to talk to you about something."

“Yeah?” You turn to face him, “What’s up?” Your heart skips a beat as you gaze at his face. 

Scott swallows, his throat suddenly feeling dry. He runs a hand through his disheveled hair, trying to compose himself.

"Well, it's just... I've been thinking... about us..." He trails off, his gaze flickering down to where his knee touches yours.

You press your palm to his thigh, shifting closer to him. “Us? What about us?” Your voice is soft and full of vulnerability. 

As your hand brushes against his thigh, Scott's breath hitches in his throat. It's a simple touch, but it sends sparks dancing across his skin.

He turns to look at you, his eyes filled with an intense mix of desire and uncertainty. "I just... Can I be honest with you?"

“Yes, of course.” You murmur. Scott takes a deep breath, his gaze never straying from yours. 

"I've been fighting this for a long time, but I can't deny it anymore. I'm attracted to you. I feel something when I'm around you that I've never felt with anyone else."

He reaches out, his fingers lightly grazing your cheek, the pads of his fingertips tracing the curve of your jawline. "It's driving me crazy."

You smile sweetly as you lean it for a soft kiss. Scott's eyes widen in surprise as you lean in, but he quickly melts into the kiss, his hand moving to cup the back of your head.

His lips are warm against yours, his body tense as he pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist. He kisses you deeply, his tongue darting to meet yours, a soft moan escaping his throat.

Scott grips your shorts as he tugs them down your legs, revealing the damp fabric of your underwear clinging to your skin. His eyes rake over you hungrily, drinking in the sight of your bare flesh. You shiver in anticipation, your body responding to his touch as if it had been waiting for this moment all along. 

He kisses you again, his hand slipping beneath the elastic waistband, his fingertips grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You gasp into his mouth, your hips arching towards him as he explores higher. The tension between you snaps like a tightly coiled spring, and you find yourself desperately wanting more. 

He seems to understand, his kisses growing more urgent as he helps you out of the rest of your clothes, leaving you exposed and trembling before him. The room feels electric with the storm of emotions brewing inside you, the anticipation of what's to come as potent as the scent of rain in the air outside.

Scott's hands continue to roam over your body, his calloused fingers leaving a trail of fire as he pulls away the last barriers between you. He stands, quickly stripping off his own shirt and pants, his eyes never leaving yours. You watch, your breath hitching, as he reveals the powerful muscles of his chest and the defined lines of his abs, his desire for you evident in the bulge of his boxers. 

With a sense of urgency, he hooks his thumbs under the waistband and slides them down, freeing his erection. It stands proudly between his legs, a testament to his need for you. He moves closer, his bare skin pressing against yours, and you can feel the heat of his arousal as it brushes against your stomach. 

Your own need is palpable, your body aching for the connection you've both been craving. He kisses you again, his tongue delving deep, as he gently guides you back onto the bed, his weight pressing you into the soft mattress. 

With a groan, Scott positions himself between your legs, his hand guiding his erection to your entrance. He teases you, the tip of his cock barely brushing against your wetness, making you squirm and beg for more. 

He smiles, a predatory glint in his eye, before he finally pushes in, inch by inch, filling you up. The sensation is overwhelming, a perfect blend of pain and pleasure that makes you dig your nails into his back. He pauses for a moment, giving you time to adjust to his size, before he starts to move. 

His strokes are slow and deliberate at first, each one sending waves of sensation crashing through your body like the thunder outside. He watches your face, memorizing every twitch and gasp as he moves deeper, his eyes dark with desire. As he starts to pick up the pace, the storm inside you matches the one raging outside, lightning strikes of pleasure firing through your veins with every thrust. 

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, your bodies moving in a primal dance as old as the tempests you both chase. The sound of the rain on the motel roof is the only music needed as you two lose yourselves in the intensity of the moment.

As your bodies reach their crescendo, the storm outside mirrors the tumultuous passion within the motel room. Your cries of ecstasy meld with the roar of the thunder, and Scott's deep, guttural groans echo through the air as he releases himself inside you. 

The force of your shared climax sends tremors through your limbs, leaving you both panting and gasping for breath. He pulls out slowly, his gaze locked on yours, the connection between you still burning bright. He then collapses beside you, his muscular form sprawling out on the bed, one hand resting on your hip. 

The rain taps a soothing rhythm against the window as you both lay there, entwined in the aftermath of your first intimate encounter. The room is thick with the scent of sweat and sex, a testament to the raw power of your union. 

Scott's eyes never leave yours, a mix of satisfaction and something deeper, something that makes your heart flutter in your chest. You curl into him, your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as the storm outside begins to dissipate. 

As you wake up the next morning, the room bathed in the soft morning sunlight, you reach out to the empty space beside you, the sheets still warm from where Scott had been lying. 

You sit up, the events of the previous night still fresh in your mind, and a pang of disappointment washes over you as you realize he's gone. His clothes are nowhere to be found, the only evidence of his presence being the lingering scent of his cologne on the pillow and the imprint of his body on the mattress.

As you hastily pull your clothes on, the weight of Scott's absence settles heavily on your chest. The room suddenly feels too small, claustrophobic even, and the air seems to thicken around you. 

You can't believe he left without a word, without a note, without any explanation for his actions. Tears threaten to fall, and the lump in your throat feels like it's about to choke you.

You hear a knock on the door, quickly pulling yourself together as you gather your things. When you open the door you see Javi with his warm smile and a cup of coffee. 

“Good morning Javi,” you murmur, voice quiet as you take the drink from his hand. 

Javi studies your face, concern etching his features. "Hey, you alright? You look like you've been through the wringer."

He takes in your red-rimmed eyes, the tightness in your shoulders, and the slight shakiness in your hands.

“Mhm,” you let out a strangled sigh as you leave the room, locking the door behind you. 

Javi falls into step beside you as you make your way down the hall. He glances sideways at you, his forehead creased. 

"You sure you want to head out today?" he asks gently. "You look exhausted."

“Yeah, of course.” You give him a forced smile, “I'm great, just a little tired.” Your eyes fall on Scott’s back as he talks to one of the team members. 

Dread fills your veins as you take in the scene in front of you. Javi follows your gaze, noticing the way you react to the sight of Scott. He shifts awkwardly, his eyes flickering between Scott and you.

"Uh, maybe you should-" he starts to say, but you cut him off abruptly.

“Let’s go get breakfast,” you intertwine your fingers with his as you lead him out the door. 

Javi shoots another glance at Scott, a protective look in his eyes as you pull him outside. The sun is already high in the sky, and it's beginning to warm the air.

He doesn't say anything, simply allowing you to lead the way as he keeps pace beside you. He can sense the tension in your body, the way your hand grips his tightly.

You sit in the passenger side of Javi’s truck, sighing as you relax into the seat, eyes fluttering shut. 

Javi can feel the weight of your tiredness in the way you sit next to him, the way your head rests back against the headrest. He watches you from the corner of his eye as he turns the key in the ignition. 

As the truck comes to life, the engine rumbling underneath you, he speaks quietly. "You don't have to put on a brave face for me, you know." 

Your lip quivers as you turn to look out the window. “Javi..” you sigh, tears building in your eyes. 

Javi's heart clenches in his chest as he hears the shake in your voice, the way it trembles as you say his name. He reaches out, his hand finding yours on the console and squeezes it gently.

"Hey," he murmurs, his voice soft and soothing. "You can talk to me. It's okay." 

“It’s Scott..” you take a deep breath, “uh we slept together and he left like nothing happened.” A tear slips from your eye as you bite your cheek, turning to look at him. 

Javi's eyes widen in surprise, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "What? You slept with Scott?"

He glances over at you, taking in the tears in your eyes, the pain etched into your face. His protective nature kicks in, and he pulls the truck off the road.

“I thought,” you purse your lips, “I thought he felt the same way I did, but I guess it was just him trying to get some.” Your tone gets more irritated the more you speak. 

Javi rubs a hand over his face, clearly frustrated with the situation. "That idiot," he mutters under his breath. He knows Scott has feelings for you, something more than just lust, yet he screwed up his chances with you in the span of one night. 

He looks at you, his eyes soft with concern. "Hey, you know Scott's always been a bit... careless when it comes to relationships."

You nod, taking a deep breath and steeling your expression. “I know, I should’ve known better..” Javi brushes away your tears. 

The day dragged on, each moment feeling heavier than the last as you tried to ignore the storm brewing inside you. You focused on the tasks at hand, the mundane activities of packing up your gear and checking weather reports, all while avoiding Scott's piercing gaze. 

He had retreated to his own space, his eyes dark with regret and confusion. You knew you had to keep your distance; the tension was palpable, a stark contrast to the easy camaraderie you once shared.

Javi, ever the perceptive friend, noticed the shift in your demeanor and the cold shoulder you were giving Scott. He tried to keep the peace, cracking jokes and steering conversations away from the unspoken elephant in the room. His attempts to lighten the mood were met with forced laughter, the tension stretching tauter with each passing hour.

“Let’s go to a bar.” You suggest as Javi starts the engine. “There’s one right next to the motel,” 

Javi raises an eyebrow at your suggestion, a small grin playing at the corner of his lips. "You sure that's a good idea?"

He can sense the need to blow off some steam in your voice, and he knows there's no stopping you now that you've made up your mind.

“It’ll be great,” you smile at him as he pulls out into the street. Scott’s vehicle trails behind you along with the rest of the team. Javi lets them know that you’re going to the bar tonight. 

After a short drive, you arrive at the bar next to the motel. It's a small, dive-bar type establishment, with a neon sign out front that flickers in the evening light. 

As you get out of the car, Scott rolls up on your left, parking his vehicle alongside you. He hops out of his car, he saunters over to you and Javi.

You ignore his presence, grabbing Javi’s hand as you lead him to the entrance. Javi doesn't miss the way you purposefully avoid even looking in Scott's direction, but he decides to play along, keeping his focus solely on you. 

When you reach the door, Javi opens it for you, and the two of you step inside. The bar is dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke. A few patrons are already scattered around, some playing pool, others watching the game on the old television set in the corner.

A few drinks in, Javi leaves to get some fresh air, leaving you alone at the table. Scott comes up to you, his face hardened as he takes a seat next to you, you avoid his gaze. 

Scott sits down heavily in the chair next to you, the sound of his weight hitting the hard wood making you flinch slightly. He leans in, close enough that you can smell the alcohol on his breath. 

"We need to talk," he says gruffly, his voice low.

“Why?” You turn away from him, giving him the cold shoulder. 

Scott scowls at you, his eyes narrowing. "Don’t give me that attitude. We need to talk about what happened."

He grabs your arm, trying to turn you back towards him, but you stubbornly resist. Scott's grip tightens, his fingers biting into your flesh.

You move to pull his hand away, “I don’t feel like talking, Scott.” Your eyes are full of unshed tears as you look at him. 

Scott's expression softens slightly when he sees the look in your eyes, a sense of guilt flickering in his own gaze. He loosens his grip on your arm but doesn’t let go. 

"I know I was a dick, okay," he mutters, looking away. "But that doesn’t change the fact that we clearly need to talk."

“Scott, just leave it alone.” You get out of your seat, walking toward the exit. 

Scott clenches his jaw, annoyed by your stubborn refusal to engage with him. He follows after you, reaching out to grab your wrist. 

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" he asks through gritted teeth. 

“Are you fucking drunk? Leave me alone.” You pull out of his grasp, successfully leaving the bar, Scott still hot on your heels. 

Scott catches up to you just as you exit the bar, the cool night air hitting your face. He wraps his strong arms around your waist, pulling you back against his chest and holding you in place. 

His voice is softer now, the edges of annoyance faded. "Please, just listen to me."

“Scott,” you gasp his name, shocked by his hold on you. “Please stop, please. I don’t want to hear your excuses.”

Scott tightens his grip, pulling you even closer against him. He buries his face in your hair, inhaling the scent of your perfume. 

"It's not an excuse," he murmurs, his warm breath tickling your ear. "I was scared, okay? Scared of what I was feeling." 

You shiver in response, hands moving to pull his arms away. “Scott..” 

Scott resists your attempts to pull away, holding you firmly against him, arms wrapped around your body like a steel trap. 

"Please," he pleads, his voice low and urgent. "Just listen to me. I messed up, okay? I know I did. But I thought-" He stops, taking a deep breath, his words getting caught in his throat.

“Thought what?” You murmur, still pulling at his arms, trying to wiggle away from him.

Scott lets out a frustrated growl, his grip on you tightening even more as he leans down, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck, just below your ear. 

"I thought walking away would make it easier," he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. "But it didn’t. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I left your room this morning."

“You know that’s not fair.” You sigh, stilling your movements as you relax in his arms. 

Scott takes advantage of your pause, pressing his body even closer against you, his muscular frame molding to the curves of your body. 

He nips gently at your neck, a low moan escaping from his throat as he speaks. "I know. I’m an idiot." You gasp at his lips against your skin. 

He runs his hands down your sides, coming to rest on your hips, his fingers gripping the flesh tightly. 

"But I can’t stop thinking about you, about the way your body felt under mine. The way you responded to me, the way you cried out my name-" Scott cuts himself off with another low moan, his breath hot against your skin, the desire in his voice undeniable.

“Scott, I..” you groan, body reacting to his touch. Scott relishes in your response, his hands moving back up to grip your hips, pulling you even closer so that your back is pressed firmly against his chest. 

He kisses your neck, his lips tracing a path up to your earlobe, where he bites down gently. "Say my name again," he husks, his voice gravelly and filled with need.

“Scott, stop it..” you move out of his grasp, head spinning with desire and your stubbornness.

Scott growls at your resistance, and in a quick move, he pins you against the wall of the building, trapping you between the solid brick and his hard body. 

His eyes are darkened with desire, his face mere inches away from yours. "Stop what? Stop touching you? Stop wanting you?" He leans in even closer, his voice a deep, rough whisper. 

“Quit trying to sweet talk me,” you sigh, head leaning against the wall as his lips work against your neck. 

Scott chuckles darkly, his lips curving into a wicked smile as he nips at your skin. "Sweet talk you? I'm not trying to sweet talk you, sweetheart. I'm telling you the truth." 

He moves one of his legs in between yours, effectively trapping you even further. His fingers trail over your skin, leaving a path of fire in their wake.

You push at his chest, “Scott, not here.” He relishes the sight of your eyes, the way they're filled with a mixture of desire and vulnerability, and he can almost feel the fight leaving your body. 

Scott steps back, his chest heaving from the effort it took to resist his own desires. His eyes rake over your body, taking in the way your chest rises and falls with each ragged breath, the way your cheeks are flushed with desire and frustration.

He runs a hand through his tousled hair, his expression apologetic as he meets your gaze. "Please, I need one more chance. I won't screw it up again, I swear."

You lean forward, pressing your forehead against his shoulder. Scott wraps his arms around you once again, pulling you in close. He buries his face in your hair and inhales deeply, relishing in the feeling of having you so close. 

"I won't walk away again," he murmurs, his voice tinged with emotion. "I promise, I'll stay, just give me a chance to prove it to you." You sigh while giving into him. 

“Please don’t leave again..” your arms wrap around his waist loosely. Scott tightens his hold on you, pressing you even closer against him. His heart leaps in his chest at the sound of your voice, the raw vulnerability in your words. 

"Never again," he murmurs, his lips pressing against the top of your head in a tender kiss. "I won't walk away from you. I promise."

You nod against him, body fully relaxing into his. Scott feels the moment you surrender to him, your body softening in his arms, and he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. 

He cradles you against him, his hands roaming your back in soothing circles. "I’ve got you," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble against your hair. "I won’t let go."

You lean back, searching his eyes for any deception, seeing none you lean in for a gentle kiss. 

Scott melts under your kiss, his body aching for the taste of your lips. He lets out a soft sigh as he deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth. 

He holds your body against his, his hands roaming over your back and hips, as if he can’t get enough of touching you.

Scott's eyes never leave yours as he takes your hand, leading you back to the motel. The air is thick with unspoken words and the weight of the unresolved tension between you. As you reach his room, he opens the door, his gaze intense and filled with determination. 

He pulls you inside, the door clicking shut behind you, the final barrier between the tumultuous world and the passion that simmers just beneath the surface of your relationship. His arms wrap around you, pulling you tightly against his chest, his heart beating a staccato rhythm that echoes the thunderstorm in your own chest. 

His lips find yours again, the kiss hungry and desperate, as if trying to devour the regret of the morning. His touch is gentle, yet firm, as he helps you shed the layers of your clothing, revealing the soft, welcoming warmth of your skin. 

This time, there's no rush, no racing heartbeats to the crescendo. It's a slow dance of exploration, a silent promise that this isn't just a fleeting moment of passion but the beginning of something much more profound. Rain patters against the window, serenading your reunion, as Scott lays you on the bed, his body hovering over yours, his gaze never straying from your eyes. 

With a groan, Scott rolls onto his back, pulling you along with him so that you're straddling his hips. His eyes are dark with need as he looks up at you, his hands moving to grip your waist, guiding you into position. You lean over him, your breasts brushing against his chest, the heat of your skin melding together as the storm outside reaches its peak. 

He lifts his hips, his erection pressing against your wetness, and you bite your lip, the anticipation of feeling him fill you again making your stomach clench with desire. With a slow, deliberate move, you lower yourself onto him, sheathing him in your warmth. His eyes never leave yours as you start to move, your hips rising and falling in a rhythm that matches the steady beat of the rain on the window. 

Each stroke sends waves of pleasure crashing through you, the intensity building with every movement. The power dynamic has shifted, and now you're in control, dictating the pace, the depth, the very essence of your connection. Scott's hands roam your body, exploring every curve and crevice. 

His eyes glaze over with passion, his breath coming in ragged gasps as you bring him closer to the edge. You lean down, capturing his lips in a fiery kiss, the sound of the rain a constant backdrop to the symphony of your love-making. His hands tighten on your hips, urging you faster, deeper. 

With a moan that's swallowed by his lips, your hips move faster, riding the wave of pleasure that Scott's skilled touch brings forth. Your eyes are locked on his, the intensity in them making you feel exposed, yet safe at the same time. 

The sound of the rain is the only soundtrack to your passion as you move together, your bodies in perfect harmony. And then it hits you—the orgasm that's been building since the moment his lips first touched yours. It crashes over you like a tidal wave, stealing your breath and making your body convulse. 

You cling to him, nails digging into his skin as you ride out the storm of sensation, your pussy squeezing tightly around his cock. Scott groans beneath you, the feeling of your climax pushing him closer to his own. His eyes never leave yours, the blue depths of them filled with a mix of passion and something more, something that makes your heart race even faster. 

As your tremors begin to subside, you collapse onto him, your breaths mingling in the damp air, the rain outside a gentle lullaby to the aftermath of your love-making. And as you lie there, tangled in each other's arms, you know that you've found something that's just as powerful and unpredictable as the forces of nature you both chase—a love that's as wild and uncontrollable as the very storms themselves.

Scott gently slides out of you, turning you on your side so that you're facing away from him. He wraps his arms around you, his chest to your back, and pulls you close, his hand splaying over your stomach as he presses tender kisses to the sensitive skin of your neck. 

His breath is hot against your ear as he whispers sweet nothings, his voice a comforting rumble that soothes the storm that had been raging inside of you. You sigh contentedly, feeling the tension in your body slowly uncoil as his warmth surrounds you, his heartbeat a steady metronome against your own. His hand moves in slow, lazy circles on your stomach, each caress a silent promise of the passion that still burns within him. 

His erection is still firm against your backside, a testament to his desire, but he's in no rush to take you again. Instead, he holds you tightly, his legs entwined with yours, as if afraid that if he lets go, the moment will be lost forever. His touch is tender, almost reverent, as if he's worshiping every inch of your skin. 

You snuggle closer, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, the weight of his arm across your waist, a reassuring presence that grounds you amidst the chaos of your swirling emotions. The world outside seems so far away, so insignificant compared to the sanctuary you've found in each other's arms. 

And as the last droplets of rain tap against the window, you drift off to sleep, lulled by the steady beat of Scott's heart and the gentle embrace of his arms, feeling more alive and connected than you ever have before.

You jolt awake, anxiety filling you as you notice the bed empty once again. You sit up in the bed, looking around the room with worry, before noticing Scott coming out of the bathroom. 

Scott notices the panicked look on your face as he slips back into bed next to you. "Hey, relax," he says softly, his hand coming to rest on your back, rubbing gently in small circles. He pulls you in close against him, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you snugly against his chest. "I’m right here. I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart."

You press your cheek to his chest as you cuddle closer, “You scared me…” you murmur, eyes fluttering shut as you bask in his body heat. 

Scott tightens his arms around you, holding you close as he peppers your hair with soft kisses. "I’m sorry," he whispers, his voice filled with regret. "I didn’t mean to scare you." He can feel the tension in your body slowly melting away as you relax against him, and he rubs your back soothingly. "I’m here now. It’s okay."

[johannesviii]

Nearly every time I've rewatched Infinity Train Book 3 since I first saw it in February, I saw more parallels and narrative echos, and infodumping my friends about them isn't enough anymore

I figured I should do a post about this one because I don't think I've seen a post about that specific thing yet, and I love this show's writing, and. idk. I just need to praise it I guess

So, the most obvious part first:

Grace became everything she hated about her parents

When Grace mentions her mother in the Debutante Ball Car, it's made pretty clear she's trying to distance herself from her mother as much as possible, and at this point, we realise retrospectively that Grace's room in the Mall Car in episode one was full of sports clothes - it seems she tries to avoid things reminding her of her life before the train. And of her mother. And yet-

She tries to control everyone and everything around her, and makes people do what she doesn't want to do

And she decides what's cool and what isn't

She makes people kneel in her presence, like her mother towers over her in her mind's eye

Obviously she constantly lies to get what she wants, and her dad does that in her tape

When her younger self looks up, she looks right through adult Grace, and it's actually her parents she's looking at! Her younger self is metaphorically seeing her parents where her adult self is standing!! I still can't get over this shot

Also I feel the need to mention her mother has the same voice actor as her in her tape and even if it might be to cut corners in the budget, that feels significant (and to be fair, sometimes you can cut corners while making meaningful choices at the same time)

Now you might think I'd have nothing to say about Simon on that matter, since we don't see any flashback of his life before the Train, and we know next to nothing about his parents. But I think it's very telling that the only actual backstory we get for him is his backstory with The Cat.

Because-

Simon became everything he hated about The Cat

Ok I never see anyone mentioning this, but hear me out

First, we have no idea if Simon knew The Cat was routinely invading people's privacy through their memory tapes, but he sure has no issue doing the exact same thing

But that doesn't stop there. He also collects things obsessively

And makes kids collect things for him as well, by the way

He thinks he's above others, but he immediately switches to victim mode when it comes back to bite him

HE. ABANDONS. A CHILD. WHO WAS UNDER HIS CARE!!

And. Uh. They both dig their heels instead of trying to change, too

Don't get me wrong, on some level I would have liked to know what Simon's parents were like too. I would have liked that a lot. But there's a good chance it wouldn't change anything, because everything we need to know about his background to understand why he's Like That™ is already in the show

But yeah, Grace and Simon both pretend they found freedom on the Train, and both distance themselves from parental figures who are at the source of their trauma, claiming they're different and better than them - and yet they are both subconsciously repeating patterns that caused at least part of their problems and/or trauma in the first place

And since they decided that making numbers go up was good, as long as they stick to that idea, they are bound to never escape from that self-perpetuating loop of harm and trauma

And I love it

And I hate it

[writer-freak]

Lads x Gn reader | Nice Pants. Can I test the zipper?

Characters: Xavier, Rafayel, Sylus and Zayne

Warning: gn reader, suggestive, english isn't my first language, pretty short

A/n: And another version of this prompt this time with the guys from lads. I am personally not that into Zayne but my friend loves him so I try my best to write for him. Hope you guys enjoy.

Comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated and really motivate me to write more <3

Xavier

You and Xavier are lounging around in his living room, taking a break. He’s leaning against your shoulder almost dozing off while you are on your phone. After seeing the post you turned your head toward Xavier.

“Nice pants,” you say, biting your lip to hide a grin. “Can I test the zipper?”

Xavier pauses, glancing up at you with one eyebrow quirked. “Test the zipper, huh?” he repeats, now awake and clearly amused. His eyes scan your face, trying to figure out if you’re serious or just messing with him.

He leans back, crossing his arms. “Go ahead, but if this is a TikTok prank, I’m confiscating your phone.”

You laugh, reaching for the zipper, but he catches your hand midway, pulling you close instead. “Just so you know,” he whispers, his lips brushing your ear, “once you start, I might not let you stop.”

Rafayel

Rafayel is sprawled out on the couch, flipping through a book, but you can tell he’s not really reading it. His eyes keep drifting toward you, clearly more interested in what you’re up to.

You decide to have a little fun. “Nice pants,” you say, leaning over the back of the couch with a sly grin. “Mind if I test the zipper?”

Rafayel freezes, his book slipping from his fingers, and he turns to look at you with wide eyes. For a split second, he looks genuinely surprised, but then a slow, mischievous smile spreads across his face.

“What did you just say?” he asks, a playful spark in his voice like he’s daring you to repeat yourself.

You repeat the question, trying to sound as innocent as possible, but there’s a clear challenge in your tone. Rafayel lets out a laugh, his eyes lighting up with amusement. “You really know how to keep things interesting,” he says, shaking his head with a grin.

He shifts on the couch, patting his lap invitingly, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Alright then, be my guest. But just know… this might end up being a full demonstration, not just a test.”

The playful challenge in his voice makes your heart race, but you just grin back at him. “Oh, I’m counting on it,” you reply, your tone matching his.

Sylus

Sylus is busy cleaning his gun, and you decide this is the perfect moment to hit him with your line.

“Nice pants, Sy. Can I test the zipper?”

He doesn’t even look up at first, just hums in acknowledgment. Then, as the words sink in, he stops what he’s doing and finally glances at you, an eyebrow raised.

“Excuse me?” His tone is flat, but there’s a twitch at the corner of his mouth that shows his amusement.

You repeat the question, and he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Is that a TikTok thing?” he asks, deadpan.

You nod, grinning. “Yup.”

He shakes his head, chuckling under his breath. “TikTok’s gonna get you into trouble one of these days.”

Before you can respond, he stands up, closing the distance between you in two steps. He tilts your chin up with one hand, his gaze intense. “But sure, darling, go ahead. Just remember, once you start, there’s no turning back.”

He steps back, gesturing grandly to his zipper with a smirk. You laugh, feeling your cheeks heat up as you realize what you’ve just gotten yourself into.

Zayne

Zayne is engrossed in some charts, his focus completely elsewhere as you slide up next to him. You wait for just the right moment before dropping your line.

“Nice pants, Zayne. Can I test the zipper?”

He blinks, the words taking a second to register his usually calm expression morphing into something darker. He turns to you, leaning in so close you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes.

“Careful what you wish for, sweetheart” he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave. “You might start something you can’t finish.”

He straightens up, pretending to return to his work, but you notice the slight flush on his cheeks. A chuckle escapes him, and he shakes his head. “Where do you come up with these things?”

You shrug. “TikTok.”

Zayne smirks. “Well, let’s hope TikTok doesn’t get you into too much trouble.”

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

[ryescapades]

→ EVENT OVERVIEW

prompt: 1 - “are you asking me out?” characters: hoshina soshiro (kn8) x gn!reader contents: fluff, established rs, officer!reader (not specified which dep.), dunno if i should tag this too but reader drinks coffee lol wc ~ 1k (no beta !!)

a/n: @purpleqilinwrites hewwoo kaija my beloved tysm for participating !! my apologies for taking so long to get to your orders but i hope they are to your liking (lmk if there's anything you'd like me to change!) <3 andd here’s your slice two !

piles of rubble and cracked buildings surround him, the kaiju corpses littered around now huddled by a throng of workers from the monster sweeper inc. hoshina barely spares a glance over the dead monsters as he flicks both of his swords in a quick swipe in the air, splashes of blood splattering onto the concrete below as he cleans his blades as efficiently as he could.

grabbing his coat from the vehicle he’d taken to get to his post, he takes a peek over his shoulder when a series of faint footsteps approaches from behind. “vice-captain hoshina! i’m here to report–” kafka starts, but hoshina brushes him off with a wave of his hand. “direct all reports to any of your platoon leaders. i have somewhere else to be.”

with no further clarification, hoshina immediately sets off, leaving behind a jaw-slacked kafka and a confused reno tottering behind him. they throw a simultaneous glance at each other, wordlessly questioning each other about their superior’s behavior.

“and there he goes,” nakanoshima’s voice catches their attention. when she’s asked for the reason, all kafka and reno received is a shrug of her shoulders and a muse of “he’s a man in love. what else do you expect?” as if it’s an explanation enough.

and hoshina is, indeed, a man in love and a man on a mission. one that doesn’t include taking out dangerous beasts, but instead facing all his exhaustion head on just so he could go to you. combat suit still in operation, he makes good use of its power to hop over the buildings to the next, heading straight to that quaint little place he knew where you’d be.

the corner of his lips quirk up when he remembers the text you’d sent him prior to the mission. ‘heard your mission is in xx city. if things go haywire, i’ll be nearby to clock in asap just lmk :)’. always ready to help even when you’re off duty; one of the many things hoshina loved about you. he amusedly shakes his head at the thought.

as the mission retains minimal damage, the surrounding towns are thankfully unaffected by the destruction. the smooth cobblestone path thuds softly underneath his feet when hoshina lands in the alley, glad that your location isn’t that far from his. he pulls on the coat over his form, shoulders flexing from the movement as he rounds the corner.

even from the outside of the shop, he could already smell the roasted beans and sweet pastries. hoshina inhales deep, taking in the delightful scent before he cranes his head here and there, eyes roving over the bustling crowd until his amaranthine hues finally settle on what he’d been searching for.

and much like a heartfelt homecoming, a wholesome reunion, or like how the sand meets the shore, how the sun touches the horizon, how the morning light kisses the sheer curtains, how the coffee swirls in warm frothy milk; the familiarity of it all overwhelms him.

you stand there, all beauty and wonder, stealing hoshina’s breath and rendering him speechless as he stops in his tracks for a moment. before you can draw in a puff of breath, he is already marching towards you, closing the distance with purposeful steps.

“hi,” eyes widening slightly in surprise, you breathe out a small chuckle as you look up at him. hoshina mirrors your smile, soft and affectionate as he digs his hands into the pockets of his uniform. “hi.”

you absently lick your bottom lip, though you do notice the way his gaze flickers down to the action for a split second. taking a few glances around, you wonder if any of his officers might somehow emerge from thin air. “aren’t you supposed to be…” forehead creasing, you shrug lightheartedly, “i don’t know. slaying kaiju or something?”

“the operation just ended, sweetheart.” he beams, and his adorable little fangs make their appearance. your eyebrows raise high at his answer. “... but you’re here.” you state, trying to decipher why he’s standing in front of your very eyes, still in his combat uniform (which has people glancing ever so often) rather than reporting to his captain back at base, or freshening up at home.

“but i’m here,” he parrots, watching in interest at the way your expression unfolds. hoshina’s grin grows at your confusion, so wide and cheery that your hands itch to reach up and pinch his cheeks from endearment. instead, you wring your hands behind your back to fidget on them secretly.

the swordsman notices the lack of a plastic cup in your grasp. he takes a quick look at the coffee shop the two of you had been standing in front of before turning back to you, “ya had lunch yet?”

“nope.” you simply reply.

he shifts on the balls of his feet, directing a thumb towards the shop, “... wanna grab somethin’ together?”

a second of silence goes by. and then a laugh breaks out, bubbling from the very back of your throat as you let the mirth freely flow out of you. “soshiro, are you really asking me out right now?”

hoshina bites down on his own smile and lifts a shoulder, “well, is it working on ya?” you shake your head in response, still coming down from your giggles, “i can’t believe you.”

“you love me anyway,” he tilts his head, violet strands softly swaying from the movement. you let out a contented hum, a hand stretching out to brush his hair away from his eyes.

the afternoon sun gleams down on the two of you, but the heat from your little touch burns brighter than anything hoshina has ever felt. he thrives on it, craves it. his skin tingles where it made contact with yours, and his heart races when the sunlight catches on the metal band surrounding your ring finger.

“i do love you,” you agree with a dreamy sigh. “in fact, i’ll love you even more if you make good on your words and buy me a coffee right now, husband.”

oh don’t he love the sound of that label coming out of your lips. perhaps he should call you his wife more often now…

taglist open. and yes they’re married your honour !!! feels like i’m writing about spiderman!hoshina for a sec there (ᵕ—v—)

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[777heavengirl]

AM - Chapter 3

I Wanna Be Yours

Sirius Black x reader Chapter 3/3 Warnings: angst?, smoking, suggestive themes, fwb to lovers word count: 3,178 masterlist

Currently playing: I Wanna Be Yours by the Arctic Monkeys

Chapters i, ii, iii

Sirius Black did not think of himself as a hopeless romantic. He never cared for the lovey sickness or all the stereotypical heart designs, not the lace nor the saccharine-drenched desserts. He knew you did though. As much as you tried to hide it. He knew well of the small journal-turned-scrapbook you kept under your bed. The one with the tickets and pictures and scraps of napkins and doodles you had accumulated. Sirius Black was not a sentimental person. But he adored that you were. That you kept trinkets and other “useless” artifacts and bits just because they reminded you of a moment, of a memory, of a person. He missed watching you put your sentimental treasures in your boxes, in your journal. You pretended not to know he watched you. 

He wondered if you kept things from him. From your moments, your memories together, of him. 

He stared at the Polaroid Lily took of the two of you with her muggle camera. You sat on his lap, a cigarette between his lips and a fun pink drink in yours. His arm around your waist, his other hand resting on your thigh. The sparkly dress you wore that night was entrancing to look at even through the still picture. One of your arms hugged his shoulders and your smile was so wide the corners of your eyes crinkled. Your smile was so big it made your eyes almost close. His own lips rounded into a crooked smile between the cig. It was the night you first hooked up. The morning after neither of you could stop giggling. He kept the anxiety of not knowing how to move forward close to his heart.

He remembered your laugh as Lily took two pictures, one for you, one for him. It’s not like he’ll keep it, pads isn’t sentimental like that.

The truth was, you were wrong. He kept it in his desk drawer since that night. He’d look at it often when you weren’t in his arms. 

This was the smile he liked the most from you, he thought. The one right before you bust into laughter. He loved seeing it, it was like a firework, like a star shining in the night sky. He hadn’t seen that smile the entire time you had been in your relationship. He hoped it was just because of the distance between you that he hadn't seen it. But after the Ravenclaw party and the way Jacob had manhandled you. He wasn’t so sure anymore. 

Remus, Peter, and Sirius waited outside of McGonagall’s office door. It was normal for James to be in trouble. It was usually all of them together but, not in trouble for something like this. Sirius had gotten down just in time to see James’s fist colliding with the Slytherin’s face. The screaming between Marlene and your boyfriend had brought him down and James’s outburst had brought unwanted attention. As Slughorn took James away, Sirius dragged Peter and Remus down. They followed the professor and their friends all the way down to McGonagall’s office. Jacob had been sent to the hospital wing. 

Slughorn burst out of the office, no James in sight. The older man seemed upset but didn’t comment on the boys’ presence. The door rested slightly ajar. 

“Professor you have to understand, I couldn’t stand for it!” James loudly “whispered” to his head of house. James couldn’t whisper for the life of him. 

“Mr. Potter, while I understand that Mr Brown's comment made you very upset and I do not tolerate such foul name calling especially about a dear student like Miss Y/L/N-“

”It was more than name-calling Minnie!”

”Please refrain from calling me that-“ The boys outside could hear the amusement in McGonagall’s voice. It quickly faded. “violence is still not accepted, even if he called her a-“

”a whore! He called our Y/N a whore Minnie!” Sirius felt his blood drain from his body. He was going to kill him.

Remus put his hand on Sirius’s shoulder as if sensing the storm brewing inside of him.

McGonagall sighed and told James that he had a week of detention. Rather light for the offense. 

“She doesn’t know does she?” Remus asked James as he exited the office. James’s eyes went wide as he realized they had all heard, it wasn’t like he wasn’t going to tell them. He would on his own time, be a bit apprehensive of Sirius’s reaction. James shook his head no. You had no clue, at least from him.

”I knew he was a good-for-nothing bastard,” Sirius stared at the floor, his hands deep in his pockets. “I’m going to murder him”

If the boys didn't know better, they'd believe him.

-

You sat at your boyfriend's bedside. By the time you got yourself together and went down to the hospital wing he was sleeping off his bruised cheek and the apparent slight concussion from hitting the floor. You wondered if James was okay, wanting nothing more than to go after your friend. But you felt responsible for his state, even if he had called you something mean, you felt guilty. You felt like you had driven him to blind jealousy and childish name-calling.

"Y/N?" Jacob stirred awake, surprised about your presence. "thought you'd be with Black." His expression soured and his fingers gripped your hand that was placed on the bed. 

"I had half a mind to go wait with him for James" Your words were mumbled but you knew he understood you as he tightened his grip on your fingers. Marlene nor Lily had told you what he had said. Alice didn't have any shame in telling you however, he called you a whore Y/N, if I had been in the position to I would've beaten him bloody. You found yourself not caring what the boy had called you.

"I swear I didn't mean what I said honey," you frowned at the nickname "I was just so mad, I was upset, and your friend Maria-"

"Marlene?"

"Yeah that one, well she kept screaming at me and I just blew a fuse" You couldn't help but stare at him blankly. Jacob Brown was a handsome man but the temper he hid under a shy and stuttering demeanor had crossed a line, and fast. He lost whatever charm he may have possessed. He would never and has never made you feel the way Sirius Black does.

You were never really into blondes anyway.

"I think we're done Jacob," you pulled your hand away. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, not expecting you to have the balls to rip the bandaid off. "And if I had been James, I would've broken your nose, so be thankful"

You got up without another word, he didn't dare speak either. You slowly started walking faster, out of the hospital wing, up stairs, and down hallways picking up more and more speed, until you were running. You sprinted as fast as you could, as fast as your shoes would let you. You could see the glimpses of the remaining sunlight peer through each window you passed. They flashed like a camera lens. You needed the rush of adrenaline, to remind you that you were alive, that your heart was beating. You stopped in front of the fat lady, her nose scrunched up at your disheveled appearance. 

"Rictusempra" She opened without further complaint. 

Your chest heaved up and down as you slowed down, entering the warm, cozy common room.

"How lovely of you to join us," James laughed from the couch, a small ice pack wrapped around his hand. "How's my favorite whore?" You laughed and scrunched up your nose and Lily gasped in surprise. 

"I'm doing great— newly single" your friends oo'd, "how's my amateur boxing champion?" You couldn't help but poke fun, James had a way of lighting up the atmosphere. You were grateful for it.

Lily ran her hands through his hair as she answered in his place, "he's doing better, he only has detention for a week,"

"Lils you're fussing over him too much he does not need that thing-" you laughed as you pointed at the ice pack, the redhead turned as bright as her hair as she laughed too. She knew but it never hurt to indulge James's dramatics. Most of the time.

"Minnie is a saint is all I'm saying," his words came out as more of a purr as Lily continued to pet his hair.

You struggled to ask the obvious, James looked at you like he was daring you to ask, Where's Sirius?

"He's in the astronomy tower-" Remus spoke up from his chair before anyone else could say anything, 

Peter chuckled as your cheeks reddened, "Might have to hold him back," the rest of the marauders started giggling like they were twelve "he wanted to commit bloody murder earlier"

You messed with Peter's hair, mouthing a thank you to Remus as you left.

-

"I thought we said we'd quit," Your words came out in a short breath, the stairs all the way up the tower were no joke. 

"Well hello there stranger," The words came muffled as Sirius balanced whatever was left of a cigarette between his lips. You walked to sit with him on the ledge, much like you had in February. Your thighs pressed against one another and you took a brand new box of organic cigarettes out of your pocket. "Glad to see neither one of us held up to the promise of quitting" Sirius chuckled as he took the box from your hands.

He put out the cig on the edge of the wall and took one of yours out. He placed it between your lips, his fingertips softly grazing your lips. You suddenly didn't feel the need to smoke. But you didn't say this as he took out his lighter and lit it for you. He took the cig after you inhaled. You couldn't help but stare at him, your arms crossed on the metal bar in front of you, your head on your forearms. The rings of smoke mixed and danced in front of you again.

"I have another confession to make"

"Besides the fact that you chain smoke like you're a fifty-year-old man?"

"Yes," you said and he turned to look at you, an amused flicker in his eyes. You could see the kindness in them, the care. Sirius always cared. No matter what he said or did, you knew this. All of you knew.

"Spit it out then love," his words were whispered, and he took the cigarette again. Your box was still in his right hand.

"You make me feel like I just downed a bottle of firewhiskey" He barked out a laugh at your childish confession, tilting his head back. He nodded as he passed back the cig. "and if I'm really honest, Jacob never made me feel like that, I fear," you inhaled deeply, allowing the smoke to fill you, Sirius's expression twisted at the mention of the boy. 

"I hope not," You couldn't help but wonder if Sirius's need for your attention was simply to scratch an itch. Simply the satisfaction of knowing that he had you wrapped around his finger. The satisfaction of having you in his bed. 

"What is it to you Black?"

"Don't call me that," he knocked his shoulder with yours, releasing a giggle from your lips. "If you must know— I could treat you better,"

He looked away now, shy at his admission, even when it had been said haphazardly. Like it wasYou shook your head, unable to process nor accept his statement. Sirius Black did not care. You knew this. He didn't care about your sentimentalism or your feelings. Sirius did not know what you liked to eat or watch or listen to. He did not care. He had never cared to ask or show interest. He didn't care that you knew he only drank pumpkin juice during dinner, or that he liked it when you braided his hair, or that his favorite muggle movie was the new animated Robing Hood and not the Godfather as he always said. You knew Sirius Black did not care that you knew all of his favorite things and he didn't know a single one of yours. And it broke your heart. That he refused to know you or to let you fully in.

"That's not fair," you retracted your legs, curling them up to your chest. Shy of the contact, self-conscious of your closeness and the way you let him in so easily. You didn't accept the cig back from him. 

"How?" he put out the cig and pulled at your hand. "He could never make you happy, he will never know you like I do baby" his words were merely a whisper between the two of you. 

"What could you possibly know about me, Black?" he hated when you called him that "You don't truly know a thing about me-"

"I know everything about you," he was barely a breath away, your warmth mixed with his and if you moved a mere centimeter your faces would touch. "I know your favorite color is pink, but you always say its red, it's not any pink either its the baby pink of the dress you wore to the Christmas dinner at the Potter's last year" You held your breath. “the one that shimmered under the lights-”

"Do you want an award for knowing my favorite color?" Sirius ignored you as he continued. 

"I know you like orchids but not as a bouquet, you like lilies best," his fingers tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, but his hand remained there, at the edge of your jaw and you couldn't help but stare into his big grey eyes. You could almost see the constellations in them.

"You like the pixie dust flavored bean but hate the chocolate one, I know you wanted to be an auror when you were little but now you lean more towards a teaching position here," You felt a knot form in your throat as he continued to tell you the things about yourself you thought he had no clue of. "I know you like the smell of my leather jacket and that you keep a scrapbook under your bed, you love frills and lace and they are everywhere on that journal, I know you hate cigarettes because you feel guilty but you can't help yourself when you're anxious" you were somehow closer now, his tender hand on your jaw bringing your faces together to the point you could scarcely feel his lips as he spoke.

"I know you are a sentimental person, who keeps everything and everyone deep in your heart and that you wear your heart on your sleeve, all you do is give to others, your love, and your attention and it drives me insane," your lips were touching now, and you couldn't help but flutter your eyes shut as he finally said "I just want to be yours, love"

He pressed his lips to yours fully, his other hand threaded through your hair as he held your face close to his. You had kissed Sirius a handful of times, between the bites and the pulling of clothes. You had kissed Sirius with fear that he didn't truly want you, he had kissed you like it was something forbidden. But this time was different, he kissed you like a man starved like you'd leave him again for some other prat, he kissed you like he had been waiting a million years for it. He sucked softly at your bottom lip as you allowed him to deepen the kiss. Your hands pressed against his chest, and he broke the kiss. Pressing his forehead against yours.

"Be mine," it wasn't a mere question, it felt like a plead coming from his lips. Like a man on his knees. 

"I've always been yours, Sirius Black," he laughed as you did too, at how ridiculous the two of you sounded. The two of you were meant to be. It couldn't go any other way. And everyone had known it but you. 

You were such a sure thing.

You grabbed the brand-new pack of cigarettes from Sirius's hand and launched it over the metal bar as hard as you could. It felt cathartic, to let go of it. You barely looked at it as it plummeted down into the darkness. You could only look at him.

"I reckon we oughta quit now" he flashed you one of his toothy smiles, his eyes almost squeezing shut. You couldn't help but pull him in for another kiss.

You didn't smoke a single cig after that day. You'd joke Sirius was intoxicating and harmful on his own. He always feigned hurt. Your fingers never itched for it again. You had Sirius's hand to hold on to, his lips to press against yours. You had him in your pocket instead.

Sirius Black cares, and he always has. He cares that you only have eyes for him, that you spend your every waking moment attached at the hip. Even when you're fast asleep your arms cling to him, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't cling to you as well. Sirius cares that the stupidity that comes out of his mouth makes you laugh to the point of tears in a way he knows no one else can. That warm laugh that is born in your chest and makes him feel like he is the king of the world. Sirius Black cares that your eyes widen and glaze in affection when he gifts you an item of your favorite color, it has more to do than the thought of you tangled in his bedsheets now. Sirius Black's heart clenches every time he thinks of when you helped haul things out of his window when he ran away, dodging the jinxes that his hysterical mother threw your way once she saw you. Sirius has never been the most sentimental man, but tears formed in his eyes when you presented him with matching keys, with a simple live with me. He cares that you still wink at him before you take off the ground, whether to play quidditch in the Potter's backyard or right before you take off sprinting down the street trying to race him to your shared apartment. His pockets are filled with napkins, papers, tickets, and pictures for you to paste onto your journals, he always carries a camera to capture moments for you. So every moment, every memory, and every person is yours to keep.

 He knows he never has to worry about anyone else, and he knows you feel just as cloyed and covered in the saccharine disgusting feelings as he does. 

Sirius Black knows he loves you. And he knows you love him.

Tags ! (lmk if they don’t work or if u wanna be added) :

@beekeepingageissome, @prongsprincessworld, @w0nd3rlnd, @reevelio, @nrs-15, @sailtomarina

[aurynsia]

Unrequited, Terrifying Chapter 6

James Potter x Reader

Summary: Your secret admirer is not so secret anymore…

Warnings: Extremely fluffy, nervous!james x shy!reader, idiots in love, lovesick!james, no use of Y/N, reader is referred to with she/her pronouns and presents femininely, James is head over heels in love, quiet!reader, NOT EDITED!

Word count: 1.6K

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

A cool air occupied the Astronomy Tower, gusts of gentle breeze slipping in and out. A picnic blanket lined the floor, visible under the soft glow of an assortment of candles lit in the room. On it sat a basket of food, sweets, and a bouquet of flowers with your name on it.

It was all going smoothly, in fact, James would argue it was perfect. He had planned this night years ago, making the first date comfortable and private but still a solid display of just how much he’s willing to give you.

Wearing his crisp button down tucked into some black slacks, messy hair somewhat managed with a comb, and a bubbling feeling of nerves and excitement, James stood at the top of the stairs and waited.

The soft press of heels to concrete echoed up the staircase, slowly approaching the top of the tower. You rounded the final corner, immediately beaming at the boy stood waiting for you. Your subtle makeup shined in the candlelight as your dress fit you in all the right ways.

“He’ll go feral when he sees you,” Charlie had joked when you were getting dressed.

She might have been right.

James’ heart caught in his throat, holding out an arm for you to grasp as he escorted you across the short distance to the blanket. “You look so amazing, I mean…you’re just so perfect,” he praised, gaze tracing your figure like he was committing every inch of you to memory. “Thank you, Jamie, so do you,” you grinned in reply, standing close and peering up at the bashful boy in front of you.

He helped you to the ground as he began to pull out an assortment of food and drink. “I knew some of the things you like already, but I wasn’t sure if it was enough…so I kind of just bought the whole of Hog’s Head,” he explained with a nervous laugh, sitting on his knees to reach further into the basket and present even more food.

“Oh, Jamie, I…this is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me! And probably the most food anyone’s ever given me as well,” you giggled, glancing around the space in awe at the atmospheric romance.

“I’m sorry if it’s too much, I just- Sirius says I’m always such a hopeless romantic,” he rambled bashfully in reply, “I hope you like it, love.”

He started to make you a plate of all your favourite foods, adding a few new dishes too. He poured you some butterbeer before serving himself, rarely looking away from you. His heart was on fire, lit alight by his sheer magnetic attraction to you. He knew his younger self would be beaming to know he actually finally got to sit like this with you, alone with the stars and a candlelit dinner. He was in heaven.

The quiet sounds of eating consumed the room, both of you meeting each other’s gaze at a particularly loud crunch of food under teeth. You both burst out laughing, falling over yourselves as you finally relaxed into the date.

“So, quick question,” James began after finishing half of his plate, “the other night, when we confessed, you said I was surprisingly kind?”

“I did, and you are,” you replied, covering your mouth full of food as you looked at him curiously.

“Well, I was just wondering…why did you find that surprising? Have I ever done anything to make you think otherwise?”

You thought over your answer, swallowing your mouthful. After a beat, you responded. “I suppose I only really knew you for your pranks, outside of classes and common room parties. The early stuff was never concerning, I mean, I found it quite funny the way you’d give bullies a taste of their own medicine. But I suppose as the years went on, and the pranks got harsher, and the targets became more innocent, I started to believe you were sort of…mean.”

James glanced at you with an embarrassed smile. “Oh…right…yeah that makes sense. We, uhh- had our reasons for hexing people, but I suppose it’s been pretty harsh recently…” James was bright red, biting his lip and glancing at the floor. You did the same, resuming eating as the boy’s face cooled down.

“Do you remember that Slytherin boy last year? The one in the year above who tried to chat you up at dinner?” You stopped chewing, raising your eyebrows. “Yeah, I do actually…what about him?”

“Well, do you remember his hair turned bright green the next morning…?”

A moment passed in awkward silence. Then, “James! You hexed someone over me!?” Your jaw was slack, and James refused to meet your gaze. “He was being too pushy…besides, I thought you might’ve liked him and, well, I was pretty upset that night. Sirius just decided to…cheer me up,” He explained cautiously.

You snorted, covering your mouth to conceal a laugh. Soon James was laughing too, mostly from relief that you found his infatuation amusing.

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

A few butterbeers later, you were sitting close and leaning towards each other, whispering about your interests like they were the best kept secrets on earth.

“I didn’t think I really belonged in Gryffindor when I was sorted,” James began, “I thought I wasn’t self-assured enough to fit in. I think over the years I just developed an act of cocky confidence to hide that insecurity.”

You gazed at the boy in affection, basking in similarity. “I thought the exact same thing, though I didn’t show any real bravery until I decided to investigate your little letters this year,” you giggled in reply, “We have so many expectations to live up to under this house. Although, I think it’s the same for every house.”

James hummed in agreement, smiling as he inched slightly closer to you, brushing your hand with his. When you didn’t immediately flinch away and smack him, he moved his hand over yours as you intertwined your fingers with his. You sat in comfortable silence, gazing at each other with shy adoration, before continuing your conversation.

“What do you want to do after school?” You asked, still staring at the boy with a soft blush. “I want to be an Auror, protect the people I love. I’m getting relatively good grades in Defence Against the Dark Arts, but I might have to convince my parents that it’s not too dangerous,” he laughed while beaming down at you. You smiled, opening your mouth to respond before-

“I also want to spend my future with you.”

The words came with a dousing of flustered rambling, James forcing himself to hold your gaze despite the growing heat in his face. “I really, really do,” he emphasised.

The Astronomy Tower made the two of you feel like the only people left on Earth, blocking out any other sign of life on the romantic evening. You were lost in thought.

Your breath hitched when you finally noticed how close James was, nervously glancing between your eyes and lips. You mirrored his movements, leaning towards him with a final glance at his eyes, illuminated by a golden glow.

After years of pining, wishing and waiting, he pushed his lips on yours. The kiss started soft and slow as James hesitated the urge to deepen the connection, something you then initiated. Your lips locked with his in a firm display of passion and affection, hands moving to his hair and reversing the hard work of his comb. His hands trailed down your sides to rest on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

James hummed against your lips, forcing a smile down as to not break the kiss. It was everything he’d ever dreamed of, the taste of butterbeer lingering as your lips melted against each other.

After what felt like hours, you finally parted to take a breath. James was bright red and grinning ear to ear, glasses askew on the tip of his nose and hair messier than ever. He pushed up his glasses before returning his hand to your waist, looking down at you as if you were the solution to eternal happiness.

The goofy expression finally melted off of his face, now staring at you with a lovestruck glint in his eye and a soft smile as he drew little patterns on your waist with his fingers.

Silently, you both laid back against the blanket, staring at the stars that were scattered across the sky.

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

After an hour of whispering sweet nothings under the night sky, lying on James’ chest as he rubbed soothing circles into your back with the palm of his hand, he sat up with a grunt.

You were drunk on the feeling of stolen kisses and sweet talk, gazing hazily at Gryffindor’s head boy as he reached into the picnic basket.

From the woven wood emerged a baby blue envelope, your name scrawled on the front in that familiar, boyish hand.

You joined him in sitting up from the blanket as he held the letter out to you, along with the bouquet he had bought especially for this moment.

You stared curiously at the letter, plucking it from his hands and placing the bouquet in your lap, quietly thanking him for the gesture.

You carefully peeled open the letter, peering into its depth. Pulling your final love letter from its fold, you slowly laid the page open.

“Be mine?

- Forever yours, J.P.”

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

A/N: YAYYYYYY!!! I’m planning on writing one more chapter about these two during the early years, before wrapping it up with some fluffy relationship goodness <3 I’m also starting one for James fic and a few miscellaneous characters!

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

Tag List: @1-queenofpotatoes-1 @caspiankingofnarnia @thesuitelifeofafangirl @moonydoodlez @fionnalopez @kawaiiarbitervoid @kc2sstuff @rafeyswrd @mads12043 @spicybearnaise @ch3rry-vine @probabydeadbynow @ilovejamespottersomuch @mqg125 @sofiacblair @valenftcrush @revesephemeres @louweenier @the-lavender-girl

[clubsoft]

⠀

⠀ ⠀ CHERIMOYA ⠀ ⠀ JEY USO / POC ! F ! READER ⠀⠀ ⠀

SUMMARY ⋆ jey's completely , hopelessly in love , & this is how he got there . WARNINGS ⋆ fluff , fluff , fluff / minimal character desc ; poc reader oriented / size diff if u squint / pet names overload / loverboy jey / 3rd person POV ; no use of Y/N WORD COUNT ⋆ 3 . 0 k NOTES ⋆ my first real long fic , insp'd by jey saying he wants to be in a love drama , romcom :3 enjoy !! <3

The marketplace sits at the corner of the street where the woman with the moving bookstore and the food truck man who makes the world’s most delicious waffles cross paths six days out of the week, save for Sunday, because what better reason than church to take the day off? The lovers, Jey and the soon to be girl of his dreams, learn this the hard way, standing at the corner of the sidewalk blankly in search of the street stalls, him with cash in his hand, her with a book for exchange. It’s when their eyes meet that the search ends, confusion fades, respective reasons for stepping out so trivial between their mingling gazes. Ever the flirt, never one to even stutter before a woman, Jey breaks the mutual silence first, unable to hide the awe in his tone, his words completely unrelated, but he fears if he doesn’t speak to her now, he’ll live in regret.

“No waffles for me today, I guess,” he says with a chuckle, to which her own laughter chimes in response. It silences the city around him, that heavenly sound, freezes him in time. A simper lingers on his lips, a flash of pearly whites remaining visible as she holds up her book, patting the cover with her free hand, her chin dips with a nod, though there’s a sheepishness to her movements, one he finds endearing.

“I’ll get a new book another day, I guess,” she replies, and if he wasn’t listening so closely, her voice would’ve been swallowed by the nearby traffic.

Caught up, and so awfully, embarrassingly enamored for a man of his age and experience, Jey stutters as he lifts his hand to point his thumb at the large building behind them, managing out, “Looks like t-they’re o-open. Maybe they got a b-book or two in there to hold you over ‘til the library lady gets back?”

He steps backwards towards the automatic doors, awaiting an answer that couldn’t have taken longer to arrive, though it’s mere moments between his invitation and her response. He watches her consider, her eyes flitting about below long, fluffy lashes, the curl of her fingers, with those pretty long nails, tightening around the spine of her book, all things that contrast the calm of her countenance. She’s just as nervous as he is, thank god. “Maybe they got somethin’ for you to eat so you don’t starve waitin’ for the waffle truck.” A perfect reply; it makes Jey smile so wide that every wrinkle and crinkle in his gorgeous face is present. He tips his head towards the doors, she crosses the distance to walk beside him, and together, they head in.

It’s him taking the initiative again, holding out his large hand, “I’m Jey, and you?” No hesitation this time, her much smaller hand slips into his palm, and when she utters her name, he swears it fits perfectly with his, like it’s meant to be said alongside his own, and for a man who knows jackshit and less about poetry, he finds it poetic. “Nice to meet you,” is what he settles for, grin widening when she echoes it back to him.

In the marketplace, they seem to sell everything from live aquatic animals swimming in lavish fish tanks to tiny, miniature figurines that Jey pretends to show no interest in, but hovers around for many minutes, until his companion gently asks him about them. She’s quiet in comparison to him, but he’s met enough people in his almost four decades of life to almost be sure that not a single thing goes unnoticed by those large, sparkly eyes of hers. It’s no surprise that his fascination with the colorful character display isn’t lost on her. “So, are these, like, anime? You recognize these?” It’s too late to lie and pretend he doesn’t, so he grins bashfully, shakes his head to nod, to which she responds sweetly, “Tell me about them.”

Those four words shouldn’t set off a flurry of make-believe fireworks behind her, highlighting her angelic features, making them glow even more, but they do just that. On top of that, he isn’t aware before then that all it takes to bring down his guard is a show of genuine attentiveness, but as he begins to point out every little character he’s familiar with, the connections between those from the same series, his opinions of them, and anything else that comes to mind, he realizes it isn’t a show at all. Her gaze follows his fingertips as they point from one character to the next, and she’s nodding to keep from interrupting him, humming when he pauses between words to show she’s listening. Jey feels his cheeks warm, and he trails off, “Yeah, that’s it. That’s about all I know.”

“What? Jey, that’s so cool! I’m not much of a gamer but that explanation made me wanna change that!” She exclaims, clapping her hands together quietly, beaming. Then, she quickly cuts her excitement short, offering a shy smile as she lowers her hands, smoothing them against her top, as though her enthusiasm would turn him away, a fear he’s quick to remedy with his words.

“If you don’t get tired a’me, I can teach you.” Her features soften further, and she nods appreciatively, holding his gaze a heartbeat longer. The less outwardly flirty of the two by a longshot, she’s the one to break eye contact, returning the attention back to the subject at hand, picking up a medium sized figurine of a bear that Jey recognizes as ‘Kuma’ from Tekken, holding it up like it was a trophy.

“This one’s your favorite? He’s so cute!”

A short while of wandering lands them in the opposite corner of the market, a completely different world, rows and rows of fruits and vegetables, a sticky sweet scent in the air. Jey follows a step and a half behind, and tries his utmost hardest not to be a typical man, though his self control slips from his grasp as his eyes trace the shape of her hips, the sliver of flesh between the waistband of her jeans and the hem of her shirt, swallowing hard while watching one tan finger hook into the belt loop at her side to adjust said waistband. For a moment, he swears he hears twinkling, angels singing, sees doves flying in, but it’s just the noise of her charm bracelet mixed with illusory manifestations of his attraction. One large hand rubs over his face as he sighs, and she turns to him at the perfect time, a smile so beautiful on her glossy, full lips that he’s almost jealous of what brought it on. “Jey, look! Cherimoyas!”

“Cherry-mow-yuz?” He repeats slowly, pronunciation pulling a giggle from the girl before him, his brows furrowed in confusion until his gaze travels the span of her arm to the glittery long nail pointing towards a box of green fruits. He knows they’re fruits only because the sign says so, despite being entirely unfamiliar, he’s excited just because she is.

“Cherimoyas,” she corrects him, and then continues. “These are so good, they taste like dessert, and I can never find ‘em anywhere. I could eat a truck full of these things!”

“Never had ‘em… Should we get some?” The question is rhetorical on his end, because she’s grabbing a bag, nodding enthusiastically, reaching for the box like Jey was already doing. It’s something out of a movie, his hand brushing hers, the second too long that it takes for them to withdraw, the sparks that make his skin buzz where it's made contact with hers. They almost do it again, stop to let the other through, and by the third time, she’s laughing, simply holding open the bag so he can fill it cherimoyas, going until she says stop.

The sun is beginning to set by the time they come to rest on a park bench, having traveled outside the market, talking and talking, and talking some more. Now, Jey’s using his car keys to split open the apple shaped fruit, puncturing a hole big enough in the shell to split it in half with his hands a moment later. Impressed and excited beyond words, the girl to his right oohs and aahs like he’d done a magic trick. It’s adorable, and his cheeks feel hot as he passes her the larger half, which she instantly switches out with his. “Cheers, to the book lady and waffle man, and cherimoyas.”

“And cherry-mow-yuz,” Jey repeats, the two bursting into laughter, struggling to dig in until their giggles fade, but when he sinks his teeth into the fruit, he moans in delight, eyes shutting, head tipping back with a sigh. “Yeah… good as fuck. Tastes like custard,” he says, filling his mouth with another bite.

She answers with a hum, nodding, eyes crinkled with a smile. “I told you we’d keep you from starving.”

“Wait, we didn’t get you a new book,” Jey says, frowning, taking time away from his cherimoya lovemaking to look at her, his big brown eyes set steadily on her. Yet, he’s just a man, and he finds himself staring at her lips, the way they kiss at the edge of the peel before she uses her teeth, dragging the sweet bits into her mouth. He’s a gentleman, so he believes, and scaring her off wouldn’t be so gentlemanly of him. All he can do is allow himself to feel jealous of the fruit, and look away.

“I have a new story to tell, and I made a new friend. That’s way better than a new book.”

If Jey could, he’d magically materialize in front of this past self— the pair of them, actually— and laugh in their faces. Friends, yeah, right! Years have passed since their first meeting, their lives intertwined to the point where it’s impossible to tell where she ends and where Jey begins, not far from their current physical situation, limbs knotted together, his heavy arm holding her down as she tries to lunge at his twin, whose thunderous laugh echoes through their house like a lion’s roar. Jey’s attempts to stay on her good side result in him laughing silently only when she looks away from him, a deep breath drawn into his lungs to keep his voice from shaking before he calls out to his brother, “Jimmy, stop playin’ with her, man!”

“Don’t make me call Naomi!” Her voice co-signs, much more passionate than her lover’s. Jimmy takes no account of the threat, turning up the volume on the TV, the entire reason for the fight in the first place.

He’d visited to spend time with his brother, as he does every week or so, arriving with two boxes of pizza alongside an array of snacks. Nothing wrong with that, all is well. Jey has his own space, with his TV, consoles and other toys, and that’s usually where the twins hang out. This time, Jey insisted on his girl joining, and taking the party to the main living room, where she’s on her third rewatch of some romance series he can never remember the name of despite being completely absorbed in it. After saying hello and giving hugs, Jimmy, ever the joker, took the remote and switched on the game. He does things like this on purpose, he always does, living off the banter it creates between him and his brother’s girlfriend. Everyone else in their family has been around his antics long enough, but she’s a rookie to it, and it takes almost nothing to rile her up. In retaliation, she‘d taken the remote back and switched it back, that’s when the tug of war with the remote started, reaching a point where a throw pillow had earned its name, flung across the space, knocking Jimmy square in the head. That leads them to the present, where Jey is still holding her still, and Jimmy’s nodding along to the game’s commentary like it’s a hymn that touches his soul.

“You think you can just come into my house, turn off my show—”

“It’s my brother’s house, and I don’t see ya name in the credits of the damn show, so—”

“Baby!” Her whine tugs at Jey’s heart, making quick work of his neutral stand and pulling him onto her side. A hum of understanding, a few soft pecks to her jaw and cheek, he sighs, and sits up, gesturing to the remote.

“Jim, gimme the damn remote.”

Jimmy, incredulous, hugs the rectangular device to his chest, imitating her whining, “Noooo.”

Jey doesn’t get a second to process when another pillow is launched into space; it hits Jimmy in his nose, and he groans. Then, without warning, he opens his big mouth and cries out, “I don’t even know why my brother wants to marry your evil ass. With an aim like that, I’d stay as far away from you as I could!” His words are like a gunshot, the shock on the couple’s faces the smoking gun. Realizing he’d fucked up, Jimmy holds up his hands, and then turns the blame onto his twin, who’s laying back with his hands over his face. “I thought you already asked her, dude!”

“I was workin’ on it!” Jey retorts, sitting up abruptly. Between them, his sweet babygirl is frozen in shock, and he ignores anything else Jimmy could say to defend himself, tenderly cupping her cheek with his palm, lowering himself until he’s eye to eye with her.

“Is he serious?” Is her first question, to which he nods, grimacing.

“I wanted it to be a lot more romantic…” He can see the gears shifting in that little mind of hers, piecing together the full picture with a gasp.

“The date! That’s why you gave me money to get my nails and feet done.” Pressing kisses to her knuckles, Jey smiles.

“Baby, I always give you money to get your stuff done.”

“Except it’s different this time,” spoken like the idea hasn’t quite wrapped around her brain yet. Another nod. She has a knack for making him wait, he realizes, it’s deja vu to the time they first met, Jey lingering in hopes of receiving an answer that’ll set their future on track.

“You always this slow?” Jimmy’s voice interrupts their sugary moment, cutting through it like a knife stabbing into tough plastic, sharp and unsatisfying.

“You still here?” His twin snaps back in an identical tone, no pun intended— the twins are fraternal. “Get outta my fuckin’ house! Baby, gimme one of those pillows.”

“I’m goin’! I’m goin’!” A shuffle of footsteps, and the two are left alone. Jey’s doe brown eyes soften, stuck solid on his girl, who sits before him with her chest puffed out and a hollow gaze.

“Honey?” Large hands squeeze around her smaller ones, thumbs rubbing over her knuckles. “You want some more time?” Jey murmurs, lips against her wrist, kissing it after. “Shit was outta nowhere, I don’t blame—”

“Oh my god, I thought you’d never ask! I was just imagining how we’d do it. I wanna do it in your mom’s backyard, actually, with Roman on the grill and lots and lots of flowers! Lotsa flowers—” As the angel rambles on, eyes having stolen constellations from the sky, the man before her listens with a gaze amorous enough to make poets buzz with joy at the sight of such muse, such inspiration, such true love. Interrupting her is subconscious, lips closing over her soft, glossy ones, his frame shifting off his knees to trap her against the cushions of the couch.

“I can make that happen, mama… We can do whatever you want…” He’s almost whispering, drawing shapes against her nose with the tip of his own, chasing kisses till it’s impossible for her to speak, and she has to smush her hand over his mouth, pushing him back gently.

“But I don’t want the ring yet! I bought a really nice dress and I need to get my nails done, and…”

The day can’t come fast enough. Jey’s mom’s backyard is the venue, one that costs little to no money to decorate. His mom is elated to be the host; she prepares a speech and cries so hard near the end that her words are incoherent. Solo, of all people, ends up on stage to finish it for her. He gets a little choked up himself, and that sends the entire family into laughter. Jey leads all the slow dances, gets drunk, then sits and explains how he learned them. His stories draw a crowd, teasing him so intensely that he fights them off, and buries his face in his wife’s— yes, wife— neck. The dramatics last a mere twenty minutes before the entire family is back on the dance floor, each drink helping fade the night to black.

Morning afters are meaningful, no matter how enamored the lovers are, for they mark the blessing of another day started with one’s soulmate. Jey recalls their very first one in a dreamlike trance, while watching his wife’s chest rise and fall as she sleeps soundly after their eventful honeymoon night. Jey woke up first that time, too. Limbs tangled together, breaths mingled, the scene identical to the one in his bed years ago, their love new at the time, nerve wracking but steady, the butterflies flitting about in the unfamiliar environment having settled by now, though the fluttering never ceases. He hopes it never does.

“Honey?” Beside him, his cherubic wife rasps softly in her morning voice, removing him from his thoughts. Her naked form shifts, curls and molds against his as though she’s trying to become one with him, and as he hums to respond, she nuzzles her nose into his collar and drifts off again. A wide smile dimples his cheeks, arms holding her tightly against him, and he looks up at the roof as though it was the sky, as though the divine herself was looking back at him in that moment, listening to him pray his thanks for the next step of their life, and the start of another day with his beloved.

⠀⠀ ⠀

⠀⠀ ⠀ © 𝓒LUBSOFT

[fairqves]

⋆ ｡⋆୨୧˚— I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU !

𝜗𝜚 ༘⋆ ⋆˙pairing. enemy! park jongseong x fem! reader synopsis. you and jay had always despised each other- at least that’s what you thought until jay got a girlfriend, your true hidden feelings making its way to the surface- uh oh.. genre. angst ,, fluff ,, wc. 2500. 𝐥u𝐧a notes ⋆.˚ this is so labyrinth coded 🫧 — 𝓵𝗂𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗋𝔂

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YOU HAD KNOWN PARK JONGSEONG FOR AS LONG AS YOU COULD REMEMBER, AND YOU HATED HIM FOR NEARLY JUST AS LONG.

from the very first moment you laid eyes on him in kindergarten, he had been nothing but a thorn in your side. it all started when you had asked the young boy to be friends- instead of a yes, you got water spat on your face as he cackled at you- yes, cackled.

you despised him. his teasing, his smirks, his constant attempts to one-up you in every single aspect of life—it all grated on your nerves, day after day.

the relationship between you and jay was well-known. your friends and family had long since accepted it as a fact of life. you couldn't bare to stand him, and he couldn't stand you. it’s as simple as that.

until it wasn't.

the first crack in your carefully constructed wall of hatred came when jay got a girlfriend. her name was minji, and she was everything you were not—soft-spoken, gentle, and sweet. she was always by his side, laughing at his jokes, holding his hand. it shouldn't have mattered to you at all. in fact, you should have been relieved. if he was busy with his girlfriend, maybe he would leave you alone for once in your years of living.

but it didn't feel like relief. it felt like something else entirely, something you knew was wrong, something sharp and painful that you couldn't quite place. you found yourself watching them more than you would care to admit, your eyes drawn to the way he looked at her, his eyes sparkling, the way he touched her. and with each passing day, the ache in your chest grew stronger, more insistent. more unbearable.

you really did try to ignore it, to push it away deep inside of you and pretend it didn't exist, but it was no use. the feelings you had harboured for so long, hidden beneath layers of anger, resentment, and pride were bubbling up to the surface. you were falling for him, and you were falling deep. it was the most terrifying thing you had ever experienced as a teenage girl.

so, you did the only reasonable thing you could think of, you avoided him. you stopped going to places where you knew he would be, you stopped engaging in the petty arguments that had once been a staple of your interactions and everyday life. you had distanced yourself as much as you possibly could, hoping that the feelings would fade away with time.

but jay noticed. of course he did. and he didn't like it one bit.

one evening after school, after yet another successful day of avoiding jay, you found yourself cornered in the hallway of your apartment building, which he knew the address of from a day where you were sick, and delivered you your missed homework and soup, which he claimed he was forced to deliver to you.

he had been waiting for you, his expression a mixture of confusion, a bit of sadness? and anger.

"what's your problem, y/n?" he demanded, his voice low and tense. "why have you been avoiding me, huh?"

you crossed your arms, shaking off the butterflies from talking to him for the first time in weeks, trying to keep your composure. "i haven't been avoiding you," you lied, your voice shaken and unsteady

"bullshit," he snapped. "you've been avoiding me for weeks. did i do something to piss you off more than usual? because if i did, ill fix it.”

you swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. "it's nothing, don’t worry. just leave me alone, jay."

"no," he said, stepping closer. "i won't leave you alone until you tell me what's going on, y/n." he whispered.

his proximity made it hard to breathe, let alone think. the scent of his cologne, the intensity of his gaze—it was all way too much for you to bare. you could feel the walls you had so carefully built around your heart beginning to crumble.

"why do you care?" you shot back, your voice trembling anxiously. "you have minji now. go bother her for all i care!”

jay's eyes narrowed, his expression darkening with a frown. "this isn't about minji. this is about you and me. why are you avoiding me?"

"because i can't stand you! being around you!" you shouted angrily, the words bursting from you before you could stop them.

"why?" he demanded, his voice rising. "what did i do that's so bad you can't even be in the same room as me?"

you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. but the emotions that have been building inside you the past few weeks were too strong, too overwhelming. you couldn't keep them bottled up any longer.

"because i’m in love with you, okay?" you yelled, tears streaming down your face. "i love you, and it hurts to see you with somebody that’s not me..”

for a moment, there was silence. jay stared at you, his eyes wide with shock. the world seemed to stand still, the only sound the pounding of your heart in your ears, as you cursed under your breathe shutting your eyes anxiously in panic.

"you… love me?" he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

you nodded, unable to speak. the confession had left you feeling raw and vulnerable, and you didn't know what to do next.

jay's expression hardened, and without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, your heart shattered into a million pieces as you fell onto your knees and sobbed, you sobbed for your broken heart and for the loss of the relationship you had with jay- gone forever.

the next two weeks were a blur of constant pain and complete and utter embarrassment. jay ignored you completely, avoiding you at every turn. you threw yourself into your studies, trying to distract yourself from the aching heartbreak and void inside you. your friends noticed the change, but you couldn't bring yourself to explain. how could you tell them that the person you had hated for so long had become the one you loved? and even worse, broke your heart.

you saw jay and minji together more often than you would have liked. each time, it felt like a knife twisting in your heart. but you forced yourself to smile, to act like everything was fine. it was the only way you knew how to cope.

one day, while you were sitting in the campus courtyard, lost in your thoughts, someone sat down next to you. you looked up to see taehyun, one of your friends from class. his presence was a welcome distraction from the feelings inside you.

"hey," he said, patting your shoulder giving you a warm smile. "you look like you could use some company."

you smiled back, grateful for his kindness. "yeah, i guess i could."

taehyun was easy to talk to, he was kind and understanding, and before long, you found yourself laughing and joking with him. it was a relief to feel something other than pain for the first time in the last few weeks, even if it was only for a little while. he pulled you into a hug, after you had finally opened up about your situation and you let yourself relax in his embrace, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, sniffling away your tears.

unbeknownst to you, jay was watching from a distance. he had come to the courtyard to clear his head from everything, from the confusion and the dull feeling in his heart, but the sight of you with taehyun stopped him in his tracks. the way you laughed, the way you hugged him—it should have made him happy to see you smiling again after breaking your heart. but instead, it filled him with a burning jealousy and sadness.

seeing you with taehyun brought everything into sharp focus. and it suddenly hit him- he realized that he had been a fool, pushing you away when he should have been holding you close. he couldn't deny it anymore longer—he was deeply in love with you. and he couldn't stand the thought of losing you to somebody else.

jay knew what he had to do- that evening, jay broke up with minji. it was one of the hardest things he had ever done, she was a kind and sweet girl, but he knew it was the right thing. minji deserved someone who could love her- and that wasn’t him. his heart had always belonged to you.

the next day, jay found you sitting alone in the library, studying and deep in focus. he approached anxiously and cautiously, his heart feeling like it was about to explode in his chest.

"can we talk please?" he asked, his voice quiet.

you looked up, surprise and shock flickering in your eyes before looking down again. "kinda busy- what do you want, jay?"

he took a deep breath, steeling himself. "i'm sorry. for everything, y/n. i never should have ignored you. i was in denial, i was scared and confused, but that's no excuse."

you stayed silent anxiously playing with your fingers, waiting for him to continue.

"i broke up with minji," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "because i realized something that took a while for me to realize but i’m here now- i realized that i'm in love with you."

your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding in your chest. "you… you what?”

"i'm in love with you, y/n. i’m so in love with you" he repeated, his voice breaking as his eyes shined with sincerity. "i've been in love with you for a long time, but i was too stupid to see it. and when you told me how you felt, it scared the hell out of me. i didn't know how to handle it, so i pushed you away. but i can't do that anymore."

tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, your heart aching with a mixture of hope and fear. "do you really mean it?" you whispered.

jay nodded, his gaze unwavering. "i mean it. i love you. and if you'll give me a chance, i promise i'll do everything i can to make it up to you, please y/n.”

you searched his eyes, looking for any sign of deception. but all you saw was honesty, a raw vulnerability that took your breath away.

"i don't know if i can trust you," you said quietly, your voice trembling. "you hurt me, jay. a lot."

"i know," he said, his voice breaking as he cups your cheek, leaning his forehead against yours. "and i'm so, so sorry. but i'll spend the rest of my life proving to you that you can trust me. i promise."

for a long moment, you stayed silent, the weight of his words sinking in. and then, slowly, you nodded. "okay," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "one chance, jay. but if you hurt me again, that's it. i'm done."

jay's face lit up with a mixture of relief and joy. he reached out, taking your hand in his, looking into your eyes for permission as you nodded with a soft grin.

jays lips feel soft against yours, you spent many nights wondering what it would be like to be like to kiss jay, and it’s even better than you could’ve imagined.

and for the first time, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, things could be different.

the weeks that followed were a whirlwind of emotions. jay was true to his word, doing everything in his power to prove himself to you. he showed up at your door with your favourite coffee order every morning, walked you to your classes with your hand in his, and spent every spare moment with you. he was attentive, kind, thoughtful, and for the first time, truly present.

your friends noticed the change in him too. they saw the way he looked at you, hearts in his eyes and the way he treated you with a newfound gentleness and adoration. it was clear to everyone that park jay was a changed man, and it was all because of you.

but there were still moments of where you were in denial, times when the past hurt you felt would come back, casting a shadow over your happiness. the moment came to you on a rainy afternoon, the weather complimenting your mood as you sat together in a quiet café. the rain pattered against the windows, creating a soothing backdrop to your conversation.

jay gave you a knowing look as he reached across the table, taking your hand in his.

"i love you," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "i know i've said it before, but i need you to know how much you mean to me. you're my everything, so get those thoughts out of your head, mmh?”

he said pulling you into a soft kiss across the table.

tears welled up in your eyes at his words. it was everything you had ever wanted to hear, but the fear still lingered, a dark cloud over your heart.

"i love you too," you whispered, your voice trembling. "but i'm scared, jay. i'm scared of getting hurt again- it was so bad.” you said as you closed your eyes with a trembling voice.

jay's grip on your hand tightened, his eyes shining with determination and love. "i know," he said. "and i will spend the rest of my life proving to you that you have nothing to fear. i will never hurt you again, i promise baby.”

time passed, and true to his word, jay continued to be the man you deserved. he was patient, understanding, and never once pressured you. he was there for you in ways he had never been before, and slowly but surely, the trust and reassurance began to appear.

one warm night, as you sat together on the same playground jay had rejected you on as kids, he pulled you into his arms, his lips brushing against your forehead.

"i can’t bare losing you," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. "you're my everything."

you looked up at him, your heart overflowing with love. "you won't," you said, your voice steady and sure. "we're in this together, you can’t get rid of me that easily."

you both threw your heads back, laughing together as the moonlight shined down on you.

and as he held you close, you knew that no matter what pain he had caused you before- you knew that your love for each other was stronger than anything else.

@FAIRQVES 2024

[cjjohansson]

what if love isn't enough?

natasha romanoff x reader // part 1...

angst? yes. sad? yes. am i sorry? no x x x

“Were you going to tell me?” you breathe out into the room, Natasha stills when she hears your voice. 

“Tell you what?” She tries to act innocent but you know better. You won’t fall into her games right now. 

“That you're seeing some girl, some doctor in the medbay?” Natasha stays quiet, and part of you feels like you can hear your heart break. 

“Ha, ok, nice. See you around Natasha.” And now it is her turn to feel like she can hear her own heart break too. 

You and Natasha have a long history. Years of flirting turned into a one night stand, which led to multiple dates. Which then turned into a relationship that floated naturally, without one another having to say a thing, without actually having to verbalize it. You shared a bedroom; well not for about 3 months now, that’s how long it has been since you two separated over a stupid argument about how she didn't want you to go on a solo mission. Nights spent in that room worshiping each other, treating each other's wounds after a bad mission, comforting each other after horrible nightmares, sharing i love you’s…

How can you be with someone for 5 years and claim you love them so much that it hurts, to then start seeing someone only 2 weeks after breaking up? 

Because according to a conversation you overheard in medbay, they’ve been seeing each other for just under 3 months. 

You mindlessly drift through the compound, ignoring everyone who tries to speak to you, you can’t do this right now. 

How can you do this when only 5 days ago, she was in your bed breathlessly moaning your name after you both needed some comfort after a bad mission?

How could she do this? That’s all that was running through your head as you approached the punching bag in the corner of the gym. 

How could she start seeing someone so quickly after you broke up? How could she then sleep with you while seeing someone else and not even tell you? How could she rip your heart out all over again? 

You hated it. You hated how much emotional power she held over you. 

But you guessed that’s what you get for falling in love right?

“Hey.”

“Fuck off.” You huff to Bucky as he approaches the bag and holds it still, taking the force from your punches like they're nothing to him at all.

“You know…” That makes you stop. Your hands falling to your sides as you stare at him confused.

“I know what Buck?” You watch his eyes widen as he takes a step back, putting some distance between you. 

“I was going to tell you, I was, I promise you. We both just got caught up in missions and when I was here you weren't, and vice versa you know?”

“I know what James? Do not make me ask a third time!” Your anger is building, you already know the answer.

“About Nat and Dr-”

“Fuck you.” 

“Y/n…”

“NO! FUCK YOU!”

“Calm down, let me talk!” 

“No, you don't get to talk to me. You’ve been my best friend since we were 3 years old! You kept this from me! How could you! How could you…” You sob as you turn and walk out the room. You can’t be here. Your own best friend knew? Who else knew? Everyone most likely if Bucky did. 

You find yourself mindlessly drifting back through the compound, only this time no one stops to try and talk to you. You can’t imagine you look good right now, you're so close to exploding. 

You end up in your bedroom, walking into your closet to grab a suitcase from the top, dragging it to your bed as you work your way through your drawers and closet, grabbing everything and anything you could get your hands on. 

You need to leave, it is the only thing that you can actually think straight on. If you stay, you won’t survive. It’s been hard enough the past 3 months let alone knowing she is with someone new. 

“Babe…” You don't stop grabbing clothes. You don't bother to fold them, you just throw them straight into the suitcase as quickly as you can.

“Can you let me talk, let me explain.” You stay silent. You can’t even look at her right now. 

“I’m not, ugh, I’m not seeing her. I don’t know what you heard, but you know how rumors spread around here. I’m not seeing her.” You lose it. 

“You're fucking her though, right?” You turn to face her, keeping the distance between you. You're so angry, you're hurt, this is ruining you. 

“Y/n… We broke up.”

“Oh so that just makes it okay to go fuck someone days after we break up? 5 years of my life wasted for what? Did you actually ever even love me? Or did you just love the attention I gave you?” 

“That is not fair. You know I love you, I love you so deeply that it hurts, it aches. But you were the one to walk away, don't try and act like a victim here. YOU LEFT ME! You broke my heart. So you do not have the right to stand here and be upset and angry with me for doing that, when you were the one who walked away first.” That isn’t fair, that isn’t what happened at all. 

“I did NOT walk away. You gave me an ultimatum. I had to go on that mission, you knew I did-”

“YOU DIDN’T! Bucky said he would go instead! The lead up to that mission was driving you crazy, for months you had nightmares, you worked yourself to exhaustion. I tried to be there for you and you pushed me away! I stayed until I couldn't anymore! I couldn't stand by and let you ruin yourself. I left because in return it was ruining me too. Because if I stayed you would have hated me anyway.” Both of you are breathing deeply, the tension flowing around the room. How can any of this be happening? How is any of this fair to either of you?

“I love you. But you didn't love me enough to stay. So I walked away and every step I took, it fucking killed me. I stripped myself bare to you! I gave you so many parts of myself that I have never given to another person before, that I will never give to another person ever again! So yes! I slept with someone, I can hold my hands up and admit that I did. It was soon, and that was a shitting thing to do but you leaving was really fucking shitty too Y/n. I do not owe you an explanation or an apology for how I deal with my own pain, not anymore.” Natasha’s breathing picks up, tears flowing down her cheeks with no intent of stopping any time soon. 

“Natasha…”

“I am not seeing her. I slept with her once. And I have regretted it every single day since it happened. Because she isn’t you, but no one is going to be you, ever. And that’s my burden to carry.” Natasha turns to leave the room but you find yourself rushing towards the door and holding it closed before she can exit. Her back is pressed against your front and all you can smell is the perfume you bought her for valentines day. 

“Stay…”

“How can you expect me to stay when you wouldn’t?” Her forehead rests on the door as she continues to breathe deeply. Her words completely throw you. Because she is right.

“I know that mission drove me crazy, but I need you to understand that I needed to do what I had to do tasha or it would have ruined me even more. They…they ruined me, they took me apart and put me back together wrong over and over as they saw fit, day after day. I was the one who needed to finish it. Not anyone else. Because if I didn’t finish it, it would have eaten me alive for the rest of my life. That night, when I left, all I felt and saw was rage. They stole everything from me, I needed it to be over, and I’m sorry that it meant I had to leave you to be able to do that. But I never meant to hurt you, I never meant to ruin you too. I never meant for any of this Natasha. Believe me when I say that, please.” Your voice cracks as you rest your forehead on the back of her head. Your tears falling into her hair, you can feel her body moving from her own sobs. 

“I know you didn’t. I didn’t either but we both did. How can we even move forward from this Y/n?” She turns in your hold, your forehead now resting on hers and you stare into each other's red eyes. 

“I love you. After all this time, I still love you. It’s always been you, it was you yesterday, it was you 2 months ago, a year ago. It is you today, it will be you tomorrow and for the rest of my life it will be you, I love you Natasha.” 

Her hand moves to your face, your own head leaning into her palm as she takes the weight of it. 

“But what if love isn’t enough y/n?”

part 2

[pedroscurls]

in every lifetime (pt. 3)

summary: as you're both standing in the hallway, all logan can think about is the version of you in his universe. pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader word count: 2.4k tags / warnings: angst - post deadpool & wolverine ("worst" logan!variant), brief appearance of wade, logan dreams about his universe's version of you (in italics), no use of y/n. a/n: wanted to write a chapter where it's solely logan's POV. i hope i captured the essence of his character (still pretty new on writing for him!). also pulled some inspo from the scene in prisoners where keller is sitting in the passenger seat of loki's car - ugh that scene gets me everytime! anyway, hope you all enjoyed bc my heart was breaking when listening to the song while writing... hehe stay tuned for more angst 😅 song: lost without you by freya ridings prev. part - next part.

Logan’s hand drops to his side as his eyes search yours. The sudden sense of familiarity stares right back at him, and he feels his heart swell with excitement, but breaks at the memory that nags in the back of his mind. Tears are pooling at the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill over. The chatter and laughter coming from the living room fades into the background as the only thing he can focus on is you. 

He’d be fooling himself if he thought this was his second chance with you. A second chance at making things right. Logan never got what he wanted and even when he got a glimpse of it, it was taken from him. He can’t lose you again and he knows that it’s going to hurt, knows that he’s going to break your heart (and his), but he knows that it’s better this way. You are better off without him. 

“I don’t know if I can do this,” he whispers, voice shaky. “You– You deserve someone better than me, than what I can give you.” Logan feels his heart break all over again at the sight of you – the way your lower lip trembles as a tear slides down your cheek – because he knows that you’ve heard this before. If your Logan was anything like him, then he knows that you’re used to this. Used to him deciding what’s best for you because he had done this same thing to the version of you in his universe. 

And the same look that you had in his other world is the same look you’re giving him now. Silently pleading with him that he is what you deserve because there’s no one better than him. In your eyes, Logan was (and will always be) the only man for you. 

Logan can sense your urge to reach out to him, to touch him, but he doesn’t let you because he knows that if you do, he’d fall deeper… and deeper until there’s no way out. And he doesn’t deserve that, doesn’t deserve you. So, he takes a step back, trying to create some distance between the both of you but he can’t ignore the way he feels a pull towards you, like there’s an invisible string tying your souls together. 

“You died in my arms,” he continues, eyes gazing into yours. “You died because of me, do you get that?” Logan’s hands curl into fists, his claws threatening to come out. “Everyone I love dies, bub. I can’t–”

“I can’t just continue living my life when I know that you are here, in this world,” your voice trembles and you bring your hand up to wipe your tears away. “I’m not her,” you repeat. “And I know you’re not him, but maybe–”

“No,” Logan interrupts you. “I won’t ever be the Logan you want me to be.” 

“I don’t want you to be anyone but you, Logan.”

Logan shakes his head, blinking away the tears as a couple trickles down the side of his cheek. “No,” he repeats. “I can’t lose you again,” he whispers. “You called out for me and I failed you. What happens if I fail you again in this universe?” 

You have no words. You just stare at him, your fingertips yearning to reach out to him, to touch him, to get him to see what you see. This version of him is much more closed off than your Logan and while you know that each man has their own fair share of trauma, the one standing in front of you cannot overlook the fact that you had died because of him. 

“You deserve to live a life–”

“I haven’t been living since I lost my Logan,” you interject. “Seeing you– I know that you aren’t the same man that I lost all those years ago, but…” you take a deep and shaky breath. “But I can’t help the way I feel, Logan. I think you know that because you feel it too.”

“Don’t matter if I do,” he replies. 

“Yes, it does. Don’t you want to be happy?” 

“A man like me don’t get to be happy,” Logan answers. He goes to turn on his heel, but you reach out for his wrist. Your touch alone sends shockwaves through him and he turns around to look at you. Your hand lingers before it drops back to your side and Logan’s gaze never leaves you. 

“You will never be my Logan. I know that,” you mumble. “But I don’t want you to be the same man. I just want you.” 

“Sometimes we don’t get what we want, bub.” 

“So, we’re just supposed to act like we don’t know each other? Act like there’s nothing between us and–”

“Exactly. I stay out of your way and you stay out of mine.” 

You stare at him and Logan breaks your gaze to look down at the floorboards, his hands still clenched into fists. He thinks you’re going to say something, to try and talk him out of it, so when he hears you begin walking away, he lifts his eyes to see your back turned as you leave him standing – alone – in the hallway. 

It’s only at that moment that his claws come out as he huffs under his breath. Logan feels a twist in the pit of his stomach, his heart breaking at the sight of you walking away from him. That was one thing different about you and the version of you in his universe. 

Here, you were tired. Exhausted. Fed up. And you couldn’t take it anymore. 

In his universe, you fought for him until you couldn’t anymore. Until your last breath. 

Logan remains standing in the hallway, his heightened senses solely focused and zeroed in on you as he hears you mutter to Laura that it’s time to go. Only he would notice the sadness in your tone, the tremble in your voice, but you do your best to hide it from the younger girl. It isn’t until he hears the door shut that he goes back into his room, slamming his own door in frustration. 

—

A few hours pass and Logan hears a knock at his door. He’s already gone through his case of beer and a bottle of whiskey and he needs more, needs to numb the pain that can’t seem to go away. While he can’t shake the memory of you dying in his arms, he also can’t ignore the way his heart is calling out this world’s version of you. 

“Ain’t in the mood,” he calls out, a slight slur to his voice. 

The knocks persist until Logan stands up to open the door. When he sees Wade on the other side, he lets out a sigh and tries to close the door in his face. Wade shakes his head and puts his foot against the door, looking in Logan’s direction. 

“We’re talking,” Wade says, pushing Logan back into his room. 

“Don’t wanna talk.”

“Yeah, well, I think you need to, Peanut.” 

“Ain’t your business,” Logan mutters. “Besides, I was just about to leave.” 

“To get more alcohol?”

“What’s it to you, hm?” Logan threatens, pressing a finger against Wade’s chest. “Last I checked, I didn’t even want to be here.” 

“Tough shit,” Wade replies. “You’re here now and you need to make the most of it.”

“I don’t need to do anything.”

“What did you both talk about?” Wade asks, changing the subject. “You both were talking for a bit before she just abruptly left with Laura. So, what happened?”

“Told her what she needed to hear,” Logan growls. “Ain’t my fault she didn’t like it.”

“You really like to make shit difficult, don’t you?” Wade says with a laugh. “You know, I think this world’s version of Logan liked to make things difficult too. Is that a thing with you Wolverines, hm? Can’t see a good thing when it’s right in front of you?” 

Logan curls his hands into fists, his claws slowly coming out. 

“Oh, it’s taking a while to get going, huh? I hear that happens when you age–”

Logan slams his fist into Wade’s jaw with a low growl. “Do you ever shut the fuck up?” 

Wade grunts, rubbing his jaw as he looks at the older man. “Never,” he grins. “Now, I’m gonna let that one slide because you’re going through something, but–”

Logan throws another punch in Wade’s direction, but Wade easily dodges it which causes Logan to stumble forwards. 

“Careful there, Peanut,” he chuckles. “Listen, I didn’t come in here to get you riled up–”

“Sure as hell seems like it,” Logan mumbles. 

“That woman,” Wade begins. “Is your person, Logan. I’m sure in every universe, there’s a version of you and a version of her who love each other.”

Logan looks over at Wade, jaw tight and hands still curled into fists.

I will love you in every lifetime. 

In every universe and in every lifetime, I’m yours. 

“She’s just going to get hurt,” Logan admits. “And it’s going to be because of me.” 

Wade shrugs. “That’s a possibility.” 

Logan glares. 

“But you’re already hurting her, Logan.”

“She’ll get over it.”

Wade scoffs. “Her Logan died so long ago. Did she get over that?” 

“That’s different.”

“It’s not.”

“I’m not him,” Logan says. “I won’t ever be him.”

“She doesn’t want you to be him,” Wade sighs. 

“She died because of me, Wade,” Logan mumbles. “Took her last breath in my arms because I wasn’t there and every day–” his voice catches in his throat. “Every day I hear her voice, calling out to me. Every. Day! I have to live with that. Not you. Not her. Me!” 

“But, she loves you…”

“And I love her,” Logan admits, tears trickling down his cheeks. “But I can’t– How can I be happy when there’s a version of her out there that’s dead because of me?” 

“Maybe she’s the reason you start to heal,” Wade answers. “And maybe… Maybe the version of her in your universe would want you to be happy, Logan.”

Logan shakes his head. He knows that Wade has a valid point. You had always wanted him to be happy. Even when Logan had pushed you away in his universe, you still wanted the best for him. You had every right to be upset and frustrated with him, but instead, you loved him from afar and he felt every ounce of your love even if he didn’t deserve it. 

“You should leave now,” Logan replies. “I don’t wanna talk about this shit.” 

“This is your chance to live a life you always wanted, Logan,” Wade says seriously. “Everyone of us deserves that, even you.” 

“I ain’t everyone, Wade.” Logan mutters. 

—

Logan finally manages to pass out once Wade leaves his room. Behind closed lids, all he can see is you. His universe’s version of you. 

You’re wearing a white dress and there’s a glow around you and still, you’re smiling at him. Logan’s lying on his side and you’re across from him, hand reaching out to touch his cheek. Logan lets out a sigh, bringing his own hand to touch your wrist and it feels so real. You feel so real. 

“Hi, baby,” you whisper. 

“Y– You’re real?” 

“As real as I can be,” you giggle. Logan feels his heart swell at the sound and he leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. 

“Can you stay?”

“Not for long.”

“Can I come with you?”

“No, baby,” you say sadly. “Not yet.”

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out, tears stinging his eyes. “I should have– I should have been there. I should have fought alongside all of you and–”

“Hey, hey…” you brush the pad of your thumb across his cheek, feeling his tears trickle down. “We don’t blame you, Logan.”

“You called out to me, baby,” Logan’s voice trembles. “You died in my arms. You– All I can hear is you.”

“I know,” you whisper. “I wish I can take it away for you.” 

“I shouldn’t have ever pushed you away. I loved you so much.”

“I know,” you repeat. “I never questioned it.”

“Then, why did you let me push you away?” 

“Because,” you say softly. “I wanted you happy and if that meant pushing me away, then…”

“But I hurt you.”

“You did,” you nod. “But I never questioned your love for me, that’s the difference.” 

Logan slowly wraps his arms around you, burying his face against the side of your neck. “I want to stay. I’ve been lost without you.” 

“You can’t stay, baby,” you tell him, running your hands through his hair. “There’s still a lot of life for you to live, people to save, someone to love…”

He shakes his head as he feels his entire body tremble against you, an overwhelming flood of emotions washing over him. “She isn’t you…”

“And you’re not her Logan, so what?” you answer. “I told you I would love you in every lifetime, Logan…” 

“I can’t–”

“You can,” you whisper, pulling back to look into his eyes. “You deserve to be happy, Logan. You deserve to be loved, baby.” you lightly peck his lips as your hand drops from his cheek. 

Logan suddenly gasps awake, looking around the darkened room. He tries to search for you, eyes scanning rapidly until his gaze settles on the empty side of the bed. 

“You deserve to be happy, Logan. You deserve to be loved.” 

He sits up on the edge of the mattress, head in his hands as your voice echoes in his mind. You felt so real, looked so real. It had been a long time since you had visited his dreams. 

“You deserve to be happy, Logan. You deserve to be loved.” 

Logan looks at the time and stands from the bed, pulling on his leather jacket. He walks across the hallway and knocks on Wade’s door. It takes the other man a few minutes to get up, rubbing his eyes. When he opens the door to see Logan standing on the other side, fully dressed, he furrows a brow. 

“You know what time it is, Peanut?” 

“What’s her address?” 

“Whose?”

Logan grunts. “You know who.”

Wade suddenly begins to grin, scrambling back into his bedroom to grab his phone. He writes down your phone number and your address before handing the piece of paper to Logan. 

“Go get her, Peanut.” 

---

taglist: @its-in-the-woods @mynatureworld @wadewnstonwilson

[luveline]

this request may be a bit of a long shot, but would you be willing to write a drabble for mouth of september? maybe she gives the boys a scare either by going out and then not coming home at the time she said she would or maybe she faints from not having eaten enough? totally okay if you don’t want to or if you want to use this as a prompt for something else, mos has just been one of your fic series that i think about pretty consistently even two-ish years later.

anyway have a great day and hope you’re doing well jadey <3 love u

I love you! me writing this actually did feel like a longshot but not cos I didn’t love it and not cos I don’t love u, I hope you enjoy it!! been so long since I wrote this !!🩵 fem! 4k words

cw suicidal thoughts/suicidal ideation

It’s cold tonight. 

You blow on your fingers, feeling them warm, stiffness lanced for precious few seconds. You didn’t mean to walk so far from the house, not while the wind is racing like this. The corner shop just seemed to move around while you weren’t looking. You should’ve asked Sirius to go with you, he has a better sense of direction, even if he would’ve complained the whole time about the shit weather. 

Remus would’ve come and not complained, but he was sleeping at the time and waking him felt cruel. James would’ve come, racing around in Lily’s car, but then he would’ve followed you back into the house insisting on making you some supper or a cuppa or something, and what you’d wanted was to be alone. A bar of chocolate wouldn’t hurt either. 

Stupid travelling corner shop, you think to yourself. Stupid me for fucking losing it. Should’ve just stayed home. Can’t even walk to the shop. 

You take a deep breath. You give the streets a wretched, embarrassed glare and flop down onto the nearest bench. Fuck’s sake. Lost and freezing to death. 

If Sirius were here, if he heard what you were thinking, he’d frown at you with that dark pinch to his eyes and tell you to Stop it, now. 

He’s maybe half of the reason you’re out of the house tonight. Maybe all of it. It’s all complicated and horrible and everyone thinks it’s a bad idea but the thing is that Sirius himself isn’t complicated, he isn’t horrible. He’s kind to you in funny ways, and when you’re together Sirius makes you feel like you’re someone worth being kind too, which doesn’t happen often. 

Your self annoyance fades to something more familiar soon enough. Everything goes quiet, leaving you there with your heart, quick and slow beating, can’t seem to choose, and your cold feet. Your socks feel too tight. 

Your teeth start to chatter. You can’t sit here forever. 

(But wouldn’t it be better? If you stayed? Caught cold?) 

If you get poorly from the cold, you’ll feel miserable from the moment you wake up. You’ll be ill at work, which will make work worse. You’ll have to stay in your room so you don’t get one of the boys sick, and that really would ruin your week. Nothing means anything if you don’t get to see your best friends. 

You gather yourself up and turn toward the street you’d just walked down, determined to retrace your steps. 

In the distance, a familiar shape is jogging toward you. 

“Y/N?” James shouts, sounding as though all the breath in the world has been sucked from his lungs. He doesn’t stop jogging until he gets a few feet from you, where he bends to catch his breath. “Fucking hell!” His head snaps up. “Fuck, shortcake, are you alright?” 

You close the distance. “I’m fine.” 

“Are you?” He forces himself to stand, breathing hard as he grabs you by the wrist. “Are you okay? You scared me so badly.” 

You grab his arm back. “I’m really fine, I’m fine, what’s wrong?” 

“You’re what’s wrong, you aren’t home!” James swallows a lump. “You left a note, you’d be home by seven. It’s nearly ten. Remus rang me in a fit ‘cos he didn’t know where you’d gone, we thought–” James gives you an imploring look, though it’s so so sorry at the same time, you feel your stomach twist into a hard knot. “We thought you were having a bad night.” 

“James.” Embarrassment makes you soft-toned. “I’m really sorry I scared you, but I got lost, that’s all.” You don’t really like to lie, only James seems to need to hear it. “I’m glad you found me. I was worried I wouldn’t get home.” 

James gives a breathy laugh. “Oh, good.” 

You’re pulled into a hug. 

“Sorry,” you say. 

“No, it’s okay.” He rubs your back with force. It feels more for him than you, though you don’t exactly mind it. You can pretend as much as you want that you don’t like it when the boys give you affection, but they know it’s not true, and they know it’s alright to give it to you most days. “It’s fine. Everything’s fine as long as you’re fine.” 

“Fine,” you say. 

He pulls away. “Oh, god. Alright, let’s go back to the house. It’s freezing, you’re not wearing a proper coat?” 

“I didn’t plan on being out long.” 

“No?” 

He takes you by the shoulder to encourage you back the way you came. “Just wanted some chocolate,” you say. 

“I’ll get you some.” 

You both know it doesn’t add up. James doesn’t make you say much else, relieved you’re alright, and you fester in the guilt of worrying him so harshly. 

“Where are your glasses?” you ask. 

“I forgot them in the car.” 

“Where is the car?” 

“Remus thought you might’ve gone to the library, you were supposed to take that Sky-Fi back.” 

“Sci-fi.” 

“Right, the space books. He took it to see if you were walking home, I said I’d come this way, and Sirius…” James grimaces. “Not sure where he went. He was already out by the time I got to the house.” 

“How are we gonna find him?” 

“He’ll come back eventually.” 

You stick close to James’ side, dodging crisped up leaves and following him down the dropped kerb and finally onto a familiar road. “Guess I’ve lived here so long, I should’ve known the way,” you say. 

“It’s alright.” 

You bite your cheek for a second. “I’m really sorry, James, I– I didn’t– is it really ten?” 

“…Aren’t you cold?” he asks softly. 

“I didn’t think about it.” 

“I wish you would.” He pokes his tongue against his cheek. “I want to know if you’re having a bad night. It’s alright if you were. If you need more time, more help, it’s okay.” 

“It’s not like that… not all of it. I was walking to the shops, I swear. Just feel so,” —your voice slips into a colour of shame you despise— “weird sometimes. I’m sorry I made you worry. I don’t know why I keep doing this.” 

“Is this a common occurrence?” 

“Not the walk, just. Just this. Making you worry. I didn’t mean to make everybody worry.” 

“Well, I am worried. When you disappear for a couple more hours than you say you will, it’s scary.” James gives you a shrug. “I love you, I’m gonna wonder where you are.” 

“But–”

“I worry about Sirius when he goes to the pub until who knows when, worry about Lils when she does too many hours at work. I worry about Remus every day, his eyes are worse than mine ‘cos all he does is read,” he says with a laugh. “It’s fine.” 

“I worry about you too,” you say. 

“About what?” he asks, stricken. 

“Remus told me you can pop your knee out from your kneecap when you weight lift. I know you think it’s fun and stuff, but that’s scary.” 

“I’m getting fit!” He rolls his eyes. “Lily likes my abs.” 

“Well I liked you when you were soft.” 

James cackles at your poor fake-flirting. “I’ve never been soft, take that back! You know being captain made me solid as a rock.” 

“James?” a voice calls. 

You look up at the same time. Sirius is sitting on the wall in front of the house smoking; he takes a harsh, quick drag and stabs it out so hard that ash sullies his fingers as he stands. 

“Oh,” he says, blowing the smoke from his mouth quickly, his breath a ragged thing as he bounds across the road to hug you. “Sorry.”

You don’t get what he’s sorry for. “It’s okay.” 

He smells so strongly of smoke it’s like he’s blowing it under your nose, but he’s not so sharp to the touch. You falter at being touched kindly, feeling tension in his back as you curl an arm around him. 

Sirius digs his face into your neck. 

“Hey?” you ask quietly. 

He steps back suddenly, an accusing fist held between your two abdomens. “Where have you been?” he asks, and there’s the sharpness to match his smell, scowl turning his grey-blue eyes to pitch, lashes in a furious tangle. “You can’t do that. You can’t just disappear for hours.” 

“I’m sorry–”

“It’s not okay.”

“She said she’s sorry,” James interjects, “maybe let’s leave it?” 

“Being sorry doesn’t erase the last two hours of us panicking, though, does it?” 

“She got lost–”

“James, it’s okay, it’s–” You shake your head. “Maybe you should go inside to warm up? You’re not wearing a coat either.” 

“I was in a rush.” James gives Sirius a warning look. “I’ll make you a cup of tea. Five minutes and I’m coming back out.” 

James trudges up the garden path to the house. You twist your hands together, staring into Sirius’ face, wanting to see every bit of his anger, keeping tabs on all of it so as not to be surprised. You should’ve known he’d run out of patience with you eventually. He’s had to deal with your awful moods more than anyone else. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Do you realise how scary it is to worry you’ve hurt yourself?” Sirius asks starkly. 

You flinch. “It doesn’t exactly feel great for me, either.” 

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Still, he softens. You feel like you’ve cheated. “I don’t understand. You got lost? How far away from the house were you?” 

“I don’t know, I was trying to go to Del’s.” 

“You’re not being honest with me, or any of us. It’s not fair. My heart is like a fucking racehorse,” he says, pressing his hand to his chest, fingertips smudgy with ash, “’cos all I’ve thought tonight is that you’d gone off and jumped off of a bridge or something. I know you wouldn’t.” He lets his hand fall. He quietens. It is almost apologetic, how he slows. “I know you wouldn’t. I knew you’d come home. But please don’t make me think about it.”

He’s gone pale in the cold, his hair in twists and tucked haphazard behind his ears. In his thick bomber jacket and his jeans, he could’ve just hopped of the bike, windswept as he is, but it’s the mark of worried hands having pushed his hair back repetitively rather than the weather, though the longer you stand there in the wind, the more tangled it becomes. “I dont get why you’re so determined to be alone,” he says. 

You don’t want to talk about it. When do you ever? More than ever, you’d like to stalk past him and slam your bedroom door, let him know you’re fine by yourself and seething, let him stay ignorant to you as you squirm in a bed you’ve come to hate. How often do you lay there wishing you could be alone forever? It’s not fair to anyone. It doesn’t make sense. They all love you and you feel sorry for them, ‘cos you tricked them, ‘cos you’re nothing worth thinking about for long. 

Sirius won’t stop frowning at you. It makes the drowning feeling worse. 

“I’m sorry,” you say again, hoping this time it’ll stick. “I don’t know what happened, I just wasn’t thinking. I don’t feel very well.” 

“I know.” He scoffs to himself. You relax at the hint of self-deprecation. “It’s not your fault. I’m fucking furious with you but I know you can’t help it.” 

“Sorry.” 

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. For saying you’d jumped off a bridge, that’s horrible, but you really fucking worry me sometimes and I’m so relieved that you’re okay that it’s making me horrible.” 

“You’re not horrible.” 

“I’m mean.” 

“You’re not.”

“No, I am. You’re the only person who doesn’t see it. Or at least doesn’t say it.” Sirius rubs his face, scraping a stray hair from his nose. “Sorry for shouting. Here,” —he holds out his arm— “let’s have a proper one.” 

He hugs you nicely, no force to it, less lingering smoke. The scratch of his cheek catches yours, his hand at the bottom of your back, your jacket and shirt rising with every sweep of his touch. You press your closed eye to his hair. 

“Why didn’t you come and sit with me or– we could’ve talked. Could’ve just led in bed, doesn’t matter, I would’ve gone to the shop with you.” He squeezes you, pressing his nose to your shoulder. “I can be morbid. We can be two miserable layabouts together.” 

“I didn’t…” You cringe. “Sirius, it’s not on purpose, I swear. I didn’t do it to make you worry.” 

“I know that, Jesus.”

“Sorry.” 

“It’s fine. I’m just glad you’re home.” 

You pull apart as a car turns onto the street. That’ll be Remus. Another for your troupe of worry. 

“What do you think, is he mad at me too?” you ask. 

“Remus?” Sirius gives you another half hug. “‘Course not.” 

And true to form, Remus climbs out of the car with a fond smile. “Hey, where have you been?” His hair ruffles in the wind, scars turned palest purple in the cold. “You need to learn how to tell time.” 

You let him hug you. “Sorry.” 

“That’s alright, let’s go inside though. Have some tea. Did you eat much today?” 

You ignore the question. “Tea,” you say. 

“Yeah.” 

Remus ushers you down the path to the house, Sirius on your other side like bodyguards. 

“Thanks for, uh, looking for me.” 

Remus takes you by the forearm. “We’ll always look for you. But next time, wake me up first.” 

You nod gratefully. “Uh, okay. Thank you.” 

“Stop saying thanks. It’s alright, Y/N. It’s fine.” 

That’s what you’ve all said, but it doesn’t make it true. 

—

James goes home, though he doesn’t want to. “I can stay,” he says over the rim of his mug, half-pleading, wanting you to ask him to. “We can have a sleepover.” 

You insist that you’re really fine, he has work tomorrow, it’s late. When he doesn’t move, you say, “I feel bad enough that you were out looking for me in the cold.” 

Your voice is pathetic and scratchy and he can tell you’re going to cry, they all can, so he doesn’t push it anymore than that. He goes home, and you go to bed, and Remus follows you up a little bit later with a glass of juice and some thick, buttered slices of teacake. 

“You okay?” he asks, climbing into bed next to you where you’re laying down. 

“Fine.” 

“Didn’t eat much today?” 

“No.” 

“Have the juice, at least.” 

You take the glass. 

Between your sorry sips, Remus picks at one of the slices of cake, steals looks at you, though he doesn’t try to hide what he’s doing. 

“Sorry about today. Didn’t mean to worry you.” 

“You can stop saying sorry.” Remus lets his head tip from one side to another. “I can hear it in your voice that you don’t want to say it. Not that I don’t believe that you’re really, actually sorry. But you keep repeating it because you’re worried I want you to do that, and I don’t.” 

“It’s what I should say.” 

“Well, you’ve said it.” Remus turns to you, all bookish and rakish at once, lovely but tired, and he must be giving you a similar appraisal. “I wanted to be your friend the second I first talked to you. It wasn’t guilt.” He shakes his head. Wasn’t ’cos they’d played that prank on you with the shoe-eating goo, spied on you crying in a school hallway, overwhelmed. “I just liked you, and that was without any sort of knowledge of what you’re like. Now that I know you, I couldn’t be rid of you. Truly. I love you, you know that?” He smiles gently. “Even when you need time and you disappear. Please… don’t really go anywhere though, will you?” 

“I won’t.” You decided a long time ago that ending your life wasn’t in the cards. There are terrifying moments, numb ones, blink-and-it’s over ones, where you feel like it’s the only option you have. But it ends eventually, or it sinks into a background to be forgotten until the next time it aches. 

“Are you eating properly?” he asks. 

“Remus–” You shake your head as he brings a hand to your forehead, like he might stroke your hair. “You don’t have to do this.” 

“You don’t like answering, that’s all.” 

“No, I don’t.” 

“I’ve made you talk much more than you would’ve liked to, tonight.”

“I like talking to you. To all of you.” You rest your head on his thigh. “You really are my favourite people in the world, Remus. I wouldn’t… wouldn't give you up.” 

“Good,” he says, stroking your forehead just a few times. “‘Cos we can’t be without you.” 

Sirius finds you collapsing in on one another a little later and rounds the bed to lay on your other side. He doesn’t bother sitting as Remus did, pulling the blankets up and slipping in beside you without worrying about what parts of you are touching parts of him, nor the slip of your back where your shirt’s riding up, nor how warm it is under the quilt. He grabs the end of your t-shirt and pulls it flat over your stomach, before his hand spreads out there, and you realise half-heartedly that he’s hugging you from behind. The room is barely seeable. Remus is nearly sleeping. Your tea cake went uneaten, left stodgy and dark on the nightstand. 

“This okay?” Sirius asks. 

“Yeah.” 

He burrows nearer, rubbing his nose against the back of your neck, then taking a long breath of you. 

“Are you mad?” you ask. 

“Not anymore.” 

You can’t believe that any of them could love you so much as to look for you. That James would want to stay the night, and that he’d let you turn him away. If you had any energy left in you tonight you would’ve done the same to Remus, and then Sirius. James won’t be happy when he finds out they’d slept in the bed with you and left him out, but he’ll forgive it eventually. None of them should care so much about you, what’s special about you? What’s even really good? What’s worth it? 

Sirius breathes behind you. He doesn’t seem scared to touch you, not worried to lay as close to you as your bodies will allow. His heat sinks into you. 

“Know any poems?” he asks, letting you shift into his back as he pushes an arm beneath you, curling, really holding you to him, a spoon of a hug. 

“What kind did you want to hear?” 

Sirius doesn’t answer. You hold still as his hand begins looping over your stomach. 

“I can’t remember anything right.” 

“Can you guess at one for me?” he asks. 

You stare at Remus’ falling chest. You’re lucky to have good friends. 

“I read one a few days ago, a couple of times, it was only a few lines.” You wait. Sirius doesn’t say anything, so you start to relay the poem slowly, stringing the words together as they come. “The world was a… nautilus shell... And the world was a grain of sand.” Your voice is odd, but the lines come to you regardless. “The world was a honeycomb… And the world was a strip of tender bark.” 

Sirius lets his lips warm your neck, asking softly, more touch than sound, “That was the whole poem?” 

You take his hand where it’s against you. “That’s it.” 

He nods. 

The world was a nautilus shell. And the world was a grain of sand. The world was a honeycomb. And the world was a strip of tender bark. You run through the poem again, three times, tripping over strip and tender and bark as Sirius’ breath warms your nape. 

“Please don’t do that again,” he says. 

“I didn’t mean to–” You force yourself to stay still. “I would never do something like that to scare you.” 

“Nobody in this room or out of it believes that you went on your walk tonight to scare them.” His nose tips down your neck. His hand spreads wider over your stomach. It feels so weird, so warm and rigid. It’s the best touch you’ve ever been given, and it doesn’t matter because you’re so ashamed of yourself —you went on your stupid little walk with at least some bad intent, and your friends noticed because they love you when they shouldn’t bother. This is a stain now, something you’ll remember. “But I can’t take it. Do you get that? I can’t take it. James found you two hours ago and I still feel like I don’t know where you are.” 

“Didn’t mean to.” 

“I know, love.” He actually does kiss your neck then, quiet smack of a real kiss. “I know. I know.” His forehead presses to your shoulder as he settles in. “You’re okay. I’m not mad.” 

“Me neither,” Remus croaks. 

You let yourself relax enough to feel tired. Warmth from either side of you threatens to bowl you over. 

“How are you feeling now?” Sirius asks. 

“Fine.” Always fine. They deserve better honesty. “I didn’t want to hurt myself. Jus’… I needed to move, like, go, and I hate this part. I don’t think it should matter that I’m not– that I don’t feel well.” 

“Don’t get upset,” Sirius says quietly. 

“I’m not.” You sound tight. “When I want to be somewhere, it doesn’t make sense that it matters. In the moment, I don’t remember that you…” 

“Love you?” Sirius asks. 

“I know why you were worried, I promise. I don’t live in a bubble. I know I’m selfish.” 

“Not selfish.” 

“It was, though.” 

“You’re thinking about it like we have a problem with what you did, and it’s my fault because I got so mad, but it’s not really that you did it.” His hand curls shy of your breastbone. “I was mad, but– darling,” —you squeeze your eyes shut— “you’re not on trial. You don’t have to prove your way out of this, all we need to know is if you’re alright now.” 

“Not really.” 

Remus gives a half-sleeping mumble. 

Sirius sits up in bed to look at both of you. “We love you. We,” —he gestures between you and Remus emphatically— “aren’t going to stop. No matter how many walks you go on, how many scares you give me.” He frowns at you sympathetically. “We’re not getting any further, are we?” 

“Sorry.” 

“I’m sorry.” He grimaces, dark around the eyes. “I’m a right prick and I’ve made a right mess of everything.” 

“It’s okay,” you whisper, chancing a touch, terrified you’ll be reprimanded for it but knowing, as you know he loves you, that you’re allowed. The tips of your fingers touch his collarbone. Sharp thing. 

He pulls a jib, lips all up and thinned like a smirk gone wrong. “Love you.” 

You must’ve petrified him. He’s never so open with his feelings, even when it’s half-joking like this. 

“I love you, too.” 

He makes another face. Good enough, it says. 

“Make me hot chocolate?” you whisper. 

“Mm, come on.” He pulls you from the bed by your wrists. “Don’t complain when it’s gritty. I’m not skilled as Remus.” 

“Quite right,” Remus mumbles. 

You hug him quickly before you leave. 

[aphroditesmoon]

Hiiii! Love your clarisse oneshots ^^. Could you possibly do one where Fem!reader is the daughter of Hades and has a hellhound as a pet that absolutely adores clarisse? Reader also has a similar personality to clarisse, loves to fight and has a big pride but only lets her guard down around Clarisse.(also possibly has her own electric weapon of your choice)Thank you!!

creatures of the night

clarisse la rue x fem!hades'cabin!reader

warnings: none

a/n: sorry this is so short, hope u like it<3

wc; 1.1k

You would never consider your relationship with your father as better than anyone else's relationship with their own parent in camp.

But when you had been claimed by Hades as well as being gifted a long black javelin with gold wrapped around the sharp edge on the same night you arrived at camp Half Blood, it seemed well established to everyone else and including yourself, that your father acknowledges your existence proudly.

Being one of the people in the small list of forbidden children, had created a fearsome reputation around your presence, and honestly speaking, you enjoy the privileges that come with it.

Although it was hard making friends considering your less friendly personality, some campers stuck by your side anyways. Those who bore you enormous respects and had been intrigued by your mysterious air instead of intimidated.

One of them being the infamous child of Ares, Clarisse La Rue.

Beautiful, strong and hot headed, Clarisse La Rue.

The two of you are often compared as the two sides of the same coin. Your personalities differ from eachother in many ways, but when it came to your goals and aims, you both are usually on the same team.

It's safe to say that you are less hostile than Clarisse. You prefer to keep to yourself whilst she prefered to assert dominance onto the other campers. And yet you are the more feared than her.

Clarisse is commonly brutal and unrelenting, but you usually saved up the worst of your tricks for when necessity calls for it. For now, intimidation worked well enough.

What's funny enough, is how Clarisse herself had a certain trepidation when she first befriended you. She learned soon that you were just another demigod girl just like she was, glory aside.

One of the instances where she felt that she had truly seen you as you are, all the facade dropped down, was when you first introduced her to your hound, Cerberus.

Your father had gifted him to you for your 15th birthday. It was one of yoir proudest moments in life. Demigods are almost never cared for that much by their parents, and so to have your coming of age be recognised by your father was a huge thing.

"Is that not the same name as Hades' own three headed hound?" She asked, staring at it for afar from the corner of your bed.

"I know, that's why I named him that." You explained to her as you're sat criss-crossed on the floor, scratching the beasts' chin.

Cerberus, once he deemed Clarisse as not a threat, rolled down on the ground on his stomach.

"Look at him, such a good boy." You were distracted by your new pet all day, ignoring your poor girlfriend who had come over to your cabin to spend time with you. "He's almost as tall as you." Clarisse spoke sarcastically, picking you on your height.

"That's not a fair observation. Most things are almost as tall as me." You responded, still not looking up.

"Are you just gonna keep standing there staring at me?" You asked her finally, realising just how weird the distance between you two were.

Clarisse was hesitant, frowning at your pet like he was some sort of threat. "I...think I'm good here." She muttered loud enough for your ears. "Oh, come on."

Clarisse shook her head as you complained about her irrationality. "Look at him, he's friendly." And he was, Cerberus had warmed up to you quickly and have not shown a single tendency for violence against your girlfriend.

"Come and say hello to him, Clarisse." You called out to her again.

You hear her sigh from the other side of the room. After a few more minutes pass, her footsteps grow louder as she moves nearer to you.

Clarisse squats down to meet Cerberus and flinched as he lifts his head up to sniff her. You reached for her hand, trying to get him to smell it. She pulls her hand back at first, but after a few more pulls, Clarisse relents and lets the hound give her knuckles a lick. "That tickles." She mumbled under her breath.

"He likes you, see." She gives a resigned look, like she's just going along with what you're saying. "No, I'm serious, look at how nice he's acting." You nudged your head towards Cerberus' head, encouraging her to give him a pet

Clarisse braves herself to give him a few strokes on his ears and found that he particularly likes that notion. "I guess he's not that bad." She admitted at last, pulling out a smile from you. "I told you."

"So what is he then? Some sort of guard dog?" She inquires. The gods would gift their children with tools that can be used, never something useless, like a domesticated pet. And from the looks of it, Cerberus is definitely not meant to be a some cute little friend.

"I don't know." You answered honestly.

"It's not like my dad does a lot of talking to me, but he gave me something from the underworld, something that's set as a reminder of him and his place above. I'd like to view it as some sort of stepping stone. Like I'm one step closer to him because of Cerberus."

It's not surprising that your end goal is to follow on your father's footsteps, no one really knows what the real secret to make their godly parent to care about them is.

It is often assumed that glory was the key, and yet, the best fighters in camp a

re usually the ones who resent their parents the most. You often prayed and hoped that you wouldn't ever have to cross that threshold.

"I'm sure he sees it that way too." Clarisse offered kindly. She knew all too well how much it meant to be noticed by their absent fathers, even if so slightly.

She slso knew deep down that even if your father refused to notice the lengths you would be willing to go for him, she did. And she would break the world in two for you if your father wouldn't. And you would do the same for her.

Clarisse leans her back against the lower frame of the bed, a small smile on her face as she watches you scratch the hound's chin whilst kissing the spot in between his eyes.

It is truly rare to catch sight of either daughters of Ares or Hades' being as gentle and playful as this, and Clarisse is grateful that these kind of intimacies are reserved for small private moments.

That same night, as she sleeps with her arms around your waist, Cerberus laying down by the foot of the bed, Clarisse realises that she would do anything for the bond between the two of you to prevail.

[mari-the-bimbo]

i feel asleep on my phone tryna marathon dorm mate sukuna and the literal first thing i did when i woke up was to finish it all! girl you just made a drug.

more dorm mate sukuna i beeeg you!

Dorm mate Sukuna: your part time job

A/N: STOPPP that’s so sweet! I’m happy to fuel your new addiction 🤭 I know this is nothing to do with what you requested but I had a funny thought about part time jobs so I indulged in my own silly thoughts lol enjoy! <3

Now being a uni student isn’t all sunflowers and daisies. You got to work part time to earn that extra money.

And now you made Sukuna mad because how many times does he have to tell you you don’t need to work?! “Why work when I told you I’ll buy you anything you want?” He says, grumbling when he realises how much of a simp he sounds like.

But hey, your money is your money and his money is also your money right? ;)

Sukuna definitely drives you to work. Right in front of the store too. He’s not letting his precious girl out in the ghetto like that.

But as you say your goodbyes and try to open the car door, you find it’s locked. “Kuna? Open the door”

“No” he says, taking a puff on his cigarette, his muscular tatted arm sticking out the window so the smoke doesn’t go into your face.

“What do you mean no? Open the door Suk-“

He grabs your chin with his other arm and looks at you unimpressed. “Why do you have the fucking audacity to leave when you haven’t given me a kiss huh?” He says, completely serious and pissed off.

But you can’t help but let out the laugh you’ve been holding in, you lean into his big rough hands as you continue to giggle. And he tries his best to keep his straight face but it’s kinda hard when you’re being so fucking cute and kissable.

He gives in to his impulsive thoughts as he stroked your rosy cheeks with his thumb.

“Silly girl” he says with a lovesick grin as he grabs your face and roughly presses a kiss to your lips. You kiss him back with a hum, unable to get enough of your overprotective perv boyfriend.

“You love me so much don’t you” you tease as you pull away. He shakes his head in annoyance but he fails to hide the amused smile on his face.

“Get out you rat” he says playfully as he unlocks the door and you finally leave with an evil laugh.

He doesn’t stop there though, he’ll turn up after your shift ends, casually placing your favourite drink on the counter while a cigarette hangs from the corner of his mouth. “hurry up doll”.

He’ll be glaring down your 41 yr old colleague who is your sworn enemy, and no, he won’t hesitate to kick her bad leg if she tries to tell you how to do your job again 🫢

He’ll sit down manspread across a chair and table as he waits for you in silence, his lazy red eyes admiring you from a distance while puffing his smoke. And although you think it’s the cutest thing in the world, your colleagues can’t help but stare in fear at the pink haired thug, who just sits there, ‘menacingly’ according to them.

Finally once you’re ready to leave, he’ll stand up and silently offer his muscular arm, a hint for you to wrap your hands around his arm. And once you finally do, he happily takes his sweet girl back to the dorm.

“C’mon little one, you got another night shift with me now” he teases, making your ears burn in embarrassment as you watch everyone’s jaw drop.